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Six months ago I was a fairly happy 24-year-old with a good job, a nice flat, a fairly new-ish car and a good social life. OK, so I had a failed marriage behind me, but at least there were no kids to worry about, and Mum and Dad were both very supportive. Then came the blow that threatened to change all these good things in my life. I went to the bank where I work as a counter clerk one morning as usual, only to be summoned into the manager's office along with two other people. His expression was grim and we all guessed the worst. The office had been rife with rumours for the last couple of months. It looked now as if my most dreaded fears were to come true. Sure enough, due to a slump in the market and ruthless competitors, the bank had no alternative but to cut its workforce. We were the last three in, so we were the first three out. We were given two weeks notice and a further six weeks redundancy pay.

I went to Mum and Dad's place that night and broke down in tears. I lived in a small town where there were few jobs to be had, even given two months to search. I faced losing everything I had built up since my divorce. They tried to comfort me but I went back to my place that night not sure that I could go on.

Seven weeks passed and still no offer of employment had presented itself. I tried to cut down on what I could, but the mortgage on the flat still had to be paid no matter what. That evening I got a call from Mum asking me to go round to theirs for supper. When I arrived, she and Dad had huge grins on their faces.

Mum told me that Dad had managed to get me a job in the company that he works for. It meant driving twenty miles each way to a nearby city, but I could cope with that. I would be working as an administrative clerk in a large firm of accountants and my salary was even better than my old job. Dad said that he got me the post without an interview because he had faked an interview sheet stating that I should be taken on at the first possible opportunity. However, there was a catch. The firm Dad works for has a strict 'no relatives' policy with regard to employees. Dad said I would have to use my old married name and call him Mr. S, and that I should never let on to anyone that we were father and daughter or we'd both get canned. He said there was no one there who knew me or had ever met me, so providing I didn't slip up and call him Dad, we should get away with it.

The job came just in the nick of time and was every bit as enjoyable as I hoped it would be. My prospects seemed rosy and the people I worked with were very friendly. Then last month, I was approached by the guy who was kind of responsible for employees' welfare and morale, and he asked me if I was interested in performing in the Christmas play that we put on every year for the benefit of the bosses and our customers. Being new and keen I said yes. He told me that the play this year was a modern version of Romeo and Juliet, and that parts were assigned by lucky dip and that I'd be notified of my role in a couple of days. Sure enough, two days later he came around with a hat filled with rolled up pieces of paper. I took one out and unfurled it. I couldn't believe my eyes at first, but it was definitely true, I was to play Juliet. 'Wow', the guy began, 'Mr. S sure is a lucky man to be playing Romeo opposite you ', and walked away. I was in a bit of a daze to say the least. My Dad had the male romantic lead and I the female.

Later that afternoon, Dad came to see me at my desk. He said that it would look bad, not to mention suspicious, if one of us were to pull out, and that we just had to go through with it. He told me first rehearsals were tomorrow night after work.

All of the cast assembled in the staff restaurant and were given scripts. It was in modern prose so at least I didn't have to worry about speaking in old English. Came the first scene between Dad and I, and it called for a passionate embrace followed by a lingering kiss. We both felt awkward as we said our lines then Dad took me in his arms and just stopped. The director, a guy from public relations, told Dad to give me a big wet kiss and that he shouldn't need any prompting to be given the chance with a girl young enough to be his daughter. We played the scene again. This time Dad gave me a small peck on my closed lips. The director shouted for us to stop. He said we should try a less demanding scene, but that by next week we'd better be more confident than we were now. He suggested that we practise our kissing over the weekend, much to the whoops and hollers of the rest of the cast. Dad and I blushed, but when rehearsals were over he called me to one side. He said that the director was right. Any guy Dad's age should be all over someone as young as me, given this opportunity, and that it would look strange if he acted differently. Also, Dad said one or two of his colleagues had remarked on the resemblance between the two of us and that this would only add to their doubts. I agreed that maybe we should practice the close scenes in private so that we were relaxed when it came to rehearsals next week. I suggested to Dad that he should come over to my place on Saturday evening and we could make a start.

Next day, at work, a girl friend came up to me and remarked how lucky I was to be playing opposite Mr. S. When I inquired further, she said it was a common secret around the men's washroom that Mr. S, my Dad, had a donger that you could get two hands on even when flaccid. I have a pretty open relationship with Mum but she'd never mentioned this to me. I know what office rumours are like and there's generally a morsel of truth in them. I hadn't been with a man since my divorce and the thought of a piece of meat that big inside me, even if it was my Dad's, occupied my mind almost constantly.

The weekend came, and sure enough at six thirty on Saturday I opened the front door to my Dad. He declined my offer of a drink and suggested we get straight down to rehearsals. We took out our scripts and stood in the middle of the living room. We nervously got to the kissing scene. Dad put his left arm around my shoulders and held onto the script with his right hand, whilst I put both arms around his waist. I am only five two in my bare feet and Dad is over a foot taller. He bent his head down to mine and we timidly put our lips together. I kept my head level, which wasn't making it easy for him and certainly not the way Juliet would have embraced her lover.

We pulled apart and I said that this was silly and we should be able to do this scene easily, especially as both of our jobs seemed to be riding on the outcome. Next time when we embraced, I tilted my head right back to offer my mouth up to Dad. His lips touched mine and with my eyes closed I tried to imagine a young man necking me. I opened my mouth slightly and let my tongue brush against Dad's lips. Slowly I probed his mouth, looking for an opening. If we were to lose our jobs it wouldn't be because of my lack of effort, I was determined of that. Suddenly, Dad's lips parted and our tongues met. We explored each other's mouths carefully. I became aware of a movement in Dad's groin and my thoughts returned to the dimensions of his dick. Before I realized what was happening, I was gyrating my hips against the swelling in Dad's trousers and holding him tightly, imagining his lovely thick, long tool rubbing up and down my pussy. Dad too must have become aware that we were both turned on.

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This story was split into 2 parts. Jump to any of the segments from here:
1|2
Note: This story was originally submitted as one long story
and it was only broken into 2 parts for faster page loading.

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