It is a fictional story focusing on the taboo; all characters are over 18+
The sun hung low, casting golden fingers of light over the lake as Dad and I set up camp. He was humming some old tune from before I was born, the song that seeps into your bones even if you’ve never heard it.
“Hand me that rod, Molly,” he said, his voice steady but with that underlying excitement, I only ever saw when he was near water. Fishing was his thing. It was our thing now, I guess. I handed it to him, trying not to trip over the tent poles I’d scattered at my feet.
“Here you go,” I replied, tugging down the hem of my shirt; it was low cut. What should my cleavage be? It was an old band tee that had seen better days, worn thin in places and hanging loose over my denim shorts. I’d thrown it on without much thought this morning, thinking more about comfort than anything else. The cool evening air slipped through the fabric, brushing against my skin. I shivered, but not from the cold.
Dad didn’t seem to notice; he was too busy checking the line, his hands moving with practised ease. He looked up then, a crooked smile on his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’re gonna catch the big one tonight; I can feel it.”
I grinned back, a little too wide, maybe. “Yeah, sure. I’ll believe it when I see it.” I hadn’t caught a single fish on our last trip. Not even a nibble.
He stared at me, “Going girl, you got this; girls love getting big ones.”
I flushed and didn’t comment back at it; it was weird for him to say that to me.
As he turned back to the tackle box, I caught him looking. It was just a glance, fleeting, almost as if he hadn’t meant to. But it lingered a second too long, his eyes tracing the curve of my waist, the way my shorts rode up a bit when I bent down to grab the bait. My stomach twisted, a knot of discomfort winding tight.
Mom had mentioned once that she had dropped hints without saying much. “Your dad’s always been a bit of a ladies’ man, you know, he’s into younger girls 18 and above,” she’d said, her tone light but her eyes serious. I’d laughed it off, brushing it aside. That was Dad. My dad. I didn’t see it then; I didn’t want to.
Now, here in the softening light, with the sound of the lake lapping gently at the shore and the scent of pine heavy in the air, I felt it. That oddness. Like a ripple in the calm waters, barely there but impossible to ignore. I stood straight, rolling my shoulders back, trying to shake off the feeling. “I’m gonna go set up the tent,” I said, my voice coming out a little too loud and quick.
“Sure thing, kiddo,” Dad replied, his tone easy, almost too casual. I nodded, not trusting myself to say more.
The tent was a pain, as usual. I wrestled with the poles, cursing as they refused to cooperate. I could feel his eyes on me, not in that typical do you need help?’ way, but different. Assessing. I suddenly became hyper-aware of how my shirt lifted as I stretched, the feel of my hair sticking to the back of my neck, damp with sweat. I pulled the fabric down again, wishing I’d worn something less… revealing.
“Molly, you alright over there?” Dad called a hint of laughter in his voice. He sounded like he always did like nothing had changed like he was just my dad. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe—
“I’m fine,” I snapped, harsher than I meant to. I glanced back at him, catching that surprised look on his face. “Sorry, just… this tent is being stubborn.”
He chuckled, getting up and strolling over, that familiar swagger in his step. “Here, let me—”
“I got it,” I interrupted, too quickly, stepping in front of him. Our eyes met, and I saw something flicker there for a split second. Something that made me feel hot and cold all at once. He backed off, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright. You’ve got it.”
Finally, I managed to get the tent up and sat back with a satisfied huff, wiping my forehead. Dad was already by the fire pit, setting up the kindling. I watched him, trying to reconcile this version of him with the dad I’d always known. The one who used to carry me on his shoulders, who taught me how to ride a bike and cheered me on at every school play. Was it me? Had I just grown up, and he was noticing? Or had he always been this way, and I was seeing it now?
Later on, I changed into a fresh bra and panties and my favourite nightie. I went to sit down by the fire where Dad was.
The fire crackled to life, dancing and casting flickering shadows around us. I sat across from him, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to shake the weirdness. I wanted to say something to break the tension, but the words tangled in my throat.
Instead, I stared into the fire, its warmth licking at my skin, the orange glow highlighting the planes of my face. I felt exposed under its light like it was laying me bare in a way I wasn’t ready for. Dad handed me a stick, skewered with a couple of marshmallows, his fingers brushing mine. I took it, trying to ignore the shiver that ran up my spine and focused on toasting the marshmallows to a golden brown.
“Molly,” he said after a while, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re growing up so fast.”
I looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for the dad I knew. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
He nodded, staring into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Your mom always says I need to get used to it, but… it’s hard, you know?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, unsure of what else to say. The fire crackled between us, filling the silence with its quiet song.
I shifted, feeling the warmth of the flames on my skin, how my nightie clung to my back and the roughness of the log beneath me. Everything felt heightened, too real. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be here, sitting across from him in the flickering light, feeling like something had shifted between us.
Dad sighed, a long, heavy sound like he was letting go of something. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” he said, his voice steady again. “Just the two of us.”
“Me too,” I lied because what else could I say?
The night wore on, the stars coming out one by one, twinkling down at us from a sky so clear it felt like you could reach out and touch them. The fire died down to embers, the air cooling around us. I stayed close to the warmth, my eyes heavy, but my mind still racing.
Dad stretched, yawning. “We should turn in,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and crawled into the tent. The inside was cramped, and our sleeping bags were laid out side by side. I hesitated at the entrance, wishing I’d brought another tent or a pillow between us.
But I didn’t have either, so I slid into my sleeping bag, turning on my side to face away from him. The tent zipped closed behind me, and I heard him settle in beside me, his breathing evening out quickly.
I lay there, staring at the nylon wall of the tent, listening to the night sounds around us. Crickets chirping, the soft rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl. I tried to relax, to let the night wash over me and pull me into sleep. But I couldn’t shake that feeling, that nagging discomfort that had settled in my chest.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but all I could see was how he’d looked at me earlier, that flicker in his eyes that didn’t belong. I didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know how to feel about it. But I knew one thing: things were different now.
I woke up to find myself moaning, “Ahhh, w-what what you are d-doing,” I felt my dad pressed against me and my panties halfway down to my thighs. My dad holding my hips and thrusting in and out of me.
I gasped, my heart pounding as I realized what was happening. I was being fucked, right here in the tent, by my dad. I should have pushed him away, screamed, or done something. But I didn’t. I just lay there, frozen, as he continued to thrust into me, his breath hot against my neck.
I could hear my ass slap against him as he took me from behind, my dad spooning me.
“Shh, Molly, just take daddy’s cock, ok,” he replied, his voice low and husky. He slid a hand under my nightie, cupping my breast, his thumb brushing against my nipple. I gasped again, arching into his touch despite myself.
“Ahhh… you… ah fuck, you shouldn’t be fucking me, oh god mmmm ahh, Dad. What about… ah, what about Adam and Mom,” I moaned as he fucked me hard. Is this why he didn’t want me to bring Adam, my boyfriend?
Dad didn’t reply, his thrusts becoming more urgent, driving the air from my lungs. I don’t think he gave a fuck; as long as he was getting his dick wet, that’s all that matters to him.
“Daddy, I… I don’t know about this,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. I was ashamed and embarrassed. But I couldn’t help but moan and be turned on how harder he was slamming his cock in and out of me.
“It’s okay, Molly. Just let go. Let daddy take care of you,” he replied, his voice soothing. He slid his hand down my body, finding my clit. He began to rub it in slow circles, sending waves of pleasure through me. I gasped, my hips bucking against him.
“Ahhh, Dad, I… I’m going to cum,” I moaned, my voice shaking. I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe I was about to cum from being fucked by my Dad. But it was happening, and I could do nothing to stop it.
“Molly. Let go, ah fuck, you feel good, let daddy give you a good seeing to,” he urged, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his fingers working my clit faster. I could feel the tension building inside me, the pleasure spiralling higher and higher. I was on the edge, ready to fall over.
And then I did. I came hard, and my pussy gushed all over as I struggled to catch my breath; he grunted hard, “UNGH.”
He still ploughed through me, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I cried out, my voice loud in the quiet night. Dad held me close, his cock still buried deep inside me as I came down from the high.
“That’s it, Molly. That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft, loving. He kissed my neck, my shoulder, my back. I felt his cock twitch inside me, “ARGH FUCK.” He went super fast in and out, super loud, slapping noises of my ass against him.
“Shit, Molly, I’m gonna cum too,” Dad groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his release.
And then he did, his cock pulsing inside me as he filled me with his cum. It was hot and sticky, coating my insides and spilling out around his still-thrusting cock. He groaned, a long, low sound of satisfaction, as he emptied himself into me.
I could feel his breath against my neck, his heart pounding in time with mine. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to feel. I just lay there, stunned, as what happened sank in.
Dad pulled out of me then, flopping onto his back with a sigh. He didn’t say anything, just lay there, staring up at the tent’s ceiling. I turned to look at him, my heart in my throat. I couldn’t read his expression or tell what he was thinking.
I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, as I tried to process what had just happened. I’d woken up to find myself being fucked by my dad, and I hadn’t done anything to stop it. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. I pulled up my panties and adjusted my nightie, so I was covered up.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and oppressive. I could hear our ragged and uneven breathing as we tried to catch our breath. I felt like I was going to explode, the tension inside me building higher and higher.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rolled over to face him, my heart in my throat. “Dad… what… what just happened?” I asked, my voice trembling. I didn’t know what I wanted him to say, but I needed to hear something.
He turned to look at me, his eyes unreadable in the dim light of the tent. “I’m sorry, Molly,” he said, his voice low and pained. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t… I got carried away. Understand if you hate me and tell your mom. “
I sighed, “I won’t tell Mom, or you know my boyfriend, Adam; I’m not going to lie; I liked it. But why? Why did you do it, and how did you do it? Before I went to sleep, you were in your own sleeping bag.”
Dad looked at me then, his eyes searching my face. “I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were so beautiful, sleepy and flushed; it just… happened, Molly. I couldn’t help myself.” His voice was soft, filled with regret.
“But how did you get inside my sleeping bag? And my panties…” I asked, a tremor in my voice. I didn’t know if I was afraid or excited, but the feeling was intense.
“I…I was careful, Molly, I promise. I… slid your panties off gently and slipped inside without waking you up fully,” he replied a hint of shame in his voice. “I never meant to hurt you. It was just…an accident.”
A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I didn’t know where to start. It felt wrong but somehow right at the same time. I’d had sex with my dad, something I’d never even imagined before. “Why didn’t you say anything before? If you wanted to…” I asked, my voice hesitant. I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.
The tent was dark and stuffy, and I could hear the sound of our breathing, ragged and heavy. I wasn’t sure what to say, and I wasn’t sure where to go from here. I felt like I should be angry or upset, but instead, there was this warmth spreading through me, this feeling of rightness.
“Your mom doesn’t give it to me anymore, and it’s been a long time since I felt… this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at me then, his eyes searching my face. “I never meant for it to happen like this. I never wanted to hurt you.”
I saw the sadness in his eyes; I sighed, “Look, it’s wrong and incest, Dad. But… mom has been a bitch lately to you. She actually warned me before coming here. Listen, never help yourself to me like that again, but if you ever need to, you know, relieve tension and I am not around, then ring me or something. We will meet behind Mom’s back if I am not busy.”
He looked at me, shocked, “Wait, Molly, really.”
I sighed, “Yes, but I don’t want Adam to find out, especially not Mom. Anyway, let’s get some sleep.”
As we settled back into our sleeping bags, the tension between us slowly dissipated. We lay there in silence, the sounds of the night lulling us into a sense of calm. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, but at the same time, it felt right. Wrong, but right.
I tossed and turned, my mind racing with thoughts and questions. I knew what we had done was wrong, but at the same time, it felt like we had connected on a level we never had before. It was a strange, confusing mix of emotions, and I didn’t know how to process them.
Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because I was waking up to birds chirping outside the tent the next thing I knew. The sun started peering over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the lake.
I turned to look at Dad, who was already awake, staring up at the tent’s ceiling. He turned to look at me, a slight smile on his face. “Morning, Molly,” he said, his voice soft and gentle.
I smiled back a little shyly. “Morning, Dad,” I replied, still trying to process everything that had happened the night before.
We got up and started packing the camp in silence, the weight of what had happened hanging heavy between us. I didn’t know what to say or how to act, but I didn’t want to pretend like nothing had happened.
He was in such a good mood singing as he was cooking breakfast.
“Someone seems happy this morning,” I guess he needed his release last night to give a girl a good hard shag.
“Urgh, yes, princess, I feel good,” Dad grunted, and sweat dripped down his temple as he flipped bacon on the fire he’d built up at the edge of our newly disassembled camp on the lakeside.
“I know what we did was wrong, Molly,” he said, his voice low and serious. “But… I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. I can’t pretend I don’t feel this connection between us.”
I looked at him then, my heart in my throat. “Neither can I, Dad,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t let this happen again. It’s not right, and it would hurt Mom and Adam if they found out.”
He nodded, his eyes serious. “I know, Molly,” he said. “But… I can’t promise that it won’t happen again. Not if I’m feeling like this.”
I sighed, “Neither can I, but we have to be careful. We can’t let this ruin our relationship or hurt the people we care about.”
He nodded, his eyes softening. “I know, Molly,” he said. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m torn between two worlds, and I don’t know how to balance them.”
I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll figure it out together, Dad,” I said, my voice firm. “We’ll figure out how to balance our relationship and family. We must be careful and take things one step at a time.”
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine. “I trust you, Molly,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. “I trust you to help me figure this out.”
I smiled, my heart swelling with affection for him. “I trust you too, Dad,” I said, my voice warm. “We’ll get through this together and strengthen our relationship.”
We finished packing up the camp in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. As we drove back home, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of regret for what had happened, but at the same time, I felt a warmth and a closeness to my dad that I’d never felt before.
I knew things would never be the same between us, but at the same time, I felt like we had found a new level of connection, trust, and understanding. It was a strange, confusing mix of emotions, but at the same time, it felt right.
As we pulled into the driveway, I looked at my dad, taking in the lines of his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. I knew we had a long road ahead of us, but I also knew that we would face it together, hand in hand.
“We’ll figure this out, Dad,” I said, my voice firm. “We’ll make it work, no matter what.”
He smiled, his eyes softening. “I know we will, Molly,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and love. “I know we will.”
The end.