Forbidden Fruit of a Father

Note : This story is COMPLETELY fictional!

“There’s a taxi out the front!” shouted some girl I’d spoken to briefly during the night but didn’t really know.

I was at a party, drinking the night away with my best friend, Alyssa, and the thought that my Dad might be out the front ready to pick me up already really disappointed me. I hadn’t even finished all my drinks! He wasn’t meant to be here for at least another hour.

Alyssa and I reluctantly got up and went out the front to make sure it was my father and sure enough it was. We said our goodbyes and hopped into his cab along with the girl who I didn’t know and her boyfriend who got a free ride. As you’ve probably realized by now my dad’s a taxi driver who works the night shift, which works out pretty good when I want to go out till all hours of the morning because he’s always awake. I had to sit in the front seat and tried my hardest to act sober, which isn’t that easy when I’m holding a can of vodka and raspberry, talking and trying to look through my dad’s phone book for him at the same time. He didn’t say anything but I could tell he knew I was pissed. I don’t think he really cares anymore though. He seems to have become a lot more understanding of me of late.

That night I was wearing my black thigh high boots, my black flowing skirt and a red tank top that accentuated my gorgeous, full, C cup breasts. My long black hair was flowing down my shoulders and framing my breasts perfectly. I was feeling quite sexy that night and knew that my aquamarine eyes must have been shining. If I had have known more people at that party I’m sure I would’ve picked up.

I woke up from my little day dream, or should I say night dream, to see us pulling up outside Alyssa’s house. I got out of the cab with her and walked her inside as I had to get some things of mine from her room. “Goodnight Pheobes. Be a good girl,” laughed Alyssa. We never knew who or what I’d end up doing when I got home.

As I opened the passenger side of the taxi door I knew Dad would’ve been able to see my lacy black knickers under my skirt and I felt strangely excited at the thought. I knew it was wrong, but I loved knowing someone was looking at me and it just seemed even riskier and heart pumping that it might be my own father. I decided to take it a little further and ‘accidentally’ made my gorgeous skirt rise just a little bit so that he could see my milky white thighs. It didn’t seem like he was really noticing any of this and if he was he was doing a good job of pretending he hadn’t.

We chatted about all the usual things on the short ride home and surprisingly he said he would come inside for a coffee with me for a little bit. He still had hours more left of work as it was only 2:00 but I supposed he was just taking a break. I sauntered to the front door and waited for him to unlock it. 

While he went to the toilet I made the coffees. I was making myself one as well even though I knew I really shouldn’t be because Dad didn’t have any decaff and I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep. I assumed I’d probably be on the phone all night anyway. Alyssa and I never could be without talking to each other for awhile.

Dad and I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV as usual. I took my boots off and starting massaging my poor feet. “Ahhh, my feet are so sore,” I said to Dad, “I don’t know why I make myself suffer in these boots.”
To my surprise my dad said, “Put your feet up here and I’ll give them a massage.” This wasn’t something that happened all the time. My dad and I weren’t very close at all. I was only staying at his house over the weekend as I live an hour away with my mum and I was visiting friends. Dad and I never hugged, gave each other kisses on the cheeks or told each other we loved each other let alone him massaging my feet. Oh sure, when I was little he’d tickle me and stuff, we even had showers together, but not when I became a 17 year old teenager, especially since he would always lie about me to Mum and go through my things.

I swiveled around on the couch and put my feet on my daddy’s lap so that my whole length was practically spread out across the whole couch. He slowly started to knead my feet. Mmm it felt so good. I could already feel the pain subsiding. I half meant and half didn’t mean to start making moaning noises of pleasure. Part of me was genuinely feeling good and the other part wanted to see what my father’s reaction would be. I had secretly fantasized a few times about my dad touching me. The more forbidden it was the more it turned me on.

I didn’t really think I would get any reaction from him but I started to feel that he was getting hard with my foot. He probably couldn’t help it. I spread my legs open a little so that if he glanced across he’d be able to see up my skirt. I started rubbing his cock with my left foot to make him harder and to see how far he would go with this. If he told me I was doing something wrong I could always say I didn’t realize what I was doing. I mean, I was tipsy after all. It’s not like he knew how experienced I was. I closed my eyes and pretended to just be enjoying the sensations of his massage. I could feel his cock getting bigger and stiffer through the shear fabric of his pants. I peaked through my eyelashes and saw him look from where my foot was massaging his cock to my exposed panties with a blush forming across his face.

His fingers started to trace up my bare calves. He was tickling me so much that I had to let out a laugh. We looked into each others eyes at that moment and I started to feel moisture between my thighs, not that that was a strange thing for me. I was always horny. I knew we were both feeling the same thing, that we wanted each other. I wanted my daddy. He must’ve been so lonely. As far as I knew he hadn’t had sex in at least a year.