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Chandra Caught Me by bobby

Chandra Caught Me

My daughter is fifteen, and for the past two years I have fought a serious 
battle with my desire to have sex with her. I know she's my little girl and that 
to fuck her would have terrible psychological effects on her--and for all I 
know, on me as well--and would be horribly wrong for any number of reasons. Yet 
the desire persists. I've always been attracted to teen girls anyway, but my own 
daughter-- Chandra is her name--is so scrumptiously hot that I can barely 
contain myself. Several times I have snuck into her room and snatched a pair of 
her soiled little panties for my own masturbation purposes. The smell of her 
little cunt is so fresh and sweet, and it mixes so powerfully with the sour 
little whiff of sweat and urine that are always present too. I inhale my 
daughter's sexy odor and pull off my big cock until my sperm--the very sperm 
that gave produced my hot little baby girl--squirts out forcefully in five or 
six massive spurts. I always put her panties back where I found them, taking 
care never to stain them with any telltale cum. I told myself that even jacking 
off while sniffing her underwear was going way too far, but also I felt by doing 
that I was keeping myself from doing anything worse.

Things recently got worse. My wife's sister got sick and so my wife had to leave 
town for a few weeks. I was just my daughter and I at home alone that whole 
time. I did pretty well for a few days, not doing anything worse that smelling 
her panties and beating off. The first Saturday my wife was gone, however, 
something happened. I told Chandra that I had some work to do at my office and 
that I would not be back until mid-afternoon. I got done with the work much more 
quickly than I had anticipated and arrived back at our house just a bit after 
11. As I turned on to our street, I saw that there was black Mazda parked in 
front of our house. I recognized it: it belonged to an older boy--Rick or Rich 
or something. He was 17, I think that Chandra had been on dates with a few 
times. I had some idea what might be happening, so I drove past our house and 
parked one street over. Quietly I let myself in and slowly crept up the stairs. 
I heard the very sounds that I hoped (and feared) that I would: the faint squeak 
of bed springs, little soft yelps from my daughter-- something like "mmmnah, 
mmmnah" and then a little yip or two like a small dog might make--and heavier 
grunts of effort from an obviously male voice. Chandra's door was closed and I 
stood outside listening for a few minutes. The boy's breathing got faster and 
more ragged; he was very close to cumming. I thought about that young penis 
spurting all its semen deep inside my daughters tight little pussy. It made me 
very hot--I was rubbing by cock rather roughly through my jeans, trying not to 
make any noise--but it also made me jealous. Why couldn't I be the one squirting 
into my daughter's little cunny? I certainly loved her more than this silly high 
school boy and I was certain I could satisfy her more completely too. (I could 
tell the boy wasn't going to be able to hold back until Chandra was ready for 
her own orgasm.) The boy let out a sharp gasp, and I knew he'd cum. I slowly 
made my way back down the stairs and out the door.

I was hoping and praying that they had heard nothing. I went back to my car and 
drove around for an hour or so, listening to the radio and trying to make my 
hard-on go away. Finally, it subsided partially and I drove back home. The kid's 
car was gone. When I went inside and started up the stairs, I heard the shower 
running faintly. Chandra's door was cracked; I snuck into her room and smelled a 
distinct smell of sex. Not wanting to disturb anything, I pushed my nose gently 
close to the damp spot on Chandra's sheets and inhaled that luscious aroma 
deeply. Then I quickly went to the bathroom inside the master bedroom, turned on 
the shower, and jerked myself to a copious orgasm in about ninety seconds. Sperm 
shot everywhere. I'd never cum so hard in my life. All I could think of was that 
spicy sex odor on Chandra's sheets and the sound of her voice, those little 
moans she made while getting fucked. I cleaned up, stepped into the shower, and 
told myself that I was moving down a dangerous path. I resolved to put my sexy 
little girl out of my mind.

I didn't have much luck with my resolution, however. That night I slept poorly, 
waking up rock hard at least three times. Twice during the night I jerked off, 
the sound of my daughter's voice and the smell of her sweaty little muff tying 
me in knots. But I didn't try anything with her; I didn't rush to her room in 
the middle of the night and force my cock inside her tight little pussy--even 
though part of me wanted to do so very badly. But I made it through that night.

The next afternoon my daughter went to the mall with some friends of hers. As 
soon as she was out the door, an idea occurred to me: phone sex. I could call a 
phone sex service--I did this once in a while anyway--and request an incest 
fantasy. Immediately I tried to talk myself out of it. Wasn't this a step beyond 
jerking off while sniffing Chandra's panties? I couldn't decide. Also, wouldn't 
it be embarrassing to be down in the records of the phone sex company as an 
incest caller? (Was that more embarrassing than being in their records as a 
caller who liked to be seduced by babysitters, which is what I usually 
requested? I decided it probably was.) At any rate, I wrestled with the dilemma 
for over an hour and then finally gave in. I decided I wanted this to be a long 
slow call, so I bought an hour, much longer than my usual 15 minutes. I told the 
operator I wanted the girl to be my fifteen-year-old daughter and for her name 
to be Chandra. I was absolutely stiff. My stomach was twitching; I was shivering 
with the thought of something so taboo.

The call was going well. After half an hour or so the girl and I had settled 
into a pattern: I was instructing my daughter how bad and insensitive it was to 
be a cock-tease. I was telling her that I knew a way to cure her of her teasing 
ways, and so on. I remember saying something like: "Chandra, honey, you need to 
be shown how boys like to be treated. I want you to suck my cock, and when daddy 
is satisfied that you can do that well enough, I'm going to push my cock up 
inside your little pussy and make you squeal. And if you try to tease daddy, 
I'll get a lot rougher with you, and make you take my cock inside your sweet 
little butthole. That's right honey that would hurt. But I don't want to hurt my 
little girl. So open up and show what a good little daughter you can be by 
sucking daddy's penis." Something like that anyway. There was a knock at my 
bedroom door--Chandra was home; I was so into the fantasy that I hadn't heard 
her come in-- "Daddy?" she said as she swung the door open. I had time to hang 
up the phone roughly but not time to cover my swollen cock.

"You're home early," I said, trying to cover up.

She was staring at my erection. "Who were you talking to?" she asked me. "I 
thought I heard you saying my name."

"No, I didn't say your name honey, I . . ." I saw her eyes take in the porn mag 
open to phone sex ads spread beside me on the bed, the American Express card 
next to the phone on the night table.

"I know about phone sex, daddy," she said, coming closer. "Were you pretending 
to have sex with me?"

I was floored. I nodded.

"I know you sometimes steal my panties daddy--what do you do with them?" She 
moved closer, sitting down beside me.

I said, "Chandra this isn't right. We shouldn't be doing this. Think of your 
mother." Then she leaned across me and popped the head of my cock into her 
mouth, and licked and sucked me with a girlish eagerness. I felt bad, terrible, 
and somehow that made me hotter still. I stroked her hair and she looked up at 
me with my wife's eyes while slurping and kissing away. That did it. A huge wave 
of sperm gushed forth into Chandra's mouth. It was too much for her; she choked 
and gagged a little, my dick came out of her mouth and shot a squirt or two into 
her hair for good measure. "Wasn't that better than phone sex daddy?" she asked 
me as I slumped guiltily back on the bed. "Wasn't that better than how mommy 
does it?"

e-mail me: shallowmask@hotmail.com


