'I cannot help myself, he moaned, and looked most piteous, I thought. I stared for a long moment in his eyes, gathered myself and plucked at my half-raised skirt as if I knew not whether to raise it or to push it down. 'Papa, you may kiss me if you really want', I said, and said it in the voice of some sweet simpleton whose garters he could almost see from down below. Indeed, I saw his eyes go there and moved my legs a little, parting them. 'And touch you?
May I touch you inbetween?' 'Oh, Papa, I don't know, I… AAAH!'
He was half risen, on me in a flash. One hand swooped up between my open legs and cupped my nest, his mouth aflame on mine. I spluttered, as he wished, and beat his shoulders, but he held me down, elbowed my knees apart the more and, with deep-seeking tongue within my mouth, he found my spot and twiddled it. I snorted, snuffled, whimpered to his mouth. His digit entered inbetween my lovelips, found them moist. 'Come on the floor, my love'. 'No, no-oh, NO!'
One wailing cry and I had tumbled down, he throwing up my skirts above my hips, baring my bottom to the waiting floor while, heavy in girth, he got between my thighs and worked with desperation at his trouser buttons. I shrieked, I moaned-I turned my face this way and that, his knuckles pressed against my milky skin, fumbling and feeling underneath himself until his enormous penis burgeoned out and brought its crest to quiver at my nest. 'NA-HAAAR!', I squealed.
I kicked my legs, but raised them as I did so, which enabled him to sleek his knob between my pouting lips and drive the shaft within with lone long thrust that pinned me like a stricken butterfly. 'HAR!
Oh my god, my sweet, my darling daughter, I am in you now. What a soft, furry, oily nest you have!' 'T… t… take it out, Papa!
Oh-WOH!' Feebly I beat at him and would not take his mouth, twisting my own up with an anguished look, holding a wild look in my eyes that must have seemed to him so real. 'I shall hold you down, my love, until you do', he groaned. His great thick penis did not move. It throbbed superbly in my silken grip. 'Won't, won't!', I sobbed. 'Give me your mouth, my darling, do-a little moment only-then I'll take it out'. One finger in my mouth-oh artful touch!-and face averted underneath his own, I uttered still my little sobs, then let my expression take on a broody look, his own a cloud of anxious lust. With tenderness he slowly drew my finger from my mouth. I did not move then, waited for his own to touch the corner of my lips, and felt the most exquisite thrill. 'Oh, Papa!'
'Just one little kiss, my sweet'. 'You p… p… promise me, Papa?' Lips buzzed against each other's as we spoke. 'Open your mouth more. Bring it under mine and let our tongues touch, darling'.
'N… n… n… no, I mustn't… Naughty… Please, Papa…
Haaar-oooh!' A savagery possessed him then. His mouth mashed to my own, his forearms thrust beneath my thighs, hands strong and urgent underneath my bottom cheeks-the two halves of my apple on his palms.
His cock sucked out, thrust in again, ploughing my furrow with a will as if indeed to ram his message home, I flooding sobs and moans into his mouth. 'You beauty-AH! You're coming over Papa's prick', he mouthed, feeling my tingling spurts glide down his prick. 'Yes, no! Oh, I can't help myself! You mustn't, mustn't, mustn't…Oooh yes, OOOH!' 'My little love, my pet, my dove, your cunt is taking Papa's cock at last. Do you not like it? Say you do!' 'Yes, Papa, yes-oh, do it more!' Impassioned were my arms about his neck. My legs coiled up as they had done before, crossed round his waist, and clinging like a child. His moans beseeched my tongue to be more lewd. -'Cock in my cunt, Papa, oh yes!' But I was drifting, drifting out away from all such childish nonsense as his piston worked, oiled by the salutations he received. Mouth open wide, I let him suck upon my tongue and surged my hips as hungrily as his, slap-smack of testicles beneath my globe. 'Ask me to fuck you, darling-quickly-say!'
Oh, by what rote man brings himself to final pleasure thus! The words are but as cymbals to the violin that plays more sweetly inbetween one's thighs. Each clash of brass brings the crescendo near.
And yet the bubblings of saliva twixt our mouths, the shunting of his prick in my tight sheath, the animality of hot desire, brought me to answer him in kind. 'Fuck, fuck, Papa… Oh, do it to me, yes! I want to feel you come, I want to feel!' The trigger was thus pressed. I wondered if he knew in his mad-whirling thoughts who was beneath him, yet in turn I cared not in that moment who was on me, for the bliss was paramount. In huge great jerks he came, white floods of sperm that jetted up and splashed against my walls, I moaning endlessly to him to do it more and more and more and more… until we sank exhausted, quivering, and I beneath him crushed, my legs down straight and splayed out wide on either side of his. There were no kisses then. He hid his face into my shoulder. I resisted stroking him but merely lay quiescent underneath as though regret were seeping into me. Once more, my face averted, I lay quiet. 'Angel, my angel', came his whisper, but I did not stir. 'Papa, get off me, do-oh please! Ugh! What a horrid mess it makes', I murmured as if awakening from a dream. I made to close my legs, but when they touched his trousers opened them again as if disdain had seized me, or regret.
'I have creamed your cunny, pet, at last. You have more curls there than I thought you have. Your bottom is a dream of bliss, so firm, resilient and bold. How long have I watched it wriggle underneath your gowns'. His voice was broken, weaker than it was before. The flag was limp but still the battle moved. 'You m… m… mustn't talk to me like that. I'll tell Mama, I will. You're hurting me! I cannot breathe! Oh, please, Papa!' His cock slipped out from my engaging lovemouth, dripped its pearls upon my thigh.
Crouched over me, he turned by force my chin to meet his gaze. My own was cold and distant, though. He read there all he wished to see, I knew. The game had to be renewed, and ever on. 'You will not tell her, dear. I beg you not'. He lumbered up, his thick prick dangling down as though to display it hopefully to me. I covered up myself then in a flash and scrambled to my feet in turn. For a long moment I gave him my most woeful look. 'Promise you won't again', I said. His face looked haggard, like a battle field when all the guns have ceased to fire and dusk falls on the bodies where they lie. 'I promise, yes; I'll try', he mumbled, woebegone. A silence fell. We gazed each other out, and then eyes fell. The carpet was a dark pool of eternity. His purplish knob, still big, was pendant, sticky with our spendings-the rude witness of the deed. I felt my cunny pulse with longing still. I dragged my feet and stopped. Shoulder to shoulder almost, and the moment held. 'What will you do now?', he placated, voice a-tremble as he spoke. 'I have to go out, Papa-to see my friends. You know I do'. 'Yes, yes, of course'. The hour was limp, as was his prick. He tucked it in again beneath his cloth.
Guilt hung on him like a rent flag. One look from me would turn it to desire again. And, knowing that, I knew not how to look or where to turn. The play was over and the act was done. 'What time shall you be back?' 'I do not know'. I did not look at him; I toed the floor, showed my uncertainty as best I could. 'Long before bedtime though, Papa', I ventured, turned my head away and tried to blush.
His hand touched mine. I let my wrist go limp, and did not turn my fingertips to his, but even so he sought them, found them, touched.