Edward and Emily - Chapter 1


This is the first chapter of a fictitious story. The characters in this story are based on real people, but I have changed most of the names and in some cases their appearance. The events in this story never happened, with exception of some of the minor ones.

My name is Emily and I'm 19 years old. I know that after reading my story, many of you will judge me, will condemn our relationship and will curse my dad. But what if it was me who took the initiative? What if it was the daughter who used tricks to seduce her father? What if it is me who is happy and him who is feeling guilty, confused, doubting?

But I am getting ahead of myself. First I must tell you a bit about me and my family. My parents divorced when I was eight years old. My mom moved in with her new boyfriend and I stayed with my dad. I can honestly say that my father is my best friend. He is always there for me. He has a fulltime job, but still finds the time to do all the housework, cook dinner, help me with my homework and do fun things with me, like taking me on field trips. Well, he doesn't help me with my homework anymore, but he did when I was younger. My mom and dad aren't friends, but at least they politely acknowledge each other's existence.

I'm quite short, only 5'3 and I'm not as curvy as other girls my age. I have dark, almost black hair and brown eyes, but my skin is quite pale.

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   My grandfather calls me Snow White. People often think I'm much younger than I am, like the policeman who pulled me over, because he thought he saw a child driving.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?" he said.

"Oh please mister policeman, don't tell my daddy!" I replied, with an overly childish voice, batting my eyelashes as I handed him my driver's license.

The poor guy turned several shades of red and his older partner almost peed his pants laughing.

When my friends started looking at boys, I didn't understand what they were talking about. I didn't think those boys were cute, or hot or whatever. I was more interested in men, like our math teacher, Mr. Davis, or that one bus driver, or that one guy from the restaurant where my mom and I sometimes go for coffee and cake. To me a guy isn't interesting unless he is at least twice my age. I know that isn't normal, but I can't help it.

Where I live you're not allowed to drink alcohol before you are 18 years old and sure enough I got drunk on my 18th birthday. That night I technically lost my virginity to a hair brush handle. The following morning, when I woke up with a hangover, noticed the bloodstain and remembered the pain, I promised myself I would never drink again. Of course I broke that promise within a few weeks, but I never got drunk again.

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I am in college now and during the week I share a room with Jenna. I wouldn't call her my best friend, but we get along. Most weekends and college breaks I go back home, and Jenna uses our room to have sex with one of her two boyfriends. Not at the same time as far as I know.

I guess my story really started when there was this workshop about sexual abuse. There were three ladies from some organization who came to tell me and my fellow students about how they had been abused and how it affected their lives. One of these ladies had an extra shocking story, because she had been abused at a young age by her own father. Her story confused me like nothing before. Of course, I thought that no one should ever have to experience what had happened to her. I felt sorry for her and wanted to comfort her, I hated the father and wanted to gouge his eyes out, but at the same time there was something else, something. . . strange. I couldn't really put my finger on it.

That night I had the weirdest dream.


   I dreamt that my father was fucking me. He held both my wrists in one hand above my head, his other hand was squeezing my breast and I felt him thrusting inside me. Suddenly I was sitting upright in bed. My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest, but what surprised me the most, was the heat and wetness between my legs. Without thinking I started masturbating furiously, pretending it was my father's hand caressing my body. I tried to masturbate in silence - you learn that when you have a roommate - but when I was just about to cum, I heard Jenna's voice.

"Do you need a hand with that?"

"Uuuuuhhhhhgggnnnnnn. . . " Pause. "No, thanks, got it. "

Jenna laughed hysterically. "Yeah, that was pretty obvious. Who was it?"

"Who was who?"

"The guy you were thinking of. Someone I know?"

This was by far the most intimate conversation I had ever had with Jenna, but of course I couldn't say "It was my dad.


  " Instead I said, "Oh, some guy back home. "

"Is he cute?"

"I wouldn't say that. He is. . . reliable. Trustworthy. "


"He's older. "

That got her attention. "How old?"

"42," I said, making my dad two years younger.

"Holy cow! Is he good in bed?"

"Uh-huh. " The lies came easy. I had no idea if he was good in bed or not. He's my dad for Pete's sake! The questions kept coming for a while, but apparently she got bored by my evasive answers, and finally she stopped asking.

The rest of that week I found myself looking at men differently.

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   I still looked at older men, but now I compared them to my dad, and I'm sorry to say they all lost. I found myself visiting websites with erotic stories, and looking for specifically father/daughter fantasies. Some were pretty good, but most were just long descriptions of penetration and exchanges of bodily fluids, written without any emotion but lust. Some of the ads caught my attention, and I ordered two sets of those handcuffs covered with pink fur. They were pretty cheap and probably low quality, but I thought some of my friends would get a kick out of them.

On Friday afternoon, I threw my stuff in my old car that looked like it could fall apart any minute, but miraculously managed to take me from home to college and back every week. I'm pretty sure I broke the speed limit a couple of times, and when I pulled up in the driveway I noticed my dad's car wasn't there yet.

I let myself in, emptied my bag into the washing machine, added detergent, took my clothes off and stuffed them in the machine and turned it on. "Good girl," I praised myself. I routinely took a nude selfie in the bathroom mirror, decided it was good enough to keep and stepped into the shower.

A few minutes later I was just drying off when I heard my dad's voice.

"Sweetie, are you home?"

I grabbed my bathrobe, put it on while running towards and down the stairs and threw myself around my dad's neck.

"Whoa, what is this all about?"

"I missed you. "

Dad laughed, but he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a bear hug like when I was little. I soaked in his smell while we stood there in the hallway.

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"Are you okay Emi?"

"Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me. "

Of course I knew what was wrong with me. I wanted to feel his body pressed against mine, but I couldn't tell him that.

Dad gave me a squeeze that literally took my breath away.

"Go get dressed and I'll make dinner. "

Five minutes later I was sitting at the kitchen table and my eyes were following Dad around the kitchen. Why had I never noticed how attractive he was? He is not an athlete, but he does take care of his body, eats healthily and. . . Well, he looks pretty darn good for his age and I wouldn't be surprised if he made women's heads turn every once in a while.

"Are you okay?" he repeated.


"Are you okay? You look a bit. . . strange.

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   Like you're not really there. "

"No, I'm fine. "

He took my hand and felt my wrist.

"Are you sure you are alright? Your pulse is a bit fast. "

Of course my pulse was fast. I was just undressing my father with my eyes! But of course I claimed to be fine. What else was I to do?

At dinner we talked about random things, like always; college, his work, the old lady three doors down the street being admitted to hospital again. The only thing different this time was that I kept looking at his eyes, and every time he looked back, I couldn't help but smile.

"What's going on in that little head of yours?"

"Oh, nothing," I lied. My brain presented me with a plausible excuse. "Just making plans for your birthday. " It was exactly one week until his birthday.

"Oh, right. Now that you mention it, Uncle James and Aunt Susan will be coming over for dinner. "


Uncle James, or Jimmy as I call him, is my father's younger brother.

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   He is a bit shorter than Dad, and has ginger curly hair. He is my favourite uncle, because he always made me laugh when I was a kid. His wife, Aunt Susan, Is the most beautiful woman I know. Long naturally blond hair, blue eyes, perfect body, really long legs and boobs that seem to defy gravity, yet without looking fake. Think of a blond Xena warrior princess. I always wanted to look like her.

After dinner, we spent the evening talking and watching TV. We made it to the end of a late night horror movie, when I decided to go to bed. Up in my room I found a small package on my desk. Apparently I had used my home address when I ordered the handcuffs. Normally that shouldn't have been a problem, Dad never opened my mail, but if it's an unmarked envelope, and they only write "E" instead of "Emily", and my dad's name is Edward, then it's easy to make a mistake. The package was opened, and there was a sticky note on it.

"Make sure your mom doesn't see these, and please only use them with someone you trust ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!"

Oh God, how could I have been so stupid! Why did I have these cuffs delivered here? Why did I order them in the first place? I spent at least an hour tossing and turning, until I finally fell asleep.

The following morning, Dad was making breakfast when I came downstairs.

"Hey sweetie.

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   Sit down and have some tea. Breakfast will be ready in a minute. "

I watched him as he went through the rituals of preparing waffles. God he looked so good.

"Dad, do you know you are the only man I trust one hundred percent?"

Dad smiled. "That's nice to hear, honey. "

About two seconds later his hands froze. I guess that is when he made the link between my words and what he had written on the sticky note. After a second or so his hands started moving again, but slower, and he looked at me a few times. He looked puzzled, but didn't say a thing.

The entire weekend was weird. I spent way more time with my dad than I usually did. I kept checking him out, wondering what he would look like without clothes, or what it would feel like to touch him, and I don't mean touching his hand or something.

I "forgot" to close the bathroom door when taking a shower, but nothing happened. I'm not even sure Dad noticed.

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   When I left for college that Sunday night, Dad hugged me.

"I'm not sure why," he said, "but this weekend was more fun than usual. "

"Yes it was. " I kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be back on Friday. "

"Looking forward to it, honey. "

He kissed me on my cheek and in an impulse I kissed him on the lips, just briefly. The look of surprise in his eyes was priceless. I quickly got into my car, before I was tempted to throw myself at him, waved, and drove off.

The week was uneventful.

Classes, projects, Jenna questioning me about my older guy, me not telling anything, surfing the internet. Strange thoughts haunted me. Not really thoughts but. . .


   like parts of a plan. A really bad plan, but yet too enticing. A plan that could seriously mess up my life, but I couldn't get it out of my head and slowly I accepted that I had no choice. I simply had to find out if Dad was susceptible to the idea of making love to me, and if he would act on it.

I decided to skip classes on Friday. There were only two of them and nothing I couldn't catch up with, so I drove home on Thursday evening. Dad was watching TV when I came in.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking a bit surprised to see me.

"Playing hooky. I wanted to be here for your birthday. "

I dropped myself onto the couch next to him and kissed him on the cheek.

Dad smiled, "I have to work tomorrow. "

He wrapped an arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder.

"Good. Then I'll have the house to myself to decorate and bake a cake.

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There was a horror movie on TV that night, the genre Dad and I both love, and we watched it together. Dad had one arm on the arm rest, the other one on his leg, holding the remote control. I was sitting at the other end of the couch, my legs pulled up under me and I looked more at him than at the TV screen. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to test how he would react to physical contact, other than the occasional hugs.

"Daddy, do you remember how I used to watch 'Sesame Street'?"

Dad smiled. "Sure! Stretched out on the couch with your head on my lap. "

I moved over next to him, lifted his arm up and lay down, my head on his lap. Dad's smile widened. He stroked my hair with his left hand. His right hand moved from my tummy to my shoulder, to the backrest and back to my tummy.

"What are you doing, waving that remote control around?"

"I'm trying to find a comfortable place to put my hand. "

"You mean you're trying to find a comfortable place to put your hand without touching my boobs?"

Dad chuckled. "Yeah, you didn't have those when you were watching 'Sesame Street'. "

"It's just fat tissue, Dad. "

I grabbed his hand, pulled out the remote control, dropped it on the couch next to me and put his hand on my breastbone, between my breasts.

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He tried to pull his hand away, but I held it down with two hands.

"It's okay! Watch the movie. "

I don't think the movie argument convinced him, but he did shut up and slowly I felt the tension disappear from his arm. His left hand started stroking my hair again. Some girl on TV was being chased by a guy wearing a mask and holding a knife.

"Oh look Dad, she's defending herself by throwing a pillow at him. " I said.

"Yeah, it would make more sense if she hit him on the head with that lamp. "

Slowly his hand that had been resting where I put it, started to move, touching the side of my breast in a gentle caressing motion. My heart started beating faster and I felt my nipple go hard. Was he aware of what he was doing, or did he just mix up his hands?

"Or she could grab that poker from the fireplace and ram it though his chest. " I responded.

Daddy moved his hand further onto my breast and started playing with my nipple through my T-shirt. At the same time, I felt something push against the back of my head. Holy crap, he was getting an erection! I turned my head to look at his face.


   He was still looking at the TV. My cheek was resting against his penis now and I could feel it getting harder and harder.

Dad squeezed my nipple. It kind of hurt, but in a good way and I felt the irresistible urge to cross my legs or press my knees together.

We were both horny and enjoying each other's touch, both pretending nothing was going on. I could clearly feel Daddy's dick against the back of my head. It was rock hard now and I almost expected it to burst through the fabric of his pants. I felt an empty ache between my legs. God I wanted him to stick his hand into my pants so badly.

"Uhh, I've got to uhhh, got to go to the bathroom," he muttered.

Oh fuck! Not now! He gently pushed me upright, clumsily got off of the couch and left the room with a funny walk. Apparently, it's hard to walk with an erection trapped in your pants.

Without thinking I pushed my hand into my pants and between my legs. No surprise there, I was as wet as an otter's pocket.

I got up from the couch, ran upstairs to my room and kicked my pants and panties off as fast as I could.


   I put my left foot on the edge of my bed and started rubbing my pussy lips. They were all red and swollen. One of my fingers slipped between them and I moved the tip of my finger from my vagina to my clit and back. My finger went back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, until it slipped into my vagina.

My right leg started shaking uncontrollably. I needed to change position, before it gave in. I knelt down with my knees apart and started touching myself again, supporting my weight with my left hand on the bed. Normally, when I finger myself, I use one finger, but this time I could easily slip two in. It's amazing what you can do with enough lubrication. I easily found my G-spot and started tickling it, bending and stretching my fingers. The ball of smoldering fire, that I always feel when my body is preparing for an orgasm, started building up just behind my pubic bone. Almost unconsciously I moved my left hand to my tummy, then up under my T-shirt and I started squeezing my boobs and pinching my nipples, thinking of what had happened downstairs and of what Daddy was probably doing in the bathroom. Oh God I would have loved to be doing that for him.

For a moment I almost lost my balance and I quickly bent forward and supported my weight with my forehead on the bed. Somehow that gave me easier access to my pussy and with two fingers still inside, I started squeezing it, putting pressure on my pussy lips and making small circles with the palm of my hand.

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   At the same time my new position made my boobs feel totally different. The way they were hanging down from my chest now made them feel a bit bigger. I squeezed one of my nipples so hard, it really hurt, but for some reason I had to do it.

The fiery ball was much larger now and I knew it was about to burst out in flames. I pulled my fingers out of my pussy and started rubbing my clit, somewhere in the back of my head registering how engorged it was.

"Oh daddy, fuck me. Fuck me please. " I whispered into the mattress.

That thought was enough to push me over the edge. The ball of fire exploded between my legs, sending jolts of electricity to every part of my body, from my toes to the tips of my fingers and the top of my head. There was a 'WOOSH" sound inside my head, like a wave crashing on the inside of my skull, and tiny sparkles tingled all over my skin.

When the jolts stopped and the fire and sparkles disappeared, I found myself lying on the floor, next to my bed. My heart rate was slowly going down to normal and I was covered in sweat and my own juices, but I was simply too tired to shower.

I took off my sweat soaked T-shirt and crawled into bed. It didn't take long before I fell asleep, but just before Morpheus took me in his arms, I smiled at the thought that Daddy was more than attracted to me.

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   He was just trying to deny it to me and himself. I knew it should be possible to seduce him. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.