This is a print version of story MOVING BACK HOME by sexualperv72 from xHamster.com
MOVING BACK HOME
We always seem to hurt the one's we love. Why? And why did that thought suddenly pop into my mind? On a long bus trip, I guess lots of weird thoughts suddenly appear in your brain.
Mom and dad, they'd certainly hurt each other. After the divorce, mom had taken me with her to Baltimore, forcing me to leave my friends and everything else I'd spent a lifetime getting accustomed to. That had hurt.
Now, here I was on a bus, heading back to Cleveland to live with daddy. Over long phone calls, we'd decided it was best for me. Daddy had some good contacts at the community college there and was able to get me admitted, despite my terrible grades from high school.
In a way, I was happy to be going back to Cleveland. It was where I'd grown up, and my life in Baltimore wasn't that great. Mom's had a lousy job at some department store, and the money daddy sent us was what we really lived on. Mom seemed to drink all the time, and I got sick of her constant string of boyfriends.
She'd go out at night, and half the time she'd end up back in our apartment, d***k, dragging some guy with her. And I'd have to cover my ears in my bedroom so I wouldn't hear the moans and groans coming from her room.
Other times, the guys would come to pick her up for a date, and they'd hang around the apartment for a drink or two, and I could see the guys looking at me up and down, checking me out, like if they got mom in bed, I'd come as part of the package.
And I knew I wasn't exactly perfect myself. I just couldn't seem to find a job, so I ended up spending most of my time sitting around at home. In the evenings, I'd sometimes hang out at a bowling alley down the street. Actually, it wasn't just a bowling alley, they called it a recreation center. It had a big room with pool tables and a video game room and a bar-lounge type of place where you could sit and relax.
The guys would always buy me drinks and try to come on to me. After they'd bought me a couple of beers they thought they were entitled to something, and they'd sit there at the booth trying to grab my tits or put their hands in my pants. And the one's that weren't married would invite me back to their place, and sometimes even the one's who were married would ask me to come home with them.
Every once in a while I'd accept their offer, but most of the time I'd make an excuse and leave them there with their hardons. I'd stumble home, hoping that mom wasn't still screwing some guy in her bedroom.
At least living with dad, I'd be in a more stable situation. A nice house, a nice neighborhood, the whole bit. It had been over eight months since he'd visited me in Baltimore, and I realized I missed him.
The bus wasn't very crowded, so I was able to stretch out and relax with a book. I noticed a guy across the aisle looking at me. He was an older guy, maybe sixty or sixty-five. I crossed my legs, my skirt riding up a little, and figured, what the hell, let him look.
I knew myself, and I knew I liked it when guys looked at me. I've never considered myself to be an exhibitionist or anything like that, but it always gave me a little tingle when I knew I was the center of someone's attention.
And guys did look at me. I'd always considered my body to be O.K. I'd inherited mom's large breasts, and my hips were full, but not fat, and I did try my best to keep my waistline trim.
One guy I'd dated said what really turned him on about me was my pouty lips. I remember going home that night and checking myself out in front of the mirror. They were a little fuller than most girl's maybe, but I wasn't sure I'd consider them to be 'pouty'.
Now that I was nineteen and out of high school, I somehow found myself wearing jeans less and less and more skirts and dresses. Subconsciously, or maybe even consciously, I knew I'd get more glances coming my way in a skirt than in jeans. I rarely wore pantyhose. I liked skirts and dresses because of their less confining, free feeling, and pantyhose seemed to defeat that purpose. I've always been proud of my legs, and I've caught guys checking them out with their eyes many times. And crazy or not, I knew I liked that.
I called daddy on the cell phone as the bus was just getting into town, so he was already waiting for me when we pulled into the station. I gave him a quick hug. He was the same old dad, tall, short brown hair, and, I thought to myself, as handsome as ever.
As we drove home, he caught me up on f****y stuff. He filled me in on what was happening with various uncles and aunts and how his cousin Gus was scheduled for a bypass. I noticed, though, that he didn't ask a single question about mom.
I watched him as he talked. For some reason, I'd always liked looking at dad's face. His brown eyes were expressive when he talked, and even when he was listening, I'd always thought he had a way of looking at me as if he really wanted to hear what I had to say.
Dad had on a white sports shirt and khaki pants. He'd always been a fitness freak, and I could see his well-defined biceps flexing against the sleeve of his shirt.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you'll have to go down to the mall and get some clothes. Probably a lot of your old stuff at home won't fit you anymore since," he paused momentarily, and I thought for an instant I saw his face blush slightly. "Since you're...bigger now," he continued, "I've put a little money aside for that. You can take the Buick in the garage. I haven't driven it for a long time."
"I have to apologize, Erin," he said as we neared the house, "this being your first day back and all, but I have a board meeting tonight I have to go to. I'll just barely have time to drop you off and change. I hope you can find something in the kitchen for dinner."
"I'll be fine, daddy. Living with mom has made me an expert at fending for myself," I said with a chuckle. This was the first I'd mentioned mom. His face showed no reaction.
"And baby," he continued, "when you see the kitchen... be prepared. There's nothing there. I'm not much good with... food stuff. In fact, I hardly ever eat at home. I didn't know what to buy before you came. I didn't know what you like. Maybe tomorrow you could go to the supermarket and stock us up, now that you'll be the woman of the house."
I looked at him and felt a funny feeling in my stomach. He'd said I'd be the woman of the house. I wasn't sure what the feeling meant exactly, but I somehow I liked it.
My room, I discovered when we got home, hadn't changed a bit since I'd last been in it almost two years ago. Looking around, I felt a little tear forming in my eye. So much had changed in my life. It was almost like I'd left here as a c***d, and now I was coming back as an adult. I brushed the tear away and smiled. My new life would start now, I said to myself as I unpacked my suitcase.
Dad was right, the kitchen was empty. There was a bottle of ketchup and six-pack of beer in the refrigerator, and nothing else. I found a lonely can of soup in the cupboard and that was dinner. I went back to my room and lay down on the bed - my bed. It had been an exhausting day, and I was soon asl**p.
The first morning of my new life, I thought when I opened my eyes. It was 7:00 and I was proud of myself for rolling out of bed so early. I hadn't been up at that hour in months. I rummaged through my closet and found some clothes that looked like they'd still fit me. They had a musty smell, so I gathered them up in my arms and headed for the basement to throw them in the washer. I hoped there was some detergent in the basement, so far, daddy didn't seem like much of a homemaker and I doubted he did his own laundry Luckily, I spotted a box of detergent above the washer.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I sensed a movement on the far side of the basement, and a sound, a human sound. I screamed and spun around. It was dad, standing there wearing only a pair of bikini briefs.
"Sorry, baby, if I scared you," he said with a chuckle, "I guess you didn't expect anyone here at this hour. I try to get down here every morning."
He was standing on an exercise mat, his body glistening with sweat. I stared at him. His stomach looked flat and hard, and I could see the muscles on his chest flex as he continued his jumping jacks.
And below, his briefs were tight enough to mold the fabric around his penis, the contours of the material defining its thickness and length. And even from across the room, I could see it was thick and long. I could make out the shape of its bulbous head at the top, and lower, the mound of his balls, clearly defined under the material of his briefs.
I continued to stare at him, my mouth open, until I suddenly remembered what I was wearing. It was a blue nightie that barely came halfway down my thighs. Assuming I'd be the only one up at that hour, I hadn't bothered to put on anything decent. The nightie was semi-transparent, I suddenly remembered, and I'm sure daddy got an eyeful when he looked at me. I could feel my face blush.
I turned away and hurried to the washer and threw the clothes in. What was he thinking, I thought to myself, seeing me dressed like this. Was he upset? If he was looking at me as he continued his jumping jacks, I realized he'd see my nightie riding up in the back as I leaned forward. He'd see the outline of my breasts under the nightie, he'd see them swaying as I loaded the machine. I could feel my blush deepen. I switched on the washer and quickly ran upstairs.
As I began to change in my room, I was embarrassed to discover a wetness in my panties. Was it from seeing daddy half naked and the outline of his huge penis in his briefs? Was it because I thought he might be watching me in my little nightie as I loaded the washer? I was confused.
Glancing at the large mirror on the wall, I saw that my face was still flushed, and as I watched my reflection in the mirror, I pulled the nightie over my head, exposing my breasts.
My hands came up, and with the forefinger of each hand, I began to trace circles around the perimeter of each aureole, then I moved my fingers to my nipples, pulling them, pinching them. I looked at my image in the mirror. My breasts were full, and round and firm, and I knew how much guys like to look at them. And lower, I saw my neatly trimmed brown pubic hair. I parted my legs slightly until I could see the mounds of my pussy, and the valley in between.
I couldn't help myself. With one hand, I began to squeeze my nipples hard, while the other hand reached down and caressed my pussy, lightly stroking the now swollen lips, gently pinching and playing with them, then pushing my fingers hard into my opening, then out, and back to my clitoris, gently rubbing it with my finger until I felt a quiver run through my body. I looked in the mirror and saw my body begin to shudder. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from screaming as the orgasm raced through me.
The next few days went by quickly. True to his word, daddy gave me a ton of cash, and I spent an entire day buying clothes for myself and supplies for the kitchen. Daddy, I soon found out, didn't spend much time at home. The food I'd bought for him went untouched. He didn't eat breakfast, and for dinner, his routine was to eat at a diner near his office, then return to work until 7:00 or 8:00. He'd come home, exhausted, pour himself a scotch and do some more work at the desk in his den. He was usually in bed by eleven.
After four days of the same routine, I finally corralled him in his study. He was sitting at his computer, working, of course.
"Daddy, you work too hard. You've got to learn to relax a little."
"I like to work," he said, looking up at me, "It gives my life some purpose."
"But not twelve hours a day, every day. Look, tomorrow's Friday. What if you came home at a decent hour and I cooked a nice homemade dinner?
He thought for a moment, as if calculating if he could squeeze it into his schedule. He finally agreed.
"O.K. Seven o'clock sharp," I said, "Deal?"
I'm a terrible cook. I knew that. About the only thing I knew how to make halfway decent was lasagna. So an Italian dinner it would be. The wine rack in the basement was full, probably unused since mom left two years ago. Mom was a wine drinker. Dad preferred his Scotch. I chose a red wine and placed it on the dining room table where I'd carefully set up a setting for two.
As the time came for dad to get home came closer, I realized I was a little nervous, almost like I felt when I had a big date coming up. I carefully chose the clothes I'd wear; a green, knee-length skirt and a white blouse. The blouse was made of a thin, silky fabric and looking in the mirror, I realized the material was sheer enough to make my bra partially visible underneath.
Daddy finally got home, and after changing out of his suit, we sat down at the table. He opened the wine and poured us each a glass.
"I guess a little wine for you would be alright," he said.
I smiled. If he only knew how many times I'd been d***k when I lived with mom. My dinner went well, I thought. Daddy complimented me over and over about how good the food was and even opened a second bottle of wine after we'd finished the first.
"Instead of going to your study and working," I said to him, "why don't you forget about work for one night and watch a video with me? When was the last time you saw a movie?"
"Probably more than two years ago," he answered, "before...she left."
I jumped up and ran to the rec room.
"Here," I said, handing him the three DVD's I'd rented that day, "Your choice."
He looked at them and chose one. It was a thriller I hadn't seen, but I knew it had gotten good reviews.
"Let me get the dishes," I said, "then a movie in ten minutes."
Daddy stood and poured himself a Scotch.
"See you in the rec room," he said.
I poured myself another glass of wine and did the dishes.
Daddy was sitting in the couch facing the TV. I popped the DVD in the player and considered my alternatives. I could sit on the couch with daddy, or on the easy chair off to the side. Instead, I did what I'd been doing all my life, I plopped stomach down on the carpet and propped myself up on my elbows to watch the movie.
It suddenly occurred to me that from his position directly behind me on the couch, daddy probably had a good view of my legs and maybe he could even see a little ways up my skirt. Maybe I should get up and sit on the chair, I thought to myself, but I was also curious. Was daddy looking at my legs? Did he even notice? Did he care? What was he thinking? I'd always liked it when I knew guys were looking at me, but this wasn't the same, I thought to myself, this wasn't some stranger, this was my father.
Crazy thoughts suddenly entered my head. What if my skirt was even higher on my legs? Would he say anything? Would he ask me to cover myself up?
I'm not exactly sure what made me do it; I wasn't even thinking about the consequences, maybe I wasn't even thinking at all, but I made a small, imperceptible shifting movement with my body that made my skirt ride a little higher up my thighs. If daddy was watching, he would have assumed it was accidental.
A minute later, I did it again, until the hem of my skirt couldn't have been more than two or three inches below my panties. Now, I knew the back of my thighs were fully exposed to daddy. From where he sat, I realized he might even be able to see my panties. Was he looking? Did he care?
"Could you pause it for a minute, baby?" he asked, his voice interrupting my thoughts, "I 'gotta refill my Scotch."
I turned my head towards him. Maybe it was my imagination, but as he stood, he kept his body in sort of a crouched position until he was fully turned away from me. Could it be possible he was trying to hide something?
Life is a series of decisions. Some decisions are well thought out, others aren't. I knew I'd made plenty of lousy decisions in my life, but sometimes I just did things. I did things without thinking about the consequences. I'm not sure why, maybe it was the wine I'd had, but while daddy was in the kitchen, I made a decision. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse.
Daddy came back with his Scotch, and I pushed the play button. The movie was a real chiller, the lead actress was being pursued by this psychopath and I could feel my heart beating faster. At a particular tense moment in the movie, I sat up and turned to daddy.
"I can't take it, it's too scary!" I said with a little giggle.
I jumped up and sat beside him on the couch. I pulled my legs up under me and put my hands around his arm and hugged myself tight to him, my breasts pushing against his arm.
"Will you protect me?" I asked with another giggle.
Daddy just nodded and let out a little, "Uh, huh."
I released my hold on his arm and sat back. As daddy turned away to reach for his Scotch, I reached down and pulled back the top of my blouse, making sure it was open.
The maniac in the film was closing in on the woman, and a little shudder ran through my body. Daddy must have felt it and he turned toward me. I continued to stare at the action on the TV, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see he didn't turn away. His head remained turned toward me. Was he looking at me? At what? Was he looking down my open blouse, looking at the top of my breasts exposed above my bra? How much could he see? What was he thinking, I wondered to myself?
A minute went by, and daddy finally turned away to put his drink back on the side table. I took the opportunity to glance down at his crotch and there it was, the clear outline of his penis bulging under his pants. It was long and hard and thick, and I definitely knew he was aroused.
I'd probably gone far enough, I thought to myself, but I just had to see where this would all lead. At the next scary scene in the movie, I giggled and made a little 'brrrr' sound, like I was frightened. My legs were still tucked under me, and I slid closer to daddy, resting my knees on his leg. I grabbed his arm with one hand, and put the other hand on his thigh.
Now, my skirt was bunched up at my hips, the bottom of my white panties clearly visible. I kept my eyes on the movie, pretending not to notice. As the tension in the movie increased, I gripped my hands tighter against daddy's arm and thigh. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought his breaths were becoming shorter and more pronounced. I wanted to enter daddy's brain, to know what he was thinking.
I turned my head toward him and his eyes momentarily met mine. Then I saw his eyes moving lower, his gaze slowly moving to my open blouse, then lower to the juncture of my fully exposed thighs where the translucence of my white panties allowed a partial view of the brown hair above my pussy.
Suddenly, a little moaning sound came out of daddy's mouth.
"No, baby," he said softly, "No, baby."
I looked up at his face and stared into his eyes. They had a glazed, expressionless look to them. His face was flushed red.
"No, baby," he repeated. His breathing was heavy and labored.
As if I was watching it in a dream, as if someone else was controlling my body, I felt myself sliding off the couch and kneeling on my knees in front of him. I reached up and began to undo his belt.
"No," he repeated in a raspy, uneven voice, "No, baby, it's not right."
I undid the clasp at the top of his pants and slowly lowered his zipper.
"Oh, God! No, baby!" he moaned.
I tugged at his underwear and pants, and he instinctively raised his hips, allowing me to slide them down his thighs and off his legs.
I looked up, and there, in front of me, was his massive cock, erect and pointing straight up, purple veins bulging out from its surface, its round, bulbous head sticking out at the top.
"No! God, baby, no!" he moaned, "No, it's not right."
I took his cock in my hands. I felt it. I caressed it. It was warm and smooth, and felt so good against my fingers. Then, using both hands, I slowly began stroking up and down its length. Daddy's breath was now coming in short, deep gulps. His hands gripped hard into the cushions of the sofa.
"No, baby..." His voice was now a low, gasping moan, "No, baby, don't!"
I moved my head forward until it was just inches from daddy's cock. I looked at the little slit at its tip and my head moved forward until my tongue moved against the little hole, trying to push itself inside.
Daddy moaned, louder this time.
"No, baby! We can't," he hissed.
My hands continued their up and down strokes as I gently kissed the head of daddy's cock, then I parted my lips a little more and took it in my mouth. I caressed its round head, swirling my tongue around its surface. It was smooth and warm against my tongue.
Then, I felt a little shiver go through daddy's body. Then the shiver became more pronounced, and as I continued to stroke his cock with my hands, and caress the head of it with my tongue, I suddenly felt a blast of liquid enter my mouth, a blast of his hot, wet cum. Startled, I instinctively drew my head back and felt another blast of cum spurting onto my face, squirting across my eyes, dripping down my nose.
Daddy's hips jerking up uncontrollably, his cock continuing to spew his cum out, wave after wave on my face.
"Oh, God! No, baby!" he screamed out, "God, no! Oh, fuck!"
He let out a long, low moan and then daddy's hips fell back into the sofa, his balls emptied of their load. I could feel his cum dripping off my cheeks and looked down as it formed in little white puddles on the top of my breasts. I reached up and wiped his cum from my eyes.
Daddy's heavy, panting breaths died down, his chest slowed its furious up and down motion. A minute passed, then another and I watched as his erection slowly deflated in front of me. He stood up, his cock hanging down between his legs, still covered with a coating of his white cum.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered to me, "I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."
And with that, he grabbed his pants and hurried out of the room.
For a moment, I continued to kneel motionlessly in front of the couch, confused and surprised by what had just occurred. I felt another drop of daddy's cum fall from my chin onto my breast and then, I felt the familiar tingle in my pussy.
I'm not sure what came over me at that instant, but I reached down and undid the rest of the buttons on my blouse, then unhooked my bra and let it slide to the floor. With the tip of my finger, I made tiny circles through the little pools of daddy's cum. Then I placed my hand flat against my chest and began to massage my breasts, covering them with a thin layer of cum. Using both hands, I wiped the cum off my face and spread it like lotion across my stomach, then my thighs. I reached back and spread it over my ass, massaging his cum into my skin. Then, my hands moved to my front and met at the juncture of my thighs and my wet fingers had barely touched my clitoris before I felt my body begin to shudder and I threw my head back and opened my mouth and let out a long, low moan as the intense orgasm took control of my body.
Not a word was spoken by either of us about what had happened that night. We passed each other coming and going, each morning and each evening, but nothing was said of it. It was if it hadn't happened.
My classes didn't start for a few more days, so I mostly just sat around the house during the day. I was lying in bed reading one evening when he poked his head in my room.
"Erin," he said, "I'm going out. I have a date tonight. Don't worry if I'm late."
My first impulse was to say something like 'congratulations', or even 'way to go, dad!', but before I could open my mouth, he was gone. I read little bit longer, then changed into my nightie and went downstairs. Thinking I might watch a movie, I opened the door under the TV. There were ten or twelve old tapes on the shelf, probably purchased by mom before she'd left. I'd seen them all. Then I noticed a cardboard box at the very back of the shelf. I pulled it out, and inside it were ten or fifteen more tapes. I pulled one out. Then another. They were all porn movies. I smiled. Daddy wasn't a saint, after all.
What the hell, I figured, it was only eight. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass full of Scotch, then popped one of the tapes in the VCR.
I fast-forwarded through two or three of the tapes, pausing when it seemed like something interesting was going on. The movies, of course, didn't have much of a plot, just lots of moaning and screwing and sucking. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only eight-thirty. With nothing better to do, I decided to watch one the whole way through. I went to the kitchen and refilled my glass with Scotch.
As I sat back on the couch and watched the naked bodies writhing on the TV, I thought about my father and his date. I wondered what she was like. Where would they go? A fancy restaurant? Dancing? To a movie? Would they go to her place afterward?
I had a visual image of my dad on the couch next to her, looking into her eyes. And I saw them kissing, and daddy slowly undressing her. And I saw his date unzipping his pants and pulling out his huge erect penis and putting it in her mouth.
As I thought about these things, I found myself tugging my panties down over my hips and kicking them onto the floor. And one hand went to my breasts, massaging them, then gently pulling and tugging on my nipples. And the other hand was on my wet pussy, stroking up and down against my pussy lips, then gently pinching and caressing my clitoris.
A whimper came out of my mouth. Then another, and beginning in my pussy, I felt the familiar shudder begin to spread outward through my body, and I felt my orgasm start to build until it seemed like my entire body was trembling with pleasure.
And then it all crashed down on me.
"What the fuck!"
I opened my eyes, and there was daddy standing over me. I blinked. Once, twice, to make sure it was for real. It was real. There he was, looking down at me, my panties on the floor, a half empty glass of Scotch on the table beside the couch, a porno movie blaring in the background, with one hand tugging at my breasts and the other hand furiously stroking my pussy.
"What the fuck!" he repeated.
I could see his face beginning to turn bright red from anger. He stabbed his arm toward the VCR to turn it off. Without thinking, I leaned forward and held one arm over my crotch, the other over my breasts, trying desperately to hide my nakedness from him.
"Look, God damn it," he yelled, "This is my house. And when you're in my house you obey certain rules, not acting like you're some kind of fucking slut."
He picked up my panties and threw them at me.
"Is that understood?"
I looked up at him and nodded.
"Put the damn tapes back where you got them and get up to your room," he commanded. And with that, he turned and left.
My first feeling was one of shame and embarrassment. Daddy was a good man. I knew that. It was different with mom. She didn't care if I got d***k, or had boyfriends in my bedroom until all hours of the night. She didn't care about anything. But daddy did. He was a decent human being, that's why they'd gotten a divorce. Mom wasn't. I had known long before the divorce that mom was sl**ping around, telling us she was going out with her girlfriends, and coming back late at night d***k, and I could tell, even in high school, when she had been with other men. I could just tell. And I could remember asking myself, why did daddy put up with it? Why hadn't he thrown her out years before?
I put the tapes back on the shelf and made my way up to my room. I crawled into bed, but I couldn't sl**p. Maybe I was my mother, I thought to myself. Maybe I was destined to be the alcoholic who had to have sex all the time, just like her. And who was he to tell me otherwise? To command me around like I was some kind of baby? I knew I wasn't always good. Sometimes I couldn't help being bad. But that was the way I was. I closed my eyes, and soon fell asl**p. In my dreams, I saw God and the Devil wrestling each other on an exercise mat in the basement.
You always hurt the ones you love...
I didn't wake up until noon. I moped around most of the day, not bothering to change out of my nightie. Five o'clock came, then six, then seven, and daddy still wasn't home from work.
I went to my room and changed. I put on a short skirt, the shortest one I could find, and a low-cut blouse. In the bathroom, I put on bright red lipstick, dark eye shadow around my eyes, and some rouge, too much rouge, on my cheeks.
There was a bar near the mall. 'Restaurant and Sport's Bar', the sign said. I knew I could get in, I'd never had trouble getting in a bar before. I closed the front door of the house behind me and headed toward the mall, not exactly sure what I was doing or why I was doing it. I would show him, was the only thought in my head, I'd show that son-of-a-bitch.
The next few hours were a blur. Guys buying me drinks, and me smiling back at them, and 'have another drink' they said, and finally it was late and I was d***k and one of them offered me a ride home.
I could remember him stopping the car in front of the house, and a kiss, then the sound of his zipper coming down and him pushing my head down to his crotch, forcing his cock into my mouth. And I could remember his hand at the back of my head, pulling my head up and down, until I felt his cum gushing into my mouth. I opened the door of his car and fell out onto the driveway.
I took one step inside the living room before I stumbled, falling to my knees on the carpet. Daddy was standing there in front of me as I unsteadily got to my feet.
"Who was that?" he demanded.
"Who do you think? The guy who dropped you off!"
I could tell daddy had been drinking too.
"I don't know, some guy," I answered, "some guy I ran into at the bar."
"You let some guy pick you up in a bar?" daddy asked. His face was red.
"Yeah," I answered, "I let him pick me up. So what?"
"I thought I told you..."
"Told me what?" I interrupted, "Who are you to tell me?"
Daddy took a step toward me. He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me.
"What kind of whore are you?" he shouted in my face.
Suddenly, I lost my sense of self-control.
"You don't know anything!" I screamed at him, "You don't know anything! You act so self-righteous and good, but I bet you watch your fuck movies you have hidden away, and then I bet you're not so good. Look here, daddy," I said, opening my mouth wide, "Look at my mouth. I just sucked a guy off in front of the house. In front of your house. His cum is probably still in my mouth."
I could feel daddy's grip tighten on my shoulders. His eyes glared at me for a moment, then he violently threw me backwards. I landed on the couch, my skirt thrown up to my waist.
"You're a slut," he screamed, " just like you mother. You're a d***ken slut."
"And you," I shouted back, "what kind of perverted mind do you have? With your sick fuck movies. I bet you watch them and get off thinking about..."
Before I could finish my sentence, he took a quick step toward me and pulled me up off the couch.
"What kind of fucking slut are you?" he yelled in my face.
"The kind who admits it," I shouted back, "Not like you, pretending to be so good, like your some kind of saint."
Suddenly, daddy reached his arm out and with one strong, downward motion, he ripped the front of my blouse open.
"So what...?" I screamed, my face just inches from his, "You want to see my tits, you sick pervert?"
His face was a livid red. He reached down and grabbed the front of my bra. With one yank, he pulled it off and my breasts pushed out from the front of my open blouse.
"You're nothing but a whore," he hissed, "a whore just like your mother, a whore who can't think of anything but sex."
"And you," I shouted back, "You're a sick pervert who gets a hardon looking at his own daughter."
I don't know why, but I raised my hand and slapped him, hard, on his face. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him bad.
"So what... " I continued, "So what if I'm a whore? What business is it of yours?"
"It's my business because I'm your father," he yelled back.
"So what? Who are to tell me how to run my life?"
I completely lost it then. I moved toward him and began slamming my fists up and down against his chest.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I screamed.
He grabbed my wrists and held them tight. With all the power I could summon, I took my foot and kicked him hard in the shin. He grimaced with pain and released his hold on my wrists. I pulled one leg back to kick him again when suddenly I lost my balance, falling flat on my back on the carpet.
Momentarily stunned, I lay there, looking up at him as he towered over me. I could see his chest heaving up and down, his breath coming faster. And then I watched as daddy began to undo his belt, and I saw him kick off his shoes.
"No," I moaned, "No."
Looking up, I watched as he undid the front of his pants, and in one motion, pulled his pants and underwear down his hips, then kicked them off onto the floor. A loud moan involuntarily escaped my mouth. There, above me, was daddy's penis, huge and hard and erect, sticking out above me.
I suddenly realized all the fight had left my body. I felt humiliated and defeated. I just gave up. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.
"Daddy," I sobbed, "I want to be a good girl, but I can't. I do bad things sometimes, I know that. I can't help myself. Daddy, sometimes I'm a bad girl. You need to help me be good."
I looked up at him as he towered over me.
"Take off your panties!" he commanded. His voice had a raspy, almost guttural sound to it.
I knew at this point it was useless to disobey him. I reached down and pulled off my panties. I felt helpless now, lying on the floor naked in front of daddy. I could see my breasts swaying back and forth on my chest as my breaths came in short gaps. With my legs slightly spread, I knew my pussy was fully exposed to daddy. I didn't understand why, but I could feel a little tingle there, and I knew I was wet.
His body slowly lowered.
"Oh, my God!" I whimpered, "No!"
He was now kneeling between my legs. I raised my head and saw his hard penis clutched in his fist. He pushed it down until it pointed straight at me.
"Tell me what you are!" he said, "Tell me what a slut you are!"
"No... No," I moaned, my head rolling from side to side.
Daddy suddenly slapped the inside of my thigh. I cried out, more in surprise than pain.
"Tell me!" he shouted.
"I'm...I'm a slut," I sobbed softly. I could feel a tear run out the corner of my eye and down the side of my face.
"And tell me what kind of whore you are," he commanded. His breath was coming in heavy, short gasps.
"Oh, God!" I moaned, "I'm a whore. Your daughter is a slutty little whore."
"And tell me, slut, tell me what you did in the driveway. My driveway, just ten minutes ago."
"I...I...I sucked a guy off," I whispered, "Your slutty daughter sucked a guy off. I sucked him off until he came in my mouth."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"It made me feel...like a whore, like the slutty whore I am," I whimpered.
"And what should daddy do about it? What should daddy do to punish his slutty whore daughter?"
"Oh, my God!" I moaned. My chest was heaving up and down, "He should, daddy should...do it to his daughter."
"Do what? Tell me!"
"Daddy should...fuck his daughter. He should fuck her hard. He should put his big cock in her and fuck his slut whore daughter."
A long, low groan came from the back of daddy's throat. Suddenly, he fell forward. His hands cupped my breasts, and I felt his cock push hard against my pussy lips. Then, with one powerful lunge, he thrust his cock deep inside me, stretching me, filling me.
I screamed. Daddy groaned and held himself deep inside me for a moment, his pelvis pushing hard against mine, then he began to move his hips, slowly stroking in and out of me.
"Oh, my God!" I cried out, "Oh, shit! Oh, shit!"
Daddy's hands were on my breasts, kneading them like dough, massaging them, pulling and pinching my nipples. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.
I let out a series of little, uncontrollable whimpers.
"Oh, God!" I gasped, "Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh, fuck!"
His cock was now plunging hard and deep into me, filling me completely with each forward thrust. His hands left my breasts and reached behind me, cupping my ass. I could feel his fingers digging into the cheeks of my ass as he pulled me tight with each downward stroke.
"Fuck me, daddy!" I screamed out, "Fuck me! Fuck your little slut whore daughter!"
His body was covered with sweat as he continued to pound his cock into me. His breathing was now nothing more than a series of quick, low grunts.
I threw my legs around him, locking my feet behind his ass. Now, my legs flexed and I met each of his downward thrusts with an upward thrust of my own, causing our bodies to pound together even harder.
"Fuck me, daddy!" I whispered, my voice almost a hiss, "Fuck me hard, daddy!"
I'd lost all control. As our bodies pounded against one another, I continued to cry out, not even knowing what I was saying, not knowing what was coming out of my mouth.
"Yes, daddy! Fuck me! Push your cock deep into your little girl's cunt!"
I could feel the tingle beginning to form in my pussy as daddy continued to slam himself against me.
"Yes, daddy! Do it! I want to feel your cum in me! I want to feel your hot cum spurting into my cunt. Fill me with your sperm, daddy!"
Suddenly, from the back of daddy's throat came a long, low grunting sound. I could feel his body tense up for a moment.
The tingle in my body was strong, then it became even stronger. With its epicenter in my pussy, I felt it build in intensity until it exploded outward to every part of me.
Daddy moaned again, and I could feel the first blast of his hot cum spurting into me. And then another blast.
"Yes, cum in me, daddy! Fill me with your sperm!"
My entire body began to shake uncontrollably as the orgasm shook through me. From deep in daddy's throat, a sound formed, a low, guttural, primeval roar. It rolled it's way out of his mouth as his balls emptied the last of their cum into me.
I felt my body go through one last violent spasm, then I suddenly went limp, my body feeling like it was melting into the carpet. Daddy let out one last groan and collapsed on top of me, his penis still deep in my pussy.
A minute must have passed, maybe two, before daddy's breathing returned to normal and I felt him pull out of me. He stood, his now sagging cock glistening white with cum. I watched as he picked up his pants from the floor and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of the pocket. He wadded it up into a ball, and reaching down, roughly pushed it against my wet pussy.
"Here's your pay," he said, "You're my whore now."
The sound of the bedroom door opening woke me. There, standing in the door was daddy, his body glistening with sweat, and wearing only his bikini briefs, the ones he exercised in. I blinked my eyes once, then again, just to make sure I was really awake and not dreaming. I was puzzled. Why was he in my room?
As I rubbed the sl**p out of my eyes, I watched as daddy pulled off his briefs. Suddenly, I gasped. He was moving toward my bed and he was erect and hard, his huge cock pointing toward the ceiling. And then he was at the foot of my bed, and I watched as he grabbed the covers and dragged them off. He put his hands on my legs and roughly spread them apart, causing my nightie to ride up my thighs.
"Oh, my God!" I cried out, "Oh, my God!"
Daddy knelt on the bed between my legs. His face was expressionless. He spit in his hand, then I watched as he rubbed the spit over the large, bulbous head of his cock. He put his fist around his cock and roughly pushed the head of it against the lips of my pussy, spreading them apart. He lunged forward, forcing his cock deep into me. I screamed, partially from the pain, and partially from the unexpected shock of what was happening.
Leaning forward on his arms, he began to thrust in and out of my dry passage. I screamed again. His face still showed no emotion. He continued to pound hard into my dry pussy, until gradually I could feel the pain ease as my brain signaled to my body to begin producing lubricant, not because I consciously willed it to, but as a natural bodily reaction, no different than Pavlov's dogs salivating when they heard the bell.
Daddy's breath was now coming in short gasps. With each of his forward thrusts, his pelvis met mine, his cock deep in my pussy. Then he groaned loudly, and I could feel his cum spurting deep into me. He groaned one last time and his strokes slowed, until finally his body was motionless over mine.
He pulled out, and without saying a word, left my room.
During the next few days, a routine developed. Daddy would take me every morning. After his exercises, he would come to my room and throw the covers off my bed and fuck me. After a few days, I learned to set my alarm so I'd have time to get ready for him. I'd play with myself to make sure I was wet before he came upstairs. Sometimes, he'd open the door and I'd have my legs spread wide and my fingers on my pussy. He didn't seem to mind, or even to care.
And daddy would take me every evening. It wasn't always at the same time, or the same place. Maybe I'd be watching TV in the rec room, and he'd walk into the room, and lay me back on the couch and pull down my panties and do it. Another time, I might be standing in the kitchen and he'd approach me from behind and I would hear his zipper coming down, and he'd make me lean over the table while he took me from behind.
There was not much foreplay and not much talk, he just did it. It was as if all I was to him was a receptacle to put his cock in to empty his balls. And after he'd cum, he'd put his clothes back on or pull up his zipper and act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if he hadn't just fucked his own daughter, as if he was the most normal father in the world.
After the first few days - after the initial shock wore off, an amazing thing began to happen. I began to cum. And I began to cum hard. As he fucked me each morning and each night, I think my body anticipated what was about to happen and I was wet before he entered me, and even though it was always rough and fast, I found myself screaming out in pleasure as he took me, and the orgasms that raced through my body were heavy and intense.
Of course, I thought about all that was going on, about our relationship. I thought about it all the time. It wasn't right, I knew. Was it an abusive relationship? By most standards, it probably would be considered abusive. I sometimes thought how others might see it, a sex starved father molesting his daughter. But it wasn't that way. It wasn't that way at all.
I knew I was free to leave at any time. But in a way, I was satisfied with the way things were going, it was almost a feeling of contentment. And deep down, despite his flaws, I knew daddy was a good man. And even deeper down, I knew I loved him dearly.
And I knew something else. When daddy took me, when he fucked me every morning and every evening, I knew I like it, I knew I needed it, I knew I loved it. If that made me sick, I thought to myself, then so be it.
Daddy rarely ever had dinner at home. As a workaholic, eating at the diner near his office meant he could get an extra few hours of work in each day. He would get home at seven or eight each evening and when the front door opened I'd go to the kitchen and pour him a Scotch.
I'm not sure why I did it, but I'd always try to get ready for him before he came home. I'd stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, experimenting with makeup, then I'd go to my room and put on different outfits, trying to imagine what would please him.
As each day went by, I became a little more daring with my outfits. I knew it excited him, and I knew, deep down inside, it excited me too. One evening, I met him at the door in a short mini-skirt and blouse. With no bra, I knew the movement of my breasts would turn him on, and with no panties, there would be no impediments in his way when he decided it was time to take me.
I became even more blatant. I found this place downtown that sold all kinds of clothes, and the next evening, I met him in the living room with a bra that had openings in the front that exposed my nipples, and panties that had a slit down the middle so my pussy was fully exposed. He put his briefcase down and took me, right then and there.
I knew it wasn't right. I knew I should feel some sense of guilt, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't help feeling I wanted to turn daddy on, to make him want me.
By now, my classes at the community college had started, and every evening daddy would grill me about them. What do you have to study tonight?, he'd ask, or when is your next quiz? Sometimes, while he was working on the computer in his study, he'd make me sit beside him with my textbook or class notes to make sure I studying.
If I had a question about something in one of my classes, he'd sit in front of his computer until he found an answer for me. The night before an exam, he'd stand in front of me like a drill sergeant, peppering me with questions until he was satisfied I knew enough to get a good grade the next day.
Despite the bizarre nature of our relationship, I realized that I finally had some stability in my life. Better this than my d***ken mother back in Baltimore. And for the first time in my life, I was doing good school.
"I have a date tonight," daddy said one morning. I was lying in my bed, my legs spread, his cum dripping out of my pussy. He stood beside the bed, his wet cock hanging over me. I wasn't sure how I felt when he said it. It wasn't jealousy, I was sure. Maybe I was just curious what effect this might have on our relationship. But I think I realized he had his life to live, the same as me.
I was reading in bed when he got home. It was almost midnight. He came immediately to my room and began undressing. I barely had time to get myself ready before he was on me. And then, I sensed it. I could smell her on him. Maybe it was the slight odor of her perfume, or the lingering musky odor of her sex, or maybe it was the fact it took daddy longer to cum, but I knew he'd fucked her that night.
"You did it with her tonight, didn't you daddy?" I whispered, "You did her, didn't you?"
Daddy let out a little moan, and his in and out strokes became faster.
"Yes," he answered softly, "Yes."
"Tell me about it, daddy. Tell me what it was like. Was she good?"
Daddy's breaths were coming faster now.
"Not as good as you, baby," he said in a raspy voice.
"Tell me, daddy," I whispered, my mouth just inches from his face.
"She's good, baby, but not like you. She's more...uptight...more reserved. I have to tell her what to do, to... make her do things. It's the way she is."
"And she likes that, daddy? She likes it when you tell her what to do?"
Daddy let out another moan. By now, his body glistened with a coating of sweat as he continued to pound in and out of me.
"Yes," he hissed, "she's different. She likes to be... to be sort of...told what to do... I think it turns her on."
I don't know why, but I was super aroused. Maybe it excited me knowing he'd already had his cock in another woman that evening, and yet he still wanted to do me. Maybe it was because it made me feel like I was sharing him, sharing him and his cum with someone else. Whatever the reason, as he fucked me, I felt an orgasm building up that finally raced through my body like never before. I screamed, and screamed again as daddy's cum exploded into my shaking body.
Control. That word kept popping into my brain during the next few days. Daddy liked control, I realized, and maybe that caused him to seek out women who were willing to submit to his control. I had submitted in my own way, I knew, but I didn't feel like I'd given up my own identity or that I'd lost my free will.
Maybe it was my way of avoiding the truth, a false rationalization, but I knew that somehow, in one way or another, we're all controlled. Maybe by a landlord who demands his rent every month, or a boss who controls our actions forty hours a week, or even a government that takes a third of our pay away from us.
Daddy was paying all my bills, he fed me, he clothed me, he housed me. He was putting me through college, and making sure I did well in school. Maybe I was avoiding the truth, but I felt, by comparison, the control daddy had over me was nothing. And besides, whether it made me feel guilty or not, I liked it, I liked it when he came into my room each morning and filled me with his cum, and I liked it when he pulled down my panties and made me lean over the couch as he took me from behind. Maybe I was just a slut, maybe I was just a whore, but I knew one thing - when his big cock filled my pussy and he fucked me, and his cum gushed into me, I felt the most pleasure I'd ever known in my life.
"I thought you and me and Janet could go out for dinner this Friday," daddy announced one evening, "just so you can get to know one another."
It must be getting serious, I thought to myself, if he's setting up a formal 'girlfriend meets daughter' meeting.
"Sure," I replied, "I have a better idea. Why don't I cook dinner for the three of us."
"Sounds good to me," he said, "How about some of that lasagna like you made before?"
I smiled. I think daddy knew lasagna was the only thing I could make.
During the next few days, I thought a lot about the upcoming meeting. It would probably be awkward, I was sure. Did she have any clue about daddy and me? And most importantly, how would this effect daddy's relationship with me? And then I had a confusing thought. When he'd been with her that night, and screwed me later, I couldn't get over how turned on I'd been. What did that mean?
"Janet, I'd like you to meet my daughter Erin."
She reached out and shook my hand.
"I'm so glad to meet you," she said, "Tom's told me so much about you."
I could feel a slight blush crossing my face. What had he told her?
"He's told me how proud of you he is, doing so well in college and all," she continued, "and how you two work on your studies every night."
As daddy took her coat, I took a moment to observe her. She was younger than him. Probably thirty, maybe thirty-one to his forty-two. I'd tried to imagine what she'd look like. Daddy had told me she was an executive at some bank, and she looked the part. She was pretty, in a sophisticated, formal kind of way. Black hair perfectly done up. Just the right amount of makeup. She wore a light blue blouse and white pants.
But the thing that surprised me the most was her physique. Maybe subconsciously, I'd expected daddy to come home with a clone of mom. Tall, big breasts, full hips - the characteristics I'd inherited. But Janet was the exact opposite. She was petite, probably three or four inches shorter than me, and slim, with the little mounds of her breasts pressing out under her blouse, and slim hips that seemed to barely hold up her pants.
As I looked at her, a picture suddenly flashed into my brain. It was her, Janet, small and petite, lying naked on her back as daddy's huge cock pounded in and out of her little body. I shook my head to get rid of the picture as the three of us sat down for a glass of wine before dinner.
"I got married when I was twenty," Janet told me during dinner, "I was too young. I didn't really know what I wanted out of life, or even who I was, and the marriage only lasted two years. Since then, I've focused everything on my career."
I told her a little about my life in Baltimore with mom, how I just couldn't get focused, and how happy I was now that now I seemed to be back on the right track. I occasionally glanced at daddy as we ate. For the most part, he didn't say anything. I think he was just happy that Janet and I seemed to be getting along.
All in all, I thought to myself, I'd done an O.K. job with dinner. Janet and daddy both complimented me on it and by the time we'd finished, we were working on our third bottle of wine.
On daddy's suggestion, we took our wine glasses to the living room. Janet sat beside him on the couch, and I sat on an easy chair across from them. I studied them together. In a way, I realized, I was intrigued. I wanted to see how they'd look at each other, to see how they'd interact, how they'd communicate.
As at the dinner table, daddy remained quiet, allowing Janet and I to talk. She was part of a big f****y, she told me, three b*****rs and two s****rs. As an only c***d, I was curious to know what that was like, and we talked about families and reunions and how it felt to move away from home for the first time. Daddy seemed attentive to us both, but added little to the conversation. From time to time, he'd fill our wine glasses.
Suddenly, Janet put her glass down on the coffee table and stood up.
"Look, I'd better go now," she announced, "It's eleven, and if I have one more glass of wine, I won't be able to drive."
Sometimes our brains work in peculiar ways. Mine did at that moment.
I looked up and her and said, "Just stay here tonight, Janet. If you and daddy... I mean, don't worry about me."
Janet's face turned red.
"No, don't be silly," she said, "I couldn't... we couldn't..."
"Why not?" I asked.
"It's just that... I don't have anything to wear, I wasn't..."
"I have lots of stuff you can wear," I interrupted, "I'll bet we can even find an extra toothbrush."
I glanced at daddy. Maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed like there was a tiny smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
"I'd better not," Janet said. She turned toward the closet for her coat.
I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I stood up and faced her.
"Janet. Stay here tonight."
I don't know where it came from, but the tone of my voice was almost a command.
She stopped in her tracks and turned toward me.
"Daddy, you want her to stay, don't you?"
There was a pause, then he made a tiny nodding motion with his head.
Janet looked back and forth between us.
"No, I have to..." she started to say as she turned again toward the closet.
I don't know exactly what came over me at that moment; but I stepped toward her and put my arms around her waist to stop her. She let out a little surprised gasp. I put my mouth close to her ear.
"Look, if you're embarrassed because I'm here, don't worry about it. I'd be happy if you stayed. And daddy wants you to stay," I whispered, "you don't want to disappoint him, do you?"
"Look, I've got to go," she said. She tried to twist away from me, but I tightened my arms around her waist.
As I stood there with my arms held tightly around her waist, I felt this sudden, strange feeling of power, almost like I had this mystical, hypnotic control over Janet, as if I had the ability to make her do whatever I wanted. I put my mouth close to her ear.
"And you want to stay, too, don't you?" I whispered.
"I can't... not with... you... his daughter here," she said softly.
"But it's O.K. with me," I whispered back, "if you two want to do it tonight, you can just pretend I'm not here."
"This is crazy," Janet cried out. She struggled to release herself from my grasp, but I held her tight.
"You've done it with him before," I said, "why not tonight? Why not now?"
I glanced at daddy. He was staring at us with a little puzzled expression on his face, as if he wasn't exactly sure what was happening.
"And maybe I would want to watch," I whispered into her ear, "Maybe I would want to watch as daddy and you did it."
"God, you're crazy!" Janet cried out. She violently twisted her body to escape, but my arms remained locked around her. She was breathing heavily from her exertions, and little whimpering sounds started coming out of her mouth.
"Look at him," I said softly, "Look at daddy. He wants you tonight. I know he wants you. And I know you want him too, don't you?"
Janet had stopped struggling, probably resolved to the fact she couldn't overpower me.
"I couldn't...I can't...not with you here," she said in a low, sobbing voice.
"I think you can. I think you will," I whispered in her ear, "I think you'd do whatever you could to make daddy happy, wouldn't you?"
I suddenly became aware that I was the one in control. Daddy sat on the sofa, a confused look on his face, as if he wasn't sure what was happening. Janet moaned and lowered her head. I felt her body go limp, as if all the fight had left her, and I knew that she would do whatever I asked.
I thought for a moment about letting her go, letting her get her coat and run out the door. But I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and lower, I felt that little tingle in my pussy, and I knew I had to continue... to see where this would all lead. I put my mouth next to her ear.
"Let's show daddy your goodies, Janet. I think he'd like that," I whispered.
Keeping one arm tightly around her waist, I used the other to begin unbuttoning her blouse. When she realized what I was doing, she grabbed my arm and pulled it away. I twisted my arm free of her grasp and grabbed one side of her blouse. With one hard tug, the buttons flew off and her blouse hung open.
"No!" she cried out, "This isn't right! No!"
I roughly pulled each side of her blouse off her shoulders, then grabbed the middle of her bra and pulled it up, allowing her breasts to jiggle free. They were like little peaches sticking out of her chest, with little nipples in the center of her areolas, each areola no bigger than the size of a quarter.
Janet lowered her head and covered her face with her hands. Little sobbing whimpers came out of her mouth. I glanced up at daddy. There was no expression on his face as he continued to stare at us.
"Show him your breasts, Janet," I said, "put your arms down so daddy can see your little titties."
She didn't move. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her, causing her chest to thrust forward.
"Good. Now daddy can see your titties," I said, "you like that, don't you, Janet? You like it when daddy looks at your bare titties."
"No," she said, shaking her head, "No."
"Tell me the truth, Janet," I hissed into her ear.
"No...no...no, this isn't right," she moaned.
"Let's find out what daddy thinks about it," I said, still holding her wrists firmly behind her back.
"Do you like looking at Janet's bare titties, daddy?"
He stared at us. There was a pause, then he slowly nodded his head.
"Does it excite you, daddy?"
Another pause, and he nodded again.
I felt the tingle in my pussy again, stronger this time, and I could feel my own breaths coming shorter and faster. I couldn't help myself. I had to push forward, to find out what was happening, to find out what I could do.
"I want to see how excited you are, daddy. I want you to take off your pants and show us," I said.
Janet moaned again, and daddy slowly shook his head no.
"Do it, daddy!" I said f***efully, "Do it for me. I want to see you naked."
There was a long pause. I stared straight into daddy's eyes. Slowly, his hands moved down and he began to undo his belt. He pulled his zipper down, and raising his hips, pulled his pants and shorts down his legs, allowing his huge, erect penis to spring out and upward.
A series of short little whimpers came out of Janet's mouth.
Daddy looked up at me, as if checking to see if I was satisfied.
"Spread your legs," I said.
Daddy slowly moved his legs apart, exposing his balls, which hung low over the dark crevice between his ass cheeks.
I felt a little shudder go though Janet's body and she let out a long, low moan.
"Are you ready, Janet? Are you ready for him?" I whispered.
"No...no...no...no...no," she said in a small, whimpering voice, "it's not right..."
"Are you ready, Janet?" I repeated, louder.
Another little shudder went through her body and there was a long pause. She raised her head and looked at daddy. Suddenly her arms, which had been fighting my grip, relaxed. Her shoulders slumped forward and I could almost feel the tension flow out of her body. Janet moved her head up and down, slowly nodding yes.
"Yes, I'm ready," she whispered in a quivering, barely audible voice.
"Ready for what?" I whispered back.
Janet raised her head and looked at daddy again.
"I'm ready for him to do it to me...to fuck me," she said quietly, "I want him to fuck me now. I don't care if you're here."
I released my hold on her wrists, allowing her arms to fall limply to her side. I pulled her blouse and bra the rest of the way off.
"Take off your pants," I said softly.
She undid her pants and lowered them down and off her legs. Her head bowed, she stood wearing only her panties. The front of her panties were almost transparent - it was obvious she was soaking wet. I glanced again at daddy. He was staring intently at us, his erection still towering up from his crotch.
"Now your panties," I said.
Janet pulled them down her hips and kicked them off her legs. Her pussy hair was black like the hair on her head and neatly trimmed. Her ass was as small and as petite as the rest of her body, hardly any wider than her waist, and her thighs were thin and well-toned.
Now completely naked, she stood there for a moment facing daddy, then turned her head toward me, as if waiting for instructions.
I led her to the coffee table immediately in front of the couch and had her sit on it. Then I reached down and grabbed her ankles and brought her feet up onto the table, her knees bent upward. Now, her pussy gaped wide open, just a few feet in front of daddy. Her opening seemed tiny, and I wondered how daddy's big thing could ever fit. On either side, her pussy lips pouted out, red and swollen. I could see a little puddle of her clear juices form at the bottom of her pussy.
I don't know why I did it, but I reached down and slid my finger into the little puddle, then brought my hand to daddy's face and rubbed my wet finger across his closed lips. Then I reached down again. This time using two fingers, I stroked Janet's pussy lips lightly then inserted my fingers deep inside her. Janet's eyes flickered closed and a low moan came out of her open mouth. I put my fingers against daddy's lips, then pushed harder, until my fingers were slowly stroking in and out of his wet mouth.
A large drop of precum had formed at the tip of daddy's cock and using the same two fingers, I brushed it off and put my fingers against Janet's mouth. Her lips closed around my fingers, and her cheeks puffed slightly in and out as she gently sucked on them.
I felt the tingle again in my pussy, and knew I would have to get some satisfaction soon. Without thinking, I grabbed Janet's hand and held it against my crotch, rubbing it up and down against the front of my skirt. I couldn't wait any longer. I undid my skirt and slid it over my hips, then lowered my panties. I took Janet's hand again and held it flat against my soaking pussy, then, my hand on top of hers, I guided her fingers between my open pussy lips. A little shiver went through my body and I let out a sharp moan.
I don't know what came over me at the moment, but I knew I had to have more. I took Janet by the shoulders and guided her off the coffee table until she was kneeling in front of me. I reached out and put my hands behind her head and drew her toward my pussy, holding her head tightly against me. Then, still holding her head with one hand, I knelt, then slid backward until I was lying on my back. I put one hand on either side of her head and pulled her face between my outstretched legs.
I could feel her hot breath just inches from my pussy. A moment went by, then another, then I felt her tongue slowly, gently touch my pussy lips, then begin to stroke up and down on either side of my opening, massaging and caressing my pussy lips. I moaned loudly, knowing it wouldn't be long before I came. I pulled her head tighter against me, and my hips began to buck up and down uncontrollably, causing my wet pussy to slide up and down against her face, covering her face with my juices.
"Oh, God!" I screamed, "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
I felt a shudder run through my body, and I knew it was starting. I could feel the spasms starting in my cunt, then vibrating out through my entire body. A long, low groan came from deep within me, and my entire body began to quiver and shake. I thrust my pussy hard against Janet's face and let out one sharp, piercing scream of pleasure as the orgasm raced through my body.
And then it slowly subsided. I released my hold on Janet's head. Her face glistened with my juices, her hair hung down in wet strands on her forehead. I looked up at daddy. He had his fist tight around his hard cock as her stared down at us. Now, I realized, it was their turn.
I guided Janet's body until she was on her back, spreading her legs apart. I motioned to daddy. He knelt between Janet's legs and leaned forward, supporting himself on his arms. I reached down and took his huge penis in my hand and guided it toward Janet's pussy. Holding it in my hand, I ran the head of it in little up and down motions against her pussy lips.
Janet's chest began to quiver up and down as a series of little whimpering cries came out of her mouth, causing her tits to jiggle in little circles on her chest. I guided the head of daddy's cock to her tiny opening and watched as it slowly disappeared inside her. Janet's whimpers now became sharper, until they were short abrupt screams, as daddy pushed himself deeper and deeper into her.
Now fully inside her, he held his body motionless for a moment, then began slow in and out strokes. I watched as daddy increased the tempo of his motions and the muscles of his ass and thighs flexed and pulsed as he pounded his cock deep into her. With each inward stroke he made, Janet cried out in a short, whimpering scream.
I stared at their point of contact and felt compelled to touch it. I put my fingers on the top of Janet's pussy and began to caress her clitoris. I could feel daddy's cock sliding up and down against the side of my fingers, and with each completion of his downward thrust, my hand was flattened tight between their bodies. I put my other hand between my legs and made little circles around my own clitoris.
Janet's head began to roll from side to side and her screams became louder. Daddy moaned, and with each thrust, a low grunting sound came from deep in his throat.
Suddenly, Janet threw her head back, and a visible tremor ran through her body. Daddy groaned loudly.
"I'm cumming!" he cried out, "I'm cumming now, baby!"
Janet's screams intensified and I felt her entire body begin to quiver. Her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably and a deep red flush spread over her face and chest as her orgasm swept through her. I stared down at daddy's cock as it slammed in and out of her pussy. He moaned again, and on each outward thrust, I could see the thick white coating of cum on his cock and I knew he was spurting deep inside her.
My hand was still hard against my pussy, and as I watched the white frothy cum bubbling out between his cock and her cunt, I felt a tremor go through my body and I came again, and then again as my fingers pushed deep into my wet opening.
His balls now emptied of their load, daddy fell slowly forward, collapsing on top of Janet, their sweaty bodies meeting from head to toe. A minute or two passed, and daddy slowly rolled off her, his cock now flaccid and soft, but still covered with the milky white layer of their combined fluids.
Janet lifted her head to look at him. Without thinking, I leaned forward and took daddy's limp cock in my hand, then lowered my face and took as much of it as I could into my mouth, cleaning it, bathing it in my mouth, knowing Janet was watching.
Then, I felt his hands on either side of my head, and he pulled my head back, releasing his cock, and in one smooth motion, he directed my face toward Janet's outspread legs. Her pussy lips looked raw and swollen, and her entire pelvis was covered and dripping with the mixture of daddy's cum and her juices. He pushed my head down until my mouth made contact with her, and I could feel the heat of her body against my face and smell the pungent aroma of their sex in my nose.
I hesitated, not sure what I would do. Then, I opened my mouth and began to bathe Janet with my tongue. And daddy's hands held my head, forcing me to lick her all over, cleaning his cum from the mound of her pubic hair, then across her pussy, the entire way to her little anus, he guided my head until I'd cleaned the slimy white fluid from every part of her.
Then, daddy stood. He reached down and took each of our hands in his, and he led us to his bedroom, where the three of us collapsed on the bed.
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