He reacted as a man can be expected to react. As my fingers roved crazily over his chest and face, and my tongue darted in and out of his mouth, I felt his fingers slip beneath my panties, at the back, and then his hands were squeezing the cheeks of my ass. I spread my knees wide, and the fingers of one hand followed the crack of my ass downward until they discovered the tuft of hair at the back of my cunt. I raised my ass until the fingers were touching the trembling lips of my cunt. He slipped a finger inside it. I nearly came.
With one quick movement of both my hands, I grasped the bottom of my bra and yanked it upward. I let myself enjoy the way his hairy chest teased my rigid nipples for just a moment, then, ending the kiss and cupping my hand beneath my right tit, I thrust my knocker toward his mouth. It had been too long since my nipple had been inside a warm, sucking mouth.
"Suck my tits till I can't stand any more!" I pleaded shrilly, then bit my lip as he sucked my erected nipple between his lips. He drew it deep into his mouth. I felt him nip it with his teeth. My free hand slipped between our bodies, inside his shorts, found the hard shaft of his cock. I squeezed and stroked it at the same time, and his mouth moved from nipple to sweetly aching nipple, sucking my titties deeper into his mouth with each change.
"Bite them for me," I moaned from deep in my throat. "Not hard. But bite them! Oh, Daddy… Bite them! Bite them! Bite them! Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" the words poured out of me — and it was then he seemed to realize, for the first time, what we were doing.
Time stood still.
"We can't… you know we can't do this, Brenda," he said finally, a stricken look on his face. His hands were still on my ass, one finger in my cunt. I said nothing.
"I can't fuck… can't make love to my own daughter," he said in anguish, but still his hands remained on my ass. I held tight to the hot shaft of his prick, saying nothing. When the words came, they came without me having to give it a second though.
"Why can't you fuck me?" I asked. "I've been fucked before, and not by anybody I've loved. I love you. You love me. You need me. So why can't we fuck?" And as I glued my mouth to his once more, sucking as I sought his tongue, I pulled his cock completely free of his shorts. I felt him tugging my panties down over my hips.
The talking was done, it was time to fuck.
We clawed one another out of what little clothing we wore, and our hands were exploring as we did it. He seemed awed by my eagerness, thinking, I guess, like all fathers think, that his daughter knew nothing about fucking. And I was awed, too — by the size of his prick.
For one brief instant, as he lay naked and ready, I found myself comparing his cock to the puny tools of the boys I had known. That was the difference. They were boys; he was a man. His cock was at least four inches longer than any I had ever seen, much thicker, and his balls were heavy between his legs. I mounted him quickly; fucking with my guy beneath me has always been one of my favorite ways.
As I straddled him and reached down with one hand to grab his cock and guide it toward the eager lips of my cunt, he reached up to fill his hands with my tits. His hands felt rough against my nipples, rough in a way that I loved.
I had one knee on each side of his body, my cunt poised above him. Slowly I lowered myself onto the head of his prick. My insides screamed as the lips of my pussy were spread by the head of it. I gave myself more. But not too much. I paused, savoring the delicious feel of having my cunt spread farther than it had ever been before. His hands tightened on the globes of my tits, his hips lurched upward, and his cock was deep inside me. I put my hands on his chest and leaned forward, and he stroked the tits that dangled beneath me.
I could feel the warmth of his cock against the walls of my pussy, could feel it pressing against the hood of my clit, and I closed my eyes and began raising and lowering myself so that my movements matched exactly the speed with which he was stroking my tits. He moaned something I couldn't understand, then lifted his hips until his cock was totally sheathed by my cunt. I tasted blood on my lips.
There was a dull roaring in my ears; an electric tingling grew somewhere inside my cunt, sparked by his upward thrusting prick, and it spread through my body like fire. His hands worked my tits, kneading them like dough. My hips pumped faster and faster; so did his. I could feel my cunt convulsing around his rod.
Throwing myself forward and locking my mouth to his, my tongue forcing its way between his lips, I pinned his head back against the pillow and frantically began to pump my hips up and down. His hands found the cheeks of my ass. While they guided the up and down movement of my cunt, and his hips pumped beneath me with a matching speed, bringing me closer and closer to the moment of coming, his mouth sucked steadily at the tongue I offered. Fireworks flashed before my eyes.
I began to come in a series of delectable little explosions inside my pussy that seemed to last an eternity, ending only when I had felt and taken into my cunt the great hot gush of come that finally erupted from him. Finally, reluctantly, I rolled away and lay beside him, sweating, my breasts touching his side, my hand on his cock.
"It was the best I've ever had — absolutely the best," I said, and he said nothing. I kissed his neck. "Was I good for you?" I asked. He looked at me for a long time, then said, "You'd better go to your room, Brenda."
We spent a couple of weeks feeling guilty. He avoided me, seldom spoke. I was bothered for a while by what we had done, but not for long. The longer I thought about it, the… well, the more right it seemed.
The second time around was no accident, not by any means. I thought about it. I planned it. And, when it happened, I loved it.
And so did he.
I went to him that night dressed in the sexiest thing I owned, a sheer black nightie that ended less than three inches below my cunt and was so transparent that it might as well have been a cloud of smoke. I was naked beneath it. My nipples, hard and swollen in anticipation, were clearly visible. So was the triangular patch of hair around my cunt. I could feel and hear the tiny crackle of static electricity set up by the nylon moving against my naked body as I walked from my room to his. A light shone from beneath his door.
He sat up on the bed and dropped the book he had been reading when I came into the room. I deliberately rolled my hips as I walked toward him. His eyes were locked on the juncture of my thighs. His lips were trembling. Heat seemed to reach out from his eyes, through my nightie, and into my cunt that was already screaming with need for him. His arms went around my waist.
"Oh, God, Dolly, I need you. I hate myself for it, but I need you," he whimpered, pulling me close to the bed and pressing his face against my belly. As he began kissing me through the thin material, I felt his hands move to the backs of my legs and begin working their way up my thighs. They went beneath my gown. I felt my knees turn to jelly as his big hands found the cheeks of my ass. He rolled off the bed, into a kneeling position on the floor in front of me.
"Put one foot up on the bed," he said, using one hand to guide me and kissing the inside of my thigh when I followed his instructions. I had already realized he was going to eat my cunt. I put my hands on his shoulders to give myself balance. He said, "Dolly… Dolly Dimples… with dimples beside her cunt," and then he kissed me once on each thigh, so delightfully close to the lips of my pussy that. I felt sure I would faint. Then he kissed the pussy itself.
One boy had gone down on my cunt, in the back seat of a car, but it had been a clumsy attempt and was nothing compared to that first gentle touch of my father's lips to my cunt. Gentle is the best way to describe it, yet it sent violent waves of desire through my body. He kissed me again. Then again. In my cunt. My feverish, feverish cunt.
The way I was standing, with my legs spread wide and one foot on the bed, my knee lifted and bent was awkward but it was also the perfect position for what he was doing. My upraised leg had caused the nightie to slither above my pussy, with some help from his hands, and my gash was spread so wide that his kisses touched spots that might otherwise have been hidden. My hips swung easily forward to meet his caresses. My nails dug into his bare shoulders. His breath burnt the naked flesh of my inner thighs. I closed my eyes.
As my cunt was suddenly set ablaze by a prick-like darting of his tongue, a darting that touched my outer cunt-lips roughly but gently then moved across my clitoris, I cried out in passion and wiggled my pelvis against his face. His fingers tightened on the soft flesh of my ass. His mouth made a sucking noise, and I felt my clit being drawn between his lips. He sucked steadily on the pulsing little button, spat it out, gave it another prolonged sucking. My hands had found his ears. I held him tight against my cunt. My hips churned. And still his lips and tongue tortured my clitoris. Sucking and licking. Drawing my soul out through the slit of my pussy. I felt I couldn't hold out for long.
I came into his mouth with a scream of release. And came again, and kept coming until I could actually feel the wet juices streaming down my thighs in warm rivulets. I fell backward, onto the bed, my legs spread wide, my tits heaving beneath my gown, my voice pleading for his cock.
He slipped quickly out of his shorts — the only thing he'd had on when I arrived and came at me like a madman. My legs were hanging over the side of the bed and, as I raised my ass to accept him, he threw my gown up over my tits, slipped one hand under my buttocks, and hooked his other arm under my upper thigh. He forced my knee upward until it was touching the naked sphere of my tit. I threw my arms around his neck as I felt the first plunge of his cock.
As his prick slid easily into my cunt that was already moistened by his licking and by the juice of my coming, he kissed me hard on the mouth. His face was sticky. I tasted a tang on his lips and tongue, and I remember thinking that it was the taste of my own cunt, the stickiness of my own come. Somehow, that thought was exciting.
Because of the way he had my leg bent, my ass lifted, and because of his weight upon me, I was barely able to shift my pelvis and match the stroking of his cock. And fast stroking it was. He drove his prick at me furiously, banging me so hard and so fast that I could occasionally feel the slap of his balls against the underside of my ass. The friction on my clitoris grew stronger, better. I sucked hard at his tongue, and soon I was coming again endlessly, it seemed.
With a heavy moan and a terrific, straining thrust of his cock, he spewed hotly inside my cunt. Then another gush, weaker. A spurt I could barely feel. He fell sweating across me, his softening cock against my leg. I spent the night in his arms.
He told me later that "Dolly Dimples" had been a code word between him and my mother, the joking way he would let her know he was going to go down on her, and that he began calling her that because of the dimples she'd had on her inner thighs — where he had kissed me. When he told me that, I knew that the two of us had started what was going to be a permanent affair.
We were discreet about it, of course. Although I spent most nights in his room, I was always in my own bed when morning came. That was because of Terri — and only because of her. With that single exception, I totally assumed the place of my mother. I was a wife to my father in everything but name.
But kids have big eyes. I don't know exactly when Terri caught on to the fact that we were screwing one another, but it was probably about the time she reached thirteen. She was almost a woman at that age.
Her breasts were swelling into rounded little peaks, her hips were beginning to flare outward, and already the boys were after her like dogs in heat, and I was pretty sure she was turning more than one of them on to a little of her cunt. Finally, when she began staying out later and later at night, I decided to have a talk with her. I asked her where she went at night.
"Out fucking," she said in a defiant tone that was almost comical coming from a girl so young. Then she added the words that stunned me completely. "Just because you get your cock at home doesn't mean we all can!"
She was headed for a fall, and I knew it. Easy pussy is always headed in that direction. That started me thinking.
I thought about the good years I'd had with Daddy; all the nights of fucking and sucking until we were exhausted. The things he'd taught me; the way he'd put me back on the pill so I wouldn't get pregnant. And had begun thinking about my future. There was a job I had been offered in New York through a friend of Daddy's, and it was far better than I could hope to do in our hick town. I'd turned it down because of Dad; I didn't want him to be alone.
And I thought about Terri getting pregnant by some tomcat of a boy, maybe in some gang shag, where she would never even know which one did it. And I thought of how she would have it with Daddy. I pictured them together, arousing myself, I admit, and I made my decision.
Terri, my little sister, could take my place in the bed of my father.
"I would take her there myself."
It may very well be that Brenda's incestuous interlude with her father can be more easily understood by the reader if we first analyze the things she omitted from her narrative, rather than concentrating our attention on what she said. People often avoid what they wish to conceal.
Her mother is dismissed, in Brenda's recollections of her incestuous affair, so lightly that one cannot help but conclude that the relationship between the two was less than close. There is no mention of love for her mother. There is no expression or grief. At no time is her mother even physically described, except in comparison to Brenda herself.
At no time does Brenda dwell on the events which occurred prior to the death of her mother. It is as though life began for her at the moment of her mother's demise. The tone of her narrative clearly indicates she was eager to assume the parental role within the family structure, cooking, cleaning, shopping, caring for her younger sister… and providing a sexual outlet for her father.
While this last desire may have been totally contained in Brenda's subconscious until the moment of first release, it is interesting to note that, at no time, did she fight the temptation to commit incest. Although she describes the first sexual contact with her father as "accidental", there probably existed, prior to this time, a desire to receive what her subconscious saw as payment for the other burdens that had been thrust upon her. Sexual intercourse is, after all, too often treated as a reward within our society.
Her eagerness to fully assume the role of "wife" to her father is a clear indication that there existed within her mind a need to compete with her mother, and that this need probably existed long before the events which provided her the opportunity to assume the role she subconsciously longed for.
While she attempts to describe her father as a "strong man, who went to pieces" due to circumstances beyond his control, her narrative clearly shows that he was anything but strong. It seems very likely that she is describing the man she wanted him to be.