myself back fully onto the warm meat that I knew lay beyond that knobbish head, to swallow it with the wet mouth of my cunt. Easing away so he could continue the voluptuous torture, he said, 'Is that how you like it? You like to get banged?' I whimpered a weak, pleading, 'Yes.'
And then he banged me.
His cock plunged into me with a force that pushed me forward on my knees. I felt the head of it pound against something deep inside me. I felt the soft lips of my pussy sink inward as they attempted to cling to the hard flesh that slipped between them. He was in so deep that the crisp hair above his prick was touching the sensitive skin of my ass. He reached beneath me and once again grasped both my titties. His hands felt good through the nylon… even better than when I was naked. I tried to follow as his cock inched out of me.
But then it was slamming into me again… and again. His hands tightened around my tits as he used his grip on them to provide the leverage he needed for those long strokes of his cock. He was leaning over my back, his face resting just above and between my shoulder blades, and his breath was hot and damp through my gown. As he pumped faster, I felt his balls touch my leg. I reached for them.
They were hard as the cock I felt inside me. I gave them a gentle pressure that caused him to moan in passion. Faster and faster he drove himself in and out of my cunt. I was close to coming, my whole body tingling in anticipation, and I rocked back and forth on my knees, trying to hurry myself to that moment when the muscles, the nerves, the whole of my cunt would ignite in fiery orgasm. His weight was suddenly heavy upon me. I gave his nuts one last squeeze, then sprawled full-length on the bed, my legs flying wide.
'You've got the cunt of a Goddam princess,' he panted. His hands were trapped beneath me, still on my tits. 'The best cunt this side of a wet dream.' The cheeks of my ass were flattened beneath his weight. He was between my long legs, fucking with short, choppy strokes because of our new position. 'Tight as a rubber. Tight… like a cunt should be.' The words poured into my ears with each stroke of his cock.
I closed my legs so I could feel more of him. As if the closing had caused my cunt to tighten around his prick, he gave a deep grunt of pleasure, then pounded himself into me even faster than before. The bed shook violently beneath us. He bit the back of my neck.
I came with a blinding intensity, scissored my legs against the sheets, then came again. My head rolled from side to side, I saw only a brilliant red that penetrated my closed eyes.
I was dimly aware of him straining hard against my butt, holding his cock at its deepest for what seemed an eternity, and then there was the good feeling of wet warmth being hosed inside my cunt. The first stream filled me with the thick fluid. The next spurt caused me to overflow. A final stroke of his prick and I could feel a trickle of it flowing stickily from my cunt, beneath me. A few warm droplets spattered on the cheeks of my ass as he slipped it out and rolled away. He took me in his arms.
'You always did dig it dog-fashion, didn't you?' He asked me a long time later. I was almost asleep in his arms. I mumbled something senseless and he repeated the question. I smiled, kissed him and shook my head.
'Never had it that way before. What made you think so?'
He had one arm beneath me, his hands on my ass, and he pulled me closer against him. 'Don't you remember that night? The second time? The things you said?'
I touched my finger to his lips, then threw my leg across his body and snuggled closer to him.
'Shhh! Of course I remember it. But I don't want to talk about it. That was a long time ago.' My pussy was touching his leg… just barely.
'You talked about doing a lot of things that night. Blowing me, stuff like that. I ain't been able to get 'em out of my mind… All this time.' He moved his leg high between my thighs, pressing it hard against my cunt. It felt good. I saw by the look on his face that he was getting horny again. His cock was half hard when I felt of it — and getting harder.
'We'll do them all,' I promised, thinking to myself, 'With the exception of that — I'm no cocksucker!'
It was the truth when I thought it. When he left my room that night, it wasn't. After you've fucked your own father, things like that don't seem so bad. None of them. He had to talk me into it that first time. And I don't suppose it was as hard as it should have been. I tried to stall him off by telling him there'd be other nights, and he just reminded me how hard they'd be to arrange. And all the while his cock was hard in my hand, and I kept remembering the way I'd so innocently kissed it a few nights before. That hadn't been so bad, had it? I asked myself at one point. And, after all, hadn't he gone down on my pussy? What was the difference? Really? What was the difference?
'All right, I'll suck you off,' I said finally, then added, as though it made a difference, 'but I don't want you to come in my mouth.'
I guess I went about giving him that first blowjob just as professionally as any whore who ever lived. I know my actions gave me the same exciting, whorish feeling I'd had that night I called him into my room. It went off like I'd done it a million times.
His cock was sticky with dried come and, just like a pro, I went to get a cloth to wash it off. He was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed when I came back. I locked the door, then asked, 'Any more special requests?' I let my hips roll as I walked to the bed.
'Do it any way you like,' he said, stroking my leg as I sank down beside him. He seemed puzzled by my casualness. But I wasn't casual inside. Inside, I was feeling that whorish excitement. It didn't show, however, as I carefully washed the white remnants of come from his erected prick with the wet cloth. I laughed when the cold cloth caused him to shiver. Just like a pro, joking with a trick.
The rest of it was whorish, too. I stood and, looking down into his face with my eyes lidded and my lips slightly parted, very slowly and deliberately slipped my gown off over my head. I dropped it at my feet. It made a nice cushion for my knees when I knelt beside the bed, between his legs, and took his cock in one hand. With my other hand I reached out to touch his nuts. He put both hands behind my head. I felt him pulling me toward his cock. I let myself go easily.
Holding his prick upright with my hand and resting my elbow on his leg, I touched my lips to the dark- colored head. I kissed it again, at the edge of the foreskin. His hands urged me to do more. With my lips only slightly parted, I put my mouth over the tip of his prick; it had no more taste than any other part of the body. I parted my lips.
As he felt me take the tip of his prick into my mouth, he pulled harder on the back of my head, trying to force it deeper; I lowered my head until all the rounded knob was inside my mouth. That was as much as I could take; my mouth was opened so wide I could feel a dull ache at the hinges of my jaw, but that was all I could take. He was too big.
I drew on his cock until I felt my cheeks hollow with the suction, and he began squirming on the bed. My fingers moved up and down his cock, slipping the outer skin back and forth over the hard core, and my tongue swirled crazily over the spongy knob in my mouth…
He came suddenly to his feet, his hands still behind my head, and my tits were against his legs. That felt good. I cupped his balls with one hand, lightly, just tickling them, and my fingers literally flew up and down his rod. His legs began to shake, he bucked at me, and a moment later I was wiping from my chin, lips and mouth the part of his come I hadn't swallowed. 'Dad,' I said, 'you're a good one for breaking promises.'
But I wasn't mad about it. Not at all.
We did it all during the months that followed.
Every way, every time we got a chance. And somewhere during that time, Mom got suspicious. I guess she could see a change in us. She almost caught us a couple of times, and after a while I was certain she knew. Still, she couldn't prove a thing. That didn't stop her from making accusations, though… especially when I came up pregnant…
Even when I tried to make her think it could be the baby of anyone of a number of boys, she still screamed and called the old man a son of a bitch, and when she got the cops out to the house and give them her story and a line of shit about how she couldn't handle me and wanted both of us out of her house, they brought me hereto Juvenile Center.
They can't do anything to the old man, of course, unless I break down and tell like they want me to. Mom keeps hounding me to say he made me do shit. They'd leave me alone if I said that, I guess. But is it the truth? I can't find the answer.
Then there's the baby. I feel it more every day…
