Not Your Little Girl

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


[I struggled with where to place this story. It has elements of voyeurism, cuckolding, and incest without properly belonging to any of those categories. The story was inspired by Lis Evans’ video, “I Fucked a Russian Model in my Kitchen!” — I encourage you to watch it after reading. Enjoy!]

“I’m not your little girl any more, Daddy.” Looking in the mirror, remembering the look on his daughter’s face when she said those words, Dale Evans wondered when she had grown so bitter towards him. She had been such a sweet child, always innocent and carefree. He remembered the pride he had taken in her ability to charm strangers, with her friendly smile and angelic blonde locks. When had she turned into the surly, sulking 18-year-old with a laughing smirk that seemed to mock his very existence? He had merely been insisting that she maintain some common decency and avoid staining the family morals.

Dale sighed as he rinsed his toothbrush under the faucet and turned off the tap. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the question of what to do with her. Lis had been confined to her room since their argument. Tomorrow he would decide on her punishment. Tonight, he felt too tired.

That Johnson boy, though! Dale felt a stirring of rage as he buttoned his pajamas, remembering the young delinquent behind the stadium pressing his hand into his daughter’s backside, mouth chewing at her pretty lips. In public, no less! He would not be made a laughingstock in this community! What did Lis even see in that boy, anyway? Surely he had raised her to carry herself with more respect than that? A boy with a growing drug record, and two previous girlfriends left in a family way with nary a care behind him? Dale felt certain it couldn’t be more than a passing whim, although a dangerous one to be sure. If she just wasn’t allowed to see the boy, no doubt Guy Johnson would be forgotten within a week.

With that comforting thought, Dale Evans peeled back the covers and climbed into his bed, reaching out to shut off the bedside lamp. Tomorrow he would deal with everything. He fell asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

Deams are tenuous, gauzy things, most barely remembered in the morning light and even then only fleetingly. They bleed into one another so that the boundary where one dream ends and the next one begins is never quite clear. Dale’s dreams followed this vagrant pattern for some time after his breathing had settled into a peaceful rhythm. Deeply asleep, he did not hear the soft click of the latch on the house’s back door as it opened and shut.

In his dream, Dale saw the kitchen of his own house. There was no mistaking the setting; unlike most dreams the details were sharp and lifelike. The white tile and painted brick were the same ones he saw every morning over coffee. The fluorescent light gave everything a slight sense of cold.

The one jarring aspect to the familiar surroundings was the man standing in their midst. Even in sleep, Dale felt his heart rate increase with a sense of indecency. Guy Johnson had never, would never set foot in his house. Yet in the dream there he was, leaning against the counter while taking a drag on some sort of vaping device and playing on his phone. Dale doubted very much that it was just tobacco that he was smoking. He could almost make out the pungent aroma of cannabis in the exhaled puff.

What happened next made Dale’s heart skip a beat. From behind his left shoulder, his daughter stepped into view. She was wearing some sort of cami top and a short black and white leather skirt Dale had never seen her wear before, and hadn’t even known that she owned. With a sexy sway she walked up to Guy Johnson and wrapped tipobet365 yeni giriş her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his for a long kiss. Guy’s hand reached around and grasped her left buttock like he owned it. Dale tensed up. That boy was groping Lis like he owned her. His daughter.

Dale willed his hands into fists, ready to knock the living daylights out of the punk who was molesting his pride and joy. But in this dream he seemed unable to move as he wished; he was frozen in place even as he strained to throw the interloper out of his kitchen. So he watched helplessly as the dream unfolded before his eyes, as his daughter very willingly molded her body against her lover, as her tongue wrestled with his in a passionate kiss. Dale wanted to look away but he could not, even as the boy squeezed his daughter’s ass with both hands, inching up her skirt in a way that threatened to strip her of all modesty if continued.

The two lovers were running their hands all over each others’ bodies,caressing and stroking. Dale found himself moving closer, stepping to the side so that he could see them in profile. He was not in control; his dreaming brain seemed to have its own agenda and was following it regardless of his wishes.

The next moment something happened that made Dale gasp. With a coy twist of her head, his daughter separated from her lover, and then slowly dropped to her knees in front of him. Dale couldn’t believe his eyes. She wasn’t! His own daughter? But yes she was. Her hands were all over the growing bulge in the boy’s shorts. She was massaging his cock through his pants. The boy seemed to have a sizeable penis, tenting the fabric with some urgency. And then she was pulling the pants down, and the boy’s erection was out, and her hands went to it, and Dale suddenly couldn’t breathe. His daughter was holding a live, naked cock in her hands. She was only 18, nearly a child still. How could she know her way around a cock like this?

His daughter glanced upwards with a sultry look as her hands caressed his cock. Then her mouth opened, and she leaned slightly forwards to slide the cock between her parted lips.

Dale couldn’t believe it. His daughter could not be sexually active. He had raised her better. Yet here she was, with a boy’s fat prick pumping her pretty little mouth. And she seemed to be enjoying it, pausing to caress it again with her hands as she gripped the base before plunging her face down once more, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Dale wanted to look away, but couldn’t. He was powerless to close his eyes, to turn his head. The dream-view came in closer, so that he was hovering over her shoulder to watch his only child as she stuffed her face with cock. With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Dale noted that she seemed to approach her task with some expertise. There was no sign of a gag reflex as she smoothly took the boy’s length, and she slobbered and stroked like a pro. Dale was no expert on blowjobs himself, but he felt a sneaking suspicion that if he had been on the receiving end of this one she would have him blowing his load in mere minutes.

This was his daughter! Dale recognized the little braid in her hair that she had put in that morning. Why was she fellating this boy like a common whore? How could this be happening? And why was he being forced to watch? With a shrinking horror, Dale recognized something else: a stirring of lust in his own loins. He could not deny the hotness of the scene before his eyes. His daughter was a beautiful girl, always had been. Forced by the power of the dream to watch her giving head, Dale felt his penis harden and swell.

As his daughter continued to stroke and suck tipobet365 giriş on the cock, pulling off from time to time so as to admire her work, Dale’s illicit arousal grew. When she stuck out her tongue obscenely to tap the boy’s fat cockhead against it, Dale leaned in for a closer view. This could not be happening. But it was. And it was turning him on more than he would have ever thought possible.

As he watched his daughter service Guy Johnson’s cock with ever-faster bobs of her pretty head, Dale felt himself burn with shame. His daughter was acting the whore for a low-life drug addict, and all he could do was watch — with envy, no less! When her head turned to the side and locked eyes with his own, it seemed almost predestined. Dale felt his blood run cold. She knew! It was impossible, but she knew he was watching, and she knew somehow that he was enjoying it. She wanted him to see! This was her revenge for the afternoon’s argument. Still holding his eyes, she ran her tongue teasingly up and down the cock, then with that little smirk he knew so well she parted her lips and swallowed it down again.

Dale felt helpless, carried along by a tide he barely understood and was powerless to fight. The boy got more into the blowjob, cradling the girl’s head in his hand and moving it so that he was fucking her face. Dale leaned in to see, furious at the disrespect shown by the boy, simultaneously sickened and turned on by his view of his daughter and her perfect tits visible in the low-cut top, even feeling pride now that she was such a good cock-sucker. He had raised her to be good at anything she did.

As if in acknowledgement, his daughter’s eyes lifted upwards and made contact again with his own. His daughter was watching him. With a cock in her mouth. Her beautiful baby eyes were staring into his as she stuffed her face onto Johnson’s fat prick, her expression wary. As if to say: this is my choice. As if to say: you can’t stop me. I’m not your little girl any more, Daddy. As if to say: see what a good little whore your daughter has become. See what I can do. Imagine this was your prick in my mouth, feeling my tongue fluter over it. Dale’s penis was fully erect, pulsing with his heartbeat.

His daughter’s blowjob felt like a performance now. She was blowing this cock for him. A blowjob just for him. She would glance up as if to make sure he was still watching (as if he could look anywhere else!) and then resume her work with a groan of arousal and a renewed vigor. It was so beautiful, seeing his daughter giving head in his kitchen. Dale tensed in anticipation of the inevitable eruption.

It was not to be. The boy (Dale had almost forgotten him in his obsession with his daughter’s beautiful sucking) reached down and stopped the motions of her head. Gripping her wrist, he guided her back to her feet.

Dale felt a surge of anger. He had been so close! Why had that ingrate stopped her? Then he saw the meaning of the change. His daughter was rucking up the tight leather skirt, wriggling her hips in a sexy dance as the boy bent her over the kitchen range. She had not been wearing any panties. Dale had no time to ponder the meaning of his revelation before Guy Johnson was aligning his fat cock with his beautiful daughter’s maiden hole and stuffing himself inside.

Or perhaps not-so-maiden. There was no blood, no hesitation as the penis surged within. Only a well-lubricated shifting as his daughter’s vagina adjusted itself to the contours of the penis that was now filling it. Within seconds Johnson’s cock was sawing in and out, making his daughter’s body jiggle enticingly and causing her eyes to close in ecstasy. Dale felt the sickening surge tipobet365 güvenilirmi of envy.

But she was still watching him! Through half-lidded eyes his daughter once again sought out his own gaze. She wanted him to see. Dale leaned in to peer at the part of her body he had never thought to see, much less in the act of intercourse.

His daughter’s pussy was perfect. It grasped the boy’s cock like a silken sheathe. There was no hair. When had she started shaving herself down there? Engorged lips stood out just slightly, moistly betraying her arousal to the world and her father. Her perfect bubble butt, honed from years of field hockey practices, framed the pussy and the cock that was splitting it open. Dale remembered taking his girl to field hockey practices over the years. He had helped to mold that ass.

Dale hovered over the scene, taking it all in. His daughter kept making eye contact with him, even as her boy fucked her thoroughly. She seemed to be showing him, telling him: This is who I am. Daddy;s girl, taking cock in her pussy. Daddy’s little whore. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. Dale’s cock was harder than it had ever been in his life.

The boy pulled out and flipped his daughter over, lifting her onto the countertop. Before sliding smoothly inside, he paused to rip down the cami top and expose his daughter’s tits. Her breasts were perfect, topped with fat pink nipples begging to be sucked. Dale wanted to suck, but all he could do was watch as the ungrateful prick of Guy Johnson plowed his little girl’s cunt.

She was such a sight, leaning back on the counter, legs spread to accept the cock of her boy-lover. He sawed in and out like a rutting bull. She looked up at Dale as if to say: this is me. Your daughter. Guy Johnson might be fucking her, but she only had eyes for him. His daughter.

Her eyes fluttered in ecstasy as the tempo of their fucking increased. The boy moved the strap on her cami top so that her proud tits could stick out unsupported, jiggling ever so slightly with the motion. Dale ached to seal his mouth over them and suckle forever. He leaned in to watch as the cock split his daughter’s pussy lips apart, her vagina now an open tunnel. Ready to take cock. Ready for his cock.

Dale felt like he was about to to burst. He wanted to flood that pretty pussy with his sperm, millions of tiny swimmers ready to impregnate her fertile womb. He was so close it felt like he was fucking his daughter himself, and she would be pregnant with his baby. A part of him ached to make her his own, to breed her like the slut she was. It was therefoe with a feeling of frustration only partially mixed with relief that he watched the cock pull out, the previously gaping pussy lips slurping obscenely closed. His daughter hopped off the counter, the boy already pushing her again onto her knees.

Then the sperm was coming out, pumping onto her face in great ropes of come. Dale felt himself throbbing uncontrollably, the surge of pressure almost unbearable. The cock painted her face with semen as his daughter looked up into his eyes, begging for it. She wanted him. Wanted him to come all over her pretty face and make her his own. And his daughter smiled at him, a saucy, knowing grin that promised more to come. Even as she did so, Dale felt himself losing her. His dream was ending; he was waking up. Desperately he tried to hold onto that moment, strands of sleep shredding and evaporating as he reached for them.

Dale Evans awoke in his own bed, covered head to toe in sweat, his pajamas sticky and damp with fresh cum. It was the middle of the night. He felt worn out and somewhat empty, as though something had been taken from him.

From downstairs came the sound of the door latch opening and closing. Outside, the engine of a pickup truck turned over, and a bright wash of headlights briefly lit up the curtains of the room before being replaced by more muted red as the truck’s engine noise dwindled into the distance.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın