I woke up in the morning a different man. I was shaken by the realization of what I had done last night, but as I gathered my recollections, I gained peace of mind for the first time in the last few days. I woke you up tenderly, like I had done ever since you started attending school, this time a caress over your head and a soft whisper of your name. You never needed an alarm, you always got up when you were supposed to, whether by yourself or because of me.
"Good morning Daddy," you said kissing my cheek.
When you were little we showered together every once in a while. As to be expected, even at an early age your mother found this activity to be out of place, and later on she assumed it had stopped. We still did it a few times when she was away, though it had become ever sparser since keeping my erection under control proved to be too great of a challenge. This time I had no qualms about doing it, telling myself rather unconvincingly it was so you would not feel what had once been part of our bonding was coming to a complete end.
As we showered, you looked at my phallus and smiled, I'm sure wishing you could make me happy again by learning how to handle it. I washed myself, with no need to mask my bliss.
At the breakfast table, you caught me by surprise.
"Dad, I really liked what you taught me last night, especially that part when you pushed me hard and made me gag a little. It felt really nice, I don’t know, and I also liked the warm salty stuff in my mouth."
I was completely at a loss, but I wasn't going to make you cry like last night.
"I'm glad you liked it my baby. I got a bit carried away and thought I may have hurt you."
"No, Dad. Did you like it as well?"
"I did, Princess. I liked it very much too."
"Is this the kind of thing you don't get to do with Mom?"
I thought about it for a few seconds. At this stage there was no point in keeping things from you.
"It's been many years since your mom and I have done these kinds of things. It's called a blowjob. She finds my cum—that's the common term for semen—disgusting."
When you were about to say something, probably a statement critical of your mother, respect for your parents prevented you from saying such a thing out loud.
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