Daddy's ClientsbyDJ Erotiqa©
Daddy's Clients: A Twisted Modern Fairytale

----- Part I -----

Clara, 22, and right out of college - sat on the deck of her daddy's new mansion, soaking up the view of the smallish - but well manicured and landscaped lawn...She was bored - she was always bored, ever since she finished college with her major in Social Engineering and The History of Independent Film - a self-designed major, of course. Liberal arts. She sighed, stretching herself out on the lawn chair like a cat with a slow full-bodied yawn to go with it. Liberal arts and self-designed major were a one-way street to No Job, she though to herself with some disgust. And momentarily she drowned in a feeling of having no clue what to do next. It was becoming her best friend, this feeling.

Her thesis had been brilliant - well written and thoroughly researched and it even looked and felt good in her hands when she had picked it up from the copyshop. But now - it sat gathering dust somewhere amidst all of her boxes in the attic. Her father was a hot-shot attorney and had reluctantly agreed to letting her stay with him until "such time as she found respectable employment or an opportunity in his firm opened up for her to be a paralegal until law school." Law school. That was the last thing on her mind naturally. She couldn't think of anything more disgusting - other than perhaps Daddy's clients. They were all sleazy perverts that had tried desperately - in all their very sneaky and innuendo-laden ways, to get her father to let them "play" with her since she was 14 and it was no small wonder, as she looked nothing like most 14 year olds back then. She had hair down to the small of her back, just above a tight perky ass matched by tight perky breasts with nipples that defied all clothing and hardened at the slightest touch. She knew why the clients were always so much more agreeable anytime she was around. She knew then and she couldn't help remembering when her father had suggested she move back in with him. If it weren't for the clients and the late night "business sessions", she wouldn't have hesitated nearly as much.

And yet she had moved in with her father, and his newest trophy wife, Cynthia, in their new mansion right along with her boxes, her suitcases, her wardrobe and plenty of young adult reluctance as well. But Cynthia very quickly made it clear that she would keep to herself and barely seemed to notice Clara's presence at all. And Daddy Esquire, as Clara liked to think of him, was rarely seen with a few notable exceptions when he threw his infamous parties and expected both his trophies to be present and pretty. Clara had been delighted to discover that the latest "trophy"-wife was holding back her intelligence as a kind of secret weapon to be brought out and sharpened from time to time when Daddy got out of line or...better yet, when one of the clients got out of line. But still Cynthia never spoke a word, beyond the usual pleasantries, to Clara - they were like two ships in the night. So even this small discovery was of no use to Clara.

Clara would spend her days touring the city - they lived in Maryland just outside of DC in Bethesda. A lot of Daddy's clients had something to do with some part of government. But Clara was not interested in politics or power or anything like that. She wanted to change the world. But like most visionaries with the unfortunate anchor of a solid pedigree and "good upbringing", i.e. money, she was conflicted. To do what she truly wanted to do, she'd be going up against people she'd been around her whole c***dhood; she had grown up practically bouncing up and down on their knees. Everyone was some kind of Uncle this or Grandpa that. Her mother had died in c***dbirth so it was natural for her governess to assume that the girl needed as many other honorary f****y members as she could get. But now that Clara was older, she wished Lucille had been a little less starry-eyed about Daddy and his clients.

Wistfully remembering the lovely Lucille, Clara came out of her reverie with a start. In a sudden flash of retrospective insight, Clara realized she had wanted Lucille to have been starry-eyed over her. Standing up, the towel d****d over her lap fell to the floor of the deck and she bent over to pick it up, her long shapely legs glistening in the sun and her ass pointed directly at her father's face as he had come looking for her in one of his unusual visits to his home.

"Clara." His voice was stern and sharp.

Sighing, Clara grabbed the towel from the deck and slowly turned around, adjusting her shorts slightly as they had ridden up slightly. She knew full well that her father had seen a bit more than could be considered decent, but she wasn't exactly sweating over it. Her father had seen her naked plenty of times - that was just the way it was in his house when she was growing up. If he was home, and Clara was fussy about taking a bath and Lucille was getting frustrated, he would run in and take care of things instead. That was back before he was a big-shot in his own right, and they lived off of his own father's generosity. But when Big Daddy died, Clara was about 14 then also, everything changed. The timing was awkward for many reasons but that was when Daddy stopped hanging around at home so much and worked longer and harder. It wasn't much longer after that that Daddy was able to prove to the other senior partners that the son was indeed much like the father - and they promoted him to full partner.

From then on until now, Daddy was no longer Daddy...he was Daddy Esquire. And Daddy Esquire was not interested in playing games with his little girl - nor was he interested in the fact that she had turned into a full grown woman. In fact, given how grumpy Cynthia seemed to be, Clara wasn't so sure he had figured that out about his new wife either.

"Yes, Daddy?" She slung the towel over her shoulder and brushed past him and down the long hallway toward her room, her flip-flops making their characteristic sound on the hardwood flooring.

"Tonight is a big night and I need you to stick around. Help me entertain the clients."

"Daddy. You don't need your good-for-nothing daughter to entertain clients." The sarcasm dripped out of her mouth laced with a bit of venom - she was tired of these conversations. Then again...

She spun around, peering at her father with a look of suspicion. He never asked her to stick around in person, he usually called her on the cell, sent her an email or a text message, all business.

He looked tired too. "Daddy - what's this all about?" Her voice betrayed only a slight change in attitude.

Sighing heavily, he sat down in the large pappasan chair in Clara's spacious room. Paul Everson knew full well that he'd been a horrible parent since his father, who ironically he also thought of as 'Daddy Esquire', had died, leaving strict instructions in his will regarding what he was to do in order to advance at the firm, and in order to maintain any legal right to the inheritance. The will even went so far as to dictate that if these conditions weren't met that certain "loans" would go into immediate repayment status. In other words, all the money he had lavished on Paul and his f****y was just a hook that dug deeper and deeper into him until the point of his father's death, when that hook was tugged on pretty hard. If he hadn't done what his father dictated, they would have been destitute. And without a mother around to take care of Clara - Paul didn't see that he had any choice other than to "make his father proud" as the old boys at Winkle, Everson, and Rotham were wont to say from time to time. It made him sick to his stomach at first, but now he was sort of hardened to it all.

But now things were looking iffy once again, as a particular client seemed hell-bent on bankrupting him with impossible demands. And he had the clout to make good on his threats. And a dangerous enough background that not only necessitated Paul's assistance but ensured it as well. And so he had, in desperation, returned home to think and gather his strength. It was an unusual move for him – but he was drained today and didn't think he could be around the usual crowd at the moment. He didn't have the strength to play their games least not until later that evening. Somehow he would do it. But he needed his strength, his daughter, who was so distant from him thanks to all of this. But how could he explain all that to her now? She hated him enough as it was. He buried his head in his hands in a shockingly uncharacteristic gesture.

Clara blinked hard. She hadn't seen her father look so haggard and ... maybe even many years, since Grandpa Everson had passed. She paused, not sure what to do but something told her to go to him. She knelt on the floor by his feet and held his hands in hers softly, gently prying them off his face which she was horrified to discovered was covered with the moisture of tears.

"Daddy! What's wrong?? I've never seen you like this before..."

At first he said nothing, only clinched his eyes closed and tried to pull his hands back but Clara held them tight. She was angry with her father for many things, it was true. But she wouldn't have returned home, and she wouldn't have noticed his anguish just now if she didn't still, in her heart of hearts, think of him as her daddy – the one who made her feel safe and made her laugh and taught her how to see the good in people always.

"Daddy...please tell me what's wrong." Her voice was a whisper and she regretted her anger from before.

Paul looked up finally, into his daughter's eyes and fresh tears welled up. He told her everything all at once in a quiet whisper, barely audible.

She sat there and listened to her father, her eyes fixed on his and when he finished, she released his hands and stood up slowly, walking away from him.

Paul's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of his daughter walking away from him. He had kept all of it from her for fear of losing her and to now see it all unfold before him, was more than he could bear.

But Clara grabbed a hand towel from out of her bathroom, moistened it, looked in the mirror at her own image and saw the little girl that was turning 14 and was the object of desire of nearly every client that showed up at their house, then she saw the image of her father and the looks that she had interpreted as disgust with her...disgust because she was causing all of those men to behave in such lecherous manners. She was sure that this was what had changed her father. In her c***dish way, she had assumed that when her mother had died, that it was her duty to take care of her father and make him smile and laugh. And that had been just how it was with them until she turned 14 and Daddy Everson died. And it wasn't her own metamorphosis and subsequent effect on the visitors to the Everson household that had changed her father after all. He wasn't disgusted with her, and never was! She hurried back into the room but her father was nowhere to be seen.

"Daddy?!" she screamed, hearing her voice bounce off of the mostly sound-proof walls of her room. She ran out into the hallway and yelled again. She turned around and was about to yell out again when she collided with Cynthia.

"And what are you screaming about, young lady?" Cynthia looked truly angry and had clearly just returned home from her session with the physical trainer...if one could call him that. Clara was no birdbrain, it was quite clear that Cynthia had resorted to external means of satisfying her carnal desires. But she doubted that her father even bothered to think about it, all things considered. And whereas she used to consider Cynthia's behavior to be appropriate and fitting in some respects before, she now found it repulsive.

"It's none of your business." Clara unleashed all the venom she once hurled at her father at the woman. Cynthia glared at Clara's retreating form, speechless from the turn of character. Normally she paid the girl no mind and they were on pleasant enough terms. She did her thing and Clara did hers. Now – Cynthia stormed off to her room in a fouler mood than before, her long blonde hair swinging angrily behind her bare-back halter top and tennis skirt, both in matching fuschia with white stripes. It was bad enough that Pablo, the trainer, had decided to break off things with her – apparently he had decided to find Jesus and be faithful to his wife and k**s from now on. She scoffed and slammed her door, only to find Paul sprawled out on her bed.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Cynthia hurled the words at him but he didn't respond. She threw up her hands in disgust and grabbed a different outfit from her closet, changing mechanically without a second's thought to her husband only few feet away. With a new bag and new shoes, and everything about her other than the glare in her eyes and the dangerous display of cleavage having changed drastically, she slammed her way out of the house once again and passing Clara on the way to her car, she stopped briefly while pulling her keys out of the purse, "I want your father out of my room by the time I get back. You're both insane!" And she slammed the door of her blue convertible and revved up the engine and was gone in a flash. Clara sighed and ran upstairs to Cynthia's room. Her father lay there, unmoving even at her calls, until she touched him gently on the back. He rolled over and into a fetal position, whimpering.

Clara decided it was time to just forget old times and rotten memories and grabbed her father around his shoulders and pulled him up.

"Daddy. Listen to me – I forgive you, ok? I...I love you, Daddy. I always have."

Paul had hurried out of Clara's room before, not wanting to hear his daughter's words of hatred that he knew would come...and he'd become so ill, he hurried off toward the nearest bathroom...Cynthia's. The irony did manage to strike him somewhere underneath his state of panic as he flopped his weakened body onto his cold, distant, materialistic wife's brand new bed. She got a new bed ever other year, and he let her – anything to keep her smiling at the clients and more importantly, at the other partners. He was barely able to see, and he hung his head despite Clara's attempts to raise it towards her. She was speaking and he wasn't sure if he was hearing right. He wasn't sure if he was even seeing right. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Daddy. Drink this." She had poured a tall glass of cool water and was offering it to him. Then she said it again and his heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was real. "I love you, Daddy, now please – drink this. And look at me. Please."

Paul looked up, into Clara's eyes as if for the first time in a long time. "Clara, " was all he could muster for the time being.

Clara wrapped her arms around him tightly and rocked him like he was a baby, holding his head close to her chest, "It's ok, Daddy. Really. It's ok. You're going to be ok. We are going to be ok." Stopping, she held up his face towards hers, "I'm not sure how yet – but we will it?" She smiled at him with all the love she had kept in reserve somewhere for her long-lost father.

Paul smiled back weakly, "Baby – I don't know either. But I love you more than anything and I haven't been there for you...I... I've missed so much. And you must hate me...You have every right to hate me." He started to hang his head again, pushing backwards against her arms and flopping back onto the bed, his arms sprawled out.

Clara shook her head, and climbed over and on top of her father, straddling him and leaning into his face. She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips, feeling mild resistance at first. As he must have become aware that there was something a little bit over-the-top with this gesture, he started to push Clara away slightly but it was clear that his efforts were half-hearted at best. After a few long seconds, Clara let go and looked lovingly into her father's eyes, "Now do you believe that I forgive you?"

Paul laughed nervously, embarassed that the kiss with his daughter had aroused him and afraid that she might notice. Might...he laughed to himself, there was no might – this was his full-grown daughter who had had a number of boyfriends...there was no way she couldn't have noticed, kneeling over and atop him as she was.

Clara stood up, lightly brushing against her father's erection partly by accident. She was amazed at how aroused she herself had become from kissing her father, her shorts would surely betray the evidence if she sat there much longer, suddenly hungry for more. Looking over at the clock, she shifted tactics as she insisted, "We need to get you ready! Come on." And she tugged at her father's arm, leading him to his room and dressing him as he had once dressed her. Once he was stripped down to his underwear, she had smiled up at him and gathered all this clothes to take to the laundry chute. She affectionately patted his behind on the way out, whispering in his ear, "Take care of that first. I'll be back with some food." Mentally she regretted not being there while he did but knowing that regardless of anything else, there wasn't time to explore these emerging desires/opportunities. The client, Gustav "Gus" Lemelson, would arrive with a bevy of his "friends" in about an hour and Clara intended for things to go well for all involved no matter what.

After changing her own clothes into an alluring silk turquoise strappy gown with matching heels and a simple gold choker, and fixing her hair up into a loose bun with plenty of stray curls of her mousy brown hair, she then went downstairs to fix Daddy's snack. After about 20 minutes had passed, she headed up the stairs only to find her father standing on the landing, dressed for success and smiling broadly. This was a new improved Paul Everson, Esq. – and Clara beamed up at him, watching him descend the stairs made her heart jump a little and she grinned as he offered her his arm.

"Well, my darling daughter, let me see that sandwich and I think our little transformation might be just about complete..." They walked into the main living room of the house and lounged for a bit – discussing nothing but business on the surface, but enjoying each other's company very much the way new lovers would underneath it all.

----- Part II -----

The clients had arrived and Gus Lemelson was front and center of every conversation no matter where he was in the room. The friends he had brought along were 1 part bodyguards, 1 part underling associates and 2 parts blonde bimbo. So obviously Clara was also at the center of everyone's attention in one way or the other. A few times, in the beginning, Clara had had to walk over surreptitiously and whisper some word of encouragement into her father's ear as he gave little signs of his mind getting the better of him. But this quickly become unnecessary as he launched full-fledged into his much-practised self. This meant mostly ignoring Clara but she was fine with that, knowing her daddy was back and not caring about his "game face" persona anymore.

At one point in the evening, Clara was leaning against one of the high-backed plush velvet upholstered chairs, a drink in one hand and the other idly tracing the outline of the choker along the front of her neck. She was thinking of the kiss before with her father and enjoying the sensation of warmth between her legs – she had worn no panties as the dress she had chosen was far too tight and truthfully she was far too aroused to suffer the confinement of underwear.

She felt a hand at her back suddenly, which quickly slid around her waist and with a skilled move, managed to hike up the already rather immodest length of her dress up over her bare ass before she attempted to spin around and confront her assailant. Gus's voice was the deepest in the room, "Now now – wouldn't do to upset Daddy's favorite client now would it?" And he pushed up her dress a little farther, rubbing his large hands all over her bottom, roughly investigating between her legs with his fingers. He cooed gruffly having discovered her wetness.

So, you're not quite as disgusted with this new arrangement as you'd have me believe eh? Don't you just hate when your body betrays you like that? And no panties? I'd think you were practically waiting for me..."

Clara thought about crying out but knew it would be pointless – the party was a room full of people at Gus' beck and call and who knows what lengths he would go to if scorned now. And even now he was speaking just the words she had dreaded for a large portion of her c***dhood,

"Clara...Clara...I've waited far too long for this..." This was followed with Gus burying his face in the back of her head, into her hair, nuzzling roughly back and forth, taking in deep breaths. "You smell as good as you always have...any man could have you, Clara – but no man wants you as desperately as I have."

With this, he took a definitive sip of his drink and set the glass down on the table to the side of the chair. They were positioned toward the far end of the room with only a few inches between them and the wall. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she now cursed herself for not noticing that Gus had approached her and positioned himself behind her. How he had managed to be so stealthy was beyond her comprehension as he was so loud and boisterous and even now was gruff and rough with her as he groped underneath her dress, then outside of it, given how tight it was, where he was better able to find and squeeze her nipples with both hands.

"Oh, these tits have taunted me for years, Clara. Do you think that is fair? Women like you make men like me crazy, insane in the head, do you hear me?" Now he cupped her left breast with one hand, roughly massaging it and pinching the nipple. Spurred on by her muted moans as she attempted to maintain the look of nothing going on, he unzipped his pants, unleashing his fully erect cock onto her partly exposed back. Pulling her legs backward and apart, he positioned his cock at her vagina and thrust himself into her with a f***e that surprised her. She gasped suddenly, looking up and afraid that someone would notice. But of course, she could now see that it had reached that point in an evening with Gus when his friends and associates were mostly all preoccupied with the now thoroughly trashed blonde numbers who were now proceeding to find ways to take various bits of their clothing off. Very few of Daddy's parties turned into d***ken orgies, but ones that included Gus and had the misfortune of going past midnight with Gus still present, usually least until Daddy kicked people out. But where was Daddy? She couldn't tell – but she suspected that he was tucked away in his study with one of Gus' more serious associates going over some business or other.

Gus's breath was now on the back of her neck as he leaned his weight into her, slamming into her pussy over and over, whispering obscenities at her. 'Daddy's little whore' seemed to be his cliched favorite. As he f***ed himself into her, she felt herself disappear entirely from the room – she was in Daddy's study and he had her on her belly over his large mahogany desk, her dress as it was now, hiked up over her waist. He was whispering sweet things into her ear as he nibbled on it, and it was his cock that filled her vagina not Gus's. She began to rock against Gus, still picturing her father, angling her butt towards him to f***e him deeper into her. Flexing her pelvic muscles instinctively, she tugged at Gus' penis in lieu of her father's and she reached behind her, feeling what she envisioned to be her father's pants covering his ass as he fucked her through his fly.

Barely noticing the girl's attentions, Gus continued to slam into Clara's pussy, grabbing onto her breast and the back of the chair to better position himself. Not finding the release he sought after, he pulled out completely and slammed into her again with the same f***e as he initiated with, forcing Clara to gasp once more. Her reverie was broken and she grasped the back of the chair for support as her vision wavered slightly. The pain was from Gus' tugging and pinching at her breast and nipple and it nearly caused her to blackout as it was coupled with the renewed fury of Gus' fucking. Grabbing her ass now with both hands, he spread open her butt cheeks, admiring a new target of attack which he now f***ed his thumb into. Tears began to stream down Clara face, as he fucked her and jammed his thumb into her ass at the same time, the whole time leaning heavily against her again.

He stood up again and pulling his cock out of her dripping, wet tortured pussy, he positioned it against her asshole, rubbing it around the hole then becoming impatient again, f***ed himself into her very tight, very warm anal cavity. This time she did blackout, but was quickly revived with the initially slow and progressive movement of Gus' cock in her ass. Within a matter of a couple of minutes, he had the whole length of himself buried in her ass, and he f***ed his way in and out of that tight hole until he began to feel himself nearing climax.

The partygoers were finally no longer pretending and were now semi-openly fucking either in the living room or more likely out on the patio. Clara's tears stung in her eyes and now she openly whimpered which seemed to only fuel Gus' ferocity as he pounded his way deep into her anus, all the while telling her how beautiful a whore she had always been and how he was glad that she had saved her ass for him. His climax came and went as he shot a load into her ass with a low grunt.

Turning her around as he removed his only partly limp cock from her pussy, he undid the strings holding her breasts akimbo underneath the dress, and they fell out into his waiting hand and mouth and he sucked on one and pinched at the one neglected previously. Clara's eyes had been closed for awhile and now that she opened them she wished she hadn't. The sight was repulsive enough but she saw also that his cock was fully erect again and just as she noticed, he stood up, pushing her back against the chair which was firmly planted on the floor – one of those old-style heavy chairs. Holding his large hand against her neck where the choker had been, which now lay broken on the floor underneath her feet, he held his cock with the other hand and f***ed it into her pussy slowly then with more f***e until he was grinning at her lasciviously as he slammed into her pussy again. She tried now to resist him once again, not really caring about consequence for the moment. Gus grabbed her by the neck though and reminded her that, "Daddy's little whores don't get to be particular about where and when they get suck."

To her horror, he had removed himself from her but was now forcing her head down so that she had to kneel with her face right over his cock. She opened her mouth reluctantly and gather her mental strength to keep from vomiting right then and there. With his hand on the back of her head, she was f***ed onto his waiting cock and she very quickly found her mouth full with his released sperm as he came with an even louder grunt this time and came longer and harder until her mouth was overflowing with cum. "Swallow it, bitch." Gus demanded with such a****l f***e in his voice that before she could think to do otherwise, Clara did indeed swallow every last drop of Gus's cum. She even licked her lips despite herself as blowjobs had become a choice favorite of hers in college – now though was an entirely different manner and she wished she had the fortitude to have bitten down on Gus' cock as he f***ed it into her mouth.

Clara collapsed into a pile on the floor, quietly sobbing as Gus grabbed his drink and finished it slowly, still standing over her with his exposed cock dangling above her. She shielded her head with her arms in a fetal position, hoping that Gus was satieted now. But she heard him put the glass back down with a finality that seemed to indicate otherwise as he leaned down and grabbing her up by the hair, f***ed her to turn over and position her hands in front of her with her ass in the air, "like the bitch that you really are underneath all these fancy expensive clothes." And grabbing one breast again, he pushed his now partly-revived cock up against her pussy and rubbed up and down the length of it, against her clit and then around her anus until it was rock-hard again and she whimpered her protest. Gus shoved a finger into her mouth, "Suck on this bitch while I fuck you like one. Your daddy should have left you in your room tonight huh?" And with this he thrusted his hips forward as he knelt over her ass. The canal wasn't as tight as it was before but it was still pretty damn tight and Gus grunted his pleasure as he thrust into her repeatedly, rolling her breast between his fingers after removing them from her mouth, balancing himself against the floor with his other hand.

Leaning against her back, he pulled himself out of her ass suddenly just as Clara was finding a way to dissociate herself from what was happening until it was over, and f***ed her on her back instead. Holding her arms above her head with his f***eful hand, he pushed two fingers of his other hand into her pussy and curved them toward her G-spot. She had already cum once when he had first started but now she felt her body betraying her once again as he sucked on one of her breasts, nibbling lightly at her nipple and finger-fucking her G-spot. She writhed to get away from him but he just wriggled inside of her more feverishly, raking his fingers against the roughness of her spot and sucking, tugging and nibbling at her breast. When he felt her hips buck towards his fingers as she neared her climax, he moved over on top of her and f***ed his lips against Clara's as he thrust himself back into her climaxing pussy. Totally against her wishes, she felt the strongest orgasm of her life build and was matched by Gus's orgasm. The two writhed together on the floor, her hips thrusting as if owned by another woman towards his hips and their lips locked together with his tongue f***ed into her mouth. He slammed into her again and again as multiple orgasms f***ed her to hate her body over and over. She shivered with each successive orgasm, moaning as if possessed. Gus moved to her neck and sucked on on the exposed veins there, bringing her to even deeper more powerful series of orgasms that caused her to scream out. Finally with a series of grunts, Gus shot his last wad of cum into her and collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. His breathing was ragged and she floated in and out of consciousness.

At some point later, Gus raised his head and seeing Clara's ravaged body lying limp underneath him, he snarled. The sound woke Clara and she stared into Gus' cold eyes.

"Well, are you done yet?" she spat at him, weakly.

"For now. You speak a word of this to anyone and ... well I needn't spoil the moment with such unpleasantness – but you know what will happen. Got it?" Gus's face was mere inches from her own and she felt herself needing to vomit as she caught a whiff of his musty, stale breath. She blinked her eyes slowly and defiantly at him in response. He seemed to accept this as he grabbed her up in his arms, "Good. Now let's go get you cleaned up." Carrying Clara like some kind of rag doll into the hall and up the main staircase in full view of everyone if they cared to look or notice, Gus walked down the hallway with clear knowledge of where he was going and kicked open the door to Clara's room and dropped her unceremoniously onto her bed.

"Clean yourself up, go to sl**p and come downstairs for the breakfast announcement. Your daddy's going to be a very powerful man starting tomorrow. Well that is, if you don't compare him to me that is." And with a loud laugh, Gus left, closing the door behind him.

Clara crawled to the bathroom and up over the edge of the toilet and puked her guts out until she passed out on the floor.

In the morning, she woke with a fog in her head, unsure that she wanted to be awake...let alone alive. She slowly rose, turned on the shower and got in – the water wasn't hot enough and she kept turning it up higher and higher until it scalded and that still didn't feel hot enough, she wanted to burn off every inch of her skin that was touched by that man. And she sobbed until she couldn't sob anymore and she just moaned. A door opened and her father entered the room, calling for her. She silenced and didn't answer.

"Hey, Clara, honey. Can I come in for a second?"

Clara didn't answer – but this was the wrong thing to do, of course, as it made her father curious if she was ok and he tentatively opened the door and saw her dress from the night before strewn on the floor and soiled. He frowned, knowing that his daughter was a bit loose sexually but doubting that she would be at all interested in the likes of Gus and his crew.

Paul had spent the whole night in negotiations with Gus' accountant and had ended up sl**ping in his study with the accountant having returned to the "festivities" – and he knew nothing of what had happened to his daughter. But he was beginning to be suspicious. Gus had positively hugged him and given him a kiss on both cheeks, saying, "My man – you are going to be a big-shot today! All because of beauty. Beauty solves all problems, eh? Surely you know what I mean?" And Gus had clapped him on the back and led him around, talking most congenially.

"Speak to me, honey – what's...What happened?" He was now so sure that something had happened, that something had been in his drink, that his daughter had not survived the night untouched this time...and he reached over and put his hand on the glass of the shower, seeing his daughter's vague form curled up against it, the water pouring down over her. He wanted to open the door and wrap his arms around his baby girl but he knew that if he was right...there was nothing worse he could do really.

Only Clara was desperately hoping that he would do just that and she placed her hand against the glass alongside his. Paul decided to take the chance at this gesture,

" to me...I'm going to come in there but first I'll be right back. Honey I'll be right back ok – just .. stay there."

And he went, deadbolted her door closed and took all of his clothes off, took a deep breath, closed his eyes and reentered the bathroom. Opening the shower, he climbed in and nearly screaming at the temperature, he turned the knob to a more manageable but still hot setting and knelt down beside Clara, reaching around her and holding her tight to his body. He felt her slowly wrap her arms around him and snuggle in close to him, her head on his chest.

After a time of hearing Gus shouting up that he'd see Paul at the office, and hearing doors slam and cars rev up and disappear, Paul finally picked up Clara and carried her carefully out to her bedroom and onto her bed. He stripped the covers off the rest of the bed and wrapped them around her as she shivered. Grabbing a towel, he then carefully uncovered her bit by bit, rubbing her dry. He then lay her down on the disheveled bedcovers and carefully pushed her legs open. He was surprised that she didn't resist him and he carefully dried all around her vagina as if she were still a baby.

Then he lay next to her, still just as naked as she was and she snuggled in close to him.

The morning slowly slipped away as they both pseudo-slept in each other's arms. Cynthia even came home and went to her room, changed and left again without noticing or caring what was going on in Clara's room.

When they woke around noon, Clara was the first to open her eyes and she looked up at her father, "Thank you." was the only thing she could whisper at first.

"Sweetie...I don't know what to say...or do..."

Clara hushed him with her fingers, "Don't say anything. That ... vile creature has been dying to do that to me for a very long long time. And Daddy, there was a time when he could have done it without me caring one bit. I've had harsher sexual experiences in some ways, and enjoyed them...oddly. So it's not that – it's just that now...well Daddy.... I dunno – things are different, aren't they?"

And she looked at him with such an expression of love and affection that Paul couldn't help but hold her closer and pull her to him for a long kiss which became more and more passionate as their bodies slowly realigned to fit together as lovers would. Paul pulled away, looking at her questioningly.

Clara slowly blinked, a smile teasing at the edges of her eyes, "You want to do something ... make me feel like a woman again, Daddy...and not some piece of garbage.... Make love to me, Daddy...Kiss me, hold me close, touch me....erase his touch, Daddy. Make him go away."

This plea was all Paul needed and he rolled Clara over on her tummy first, lightly stroking her back, carefully planting kisses along her shoulder blades as he positioned himself on top of her, his erect penis snuggling in between her legs and against her vagina which was now moist once again. Kissing the back of her neck, he slowly rocked against her, his penis gently rubbing along her vagina and he whispered, "I love you Clara."

She sighed with pleasure as she lay there underneath her father. He lightly licked at her left ear, nibbling at it lightly as he slowly began to rub his penis against her a little bit more. Turning her head toward him, he kissed her like he'd only kissed one other woman before, and that was her mother, and slowly advanced his penis into her vagina. She moaned happily into their embrace and kissed him hard in return, arching her hips back and toward him. Slowly they rocked back and forth like this, sometimes kissing, sometimes Clara would just relax back with a smile and enjoy the feeling of her father making love to her. He would stop and kiss her arms, her breasts from the side, her back...he even took her fingers into his mouth and gently kissed them then licked them with his tongue which seemed to heighten Clara's arousal as she looked up at him with a big smile and turned over.

She held his penis in her hands and guided it back to where it had temporarily been displaced when she turned over, and then pulled him down toward her where he kissed her breasts with such tenderness and care that she shivered every time his lips neared her body. Holding his cock still inside of her, he kissed every part of her upper body once again from the front, then carefully holding one of her nipples in his mouth and flicking his tongue over it, he began to move against her, his cock sliding into her pussy with no resistance at all and she matched his movements and sped up slightly. Before long they were rocking into each other with a vigorous movement and Clara's moans were matched with Paul's as they held on tight to each other as a mutually building orgasm washed over them. Clara's moan turned into screams and Paul smiled down at her, loving the sounds she made.

"Baby – I want you to cum for me, baby. Oh yes...Baby, I'm going to cum too...."

"Daddy, daddy....daddy. Oooooooh. Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy."

For a second Paul paused, scared and delighted by the sound of that from his daughter's lips but she grabbed both hands around his butt and shoved him into her with such determination that he thought no longer and indeed fucked his grown daughter until she screamed over and over with barely a breath in between, her vagina throbbing against him as he shot multiple loads of cum into her hot pussy.

Afterward they kissed for a long time as they remained conjoined but spent, and they slept until that evening.

Waking, they were both starving but managed to find the strength for another long session of lovemaking, starting with Paul licking Clara's pussy clean and back into another series of orgasms before she returned the favor, sucking her father's cock very lovingly and with such joyful abandon. Before letting him cum in her mouth, she had jumped on top of him, as gracefully as an acrobat, sliding her father's cock into her pussy again and riding him while he held her like there was nothing else in the world, moaning and screaming into her 3rd set of orgasms that day with her father.

The evening was uneventful after that – but Paul had a few tricks up his sleeve as far as Gus Lemelson was concerned and it was about time he used them anyway. A few favors called in and Gus was never heard from again by anyone other than his jailmates and warden, after being beaten thoroughly to within moments of his life and put away on any number of charges. And Paul divorced Cynthia, leaving her a sizable little chunk of change that made her happy and kept them all out of court. He even left her the mansion and technically the firm also as she turned around and married one of the other partners she had been secretly falling in love with all along. Not wanting to stifle anyone's chances at full materialistic happiness, he and Clara took the rest of their savings which was still quite substantial, and moved to the Northwest where the two of them wrote books about important world issues, helped start organizations to make positive change in the world and, of course, made love every day.

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Categories: MatureTaboo
Posted by taboolover1966
2 years ago    Views: 1,944
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