Gloryhole Gabbie Ch. 05

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An alarm on my phone woke me up. It was Saturday, so I was surprised I hadn’t turned it off the night before. It also didn’t sound like my normal alarm tone. I patted around the top of my nightstand, searching for my phone because I refused to open my eyes yet. Once my fingers found it, I brought it to my face and turned over to squint at the screen. In my sleepy haze, the light from my phone screen was so bright it actually hurt. I peered at my phone with one eye. “Shit,” I said.

It wasn’t a sleep alarm; it was an event alarm. My dad’s birthday was today. Normally that would make me excited because my family has always taken birthdays very seriously and we go out of our way to have a great time. The only problem was, I forgot to get him a present. In almost twenty years I had never forgotten to give him a present. My mom either, when she was still around. To make matters worse, we had a no commercial gift policy. It was originally my mom’s idea, but it’s become sort of a tradition in our family.

Instead of going out and buying something they could get for themselves, we always try to give a gift that cannot be bought. There is some flexibility as to what counts as ‘bought’. For example, one of the first gifts I remember giving my dad was a macaroni necklace. I know that’s not very original, but I was five, cut me some slack. So while we had to buy the macaroni and string, the creation itself was my doing and thus the gift was not commercial. This also applied to experiences like ticketed events or something you wouldn’t normally do for yourself, like an expensive spa day or live show.

The main idea was that you don’t just run to Target and grab something off the shelf. It has to have some thought behind it, some originality. Usually that requires a bit of planning, the kind of planning that you can’t do on your way downstairs to eat breakfast. I cursed myself for not putting the alarm yesterday, when I could have done something about it. Now I had to come up with something creative and personal in about five minutes that he’d actually enjoy and with only the objects in my room. I was in quite a pickle. I looked around.

I had a small collection of beads I used to make myself jewelry, but I doubted he’d want any of that. All the makeup on my vanity gave me the idea of doing a quick self portrait by putting on a colored lipstick and kissing the paper, then drawing my face around it. That might be cute, but uninspired. Plus, I did something similar when I was eleven. I had some colored and textured paper from a school project. Maybe I could make a card of some kind? Again, uninspired and would probably take a while. What the hell was I going to do?

My eyes swept over my clothes hamper with one of my old bras hanging off the side. That was an idea. Maybe I could have him help me pick out some new bras and let him watch me try them on? No, that‘s dumb. He’s your dad, not your boyfriend. Besides, how does making him buy me underwear count as a birthday present for him? Think, think! I glanced around the room and came up fruitless again. My eyes returned to the dirty bra hanging from the hamper. “I mean, I know he’s a boob guy,” I muttered.

He couldn’t stop staring at them when he was in the booth with me and my mom was no slouch herself. Mine were a cup or two bigger, but she was still busty by anyone’s standard. Could I maybe just flash him? That didn’t seem like enough. Let him hold them? Again, this is your father you‘re talking about, not some frat boy. Even still, I know he’s been craving sexual attention and release, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to the glory hole. Twice. Plus, once more, just to watch me. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all to let my body help him out a little. Would that be so wrong?

Of course it‘s wrong, he’s your dad. Sure, but he’s already came inside me twice and on me once. There’s not much modesty any more. That doesn‘t mean you should encourage it! I kept mulling it over in my head, and if I’m honest, it felt more like I was trying to talk myself out of it than into it. I had already made up my mind and was desperately trying to convince myself otherwise. Call me what you want, but I love my dad and I wanted today to be special. If he found out I forgot his birthday it wouldn’t kill him, but it would disappoint him and I didn’t want that. I wanted him to feel loved and appreciated.

I crawled out of bed and looked for the sexiest bra and pantie set I had, which was tame compared to some. It was a Victoria’s Secret number with white cups and black lacy accents, and a push up to boot. It made my already enormous chest look massive. I went through a craft box under my bed and pulled out a length of pink ribbon that I tied into a cute little bow in the center of my bra. I considered putting on a robe and giving him a sexy reveal, but ultimately decided against it. I didn’t want to send Betturkey any mixed messages.

As I made my way downstairs, the familiar smell of waffles and bacon greeted me before I even entered the kitchen. I padded silently into the kitchen, arms behind my back and a slight arch in my back to help draw attention to my chest. As if I needed it. Dad was busy flipping the bacon and hadn’t noticed me. “Morning dad,” I said, waiting for him to turn around.

“Morning sweetie,” he said, adjusting the bacon with some tongs. “Sleep OK?”

“I did, and you?”

“Can’t complain,” he said, still fixated on the bacon. I stepped a little closer.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

“I wondered if you’d remember,” he said, lifting the bacon pan and bringing it closer to the plate he had ready. He used the tongs to place the bacon on the plate, then returned the pan to the stove. “I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything, but you’ve been so busy with school and working the booth that I just wasn’t sure if you’d remember.” He picked up the plate of bacon and turned around to put it on the table. He did a quick double take as he saw me standing there, and his eyes bulged. The plate of bacon fell to the floor and broke, sending ceramic shards and bacon everywhere.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I said, kneeling down to help clean up.

“Be careful, I don’t want you to get cut.”

“I thought you’d react, but not like that!” I said, picking up pieces of ceramic and bacon to throw away.

“You, uh, caught me by surprise,” he said, kneeling down with some paper towels.

“That was the plan,” I laughed. He scrubbed up the grease on the floor while I tossed the larger broken pieces in the trash and came back to find the smaller ones.

“Here, you take the paper towels. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“OK.” I took the roll of paper towels from him and scrubbed the floor in tight circles, trying to push the smaller shards to a central area and clean up the grease at the same time. Dad became distracted. I followed his eye line and saw my breasts swaying softly with my scrubbing motions. I scrubbed a little harder for his benefit, then threw away the dirty towel while he finished throwing away the remaining shards.

“Well, I guess no bacon this morning then,” he said.

“That’s fine, I’ll have a banana with my waffle. You want one?”

“No, I’m OK.”

We sat down and shared an awkward silence. I used the time to butter and syrup my waffles. “Sorry,” I said.

“It’s OK. May I ask why you’re wearing… that?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that you are usually in a T-shirt and sweatpants in the mornings.”

“Yes, well, I thought it’d be a fun birthday present for you,” I said, forking a stack of waffles into my mouth.

“I’m not sure if that will fit me,” he said with a smirk. I laughed.

“Well,” I said, finishing my bite, “then maybe I could be your present.”

He gave me a soft smile. “Aw, that’s sweet hon. You’re the best present I could ask for.”

I smiled back. When he went back to casually eating his waffles, I knew he didn’t catch my meaning. “Actually, I meant that I am the present.”

He looked up at me from his waffles. “I know sweetie, and I’m proud to have you,” he said. I stared him in the eyes. Then it clicked. “Oh. Ohhhhh!”

“What do you think about that?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious that maybe this entire thing was a terrible idea. Not only was I putting him on the spot, but I was forcing him into forbidden territory. We’d been in that territory before, but the circumstances were different. This was much more personal, offering my body to him so forwardly.

“Well, uh, what did you have in mind?”

My throat got dry. He was tiptoeing around it. If either of us said the wrong thing, it would only make things worse. “I put a ribbon on your present, like always,” I said, pushing my chest toward him. He looked down and stared.

“I see.” I saw his throat bob as he swallowed uncomfortably. A knot in my stomach tightened. This was going to be the best or worst birthday he’d ever have, and I honestly had no idea which way it would go. Maybe I stepped too far. Maybe I made a mistake. There was no turning back now.

“Do you want to open your present?” I asked. His jaw twitched from how tense he was. He didn’t respond. He just stared at my chest and the pink ribbon adorning it. At first I wanted to run away and hide in my room for eternity. Maybe adopt a new identity and move to Europe. How could I be so stupid? I kept asking myself. But then I realized a very important detail. The fabric of his shorts was taut. From my angle I couldn’t see an actual boner, but there was definitely tension coming from the inside. I was fairly positive he didn’t have it when cooking the bacon, and I was pretty sure that morning wood would have disappeared by now, which meant only one thing.

He liked what he saw.

I abandoned my half-eaten Betturkey Giriş waffles and stood up from my chair, crossing the distance to him in a few slow strides. He quickly adjusted himself, but as I rounded the kitchen table I could tell he was hard. I stepped less than an arm’s length away from him and waited. He looked up at me with a mix of apprehension and longing. He looked down at my breasts, which swelled over and over with my own nervous breathing. “Do you want to open your present?” I repeated, almost a whisper.

First his hands went to my hips. He looked back and forth between my breasts as his fingers slowly slid up my body. His touch felt electric. My nerves were already on edge from how worried I was that I had made a mistake, but I felt literal sparks as his hands made their way to my bra. His thick forearms wrapped around my ribs and I felt him tugging on my bra, trying to unclasp it. After a brief struggle, the support of my bra went away and the shoulder straps slid down my arms. I let my bra slide off and land on the floor, exposing my large breasts to my dad who visually drank them in like he had just found an oasis in the middle of a desert.

His big hands pulled me forward, and his face went between my cleavage. His stubble was rough, but not scratchy. I kinda liked it. He nuzzled into my left breast and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight while he smothered himself. I felt the slickness of his tongue glide along my breast and slowly search lower and lower for my nipple. Once he found it, he wrapped his lips around it tight and sucked. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and moaned softly as his tongue tickled my pink nipple.

One of his hands unwrapped from around my waist and came up underneath to cup my right breast. He pushed that breast toward his face, rubbing his stubble against it while he sucked on my left nipple. There was a hunger in his motions, a desperation that drove me wild. He nuzzled in, all but suffocating himself with my breast while he sucked on it, before pulling his face away. He kept the suction with his mouth as long as he could, but eventually my nipple came out of his mouth with a pop! I scratched the back of his head and watched him turn his face to the other side, lapping between my cleavage before lowering his face to suck my right nipple.

His mouth and hands traded places, and he cupped my left breast while sucking the right. A little bolt of pleasure zipped up my spine as his tongue flicked across my right nipple, and I even let out a little squeal of delight in response. He pulled me in tighter and I lost my balance. My hands left the back of his head and one went to the table next to us while the other landed in his lap. I felt strained fabric underneath my fingers and followed it to the source. To say he was hard would have been an understatement. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed there was a glass dildo in his shorts because it was so hard it barely moved.

“Holy crap, dad,” I said, squeezing his erection through his shorts.

“Sorry,” he mumbled around my nipple, pushing his face against my breasts and sucking hard enough that I was sure he’d leave marks. Not that I minded. I caressed his boner a while longer and felt bad for him. Originally his present was supposed to just be some quality time with my rack, but seeing how worked up it got him there was no way I’d leave him high and dry like that. I like to tease, but I’m not a monster. And even though I know blue balls aren’t dangerous, I’m not the kind of girl that would ever allow it to happen.

I let him continue to ravish my chest and hooked my fingers into his waistband to pull them open and make room for my other hand. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and felt it throb so hard it was like I literally held his heart in my hand. He moaned onto my nipple, and the vibration felt wonderful. Without further ado, I worked my hand up and down his shaft in a steady rhythm, planning to give him the sweet release he so desperately craved. As I stroked him, his grunts and moans became more distracted, almost primal. It was like I was unlocking some horny beast that had been begging to be let out this whole time.

As I got into a rhythm I was happy with, my hand cramped. I had a crazy morning in the school showers yesterday and took a ton of notes preparing for my midterms. My hand was tired. I quickly switched hands, trying to establish my rhythm again while he continued to smother himself in my chest. Working the glory hole I don’t get attention like this, never this personal. It was fun, even intoxicating, to be desired this much. Even if it was my father.

My other hand started cramping too, and even if I tried, I knew I wouldn’t be able to power through it. I tried switching hands again, using the break to shake my hand out, but the painful cramp set in faster. There was no way I’d be able to finish him with a hand job. I refused to let him leave this scenario unsatisfied, which meant my next action would have to take his present away from him for a while. I looked down at him licking and lapping my chest and saw my skin turning pink from his hard sucking and the friction of his stubble.

Once he left my nipple, intending to switch back to the other, I pushed his chest softly to get him to stop. “What is it?” he asked, his face almost drunk with lust. I kneeled down between his legs and tugged his shorts down with me, letting his impossibly hard cock free. I tucked one arm underneath my breasts to plump them up for him, then leaned forward toward his cock with an open mouth. He watched, wide-eyed, as I took him into my mouth and sucked. “Ohhhhh my god Gabbie,” he moaned out.

I started slow, sucking on his swollen tip and licking the shaft playfully at first. I wanted him to enjoy it, to savor the experience and remember it as the best birthday ever. We both knew how experienced I was at giving head. There was no question I’d be able to make him cum. And when he did, I planned on swallowing it all. Both because I knew he’d enjoy it and because I knew I would too. I remembered his taste from the first time, how different it was than normal. I wanted to enjoy it again. With how hard he was, maybe I’d even get seconds.

His hand reached down and pawed at my chest, trying to get a good grip despite the awkward angle and the kitchen table being in the way. I did my best to accommodate, rising up on my knees and angling my head a different way. This entire experience was for him to enjoy, I wanted it to be perfect in as many ways as I could. Although it was all for him, I found myself surprisingly eager as well. The way he acted, so hungry and desperate for my body, turned me on way more than I thought. The feeling as his hands groped for whatever they could reach, the unnatural hardness to his cock, the moans and grunts that encouraged me to keep going, it all culminated into a thrilling and enticing experience for me as well.

As I bobbed up and down his cock, working to make him cum, a dreaded stiffness formed between my shoulders. I tried to relax, but it only seemed to make things worse. His cock was so hard I had to keep my mouth wider than normal to avoid scraping him with my teeth, and it was making my jaw sore. My wonderful morning yesterday was coming back to haunt me in the worst way. I pulled my face off his cock and used my hand to stroke him, relaxing my jaw and licking his tip like a Popsicle to keep him happy.

After a moment’s rest I took him into my mouth again, slowly deepthroating him to heighten his sensations and get him to cum fast. He groaned loud and ran a hand through my hair, rubbing my nipples when he could reach them. I felt a warmth reaching out from between my legs, an exciting sensation that only added to my arousal. I looked up and stared my dad in the eyes, bobbing my face up and down his cock as I tried to empty his swollen, heavy balls. Then the soreness in my jaw returned. I saw in his eyes that although he was enjoying himself; he wasn’t actually that close. He was too relaxed, even if he was eager and taking liberties with his hands.

My hands and jaw were cramping too bad for me to continue. Without them my options were limited, assuming I still wanted to help him finish. But my momma didn’t raise no quitter. No matter the circumstances, I would not let my poor dad have to finish himself. It was his birthday. This was supposed to be a token of my love and appreciation of him. I wanted him to relax and enjoy this. Without my hands or mouth, that only left one thing.

I stood up in front of him and wiggled out of my panties. “Gabbie, what are you doing?” he asked, his face flushed and his eyes wide. The kitchen chair creaked as I straddled his hips, getting into his lap completely naked. “Honey, I don’t know if-” his thought was cut off as I lowered myself onto his raging hard cock, taking him inside me effortlessly thanks to how wet I was. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he gasped. I pushed my hips back, forcing him deep and moaning as his bare cock filled me. I‘m on birth control, it’ll be fine.

Sitting in his lap, my toes couldn’t reach the floor, so I rocked my hips and tried to push his cock head against the inside of my vagina as firmly as I could. Of course, that sent a pulse of sensations through me as well, and I couldn’t help but moan as I rode him. At first, his hands cupped my booty, holding me in his lap as we got our angles right. Once I had settled into a pleasant rhythm, working the last half of his shaft inside me at a steady pace, his hands ventured up to my breasts where he resumed his groping and licking.

The chair squeaked as it struggled to support both of our weight while I rocked my hips into him. The motion of my hips put a nice jiggle into my breasts, which he appreciated with his hands and tongue. I held on to his tight shoulders as best I could, using them as leverage to keep working my hips at varying speeds and angles. Every once in a while I’d find a little firecracker of pleasure inside myself. I’d tense my body and angle his shaft to rub against that little firecracker and it would disappear, forcing me to find it again.

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