Racing Hearts

An experience shared by Maia:

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Rachael, my experience doesn’t involve any actual incest, but you can read my story and decide if you want to include it at your blog site for family secrets.

I ran track in high school. I liked it a lot and was good at it. But, when I first started, I would get terrible cramps in my legs. They would sometimes hurt so much that I’d cry. I was thinking about giving up and told my dad about what was happening. He was concerned, but didn’t want me to quit. My dad told me to let him know the next time I got a cramp after a meet.

At the next meet I won the 100 meter, came in second in the long jump, and our team got second place in the relay. I was pretty pumped because the school that came in first was the best in our district and when they beat us, it was only by a slim margin. Not long after we got home, I could feel the cramps coming on. It was mostly in my hamstrings and quads, but also sometimes in my calves. I told my dad right away.

He had me come into the living room and lie down on the floor. He then started massaging my legs for me. It was kind of weird to have my father touching me like that, but it also helped. The cramps weren’t as bad, and they went away quicker. I was really happy that I wouldn’t have to quit the team.

After that, it became our post-meet routine for my dad to give my legs a good rub down, even if they didn’t hurt. He said it had a preventative effect. My dad even went to the library and got books on massage therapy for athletes. His leg massages became harder and more thorough. He would often try out all kinds of foul smelling sports creams and ointments on me. Yes, it was strange having my dad touching my bare thighs like that, but it was also working. I hardly ever got cramps any more, and I felt like my performance at meets even got better.

As far as I could tell, it was strictly clinical for my dad. For me, on the other hand, it was different. We would start with me lying face down. He’d start with my calves, and sometimes rub my feet, too. He would work his way up and do my hamstrings. He didn’t at first, but after a while he started working on my glutes, also. Very important muscles for running, he would often remind me before he massaged my butt. I’d then turn over and he’d do my shins (which always felt amazing), then up to my quads where he spent the most time.

Sometimes the massaging itself would hurt when he really pressed his thumbs into my muscle, but mostly it felt good. Especially when his hands worked high up on my thigh and got really close to my crotch. My mom knew all about these rub downs, but she was never around for them. I didn’t think much about that at the time, I was just glad to have that time alone with my dad.

We would often talk about what happened at the meet. He’d give me pep talks, tell me what I did right, and what I should try to improve on. I knew he was proud of me, and that felt better than winning. I loved my dad very much, but we never spent much time together until I started running track. So those massage sessions were special to me for several reasons. One of those reasons was sexual in nature.

Like I said, it usually felt good when he touched me the way he did. His hands were so strong, but they were also soft, even though he did a lot of manual work. I remember my stomach getting that nervous excitement feeling when his hands worked up closer my crotch. My favorite part was when he had to push the edge of my running shorts up so he could get at the areas up that high. Again, he never did anything inappropriate, but I often wondered if he liked massaging me for reasons other than my physical well-being and athletic performance.

I, on the other hand, did have an “inappropriate” reaction to all this intimate touching and rubbing. More often than not, when I’d hit the shower after a rub down I would end up masturbating under the hot water. My pussy was always wet by the end of my massage, which I was embarrassed about at first. Once safely in the shower, I would rub my soapy clit and relieve the built up tension. I felt guilty afterward and promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get turned on like that anymore. After all, it was my own father!

I never kept those promises. I could only go maybe one or two massage sessions without making myself come after. I eventually just gave in to it. I would have fantasies about my father’s hand moving from my upper thigh to between my legs. He would gently massage my pussy through my running shorts. Neither of us would speak, but he would always make me orgasm, often claiming afterward that it was a good way to release stress after a competition. That was about as far as it went in my mind.

Sometimes in my fantasy, he would slip his hand inside my panties and rub my clit or finger my pussy. I occasionally imagined masturbating myself while he massaged my legs. I never thought about having sex with him, or fantasized about him taking his penis out. That would have scared me. But the idea of my dad touching my pussy drove me wild. I was worried if he ever found out how horny his rub downs made me that he would stop doing it. I can’t help but wonder now if he knew all along. I also don’t think my mom liked what he was doing with me, either because she was jealous or because she knew it was more than an innocent sports massage.

I stayed in track all through high school (only in part to make sure I could continue spending that special time with my dad), and I got a small scholarship to college. I ran for my freshman and sophomore years in college, then had to stop. I wanted to devote more of my time and energy to my studies. The competition was getting more intense and I didn’t want to dedicate so much time and effort to something that wouldn’t be as important to me in the long run. Plus, without my dad there to give me rub downs after the meets, it wasn’t as “rewarding.”

So, not a very racy story at the end of the day. If my life was a porn movie, me and my dad would have started boning out of the gate, then mom would have caught us and joined in. In my real life, my dad touched my legs, I got horny, and then secretly played with myself in the shower thinking about him masturbating me. Probably kind of lame compared to other people’s stories, but it was a big part of my “sex life” in high school, and I still sometimes think back to those special times when I finger myself in the shower today. I know I’ll be doing that a lot for the next few weeks now that I’ve writing this!

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share all this with you even if you don’t publish it on your blog. This is the first time I’ve talked about these things with anyone, and I doubt I ever will again. I don’t really feel bad or guilty inside myself for the way I reacted to my father touching me, but I’d be ashamed and embarrassed to admit that I had those kinds of sexual feelings to anyone else. Thanks again, Rachael, for your blog and for inspiring me to open up about something I’ve been hiding for a very long time.

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2 thoughts on “Racing Hearts

  1. As a massage therapist, I love this story! While in school learning the trade, we would practice on each other. There was one student that I REALLY liked and as I massaged her, she seemed to emit an aroma that drove me crazy. Of course, we’re supposed to be professionals and I didn’t try to instigate anything. When I got home, however, I would furiously jerk off thinking about the fact that my touch produced that gloriously sexy, musky, and funky scent. And, pro or not, I wanted nothing more than to spread her sweet muscular thighs and dive in face first and lick her wet pussy with my nose buried in her asshole.

    It does sound as if your experience brought about many enjoyable stroke sessions. I wish you many more!

    Michael

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