After making love to my daughter for the first and only time, laying next to her listening to hear heavy breathing become calm, I decided to take a quick shower. She lay sprawled on the bed, exhausted from a long day, worn out from our time together. She had fallen asleep while I showered. It was well past midnight – we had been going at it for over three hours. I quickly dressed, left my extra room key on her night stand with a note I scribbled on the hotel pad, ‘I’m not far’ Then I kissed her on her forehead as she lay sleeping, pulled the edge of the comforter to cover her, and I went to my room.
I slept very well.
The next morning, I woke early and texted her, “Meet me downstairs for breakfast. And don’t be worried…about anything.”
I had coffee and a bagel waiting for her when she walked into the hotel breakfast room. She was stunning, wearing a nice black, form-fitting skirt and business suit. She smiled and walked toward me, though I noticed some caution in her demeanor. We talked about what happened the night before; neither of us asked if the other had planned it, but I told her again not to worry, that it should only deepen our connection, that she ought not consider our relationship as competition for her current relationship, that I would always be there for her, in whatever capacity she would like, no matter what…and that whatever happens between us is just between us – no one else’s business. She agreed and said everything was fine on her end. She had a few bites of her bagel and was drinking her coffee when I told her, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you…just ask.”
She tilted her head a little and smiled, “Well…since we’re here right now, and I’ve got a little time, thirty-five minutes to be exact, maybe you could lick me again…you’re very good at it.”
I grabbed her hand and led her to the elevator, and we went back to her room. There were cleaning carts on the floor as we walked into her room, so I hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outer knob and closed the door, but I didn’t lock it. She was about to crawl onto the bed, but I grabbed her arm to pull her closer to me. She turned to face me, I kissed her deeply again, feeling her breasts and her ass. I slowly pulled her skirt up, found her panties and pulled them down around her ankles. As I began to lean her back on the bed, she said, “Wait, let’s do this first,” and she turned around, climbing on top of the bed and getting on her knees, she pulled her skirt up around the small of her back, exposing her round ass; and she turned her head to look at me. She smiled and winked at me and laid her head on the bed, rotating her hips a little and arching her back so that her ass was up in the air, her pussy facing forward, then she reaches around with both hands to grab her ass cheeks and spread them apart, exposing her puckered little pink hole. Apparently, I had made an impression with those few seconds of running my tongue around her asshole the night before, and she wanted more.
She brought her hands back around to rest on the bed; I grabbed her ass cheeks, squeezing them in my hands and spreading them apart. I ran my tongue up and down her crack as she moaned, “Oh my god, I love it.” My tongue circled and poked and licked her back hole to her great delight for several long minutes. She did not hold back her moans and sighs, like she did the night before. She shook her ass and moved her hips around and moaned, “yes.”
After a long and indulgent ten or twelve minutes, she turned over to lay on her back and moved toward the edge of the bed. Using her hands to pull her knees back towards her shoulders, she whispered loudly, “Eat my pussy, Daddy.” With her ass at the edge of the bed, I had a perfect view of both her pretty holes spread before me. I crawled down on my knees and ran my tongue around her asshole a few more times before running my tongue up her warm, moist slit and kissing her on her hairy patch. Again, I sucked and licked her clitoris and tongued and fingered her silky hole until she came. Just as she came, her phone’s alarm began to ring. In the midst of her orgasm, grinding her pussy with the stroking of my tongue, she reaches over, squeezes the buttons on her phone and silences its ringing. She set her alarm to let herself know when it was time for her to leave. She laid back on the bed to take a few deep breaths, then rolled off the bed to a standing position next to me, picks her panties off the floor and slides them back into place. She straightened her skirt and said, “I’ve got to go.” She paused and turned to say, “And…thank you – I love you, Daddy,” and she walked out of the room.
I drove home without the radio playing. It wasn’t a sad or somber drive; it was a nice drive actually, but I was in a kind of daze the whole drive – and this entire past week – replaying in my head what had happened between me and my daughter, at the same time a little shocked at her and at myself, and incredibly turned on by the thought of making love to her. I was hard the entire drive home. I didn’t wash my face after I licked her this morning, and her taste and smell was still on my face, which surged my erection. Her scent was burned into my memory; I can smell her now.
I don’t need a photo of her now to heighten my experience when I stroke to the thought of her – I can close my eyes and re-live our time together, the memory is still so fresh. And I can write it down. I wonder what might happen the next time we see one another. Will it be a secret we never speak of again, or will she want to sneak away for some daddy daughter time? I try not to think of that right now, as it will be a few months before that happens, but I do look forward to it. And she will be on my mind; but then again, she always has been.
What I’m wondering now is whether I should ask her to take some pictures for me, to send to me or if we could video chat sometime – I’d love to watch her masturbate and talk to her, to hear her call me ‘Daddy,’ But for now, I think I’ll wait for her to bring it up again. Who knows? Maybe it’s an impossibly long shot, buat maybe she’ll see this posted online.

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