Sheila's Story - Sex Stories

Sheila's Story

Disclaimer...This is a story of fiction. It involves a father and daughter who are over 18. I do not condone intimacy between relatives. The sole purpose is fantasy and entertainment. Let me know if we should continue the story further.

Hello, my name is Shiela, and this part of my life has confused me since it started. I use the word 'started' because it continues through today. I realize that morally it goes against everything we are conditioned to do. I have never been able to tell anyone because I don't want to be judged. I will start with my upbringing.

I am the product of bi-racial parents. My parents were good to me growing up. My dad, Larry, is African American from the inner city with a bad upbringing. He would have weekend visits throughout my childhood and very rarely missed his time to see me. He was the parent that I had fun with. Dad would build our time together around activities that I wanted to do. My dad was the parent that spoiled me. In his defense, I was a good kid with good grades, respectful, but timid.

My dad was an imposing-looking individual. He is approximately six foot three and has maintained his health by being a gym rat. He never had a gut and was built like an athlete. My dad worked hard for a living as a maintenance supervisor at a major hospital. Money wasn't always readily available, but I never knew that growing up. My needs and wants were always met, leaving me oblivious to his sacrifices. He has lived in an in-law studio ...

... apartment for most of my life in the urban neighborhood where he grew up. Because of the confined living space, I would always get dibs on the bed while he would sleep in his recliner. I remember feeling bad that his living area was so confined, but I couldn't wait to spend time with him every week. I would sit on his lap on movie nights and cuddle him, or we would make popcorn and sit on his bed. I had great memories of my time with him.

My mom, Lisa, was a schoolteacher, and we lived a typical suburban life. Mom and I got along, and I tried hard to not cause grief for her growing up. To meet all my needs and wants, Mom worked a second job, waitressing at a local restaurant. Unlike other kids from broken homes, I never sensed that there were issues between her and my dad. She never interfered with me and my dad's relationship, nor did he interfere with my mom and I's relationship. I had a peaceful childhood.

When I graduated High School, I went to a local state college to save money on not paying room and board. I would rotate between my mum or dad's depending on my schedule. During my first two years of college, I started having fun, making up for being a goody two shoes throughout my high school years. When I drank too much, I would stay at my dad's. Dad wouldn't nag me about drinking or how I dressed. He would tell me to be careful and not trust people, specifically men. I am a happy drinker; I talk a lot, and my dad would make fun of me when I showed up drunk and chatty. ...