Disclaimer: everyone is at least 18 years old. This tale is about incest and contains a piss fetish! If you don’t like it, don’t read :))
I had always been very close to my daughter, Helen. As a 45 years old dad, I had raised her less than half of my life, but she was, to me, one of the loveliest people on earth, inside and outside. Her mom and I had always taken care of her but still gave her a fair load of freedom: she was our only child, and we knew that we didn’t want to be these overbearing parents that children flee because they feel imprisoned.
She was a bright, independent young person, and many times in my head came the strange thought that had I known her young, I would have fallen in love with her immediately.
She wasn’t that similar to her mom: Lydia was a confident but sometimes too strict woman, and even physically, Helen was more similar to me than her mom as she had long, sleek dark hair with mischievous brown eyes. While Lydia had lots of trouble opening up, Helen was as straightforward as I was, which made our relationship so very smooth. Helen and I shared many hobbies from a young age: I used to read her many stories before bed, stories that I read myself at her age. Later, she ended up taking books herself on our bookshelves, and we shared a love for novels and fiction of all sorts.
She also liked to help me daily, learning with me how to repair the car or replace a lightbulb. She was a quiet child, and I was a quiet dad; that greatly contrasts her mum’s talkative nature.
Lydia never showed it but had trouble accepting Helen, and I’s exceptionally smooth relationship. Helen always preferred to confide things to me, which her mom never understood; for me, it wasn’t such a mystery since Lydia herself rarely showed her vulnerability. But Lydia’s mom never communicated well with her own daughter, and I suppose that Lydia only repeated this pattern. I didn’t want that for my daughter, so I encouraged her to tell me anything and everything: without pressuring her, I always enquired about her well-being and how things were going at school and elsewhere. Helen had trouble finding people her age with whom she got along: when she reached her 15th birthday, she started to consider me as a friend and asked me to spend more time with her.
Often, we would go swimming together and then return home and cook for Lydia, who was still working. We would also go hiking the two of us weekly; she would often take these opportunities to approach sensitive topics, like this Sunday, where we took the car to go to one of the mountains surrounding us. We had done this walk many times: she knew every turn and corner. Yet, she wasn’t paying much attention to the view, which wasn’t like her. I felt her preoccupied.
– “Hey, it’s a beautiful weekend. I’m glad we decided to get out of the house,” I said with a light tone.
– “Yeah, dad, thanks,” she simply said, smiling at me.
She closed her eyes, sitting on a rock. I joined her but kept silent. I knew she would eventually talk by herself. I knew the landscape by heart, so I didn’t focus my attention on the lush mountains and the white rocks. I started to watch her from the corner of my eye. While I was patiently waiting for her to confide in me, my eyes reached her eyes, her red cheeks, her beautiful mouth, her long neck…
– “Dad, I… I feel anxious about going to university. I’m glad they accepted me, but what if I fail? Also, I’m not 100% sure that journalism is the path I want to go through. I mean, I thought about it a lot, and I know what you think, but…. I don’t know if I’ll be able to graduate,” she whispered.
I opened my arms, and she fell in my chest, looking for comfort. I distinctly felt the smooth shape of her breast on my torso but decided to throw that thought away.
– “You have time, my darling,” I said quietly. “You have time to experiment. You know that your mom and I put money aside for you, right? You don’t have to choose a path and succeed right away. Give yourself time,” I finished.
– “I know, dad, I know,” she said, taking the water bottle and drinking it to its last drop. “Oh, sorry,” she added suddenly, “Did you want some?”
– “I’m fine” I assured her, putting the bottle back in my bag.
– “Sorry dad, I drank everything! I was so thirsty after that steep hill, I think I drank everything we had,” she deplored, mortified.
I smiled, aware of that fact for half an hour now.
– “It’s OK, Helen. We have only one hour to hike back and 30mn to drive home. We should remain alive,” I said lightly.
She stood up and started the walk back. I followed her, happy to see her cheering up. I remembered my own anxieties at college and smiled to myself. As I knew the path home by heart, I nonchalantly let my eyes wander in front of me and met Helen’s firm ass. God, I was horny!
Lydia and I always had a good sex life, but recently, I wasn’t into it anymore. I had nothing to reproach to her, but the connection that was usually between us was a bit lost. She was drowning under her workload but did it willingly, and it wasn’t my place to question her choices. She was still very enthusiastic in bed, but I wasn’t. Porn had never really been my thing; only for specific stuff, like kinks. I had all kinds of kinks, but the most consistent one was one that my wife had always refused to do.
When I was 11, my sister and I were in the garden eating sweets. Sweets that were obviously stolen from the kitchen and that were supposed to last a month at least. While my mum was talking with the neighbours, my daring sister encouraged me to take half of the candies in a bag, while she took the other half. Laughing like hell, we hid in the garden, under the big tree, opposite the kitchen window so that our mum would not spot us. We had opened the sweet for a few minutes when we heard her repeated calls: jumping on our feet, we looked for a better place to hide. In the garden was standing a small hut, that we used to play or be on our own, only fitted for one child. My sister pushed me into the hut while jumping on me to fit as well. She then closed the small door and pressed a finger on her lips. We couldn’t eat: the noise of the chewing would have attracted my mom. A few minutes passed, and she started to squirm, at first a bit, and then quite heavily.
– “What are you doing??” I asked her, wanting her to stay still so that we would not get caught.
– “I want to pee,” she confessed guiltily.
– “You should have thought about it before,” I answered, tense.
Inside my pants, space was already straining.
– “I know, she said with exasperation. I didn’t, though,” she added unhappily.
– “We can’t get out now! We need to store the sweet somewhere before she sees us!”
– “I know,” she repeated frustratedly. “I can’t hold it,” she complained again.
Before I realized what was happening, I felt a warm feeling on my thigh. The feeling spread and spread, her hot piss staining my jeans while my penis became rock hard. I heard her whimpering, then exhaling, relieving the frustration. I had masturbated once or twice, out of discovery: but feeling her warm piss and her body on my jeans brought me to much higher peaks of desire. She kept pissing while I stayed silent, not wanting to break the moment. I wanted to reach to my pants and masturbate like hell, but I couldn’t do it with her right next to me. Instead, I focused on the sensation and closed my eyes as well. When she finished, she stepped away as much as she could, touching my wet jeans with her hand.
– “We’ll tell mom that you peed your pants, so that she will take care of you, and I’ll hide the sweets,” she declared before opening the door and getting out quickly.
– “What? No!!”
I felt betrayed, but the hot feeling in my pants was distracting me from getting revenge. After my mom caught us, and I explained in a desperate tone that I had peed my pants, she brought me to the bathroom, where she washed me and gave me new pants. Burning with shame, I still couldn’t get out of my head the delicious feeling felt earlier. My penis became rock hard again, and I masturbated like crazy. After that, pee porn remained my favourite.
Which brings me to now, where my daughter and I finally finished our walk. We entered the car, and a familiar scenario came to my eyes. She was squirming on her seat while we were already on the highway: there would be no area to stop before the next twenty minutes.
– “I think I made a mistake,” said Helen with a tense voice.
I started to feel my penis growing but kept my attention on the road to avoid greater damage.
– “I need to pee, dad. I drank too much,”she whined, looking at the window.
– “You know as well as I do that I can’t stop before 20 mn. Why didn’t you go in the nature?”
– “Because I didn’t feel like it,” she explained miserably.
A few minutes a silence passed between us. I tried not to look at her, but she had a hand over her shorts, trying to compress her needs. An expression of mild pain was on her face. She seemed pretty advanced in her desire to pee, and I started to worry.
– “Dad… I need to go…” she said in a strained voice.
– “You should have taken your responsibilities! You are over 18,” I complained with a nervous voice.
– “I know!… Women have weak bladders, it’s not my fault! You know I have endometriosis dad, and this includes a weak bladder!”
She was right. She had a very common but underdiagnosed condition, endometriosis, where among other effects bladder was less reliable than the norm. Yet this was the first time that we found ourselves in such a situation.
– “Well… There is an empty bottle in my bag if you really need to pee,” I suggested, looking firmly at the road.
– “Dad, it’s disgusting! I can’t pee in a bottle,” she whimpered.
Several images went through my mind of women peeing in bottles, but I shut them away once again. Until my mind returned an even more specific thought: my daughter peeing in a bottle, her little pussy spread over the bottle, her golden liquid spreading steadily in the bottle… God, that was so wrong.
– “It’s that or nothing,” I said with a firm tone.
– “I…can use my jacket as a towel,” she suggested with a very small voice.
– “Seats will remember it anyway! It’s very hard to wash! Don’t worry, we should arrive in 10mn, can you hold it?”’
We got out of the highway, and I sighed with relief. But it was traffic jam time, and all the lights were red. She whimpered again, squirming and squirming. My penis was now rock hard, and I couldn’t hide it at all. I had no jacket, nothing to hide it. I felt immensely embarrassed, praying for her not to see it. But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed a quick glance that she gave me and my boner, blushing away. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit.
– “Dad, I can’t hold it back, I can’t,” she nearly screamed.
We were not moving, waiting for the lights to get green. Not thinking straight, I spoke:
– “Take of your belt,” I ordered with an unquivering voice.
She opened big eyes but didn’t question me. Our relationship was such that she was trusting me to a point that she didn’t question my decisions when I had that tone. She took it off and jump a bit when the belt pressured her bladder by lightly weighting on it. Still not thinking straight, I lifted her and put her directly on my jeans, just like my sister had jumped on my jeans when we were younger.
– “Dad, what are you doing? God, no, no, no,” she panted while we both felt the hot liquid coming over us.
Her relief was such that she moaned repeatedly, putting me on fire. She had a very strong stream, and I felt my jeans soaking very quickly. The hot liquid reached my crotch, and finally, my penis. I was maintaining her by one hand on the hips while driving with the other, my vision blurred by desire. Feeling her soft butt over my crotch, seeing her beautiful breast pointing through the shirt almost made me cum. But what pushed me over the edge was her squirming while she was peeing, applying constant pressure on my dick, massaging it just the right way. I couldn’t help but moan as well as I felt my penis exploding with pleasure, shooting warm loads of cum in my boxers. God, that was so naughty, and yet nothing ever felt that good. I was lost in the pleasure, while she was panting.
She knew I was erect, and she could of course feel it; I suspect that her squirming also had to do with that. I wanted to maintain her in this position and drill in her, penetrating her young pussy, fucking her with my cock like never. I wanted to feel her breast and pee on her. Even after shooting my load, I was still excited.
But now was the most difficult part. Taking responsibility for what I had done…
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/r5ryi3/the_car_incident_incest_fetish