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All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me.

Instead, I got the shock of my life. I learnt how it must feel to be shot out of the sky. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face.

It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved.

My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end.

Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible.

I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father. But this was no punishment.

This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child.

How could he end something so wonderful, something so perfect? It was beautiful; we were one, my father and I. Our love transcended that of a father and his daughter.

It was the stuff of heaven. I was his sole religion, he worshiped me. There was no one else either, I knew that much. My mother died while birthing me.

And he was my breath. I never missed my mother. I never knew her, never would meet her. It would have been awkward.

My father gave no reason for killing me. Something, perhaps, must have happened to his hormones. He only said he was doing it for me, that it was for the best, my best.

How could I have ever believed the man loved me? He even looked sad that day, so sorrowful and tired. In better times and in our previous world, I would have taken him in my arms as I was wont, and work my magic on him.

Over the years I had learnt his special recipe. I was the only one who knew his mix. But his words belied the sorrow on his features.

He had said the break up words so casually, as if he had thought it through and found it a simple matter.

There should be a special kind of voice and words for pronouncements of that nature, something equal and suitably terrible. The normalcy and casualness of his words were a negation.

It was like mockery. But end it did, and in so shocking a manner. Death is not a casual occurrence. I felt like dying. I wanted to die.

I should have killed him too; I should have hurt him too. He looked like he was hurting, but I should have made sure.

It is too painful to feel the pain of death and yet be alive. There is no pain worse than the pain of death.

And then, the man wanted us to be Father and Daughter, just father and daughter. We were happy, I made him happy. Why do some people reject their own happiness?

For a long time I had believed my father loved me. On my twentiethbirthday, I knew the truth. That day was my awakening to the heartlessness of men, and the absurdity of love.

That day, I grew up, I grew old and I died. It was the last day I spoke or saw my father. He killed me, so I made sure I remained dead to him.

I became a living dead, dead inside and alive only in looks. As I left him that evening, I looked back a lot of times. He watched me leave. The tears were streaming from both our eyelids.

I could feel his sorrow; it was thick enough to touch. The feeling was apt; death had occurred. The man came for me twice, later. But he came as a father coming for his daughter.

He should have come for me as a soul for its soul mate, like breath for air, like the dying for life. That was what we were; romance and its love.

I made a new resolve. Men would learn from me, the very hard way. I have what they want. My beauty is the glaring kind that every body agrees with.

But my heart would be a different matter. It took a while before I could stand the touch of any other man, but vengeance helped me detach my body from myself.

I would forever be grateful for my looks; it was my ultimate shield. It helped me survive and helped my resolve.

I set off on a mission, to hurt as I had been hurt. I soon became very successful. I brought both boys and men to their knees. I killed them and still left them alive.

I remember the families that fought themselves over me, the brothers that would never forgive each other, the scandalized churches and governments, the suicides, the bankruptcies.

There is a lot a body can do when it is rightly motivated. Payback is a beautiful side of nature. No man recovered that encountered me.

But vengeance was not so much fun. Sometimes I wondered what the whole point was. Payback did not completely fill the chasm that my father dug in me.

I doubt if anything ever would. In moments of weakness, I would always think about what my father and I had. Thinking about our perfect love brought me tears and gave me joy.

At such moments, I would really try to feel and have fun, I would let my guard down to see if I would be alive again. It was no use.

No other man was like my father. No one even came close. No one was able to get me right, something was always missing. With my dad it was perfect, he knew just what I wanted, and how.

She would lay on my back and finger herself to orgasm. This went on for a couple of years, happening about three times a month. One morning when she was 10, she came in before sunrise and crawled on top of me as usual, I felt her tiny hand wrap around my cock and she began to slowly hump her bald pussy against me.

I was only semi conscious and felt like it was a dream. I reached down and grabbed her little butt, one hand on each cheek and began to rub her ass while I pushed my hard on against her.

I heard her panting and begin to moan and I felt her body tense as she had a nice orgasm. Before I even thought about it, I rolled her off me, pulled off her panties and started licking her hot little vagina.

She was shocked but spread her legs wide and let me continue. I licked her until she came again then I put my cock between her legs, and humped her, not actually penetrating her, just sliding between her legs against her bald pussy.

I was still half asleep, but began to really pound it to her. I was doing it so hard it was knocking her breath out with each thrust. When I reached down and crabbed her ass again, I stuck my finger into her tight little asshole then I positioned my cock head right against her vagina hole and I came harder than I ever had in my life.

After I calmed down, I rolled back over, pulled her on top of me, and massaged her back as I felt my cum dripping out of her still virgin pussy.

We kissed like lovers and she fell asleep on me as I drifted off. Whenever she was horny, she would come sneak into my bad and ask me to lick her.

We did the same routine every Saturday morning for the next three years. Then one day she got her period. She stopped wanting to do it, but one night I talked her into letting me lick her 13 yr old pussy for an hour.

I went to prison for 5 years and now she says she hates me and never wanted to do it at all.

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Dad Daughter Sex Stories Video

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