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Chapter: 3
(The Seed)

We both arrived at the wedding venue. Amidst my own flurry of activity, I kept glancing at my father. As I observed him, I realized something: whenever he found an opening, his gaze would roam over my body—lingering on the curves of my waist, my buttocks, and my breasts. Being the object of such a gaze made me feel a strange mix of pride and a ticklish, giddy sensation. In fact, the more he looked, the more I began to preen. Without even fully realizing it, I started swaying my waist and walking with a deliberate, graceful swing of my hips whenever I knew he was watching from behind. After about half an hour, my father approached me and said, "I need to talk to you; come aside for a moment." "What for?" I asked, arching my eyebrows. "Just come, I'll tell you," he replied. Unlike the previous times he had called me—when I would have gone over quite casually—this time, I looked around to ensure no one was watching. Once I was certain that no one was paying us any mind, I followed him.

My father led me behind the wedding pavilion once again. "What’s with all this coquettish posturing?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "What posturing?" I feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?" Saying this, he suddenly grabbed my waist and pulled me close. "All this swaying of the waist..." he remarked, sliding his hand down to my buttocks, "and the way you walk, swinging these..." As he said this, I replied, "It’s nothing like that!" "Nothing like that, you say!?" he exclaimed, pulling me into a tight embrace. Once again, my breasts pressed softly against his chest. Gently caressing my buttocks, he asked, "Tell me." "Tell you what?" I asked. He began to knead my buttocks slowly. Shifting slightly, I said,

"Oh... why are you doing this, Dad?"

"Hmm... isn't that exactly why you were swaying like that—to get them squeezed? That’s why..."

"That’s wrong, Dad! I’m your daughter. You shouldn't be squeezing them like this."

"Hmm... well, is it right for a daughter to walk around swaying her buttocks like that, right in front of her father?"



"What’s wrong with swaying what I have!? Besides, I wasn't walking like that for your sake."

"Is that so? Then for whose sake were you walking like that?" he asked, pulling me even closer. As he did, his erect member pressed firmly against the space between my thighs. Startled by the contact, I cried out, "Oh my god! Dad... that’s enough, let me go!"

"What happened!?"

"Nothing happened. Just let me go." “Can’t you just tell me what happened?”

“Ugh… something’s definitely going on with you. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Is it that obvious!?”

“Yeah… let go, Dad, it feels… strange.”

“Well, then, don’t go walking around wiggling like that ever again.”

“Just because I wiggle, do you have to squeeze me like this—forgetting that I’m your daughter?”

“Yes, I’ll squeeze you just like this—the more you wiggle, the harder I’ll squeeze,” he said, and began kneading my buttocks with intensity. I could easily break free from his grip if I wanted to, but this game was fun. So, I decided to provoke him a little more.

“You’re already squeezing your sister’s—do you have to squeeze mine too? It’s the same thing down here, isn’t it? Just let go, Dad…”

“What do you mean, ‘the same thing’?”

“Hmm… you know, what you’re squeezing right now—that! You could just let go, couldn’t you?”

“I don’t really want to let go.”

“Why not??”

“Because yours are even better to squeeze than your sister’s—that’s why…”

“Ugh… yuck… you’re a ‘bad dad’!”

“Why am I ‘bad’?”

“Well, isn’t it ‘bad’ to squeeze your own daughter like this?”

“But you’re enjoying it, aren’t you—letting me squeeze you like this?”

“I am not letting you squeeze me at all.” “Well, couldn’t you just free yourself and leave?”

“I’d like to, but you’re holding on way too tightly.”

“Should I let go, then?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m letting go…”

“Ahhh…”

“Tell me—should I let go, or should I squeeze?” he asked, squeezing my buttocks once again.



“Ahhh… why do you keep squeezing right there?”

“Alright, should I squeeze somewhere else, then?”

“No, don’t…”

“It’s fine—just tell me where you want me to squeeze, and I will.”

My entire body grew hot, and I began to break into a sweat. Dad removed his hands from my buttocks, turned me around, wrapped his arms firmly around my waist, and pulled me close. This time, his manhood pressed firmly between my buttocks. A faint tremor began in my legs. Reaching beneath my saree, Dad slowly started to caress my lower abdomen. Struggling to hold back the surging desire, I let out a soft, “Hmm…” Dad moved his hands slowly upward from my abdomen until he reached the hem of my blouse. “Shall I squeeze?” he asked. I wondered if I could even handle it if he did.

Overcome by such intense desire, I found myself unable to speak, struggling to catch my breath. Dad moved his hands even higher, gently pressing his thumbs beneath my breasts. I let out an, “Umm…” and leaned forward. His manhood pressed even more firmly against my buttocks. Without even realizing it, I pushed my hips back toward him. Dad let out a low groan, squeezed the fabric beneath my blouse, and began to slide his hand further up. Just then, noticing some people approaching, he abruptly let go of me. I stepped aside, catching my breath.

The people passed by us, and after standing still for a few moments, Dad pulled me close again. I leaned into him with a playful, coy sound. This time, stroking the curves of my waist, he asked, "I never noticed these before—where were you hiding all these curves?" I let out a soft sigh and replied, "What does it matter where I hid them? You’ve got your hands all over them now, haven't you?" "Not just holding them—I’m going to squeeze them with all my might," he said, tightening his grip on my waist. I moaned softly, rising onto my tiptoes. Seeing my pursed lips, he seemed overcome with desire and leaned forward to kiss me. Suddenly, there was another noise. We quickly adjusted ourselves, only to realize it was the same group from before; they were standing nearby, talking.

Looking at them, Dad said, "They don't seem like they’re moving anytime soon—shall we go somewhere else?" By then, I was already completely damp between my legs. I stood there, unable to say a word. Just then, the group spotted us and called out to Dad. Resigned to the situation, he started walking toward them, whispering, "I’m not letting you off this easily next time." "I’ll squeeze you even more intensely next time—be ready," he said, and walked away. I remained where I was, watching him, my eyes flushed red with desire.