Wendy's lips touched his ear. The cheeks of her ass quivered in the palms of his hands. "Not here, Daddy," she cooed. "In… in my bedroom. First let me get pretty for you."
She could barely breathe. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she stripped, and went to the dresser to don the sexy black negligee she'd bought that afternoon – especially for her handsome daddy! She wanted him so; it was what she had dreamt about every night after the girls at the home had introduced her to all the variations of lesbianism, and what she'd fantasized on each time Doctor Bruce stuck his fat dick up into her belly. Her daddy! She had long since stopped telling herself it was wrong.
Using the perfume she'd snitched from the endless supply on the dresser in the master bedroom, she sweetened the smell of her pussy, sprinkled some on her breasts, too. Her nipples stood rigid, and she shivered at the thought of the tall, well-built man waiting in the living room, waiting for her to call to say she was ready to take his big prick up her tiny wet cunthole, perhaps in the ass, anywhere he wanted to put it.
Slipping the gauze on over her head, she shook out her hair and eyed the result in the mirror. The hem of the lace nightie barely covered the cute wedge of cunt hair between her anxious thighs. The soft light from the lamp on the bedside table outlined her figure. Everything showed, but just enough to make a man want to see more.
Turning, she paused to stare speculatively at the wind-up belly dancer on the nightstand. She remembered the first time with Doctor Bruce, and how she'd thought of the toy. "You watch me go now," she told it. "Just watch my hips dance when Daddy puts his hard dick up…" her fingers went beneath the hem of the new garment, to the mouth of her pussy, "up there!"
Sam gulped his third drink, welcoming the warmth at the pit of his belly, the fuzz in his head. It was madness! He was waiting, actually waiting for his own little girl to say she was ready to screw. "I should break her sweet fucking neck!" he growled, slamming the glass down, nervously pouring another drink. "I should put my belt to her ass and stop this whole fucking thing, before…"
"Daddy…?"
He turned to find the girl standing near-naked at her open bedroom door. No! a voice inside his spinning head shouted. He gulped the fourth drink – wanting her, not wanting her, the liquor distorting the painful knowledge of who she was. His dick pulsed, thrusting the front of his pants out farther than he had ever bulged before. His nuts grew as taut as the twin peaks showing through the flimsy veil-like thing she wore.
"Better close Mummy's door," said Wendy in a voice so low he had to strain to hear. "Hurry up, Daddy. Hurry!" She disappeared into the dimly-lit room.
As if in a trance, the four drinks clouding his mind, Sam moved to the door of the master bedroom… Cynthia had turned onto her belly, and the nightgown was bunched high on her thighs. From the door opposite the foot of the bed he could see the fleshy underside of her ass, the dark crack, and the black hair where her loose cunt was hidden. Would Wendy's pussy be loose or tight? he wondered. He knew he should feel indignation – no, murderous rage – because of what was done to the girl at the home. He could imagine the older girls taking advantage of her: two holding her legs wide apart, two more holding her arms, and another – one with a warped mind and a clit like a miniature hardon – bull-dyking her pussy. And the doctor – hadn't Wendy mentioned a doctor? He could imagine a gray-headed old man one who couldn't get laid on the outside, taking the post at the institution for the sole purpose of ripping off lovely young girls like his Wendy.
"Wendy," he groaned, unconsciously rubbing the front of his pants, excited instead of enraged. "Sweet baby, Wendy."
His gaze swept across the gleaming contours of Cynthia's ass, his cock jerking. It was a good ass, true. But there was another – a more succulent, softer and whiter bottom – waiting to relieve his stiff cock mere footsteps away. Quickly he closed the door and strode to his daughter's room.
She was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching the toy belly dancer he'd given her ten years before on her birthday. She saw him. For a moment they stared, gazes locking, communicating with their eyes. Then she raised one adorable leg, slowly and provocatively, inch by inch spreading her thighs to show the red hair on her little-girl pussy. Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants. "Fuck me, Daddy," she cooed, raising her arms to him. "The boy tonight – he didn't do anything except feel. I'm so hot. I… lookit the bulge in your pants! It's so big… Stick it up me, Daddy. Please. Fuck it up my belly."
It was as if he'd been hit across the back of the head with a 2 by 4. The rage came. Forgetting the ache at his crotch, the stiffness of his prick, he undid his belt buckled and whipped the belt from his waist. "I'm your father!" he snapped in a voice full of gravel. "Goddamn you, Wendy, don't you know I'm your own fucking FATHER?"
Her green eyes almost popped from their sockets as he took hold of her hair, threw her down on the mattress, the skimpy negligee askew, and lashed out with the belt.
"Oh! Oh Daddy, no, no!" Wendy tried to escape by crawling across the rumpled bedding. The leather smacked her bare bottom. "Ow, ow! Oh my God, Daddy, no more! No more please, Daddy – I'll be good, I promise!"
Again and again he brought the belt down, ignoring her entreaties, until sweat poured from his brow, and Wendy lay curled and whimpering – a small, frightened child. Her ass was bright pink, and the stiffness in his pants leg overruled conscience. He fell to the bed, hands moving… hungrily over the welted halves of her burning behind.
"Daddy. Oh, put it in. P-Put it all the way up me." She reached back to take firm hold of the mighty shaft at his crotch.
Sam stopped her from rolling onto her back. He didn't want her that way; he didn't want to have to look in her eyes, to be reminded of who she was. "Stay on your belly," he ordered, fingers deep in the hot crack of her ass. "I wanna fuck you in back, up your asshole."
"Anything, Daddy. Only do it. Quick!" Her asshole opened and closed on his long middle finger, the tightness sucking him in. Her thighs shot wide apart, and small, anxious fingers undid his fly.
"Oh Christ! Christ-fucking Jesus and Mary!" Sam humped his meat into her hand, afraid he'd pop off before he was sheathed in her, but unable to resist the tiny, expert fingers. And her rear hole! God, God, her sweet little-girl asshole! It was the tightest, the hottest, the best – an adorably fuckable hole he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his huge cock into.
Wendy yelped in protest when the dart popped from her ass. He quickly covered the fragrant brown hole with his mouth. She squealed, and he blew into it, making her squirm and moan. Drinking the smell into his nostrils, he spread her pink cunt lips and watched both holes quiver. The hand on his rod began to jerk faster, faster and faster, until the cream began to inch up from his balls and he stopped her. She whispered to him: Daddy! Daddy! She opened her legs even wider, raising up off the bed, her buttocks split delightfully down the middle.
He was mildly drunk from the liquor, but more so with the sight of her. He didn't care any more that the succulent ass belonged to his daughter, and that if he were caught, if Cynthia awoke and found them together, what he was about to do could land him in jail. He didn't care about conscience or morals, or about incest. Now he cared only about the brown hole – the pleasure others had taken from the tight, winking anus waiting to open and close like a clam on his cock.
"Daddy please!" Wendy reached back to spread the tender halves of her bottom.
"Easy, baby, sweetheart." He stood, tore the pants and shorts from his legs, and threw off his shirt. For a moment more he stared down at the twin silky mounds, savoring the whiteness, the welts, the dimples in each cheek. The tuft of red hair at the winking target made him groan. He squeezed the tip of his cock, anticipating, prolonging the thrill of first penetration. She was perfection, his Wendy: lovely beyond belief, young, wild and willing. He fell hungrily upon her.