Daddy Daughter Erotica Novels & Stories

Sweet Jesus God in heaven, those curves. Full, round breasts that I want to weigh in my hands. Hips I want to slide my hands over and grip as I sink deep inside her. And that ass… “That’s as much of an introduction as you’ll get to my daughter,” Darren says in annoyance. Shit. His daughter? That possibility never even crossed my mind, but who else did I think she was?

“Your guilt, your pleasure, your trauma they all belong to Daddy now. The more you hurt, the tighter you hold onto me. That’s how I know this bond is unbreakable.” He reached between us and rubbed my clit, pushing me toward another orgasm. “Come for me, babygirl,” he commanded. “Come while you think about your mother watching her daughter get fucked by the man who took her away.” The twisted words sent me over the edge. I came violently, screaming as my body clenched around him. Daddy followed right after, burying himself deep and filling me with hot cum. Afterward, he held me tightly against his chest, stroking my hair as I cried softly.

This man wasn't giving me chance to catch my breath, and I was feeling drowned by his powerful touches —he's amazing just like his son! "Yes, daddy!" I gasped sharply when he slash the kiss, and we both gazed at each other piercingly. Mr. Reagan's traveled to my thighs and he slipped into my pant, he flicked his fingers as he sorted for my pussy. Before I could say a word; he thrust his two strong fingers into my pussy. "Ow!" I moaned, my hands settling on his broad shoulders as he molested my pussy. Causing a series of emotions mixed with sensation to flush through my veins, the adrenaline was too much!

Until now, I still can't believe that my father, a former soldier who was muscular and gym fit, was fucking another man. "Mom is asking you to transfer a million into her account or else she will sell the house," I said to daddy, I know I told mommy that I will be the one transferring the money to her account but when I heard the voice of daddy's mistress I suddenly felt annoyed. "Fuck that woman! All she does is spend my money with all those cheap callboys, tell her to get tested because I think she already catches a disease." Dad responded frustratedly and I just rolled my eyes even though he can't see me because I knew, in the end, he would just give what mommy wanted.

They all came knocking. It wasn't enough. The pleasure, the taboo, the satisfaction. It gave her too much of a rush. Daddy was the stuff of erotica book boyfriends. Brutal. Ruthless. Sinfully good at fucking. “Please,” The word tore out of her before she could stop it. “Please, Bill. Daddy, harder. Make it hurt. Make my pussy hurt more. Fuck harder, damn it," she succumbed, clutching a cushion to brace herself.

Increasingly I felt and saw his excitement, the growing sexual desire he felt for me, couldn't help but notice the erections Daddy'd grow as I wriggled against him, my loose robe allowing his roving eyes easy access to my full, firm breasts. We didn't discuss what was happening to us over those months, we were in a silent, sexual, mating dance that clearly scared Daddy. But I knew he was studying the problem, trying to face these forbidden desires that were threatening to overwhelm him. I found the books hidden in his bedroom, both scholarly tomes that addressed father-daughter love, as well as erotic accounts of graphic, incestuous sex. His computers browsing history increasingly led me to

I gasped as he leaned down and took my nipple between his lips; he sucked and nibbled on it before switching his attention to the other one. “Please,” I begged him, the ache in my heat intensifying. I’d learned so much from my erotica books, and I was happy I got to learn so many new things; some I shared with Enzo and he taught me, while some I just couldn’t bring myself to say. In one of the books, I learned that if you called your man "daddy," it drove him crazy. “Please, daddy... it aches,” I cried out, thrusting my hips for friction.

I almost swiped my tongue over my screen because I'm such a fucking whore for a man. “Baby…” He moaned as he stroked further, my eyes locked on my screen for dear life as my fingers hovered around my aching, swollen clit. “Yes Daddy?” I batted my lashes at him. No matter how many times we fuck, I could never get tired. “Say my name. Moan my name.” “Daneee….” I moaned, because I really wanted to, because I touched my clit and a sensation hit me, as though he was the one touching it.

The other on my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted. “Whose naughty girl are you?” he growled. “Yours,” I moaned. “Daddy’s.” He slammed into me harder. “Say it louder.” “I’m Daddy’s naughty girl,” I cried, voice breaking as another orgasm built. He reached around, fingers on my clit, rubbing fast. “Come for Daddy,” he ordered. I did, shattering, screaming, clenching around him so hard he groaned my name. He followed seconds later, deep inside me, pulsing, filling me.

I wish I knew what he wanted from me, or maybe I don't. An erected penis only has one use, nature made it that way. If I were another woman I would be tempted, I would be squeezing my thighs together and scanning through the most prurient thoughts the mind can manufacture, I would be so wet and feel like the most fortunate woman for having such an undeniably attractive, ethereally hot man hard for me- but I am not just a random woman, I am the Devil's step-daughter, I have regarded this otherwordly hot man as my father since I was eight years old, and this is my mother's husband.