Melody’s Father – A teenage girl brings her friend home to her loving father. [F/D/F] [Incest] [ageplay] erotic short stories

It was late afternoon by the time the two ran low on money, and it was also right around then that they realized they hadn’t eaten anything since they split a bagel before heading to the beach that morning.

Melody counted out her change onto her friend Kelly’s dashboard. The light turned green, and Kelly accelerated in the only way that teenage girls can accelerate, and the change went everywhere. Into Melody’s skirted lap, between the seats, onto the floor.

“Shit,” said Melody, but apathetically.

Kelly giggled, swerving slightly as she did so. Melody rolled up her window and reached for the air conditioning in the car. The south Florida sun wasn’t any kinder in October than it was in June and nor was the humidity.

With the breeze out of their hair, Melody examined herself in the car mirror, pulling strands of blonde hair from her cleavage, re-arranging her strategically buttoned top.

Melody looked over at Kelly without her noticing. She did this often, comparing their bodies, unsure of herself but sure enough to dress as if she were 100% certain that she was a head turner. Which, of course, she was.

Kelly was too, in her own way. Having a sexy car helped. But it was south Florida. Everyone who wasn’t a minority had a sexy car.

“Hey,” said Melody. “Let’s just go to my house. My dad just went shopping. We’ll make something there. Watch a movie or something.”

“Ok,” said Kelly, and got into the turn lane.

Melody was eighteen years old. Kelly was eighteen years old. Beyond this, they were as different from one another as could be conceived. 

Melody was 5’8″, though she would tell you she was 5’9″ since she wanted to be a model. She was blonde—the kind of blond that made other girls tug on her hair and ask if it was real. It was, of course, and fell just past her shoulders to tickle the tops of her ample 34 C cup breasts. She was fit from head to toe, and had an ass that tended to devour a thong in its robustness. She could be either a model or a porn star. She would never go hungry. She was in the habit, these days, of wearing very womanly clothes, and owned one pair of shoes that did not have stiletto heels on them. She had a constant shade of olive skin. If a single word would describe Melody’s body, it would be European. Today, she was wearing a bathing suit underneath a black tank top and a short plaid skirt, her toned thighs teasing the eye with how nearly ever movement almost exposed her perfect ass.

Kelly was 5″4′ on a good day. Her hair was dyed black and cut short. She had pale skin decorated with a couple tattoos, neither of which could be seen when she was dressed. Which, even then, wasn’t really “dressed”. 

Kelly didn’t believe in leaving too much to the imagination, as if she doubted men had one. She dressed sleazy—a leopard print bra often showed more of itself and of her slightly larger breasts, 38 C, than her midriff shirts or tank-tops. Her jean-shorts made Daisy Duke look Amish.

Today, she was wearing a black bathing suit underneath a white t-shirt and black denim shorts. 

The two of them entered through the garage into the house where Melody lived with her father around 6 in the afternoon, the sun going down but still hot as hell. 

They went straight to Melody’s room and tossed their purses on the bed. 

“You want to take a shower first?” asked Kelly.

Melody thought for a second.

“No, you go ahead. I’ll go second.” She said.

Kelly shrugged and went towards the door, stopping to ask if Melody could pick out a shirt and a skirt for her to wear when she got out. Melody nodded and Kelly went into the bathroom.

Melody picked out a red tanktop and a jean skirt and put it out onto the bed, then went out into the hall and to her father’s door.

She didn’t bother knocking. 

“Hey, dad,” she said. “Kelly’s taking a shower. I’m gonna make some food for us, do you want anything?”

Father or not, Melody’s dad never passed up an opportunity to give his daughter a look-over. She stood there, her skin still wet from the beach and humid air, the tops of her breasts milky and bouncing light off into his eyes. Her thighs quivered every couple of seconds from standing in the high heels. It reminded him of the first time anything had ever happened between them, when he had persuaded her to put his dick in her mouth, and pushed his fingers into her hair as loving as any father, until he came hard into her mouth. She had looked puzzled, but understood. So had he. Theirs was a closer relationship than should be allowed a father and a daughter, but they lived alone, and they were free thinkers. And who in their right mind would ever pass up a body like his daughter’s? But he understood too, even more so after he almost forced himself into her, and she slapped him. They didn’t speak for months. She went to school, came home, and shut herself in her room. She would give him his blowjobs, it was not much more than kissing him on the cheek, right? But to actually have sex with her father was just weird. 

One night they had reconciled.

He had come into her room, where she was sleeping, on her stomach, as usual. He pulled down the sheets off her back, up and over her butt. She had fallen asleep in her bra, and it looked mighty uncomfortable. 

He unhooked it and slit it out from under her. She woke up. He put his hand gently over her mouth and kissed her forehead, then her neck. She moaned through his fingers.

He kissed her chest, stopping only briefly to leave a bite mark, then continued down her flat tummy and between her thighs. He breathed hot air through her panties. 

He took his hand away from her mouth to pull them angrily off of her, then spun her around into a sitting position. 

“Dad—oh my god…” she said, still half-awake.

“Shh, baby. Shh. Just let it happen.”

He buried his face into her baby-smooth crotch, his tongue flicking in and out and over with skills enhanced and perfected by living though the age of free-love, until his daughter came harder than she ever would…until he did it the next night, and at least three times a week after that, when he would have to wipe his daughter’s juices off of his face, and she would look at him with those blue eyes, panting, and they both knew they were very lucky to be father and daughter.

But they understood. Hand-jobs waiting for the popcorn to pop while watching a movie, blow jobs before bed or after the shower, the times he’d finger her on the way home from school or the gym, the groping, this is where it would remain. Sex was simply out of the question.

Even still, Melody’s father considered himself a very fortunate man.

He shook himself from reverie.

Melody knew what he was thinking, could see the familiar hunger in his eyes, the tensing of his thigh muscles in his swivel chair in front of the computer.

“I mean, to eat, dad!” She sighed. He smiled.

Still not specific enough.

“Dad, I have a friend over.” He leaned forward as he heard the shower turn on.

“Baby, Mel. Come here. I want to talk to you about something,” he said.

He pulled her down onto his lap.

“Now, which friend do you have over?” He asked, grinding himself through his jeans, ever so slightly, against his daughter’s bare thigh.

“Kelly,” she said. “Why?”

He paused for a moment.

“Is that the fat one with red hair?” He asked.

“No, dad. That’s Tara.” 

“Ah. Is it the other fat one?”

“You mean Mattie?”

“I guess. The one you went to the concert with.”

“No. Kelly, dad. She’s short, black hair, big boobs? Pale?”

“Oh, she’s the one with the car?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

He giggled, holding her tight around the middle. Her father’s dick was more than half hard, pushing against her, as if it could lift her up like a car-jack.

“Good,” he said. “I have an idea.” [read more](https://realsexstoriesx.blogspot.com/2018/05/melodys-father-teenage-girl-brings-her.html)

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