"Stories 18+" Daddy Wouldn't Dare to fuck

Stories 18+ Daddy Wouldn't Dare to fuck
Toni looked up and realized that her father was staring at her boobs. 

She was sitting on the living-room floor at nine o'clock on an ordinary Tuesday night. Job applications, envelopes and copies of her resume were spread from hell to breakfast all around her. 

Mom had told her that since she was out of high school but only taking a few classes at the community college, she'd have to get a job and pay them rent for the privilege of getting to live in the same room that had been hers since she was a baby. Rent and her own phone bill, but Mom added – like she was doing a big generous favor – that Toni would not be expected to kick in for groceries and other utilities. Big of her. 

And here was Daddy, staring at her boobs. Like he was in a hypnotic trance or something.

She glanced down. She was wearing torn, faded jeans and one of his hand-me-down denim workshirts with the sleeves rolled up. The top button was missing and the next one down had come undone, and the front of the shirt gaped open, showing the edges of her bra and a deep shadowed valley of cleavage. 

He hadn't realized yet that she'd caught him looking. If she gasped and snatched the shirt together, he'd know. It'd be awkward. Embarrassing. What would he say? What would she say? 

But she couldn't very well sit there giving him an eyeful ... it was Daddy, for crying out loud! Her father! 

And what the hell was he doing, anyway? The pervert. The dirty old man. She was his daughter! His nineteen-year-old daughter, with his wavy black hair and his bright blue eyes. He had no right to be ogling her like she was one of those girls from his magazines. 

Oh, yes, Toni knew all about the magazines. The ones he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Magazines full of tit-shots and beaver-shots, with ads in the back for phone-sex hotlines and escort services. She knew about the videos, too. And the porn on his computer. 

The way she figured it, Daddy was a man and men were all alike ... men were pigs. Men looked and men drooled and men jerked off in the lonely dark. 

And here he was, looking at her. That was really kind of sick. She ought to glare at him, let him know he'd been caught in the act. See what he did then. How would he explain it away? 

Toni picked up another application – several stores out at the mall were hiring, just her luck – and pretended to go over it. She felt flustered and indignant, but at the same time strangely powerful. 

After all, he must think she was worth looking at. That was flattering, in a way. Toni was aware that she had a decent body. Her waist was maybe thicker than she'd like and her legs a little chunky, but she had big plump tits and a killer ass. 

So let him look. Let him have his eyeful, the old pervert. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. Take a picture, Daddy, it'll last longer. 

She leaned way over, reaching for one of the farthest applications, and her breasts bulged into the gap of the shirt. One nearly popped out of its bra cup – the bra was on the skimpy side for someone as endowed as Toni – and she imagined Daddy's eyes nearly popping too. Was he over there wishing, sending mental vibes, hoping for the next button to slip its hole? Hoping for a glimpse of areola?

This was ... almost fun. Wrong, but fun. 

Toni risked a sidelong peek as she sat back up. Daddy's face looked flushed, his gaze fixed on her chest. His throat moved as he swallowed. 

Acting like she was concentrating, like she had forgotten he was even there, Toni rolled over so she was lying on her belly, propped up on her elbows, chin in hand as she pretended to study the application. Her boobs were pushed together, Cleavage City. 

She twiddled a pen between her fingers, then inserted the end in her mouth and nibbled on it thoughtfully. 

Another peek. Daddy was definitely red in the face. All of a sudden he sort of twitched, and cleared his throat, and rustled his copy of TV Guide. He looked guilty and ashamed. 

Power. Yeah, it was a feeling of power. If he felt guilty, that was good, that could be useful, she could work that in her favor to make him side with her against Mom when they had another of their eternal arguments. 

Daddy fidgeted in his chair. As he crossed his legs, Toni glimpsed what might have been a lump at his crotch. 

Was that what she thought it was? A hard-on? Eew. Okay, that was gross. Guilt was one thing. Turned on? That was something else. 

Not that it mattered. It wasn't like he was going to do anything about it ... well, except maybe ... next time he ...

No. Daddy wouldn't. Daddy wouldn't dare. Not thinking about her while he did it, anyway. That would just be too wrong. 

But it'd also be kind of ... hot. 

A warm tingle rose into her cheeks. Great, now she was blushing! And her nipples had puckered into hard little peaks. 

What was she thinking?

God ... she never should have broken up with Devin. The lack of a steady boyfriend was turning her into a sex-maniac. And if she was getting all heated up by imagining Daddy imagining her while he jerked off, she must be really desperate. 

She squirmed her hips, telling herself to ignore the fact that she was feeling a little steamy down there. 

It didn't help that Daddy was kind of a hunk for a guy almost fifty. All her friends said so. Mom's friends said so, too. He had that short dark hair salted with grey, like George Clooney. Dreamy blue eyes. A slanted grin like Harrison Ford. He jogged, and worked out four times a week, so he was in good shape and didn't have a potbelly or saggy muscles. 

Mom certainly never complained. Toni heard them sometimes, rattling the headboard in their bedroom on the other side of the wall. By the sounds of it, Mom always enjoyed herself. Hell, she howled like a catamount in heat. 

And these were exactly the wrong sorts of things to be thinking about.

A dull, hot throb pulsed in her pussy and nipples. Toni was breathing too fast, chewing on the end of the pen so hard she left marks. She had been gazing blankly at the same application for several minutes, the lines of type so insensible they might as well have been in hieroglyphics. 

God, she was horny. She missed Devin. At the time, dumping him had seemed like the right thing to do. He was a grabby, selfish, sulky bastard who had cheated on her with one of her former best friends. But right now she would have welcomed his hands all over her. 

She wished they were up in her room ... the two of them alone in the house ... music playing ... and Devin at the edge of her bed holding her knees over his shoulders while he pumped his cock into her like a big meaty piston into a greased sheath. 

Her jeans were too tight, rubbing against her, creating a friction both infuriating and delightful. There was no way she could finish the applications. Not in this state. She could see herself trying to fill in the required fields, and where it said "sex," instead of circling "M" or "F," she'd scribble "YES!" in stark black letters. 

Toni started gathering up the paperwork. Daddy glanced up from TV Guide, his features carefully neutral and his eyes not straying lower than her chin. 

"Done already?" he asked. His voice was mostly even, and if she hadn't been specifically listening for the huskiness, she would have missed it. 

"I'll do them tomorrow," Toni said, standing. "I'm tired. I've got to go to bed."

"It's only nine," he said. 

"Yeah, well ..." She made a show of yawning and stretching, realizing too late that when she did, she caused her tits to jut out, the nipples still erect and making little tents in the denim. 

TV Guide trembled in Daddy's hands. His gaze dipped lower. Toni pretended not to see. 

What was the matter with her? Sick, sick, sick ... but she was getting a charge out of his discomfiture. It was funny to watch Daddy struggling, wanting to look but not daring to look, even when it was on display right in front of him.

She dropped her pen and bent over to get it. The front of her shirt drooped. In the instant before she straightened up again, she was sure that if he'd been looking just right, he would have had a spectacular view. She almost wished she wasn't even wearing the bra. 

And she was sure that she'd been right earlier. That was a lump in his crotch. A sizeable one. He was wearing sweats, which didn't conceal much. 

That weird dirty sense of pride struck her again. He had been looking at her. Gotten stiff looking at her, even though she was his own daughter. 

Or maybe even because she was his own daughter. Forbidden fruit and all that. The absolute ultimate forbidden fruit. 

Toni went upstairs to her room and dumped the stupid job applications on her desk. She thought about Daddy downstairs and wondered what he was doing. He wouldn't really be fantasizing about her, would he? That would be so wrong. Wrong of him to be down there in his chair with his hand inside his sweatpants, curled around his cock and rubbing, while he remembered the way her tits had looked.

He wouldn't. Not right in the living room like that. No, he'd wait. He'd get in the shower, all hot and wet and soapy ...

Her knees went weak and Toni had to sit down. She couldn't believe she was being so affected by something that should have horrified and offended her. This was Daddy she was thinking about, her own father! Why was she sitting here envisioning him masturbating? And worse, thinking about her while he did it?

Daddy wouldn't do that. Daddy wouldn't dare. 

A new idea hit her then, one that she didn't like at all. Mom would be home soon from her shift at the casino, and what if Dad took Mom up to their room, stripped her, and fucked her ... while seeing Toni in his mind's eye? What if he thought of Toni as he was sucking on Mom's tits, as he was sticking his cock in Mom's mouth?

And she'd be right in the next room. Hearing them through the wall. Hearing Mom moan and wail, hearing the headboard clatter and the bedsprings squeak. 

Was she ... was she jealous?

That was crazy. She wasn't jealous. If she was, that'd mean that she wanted to fuck her Daddy, and she didn't. It was revolting. 

What did she want, then?

In this state, she could hardly think straight. Toni knew she had to do something about it or she'd never be able to get to sleep. But she couldn't very well call up Devin and ask if he wanted to come over. She was on her own. 

She peeled off the snug, faded jeans. She could see herself in the full-length mirror, the tails of the denim shirt hanging partway down her bare legs, black hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes smoky, her lips full and shiny as she ran her tongue across them. 

Slowly, putting on a show for herself, Toni unbuttoned the shirt and let it hang open. Her skimpy white panties were sheer enough to let the black tuft of her pubic hair show through. The crotch of the panties was damp, clinging, outlining the cleft of her pussy.

If Devin had been here, he'd be on his knees in front of her, trying to remove her panties with his teeth. She'd be feeling the humid warmth of his breath on her skin. And when he got them down, he'd push his face between her legs, his nose in her thatch, his tongue snaking out to tease her clit. 

Toni closed her eyes, imagining Devin as she shed her shirt and bra, then rolled the panties down her legs and kicked them away. Devin ... bronze surfer-boy hair, broad shoulders, narrow hips, that lovely long slim cock. 

She fell back sideways across the bed, sliding her hands down her belly, pretending they were Devin's hands. Devin's fingers, stroking her pussy lips. He had been a bastard, all right, but he had been good for one thing anyway. 

As she slipped two fingers into herself, she imagined Devin on top of her, Devin's cock driving wonderfully deep, moving slow but forceful. Devin's ass flexing. 

Biting her lip to keep from moaning, Toni plunged her fingers wetly in and out of her pussy. Devin ... Devin fucking her ... so good ... his balls slapping her ass on each downstroke ...

And then, unbidden in her imagination, she saw the door to her room burst open and Daddy was there, an enraged Daddy dragging Devin off of her, pummeling him, shouting curses, kicking at him as Devin scrabbled frantically for his clothes and then leaped out her window into the night. 

Daddy turning toward Toni as she still lay spread-eagled on the bed, too shocked to move or cover herself ... Daddy sweeping his hot gaze down her body, lingering on her upthrust nipples and the pouting, glistening pussy open and ready ...

With a harsh sound, she yanked her hands away and sat up. Her chest was heaving, her eyes wide. 

"Oh, God," Toni muttered. "God, you're disgusting to even think about something like that."

But was it so bad just to daydream about? It wasn't like anything of the sort would ever really happen. If Daddy had barged in on her and Devin, he wouldn't have gone into a fury and chased Devin out. He would have stammered and blurted an apology and gone out fast, shutting the door in his wake.

And he never would have ... 

Of course, until this evening she hadn't believed he ever would have looked at her that way. Staring at her tits. Not like he was marveling in that sad-amazed fatherly way over how much his baby girl had grown ... ogling her. Like she was one of the girls from a magazine. Not seeing Toni. Only seeing a pair of round, ripe young boobs ... and maybe thinking what it'd be like to wedge his stiff cock between them and titty-fuck her until he shot all over her face. 

Toni groaned, and a stab of heat lanced up from her pussy. 

Had he been thinking something like that? 

What difference did it make if he had? He knew it was wrong. Why else would he have gotten all flustered? He'd been blushing. Ashamed. 

She had done that. Had made him hot. Made him hard. Made him think those things. 

Without trying, even. It almost made her wonder what she could do if she really set her mind to it. She could probably drive him crazy. 

Weirdly, that notion served to make her hornier. 

It had to be the power thing. Good old-fashioned feminine mystique. 

God knew she'd enjoyed it with Devin and the other boys in high school. Being able to control them with a smile, a suggestive licking of a pencil eraser, an accidental flash of panties ... hadn't she and her friends always gotten off on that in a big way? It was funny, watching guys stumble all over themselves, trying to be cool when they were slobbering like dogs. 

Naturally, the same tactics would work on older men. Hadn't her friend Sheila used them to good effect on Mr. Wharton, their math teacher? Sheila had given him the works, sitting in the front row with her knees apart, acting like she was oblivious to the fact that he could see all the way up her skirt, brushing her tits against his arm when asking him about an assignment ... by the end of the semester, poor Mr. Wharton had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

But this wasn't a teacher. This was her father! 

And if Mom found out ...

Toni winced. Mom wasn't going to find out. Daddy wouldn't be stupid enough to eyeball Toni's boobs when Mom was in the house. Besides, this had probably been a one-time thing. A momentary lapse. He'd just happened to notice. For all she knew, he might have been thinking about someone else. Might have been reading an article in TV Guide about one of his favorite actresses, and that was what had given him an erection. 

Yeah. As if. It had been her boobs. 

She heard the shower start in the master bathroom, off of Mom and Daddy's bedroom. 

A cold shower? Or the hot, soapy, steamy one she'd thought about earlier? Was Daddy in there right now, unable to get his dirty mind off Toni? Was he using the hissing sound of the spray to cover his grunts and gasps as he lathered up his cock and fucked his hand?

Was he fantasizing about her? So what if he was? It was only fantasy. It couldn't hurt anybody. No one would ever know. Even if they were thinking about each other at the same time, that didn't mean anything. It still wasn't real. 

Toni burrowed her hand between her thighs. She rubbed in slow circles, remembering the glazed look on Daddy's face when she'd caught him staring down her shirt ... remembering the way he had crossed his legs and the cloth of his sweatpants had momentarily pulled tight against the long firm shape of his cock ... how he had reddened, and averted his eyes ... his shame ... his guilt ... he was probably in there right now, calling himself all sorts of vile names ... disgusted with himself even as he worked his cock faster and faster through a clasping glove of suds ... 

She came with such intensity that a nova of white light seemed to burst silently in her head, dazzling her vision and making her ears rush with a dizzy swooning sensation. She fell sideways on her bed, thighs clamped on her hand, and curled in the fetal position. The room spun and seesawed around her. 

When equilibrium returned, Toni carefully sat up. She felt weak all over, and thoroughly mortified. The idea that she had brought herself off while thinking about Daddy thinking about her ... God, it was awful. It had felt so good, but was awful all the same. 

The sounds of the shower had ended. Toni listened intently for movement in the next room. 

Wouldn't it have been funny, wouldn't it have been a good joke on her, if there was a peephole in the wall? Like something she would have expected if she had a perpetually horny kid brother, trying to spy on her while she changed ... but what if it had been Daddy instead? What if he'd come up and turned the water on for cover, to make her think he was taking a shower, while he was really hunkered down with his eye to the peephole, watching her through the wall? 

Watching her while she ...

Oh, God. The light had been on, and she'd been bare-ass-naked, splayed out across the bed for all the world to see, fingers buried in her sopping-wet pussy. What a sight! Ha ... if Daddy had seen her like that, he would have kicked down her door and ...

No, he wouldn't. What was she thinking? That he'd have gone crazy with lust, become some sort of raving fuck-beast? Burst into her room, his huge throbbing hard-on leading the way? 

And there she'd be, so close to coming that she wouldn't be able to stop ... but maybe he would have yanked her hands away and dropped on top of her ...

"Stop it," Toni told herself. She felt a flutter of rekindled interest way down deep, and forcibly put it out of her mind. She got into a sapphire-blue satin sleepshirt, turned off the light and crawled under the covers. 

This was really getting wrong. Twisted. Trip-to-the-shrink and tell me about your parents, Dr. Freud ... gross. Like that Oedipus thing, only for a girl ... she thought there was a syndrome or a complex about it, but damned if she could remember what it was called. And anyway, it was sick. Daydreaming about having her Daddy fuck her? Sick, sick, sick. 

He'd never do it. This wasn't like a boy from school, or even a teacher. She could tease and tantalize him all she wanted, and nothing would ever happen. A boy from school or even a teacher, push him enough and sooner or later he'd snap and try something. Daddy, though? Her father? She could walk around the house in her birthday suit, could go ahead and let him catch her masturbating, and he would never lay a finger on her. He wouldn't dare. It was wrong. Sick, immoral, twisted and wrong. The law said so, the churches said so, everybody but the damn ancient Egyptians and hillbillies said so. Thinking about it was bad enough. Looking was bad enough. Actually doing something? Never happen. 

Besides, Mom would kill him. 

It would, Toni thought, be interesting to see what he would do. Would he have the guts to talk to her about it? What would he say? If she started showing off her body around the house when he was there, all innocent-like ... if she arranged 'accidental' nudity like pretending to take in a clean towel when she was bathing and then having to flit-fast-run-quick down the hall to her bedroom with only a small hand towel clutched in front of her ... if she pretended to fall asleep in front of the television while wearing one of her sleepshirts with the hem all rucked up to show tiny panties ... 

What would it take to make him mention it? What would that be like? Daddy all uncomfortable, blushing and clearing his throat, suggesting that maybe she should dress more modestly around the house? 

"But why, Daddy?" she'd ask, all big ingenuous eyes. 

"Because you shouldn't go around dressed like that," he'd say. "In front of other people."

"It's just you," she'd say, and laugh. "It's not like you're a boy. You're my father!"

Make him have to tell her that, father or not, he was a man with a man's urges, and a man couldn't help responding to the sight of a nubile young female body even if it was his daughter's? Ha! That'd be good. Make him admit that he was a piece of pervert scum. Make him confess to looking at her, thinking about her!

She could really get some mileage out of that. He'd feel so eaten up with guilt that he'd never dare criticize her for anything. He'd have to side with her against Mom on this whole job-and-rent business. 

That'd teach him for looking at her boobs and getting all this stuff started in her head. She'd show him who had the real power here, who was the real boss. 

Thinking that, Toni fell asleep. It was a light sleep; she was unable to descend fully because some part of her was listening for Mom to come home, for Mom and Daddy to go into their bedroom and start squeaking the bedsprings and clattering the headboard. 

When it didn't happen, she woke up enough to roll her head toward the clock. Almost midnight. The house was quiet except for the low rumble of Daddy's snores. 

Had they, and she'd missed it? No ... she would have heard it if they had. Mom was noisy. Toni had inherited that trait from her, though she'd had to stifle her ecstatic shouts sometimes with Devin, when they were at his house or hers and anyone else was around.

So they must not have done it. 

In the dark, a mean and sly little smile curved her lips. They hadn't done it, and she had a pretty good guess why. Daddy hadn't been able to. Daddy had shot his wad already, in the shower, busily fantasizing about Toni's boobs. 

Take that, Mom. 

What did he tell her, she wondered? A headache? Too tired? Too much on his mind? Yeah ... that last one ... but what would he have said when Mom wanted to know what was bothering him? 

Finally, she sank into a deeper, blameless sleep, and woke to the beeping of the alarm and the smell of coffee wafting up from the kitchen. 

She got up, saw her clothes discarded where she'd left them, and felt her face warm up as she remembered. Her face, and her ...

From down the hall, she heard Mom and Daddy's bedroom door open and close. Toni, her laundry gathered in her arms, opened her own door. 

There was Daddy, wearing pants but bare-chested, carrying a plain white shirt and a clean pair of socks. His hair was combed back from his forehead and he was freshly shaved. 

Yawning, Toni padded barefoot into the hall. Her black hair was a tousled just-got-out-of-bed mane. She was very conscious of how short the sleepshirt was, how much leg it exposed and how the shimmery fabric molded to her tits and to her butt. 

Daddy saw her and stopped. Something like panic flashed in his eyes. An exultant, triumphant jab – gotcha, Daddy! – shot through her. 

"Morning, Daddy," she said, and continued on to the small bathroom at the end of the hall. On the way, she contrived to let the pair of panties fall unnoticed from the bundle of laundry she carried.

The rest of her clothes, she dumped into the hamper. She kept the bathroom door open a crack long enough to see Daddy staring at the wispy-white crumple of cloth. For a second she thought he might pick up the panties, and she knew as if by telepathy that he was thinking about it. Thinking about grabbing them quick and hiding them in his pocket, so he could take them out later. 

And what? Sniff them? They'd been saturated with her musk. Would he maybe even use them next time he jerked off? She thought about him with her panties all bunched up in his hand as he massaged his cock with them. 

But Daddy, his hands clenched at his sides, did not pick them up. He only stared for a long, long moment, his throat working convulsively. Then he shot a nervous, furtive glance at the bathroom door, but the crack through which Toni was watching was too thin to let him see her. 

He turned and walked away, moving – ha-ha – stiffly. She saw him heading down the stairs. Grinning, feeling all stoked up on power again, Toni latched the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. 

The panties were still in the hall when she was done. Toni retrieved them and put them in the hamper with her other clothes. She dressed in tight black denim cutoffs and a pink tee shirt with a low scooped neck, and headed down to the kitchen. 

Their kitchen was ridiculously nice for three people who never cooked. It was roomy and clean and inviting, with terra-cotta tile on the floor, mirror-shiny stainless steel appliances, decorative copper pots hanging on the walls, and glass cabinet doors that showed neat shelves of dishes. There were built-in cutting boards and knife racks, a rotating spice rack, a breadbox with sliding door. 

But only the coffeepot and the fridge and the microwave ever got much use. Really, the room served more as Mom's greenhouse than it did a proper kitchen. The windows were full of herb gardens. Potted plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling above the wide counters. 

Daddy was in his usual spot at the end of the kitchen table, the newspaper open before him. A coffee mug sat beside a small plate with a bagel on it. 

Toni got herself a cup of coffee and popped the sliced halves of a bagel into the toaster. As she went about these mundane morning tasks, she could feel his gaze following her around the room. Of course, whenever she looked at him, he was concentrating on the paper. But she could catch his reflection in the shiny glass and chrome of the cabinets and appliances ... Daddy watching her cutoffs ride up as she bent over to pick up a 'dropped' butterknife ... Daddy eyeing the outline of her bra through her shirt ... 

"Where's Mom?" Toni asked. 

Daddy jumped like a kid surprised with his hand in the cookie jar. The newspaper made a fluttering noise. "The health club," he said. "Aerobics class."

"I should start going to that," Toni said, though she had no intention of ever doing so. Sweating in a gym? Getting sore muscles on the machines, or bouncing around while some slut in a thong leotard told her no-pain-no-gain? No-thank-you. "Daddy, do you think I'm getting fat?"

Ha, now she had him. Now he had to look at her. Openly. As she sucked in her stomach, causing her tits to jut way out, and as she turned this way and that like she was trying to see her own ass. 

"You're ... you're not fat," he said. 

"I don't know ... my butt is so huge." She placed her palms on it and slid them up and down, over the pockets of the cutoffs. 

His eyes seemed to glaze over. 

Toni trilled an innocent laugh. "Oh, well, guys like a woman with curves, isn't that right? Someone with a little meat on her bones? Isn't that what they say, Daddy?"

"That's what they say," he echoed woodenly. 

She let her happy look dissolve into a worried frown. "It's true, though, isn't it? Not just a lie to make the fat girls feel better?"

"Every man is different," Daddy said. "I can't speak for every member of the species. But, overall, yes. Men like curves." He returned his attention to the newspaper, though Toni would have bet a hundred bucks that he couldn't make sense of a single line of print. 

"Mom's so thin, though." And, God, she was getting a kick out of this. Enjoying putting him on the spot. "I wish I looked like that."

Which was a bald-faced lie ... Toni thought Mom was too thin, all angles and lines, like a crane or heron or one of those other stilt-legged birds. Mom had boobs the size of teacups, and a flat, boyish back end. 

"You look fine, honey," Daddy said. 



"You're just saying that."

"No," Daddy said. "It's true." He was turning red. 

"You don't think I'm too big up here?" Affecting naivete, she skimmed her hands over the slopes of her breasts. 

Daddy's elbow hit his plate. It smashed on the terra-cotta tile, his half-eaten bagel skidding off to disappear under the fridge. 

"Oops!" Toni cried, and hurried over to crouch beside Daddy and pick up pieces of broken crockery. 

"My fault," Daddy said hastily. "I'll get it."

"It's okay." She knew he had to be getting a nice view of her cleavage, and what must he be thinking about, having her hunkered down right near him, her head on a level with his lap?

The chair legs squawked on the floor as Daddy shoved back from the table so fast he almost tipped over. He shot to his feet. "Really, Toni, I'll clean it up."

"Okay." She crossed to the fridge, then got down on her hands and knees with her ass waving in the air, while she fished around underneath searching for his bagel. 

In the stainless-steel front of the appliance, she saw his reflection – slightly blurred and distorted but discernible. He was standing beside his chair, staring fixedly at her. She supposed that he was really getting an eyeful now. The seat of her cutoffs was pulled up snug between her legs, defining her cleft. Quite a bit of cheek was exposed, too.

She found the bagel – it was gross under there, bits of cereal and dried food all gummed up with grease and dust bunnies. "Yuck," she said, bringing the bagel out pinched between thumb and forefinger. "I'll get you a new one."

Daddy belatedly bent and began picking up the smashed plate. He was very red now, and averted his gaze as she ambled toward the trash can with her hips rolling – except, she saw in the glass-fronted cabinet, his head swung around like it was on a swivel once she had passed him. 

Poor Daddy. He really had it bad. And all right, it was pretty rotten of her to get a kick out of this ... but she couldn't deny that she really liked the smug thrill of having him completely enthralled. He was under her power. She could wrap him around her pinkie finger if she wanted. 

The way he had devoured her with his eyes! Like she was a big yummy dish of peaches and cream that he wanted to eat up. Glut on. Gorge himself. He must have been standing there looking at her ass and thinking how much he'd like to squeeze those ripe round half-globes in both hands. 

Of course, he wouldn't dare ... he could only look, and it wasn't even safe for him to do much of that. He had to sneak his looks on the sly, thinking she was oblivious, thinking that she couldn't possibly know what kind of an effect she was having on him. He must be hating himself for it, unable to stop stealing those glances, unable to stop thinking about it, knowing it was wrong and there'd be hell to pay if anyone ever found him out. 

As soon as the last bits of plate were picked up, Daddy practically fled the room. Toni hid a smile. She had gotten to him, all right. He hadn't even finished his coffee. 

He avoided her for most of the day. Mom was in and out of the house, and reminded them at lunch that she was leaving Friday morning to go spend a week with Toni's Aunt Claire, who'd just had a baby and whose Navy husband was still away on active duty. Toni had to be sure and water her plants while she was gone. Daddy needed to remember to get the car's oil changed. 

She also nagged Toni for the umpteenth time about the job thing, and said that they expected her to start paying rent on the first of next month, so she'd better get cracking. 

Daddy didn't say a word, and Toni felt a flash of anger. He should have been on her side. Why wasn't he defending her, sticking up for her? Why wasn't he telling Mom to lay the heck off? They didn't need the income. It wasn't like her parents would be unable to make their damned old house payment if they couldn't squeeze a couple hundred bucks a month out of their only child.

But Daddy kept silent. It dawned on Toni that Daddy was probably thinking about Mom being gone for a whole week. Mom gone, and just the two of them alone in the house? Just him and his buxom daughter? No wife to provide him his nightly nookie, and the constant ever-present temptation of delectable young Toni?

This brightened her mood considerably. He was going to go absolutely bonkers by the time Mom got back. He'd be about to explode. Unable to think straight, maybe needing to beat off a few times just to make it through the day ... and with her always there, untouchable and so, so sexy ...

Friday night, after Mom had called to say her plane got in fine and she was at Aunt Claire's and that the new baby was adorable but the older kids were hell on wheels, Toni settled herself in the living room to watch television. 

Daddy was in his chair, a book on his lap. This made her think of the way boys she'd known would sometimes carried strategically-placed books to hide their helpless horny erections. Every now and then, he'd turn a page, but Toni didn't think he was really reading. 

No, Daddy was enjoying the view. 

It was a good view. 

Toni had gotten comfortable in another of her satiny sleepshirts, this one black with red trim and a red-and-gold Chinese dragon embroidered on the back. It was modest enough, knee-length, but it had high slits up the side and when she shifted position on the couch, it bunched up around her hips. 

She pretended like she didn't notice this, being engrossed in the television. But Daddy noticed, all right. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. 

Would he suggest she put on something more concealing? She didn't think so. How could he do that without admitting that the sight of her was distracting him, even arousing him? 

And he wouldn't really want her to change into frumpy old flannel pajamas, anyway. He liked what he was seeing. 

All she had on underneath was a tiny pair of lacy black panties. The longer she sat there, aware of Daddy's heated gaze, the more those panties seemed to chafe at her most sensitive spots with a friction that was at once wonderful and infuriating. 

It was too bad Daddy had seated himself in his chair. If he'd been on the couch, she could have curled up next to him, still all innocence like she had no idea what was going through his mind. 

Just Daddy and his little girl, cuddling on the couch to watch some TV together ... how could there possibly be anything wrong with that? Only the dirtiest old pervert would have read something suggestive into it, after all. No nice, decent Daddy would have thoughts like that. The guilt would eat away at him like acid. 

She wished she could lie on her side, with her head resting on his thigh like a pillow ... Daddy would be paralyzed, afraid to move, afraid to touch her in even so innocuous a manner as to pat her on the shoulder ... and of course he would get hard, his stiff cock bulging only inches from her head ... him trying desperately to will away the erection ... but the more he'd think about why he had to will it away – her head, right there, so close, the warmth of her cheek and breath through his pants – the more impossible a task it would become.

He would have been trapped, not daring to push her away because that would require an explanation – why can't I sit with you, Daddy? don't you love me? – and certainly not daring to stay that way ... and every time she moved her head, she might get closer and closer to accidental contact with that part of him ... which he couldn't let happen ... 

Daddy would have gone crazy from frustrated lusts. Why'd he have to go and sit over there? 

The more she thought about it, about resting her head on his warm leg and knowing that he was swelling into ready stiffness only inches away, the more it excited her. She didn't want to actually do anything, no way; it was the idea of Daddy in the trap of wanting her and not being able to ever, ever have her that got her juices flowing. 

Though Daddy remained steadfastly in his chair, Toni moved to lie on her side anyway. Her knees were drawn up, her head on the armrest of the couch. The sleepshirt was smoothed down taut over her rump, but by the time the news came on at eleven, Toni had managed to shift and wiggle enough to cause it to ride up. 

She pretended to fall asleep, though really she kept her eyelids slitted and watched through her lashes to see what Daddy would do. Would he think it was safe to look more openly now? He certainly wouldn't do anything else. He wouldn't dare. 

But he did look. When she stretched in her 'sleep' and turned onto her back, letting one leg dangle off the seat of the couch, she heard his breathing go ragged. Her sleepshirt had pulled up to the middle of her belly, baring her hips, baring the lacy black triangle of her panties.

The news ended. Daddy got up from his chair, and as he crossed between Toni and the bright screen of the television to retrieve the remote she'd left on the coffee table, she clearly saw the prominence in his pants silhouetted against the opening credits of a late-night talk show. 

He clicked off the set. For a few moments he stood with his back to her and his head down, arms at his sides and hands clenched into fists. Then, slowly, with an agonized groan like he hated himself for doing it, he turned and looked down at her. 

Toni resisted a shiver. She felt oddly powerful and vulnerable at the same time. He was right there, tall and strong. But she was protected. He couldn't touch her. 

What, she wondered, was he thinking? With her eyes almost totally closed, she could not read his expression. Was he looking at her panties, maybe seeing a few wisps of dark hair escaped around the edges? Was he telling himself that Toni was a sound sleeper, that she would never know if he touched her, just once, just a little, just to feel the texture of her nipples through the satiny shirt? 

She stirred a little. Daddy stepped back fast, guiltily, and bumped into the coffee table. He almost went head over heels. He froze. Toni only murmured drowsily and smacked her lips, drawing his attention to her lush mouth. 

Now was he thinking what it'd be like to feel those lips around his cock? Was he thinking that if he was slow, and careful, and gentle, he might be able to touch her and get away with it? As long as he didn't wake her, she would mistake it for a dream. He could touch her tits, maybe get a hand between her legs without rousing her from slumber. He could unlimber his cock and rub it against her thigh ... maybe even brush the tip of it ever-so-lightly over the smoothness of her cheek and lips ... see if she parted them ...

What if he knew she was faking, feigning sleep? What if he could tell? Her nipples were tight, and though she was able to keep her breathing even, her pulse was racing. Could he see it in her throat, beating there like a hummingbird's wing? Could he smell her, the musk rising as she got wetter and wetter?

Daddy exhaled hoarsely. He took a folded afghan from the back of the couch and shook it open, letting it drape down over Toni, covering her. Then he left the living room, switching off lights as he went. She heard him muttering to himself but could not make out the words. 

A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded her as his footsteps climbed the stairs. Of course, she would have screamed blue murder if he'd tried to touch her ... but he hadn't even tried. 

Toni waited a few minutes to see if he would come back, but he didn't. She slid her hands under the afghan, touching nipples that still poked up in puckery little peaks, then roaming lower until she pushed her fingers under the thin strip of elastic and into the damp heat of her pussy. Her hips twitched up in an involuntary spasm. Her thighs clamped around her hand. She kicked off the afghan, letting it crumple to the floor. 

Was Daddy upstairs doing something like this right now? Was he up there biting his lower lip to hold in the moans as he pumped his cock with his fist and thought about her? Was he wishing he'd had the nerve to touch her after all, even though it was wrong, even though Mom would kill him, even though Toni was his daughter and would have screamed her head off? 

Maybe he was thinking that she wouldn't have screamed. Maybe he was thinking that she would have welcomed it, the feeling of his fingers being where hers were now, probing into her pussy. Maybe he was thinking about her mouth, about rubbing his cock against her lips until she opened up so he could slide it inside. 

He'd never dare, though. Never dare do anything like that. 

And what in the hell was she doing? What if he came back down and caught her? If he saw her like this, one hand in her panties and the other fondling her own tits ...

She stopped. She didn't want to ... she was so hot, already about to come ... but made herself stop anyway. This was nuts. She had to get herself a new boyfriend before she lost her mind. Much more of this, and she might start thinking that she ...

No. No, no, no. Wrong, sick, bad. She didn't want that. 

Toni got up from the couch. Her legs were unsteady, her head spinning, her pussy feeling plump and moist and needy. She tiptoed up the stairs. A blue-tinted nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall shed the only illumination. 

At Daddy's door, though she knew she shouldn't, she paused and listened. Silence. No groans. No fleshy sounds of a man in his own hand. No shower running. Only silence. Was he asleep? Was he lying wakeful in the dark, eyes fixed unseeingly on the shadowed ceiling, berating himself for his perverse hungers?

In her own room, she got into bed and stared wakefully up into the darkness herself. She didn't know how she could sleep while still so horny she could barely function, but she didn't want to bring herself off. 

This was getting too weird. All she wanted was to tease Daddy ... make him feel guilty for lusting after his daughter ... turn it into an advantage. And maybe get back at Mom a little by doing so ... 

It was all his fault, anyway. If he hadn't been ogling her boobs, none of this would have gotten started. What was the matter with him, anyway? What kind of a sick creep looked at his own daughter's boobs?

Eventually, she slept, but had bizarre sex-dreams all night long. Probably her body's way of punishing her for leaving herself unfulfilled. She dreamed of Devin, the only guy she'd been with if you didn't count Bill or Nathan, and she dreamed of Bill and Nathan too, and she even dreamed of her friend Sheila, and Mr. Wharton the math teacher, and her other friend Faye. 

She woke up in a state little better off than the one in which she'd gone to bed, but more determined than ever to really make Daddy squirm today. Drive him to distraction, wasn't that the saying? She was going to drive him to distraction. 

And then, maybe tonight over dinner, she'd ask him what he thought of this job thing. Didn't he think Mom was being unfair? Didn't he think that she deserved a little time to get her bearings and figure out what she wanted to do with her life? 

He'd be feeling so wracked with shame and guilt that he'd agree with her. He'd have to agree with her. He'd have to promise to make Mom back down about the job and the rent. 

That cheered Toni up considerably. She bounded out of bed, took a shower, and blow-dried her hair into a silky black wave. After rummaging through her closet and dresser, she decided on a fresh and athletic look for the day ... fresh and athletic with a twist, anyway. 

She tugged on a white tank-top, ribbed and stretchy. It molded to her boobs and was sheer enough to show the darker rings of her nipples. Without a bra, her slightest movement made everything bounce and jiggle within the tight confines of the tank top. 

By contrast, the red silky gym shorts were too big, loose and floppy even with the drawstring waist cinched fast around her middle. The shiny-clingy fabric draped her ass, making it evident that she wore no underwear. The roomy leg-holes bagged and flapped around her thighs, creating a draft that slipped deliciously cool against her pussy. 

Feeling confident and sexy and powerful, she bounced downstairs and into the kitchen. "Good morning, Daddy!" she chirped. 

He was in his usual place at the end of the table, looking like he had passed a restless, fretful night. His hair was uncombed, sticking up in dark corkscrews. He was unshaven. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep, but they widened as she came in.

"Morning, Toni," he said. 

Daddy had not started the coffee or gotten the bagels from the breadbox or the cereal from the cupboard. He had probably shuffled down to the kitchen like a zombie. Poor Daddy. It served him right, the dirty old man.

She set about those tasks, not quite strutting around but letting her hips swing with carefree, unconcerned ease. She could feel him watching her every move. Could feel his gaze traveling over her ripe, jiggling tits and ass. 



When she brought it to him, he dropped his gaze to the table and reached for the steaming cup with a hand that trembled minutely. Toni fetched the bagels, then bent over to rummage for orange juice in the fridge. She peeked back under her arm and saw Daddy staring at her butt. 

He was wearing a bathrobe, a plaid flannel thing, and as Toni sashayed over to put the sliced bagels in the toaster, she noticed him surreptitiously trying to adjust the front of it under the table. Was the bathrobe ill-equipped to cover developments in his lap? 

"Here you go, Daddy." She leaned over his shoulder to set the toasted bagel halves in front of him, not letting her boobs brush against him but waving them very close to the side of his head. 

She heard a dry click in his throat as he swallowed. His voice was unsteady as he thanked her. 

"I better water Mom's plants before I forget," Toni said brightly. She bent over again, butt poking out, to search for the long-spouted plastic watering can under the sink. 

From this angle, she could see under the table, Daddy's bare legs sticking out from beneath the hem of his robe. His feet shifted uncomfortably. He had the front flaps of the robe bunched and folded over in his lap, in what she surmised was an effort to keep everything contained. 

This was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. That heady sense of power sizzled through Toni like electricity. She had him. She owned him. 

"Um ... Toni," ventured Daddy, "don't you think that ... um ... that top is ... revealing?"

"My top?" She looked down at it, affecting puzzlement, then smiled. "It is a little small for me, I guess. Don't worry. I'll change clothes before I go out anywhere."

She filled the watering can and began tipping it into the various plants, waiting to see if he would say anything more on the subject. If he'd actually have the nerve.

He didn't. He sat and drank coffee that probably burned his mouth but he didn't care, gnawed on a bagel that he probably barely tasted, and watched her. 

Toni wondered if she should spill some water down her front, sort of an accidental wet-tee-shirt-contest look, but thought that might be pushing it. She couldn't let him get the idea that she was doing this on purpose. 

Some of the plants hung from the ceiling, out of Toni's reach. She fetched the low, sturdy footstool Mom kept for just this particular chore, and stepped up onto it to water the higher plants. Since she was shorter than Mom, this required a lot of stretching, up-up-up-on-tiptoe, with her tummy sucked in and her boobs jutting way out. 

The bottom of her tank top came out of the shorts and exposed the small of her back, the softness of her slightly-too-thick stomach, the dark cup of her bellybutton. The waistband of the shorts, even with the drawstring, drooped low on her hips.

In the various reflective surfaces around the kitchen, the stainless-steel appliances and the glass-fronted cabinets, she was able to keep an eye on Daddy no matter which way she was facing. She innocently posed and turned and displayed, while he got more and more red-faced and flustered. 

Then she saw Daddy nonchalantly drop his hand into his lap. Not to hold his robe together this time, either ... in the mirror-shiny front of the oven door, she distinctly saw his arm moving in short, quick twitches. 

Was he really going to do that? Really going to beat off right in front of her? Acting like there was nothing going on, acting like it was a normal morning, and there he sat pumping his cock in his fist, staring at her in the bright sunshine that came down through the skylights and filtered green through Mom's plants in the windows? 

Did he think he could be so subtle about it that she wouldn't notice? He couldn't very well come on the kitchen floor, could he? What would he do, hope that the table hid it from her sight and then clean it up when she was out of the room?

After a few seconds, she saw his face blanch with the awareness of what he was doing. Daddy yanked his hand out of his lap and brought it back above table level. He shifted in his chair, tried to cross his legs, bumped his knee on the underside of the table. 

"You okay, Daddy? That sounded like it hurt," she said. 

"Fine," he said. But beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. 

"Just these ones left," Toni said, peering up at the highest row of hanging plants. They were above the wide counter with the sink in it, hard to reach. She positioned her footstool and stepped up onto it.

To get to the farthest plants, she had to lean way out over the counter. She stood on one foot, extending her other leg out for balance. Way, way out. Almost in a pose like a ballet dancer. 

And of course, with those overlarge red gym shorts, the roomy leg-hole gaped so much that from where he was sitting, Daddy could look right up. All the way up. 

Was he looking? Toni was so precariously positioned that she couldn't turn her head to check. But of course he'd be looking. He'd have to look. He wouldn't be able to help it. Looking up her shorts, getting an unobstructed view of her pussy. He'd be staring at the sleek black hair, the pouting lips ... 

God, she hoped he couldn't see how wet she was. She felt it, though ... holding her leg out like that, she could feel the rush of cool air against her moist, hot flesh. 

The last plant really was almost out of her reach. Toni leaned forward a little more. The leg supporting her weight quivered from the strain. She was tilting over the counter, and the spout of the water can could just make it ...

There was a grating, squawking noise from behind her, a noise she recognized as the legs of Daddy's chair scraping back on the tile. She heard him blunder to his feet in a rush, and a brilliant surge of power went through her as she understood what had happened. He couldn't take it any more, had to run from the room before he did spray his come all over the kitchen. The sight of her naked pussy had done that, and she owned him now. 

The footstool suddenly shot from under her, making a squawking noise of its own on the tile. Toni yelped and whirled her arms like she was trying to take flight, but of course she couldn't fly. She dropped the watercan. One flailing hand struck some of the plants, setting them swinging crazily. 

She landed in a graceless bellyflop on the counter, with her legs dangling over the edge and her boobs in the sink. 

"Oof!" she gasped, the wind driven out of her. She had almost bashed her teeth in on the faucet. Feverish embarrassment set her cheeks to burning. 

Thank God Daddy hadn't seen –

A heavy bar slammed down across the small of her back. The image of a rat trap flashed into her mind, but this bar was warm and padded, not cold metal. An arm. Holding her down. Pinning her in place. An arm. Daddy's arm. 

"Daddy –"

She felt him crowd against the backs of her legs, felt the flannel robe catch and drag on her inner thighs as he wedged his body between them. When the flannel pushed away, she felt smooth warm skin bristling with fine, wiry hair. 

"Daddy, ow, let me up!"

Toni pushed with the upper half of her body but her lower half was still pinned by the immovable bar of his arm. She twisted her head and saw him, reflected in glass and stainless-steel. Daddy's face was contorted into a stranger's mask, lips drawn back from his teeth, eyes bulging. His robe hung open. He was naked under it. His cock was a long stiff curve, thick and engorged. 

"No!" Toni shrieked breathlessly. "Daddy, don't, Daddy, no!"

Still holding her down, he shoved his other hand up the loose gaping leg-hole of her shorts. She thrashed, but her kicking legs stuck out uselessly to the sides and couldn't hit him, couldn't knock him away. 

Then his hand was against her pussy, groping and greedy. The contact made her scream in shock. 

Her elbow smacked against the porcelain side of the sink and a white, glassy pain rocketed up her arm. She heaved her body, tried to bring her legs together, tried to turn over and strike at him, claw at him. Nothing worked. She was held and helpless as Daddy's probing fingers plunged into her. 

"Please, Daddy, no!" Toni wailed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

He pushed his fingers in and out, fast, making shameful wet squelching noises. He was bent over her, leaning on her, using his weight on her bottom and thighs as well as the pressure of his arm on her back to hold her down. His breath puffed harsh and hot and heavy. 

"Daddy, stop, please, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased you, I shouldn't have, please don't touch me like that please take your hand away don't Daddy don't oh God Daddy please let me up I'm sorry I made you hard Daddy please stop!" The words spilled from her in a babbling torrent. 

And he did take his hand away, pulling his fingers out of her. Toni sobbed in fright and relief. He would let her go now. He'd made his point. She had learned her lesson. She would never do anything so stupid again –

Daddy grabbed a handful of loose silky red cloth and pulled the leg-hole of her shorts as far to the side as he could, baring her pussy. He crowded closer. His hips were a wedge, forcing her thighs open. 

"No!" Toni cried, seeing the slightly blurred and distorted reflection of his cock, which looked huge and invasive. "Daddy, you can't, don't you dare, I'm your daughter!"

It touched her, that hot rigid rounded fleshy cockhead, touched her slippery-wet pussy lips. Galvanic horror shot through Toni. She scrabbled at the sink, fingernails making brittle tick-tick-tick noises on the porcelain, and tried to pull herself onto the counter, away from that nudging knob. 

"Daddy, no! Don't really do it, don't really fuck me!"

As if the actual word had been the final straw, he drove the full length of his cock into her with one hard thrust. He grunted through clenched teeth. Toni screamed so loud that she thought her head would split, the windows would shatter.

"Oh, my God," Daddy said in a low, growling voice that wasn't his own. He didn't move. He only stood there, staring down at where their bodies met. 

Toni could see him in the reflections all around her, the bright-shiny-clean kitchen reflections that made this dirty act even worse. Daddy seemed transfixed by the sight of his cock buried deep in his daughter's pussy. His stomach was pressed tight to her butt. She could even feel his balls nestled against her. 

"Take it out," she whimpered. "Please, take it out! Daddy, you can't! You can't do this!"

The worst of it, the hell of it, was that her pussy didn't know or care who was at the other end of that cock. That it was Daddy, her own father. All her pussy knew or cared was that it was crammed full of a wonderful hard cock, a cock that throbbed and pulsed and made a sort of flexing eager twitch when her inner muscles involuntarily constricted on it. 

"Please, Daddy, take it out," she said. "You're ... you're raping me."

Daddy set his palms flat on her buttocks and slowly drew himself back. Inch by inch, he slid out of her. 

Toni held her breath, telling herself it'd be over soon. She watched his reflection, saw his gaze still fixed, looking at his cock as it emerged ... stiff and swollen and glistening ... 

What was taking him so long? He had stopped, his cockhead still embedded. 

His fingers dug into the soft mounds of her cheeks and he rammed forward again. 

Toni howled. "No, Daddy! No!"

He gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, and he thrust, thrust hard, fucking her, yanking her back against him, exhaling in explosive grunts through his teeth each time his stomach slapped against her upturned ass. 

"Daddy! Daddy, don't! God! Daddy, stop! It hurts!" 

It did hurt; he was driving her against the edge of the counter, her head was banging into the sink basin with each stroke, her legs ached from hanging and flailing uselessly with her feet off the ground ... but she suddenly didn't care so much about any of that. 

"Oh ... oh, no! No, no, no!" Toni cried. "You have to stop it, Daddy! You have to stop fucking me right now!"

If anything, he sped up and fucked harder. 

"Oh ... oh God ... stop, Daddy!" she begged. "Or I'm ... oh ... going to come! Don't ... don't make me ... ooh, no ... don't make me come, Daddy!"

"Yes!" he snarled, and it was so monstrous, so bestial, that she wanted to think it wasn't Daddy at all but some imposter, some stranger, some possessed-by-the-devil ... but it was just Daddy, Daddy pounding into her. "Come, you little bitch, come for Daddy!"

"No, please, no!"

"This what you've been wanting, huh? This the way you like it?"

Toni burst into hot, horrified tears as she began to shudder all over. Her pussy convulsed around Daddy's cock in violent, jerking spasms. A long, drawn-out shriek of mingled shame and rapture burst from her throat. 

She had never come like this before, never, not with Devin or anyone else, not by herself in solitary masturbating pleasure ... never. The orgasm was wrenching, earth-shattering, and went on and on in one peak of ecstasy after another as Daddy kept pumping in and out. 

When she collapsed, moaning and half-conscious with her head still hanging in the sink, Daddy's movements slowed to a stop. Toni lay limp across the counter, her legs as boneless as those of a rag doll. Her chest hitched. Her shoulders shook. 

It was over. At least, thank God, it was over!

Except ...

It wasn't. 

He was still hard inside her, harder than ever, stretching her drenched and tingling pussy with his rigid cock. 

"Teasing whore," Daddy said, almost thoughtfully. "See what happens?"

"Daddy ..." she said in a feeble voice. "Please, no."

He pulled out in an abrupt motion. Toni tried to scramble upright but her limbs would not obey her. She slithered to the kitchen floor, her hair in her face, the aftershocks of her orgasm still sparking and jittering along her nerve endings. 

Daddy bent and reached for her. She recoiled from his touch, but he was implacable in his strength. He gathered her into his arms and carried her, as she stirred weakly and tried to protest, into the living room. 

"Mom ..." she said. 

"Won't find out. Believe me, Toni, you don't want her to find out."

"But ..."

He lowered her to the carpet, in the exact spot where she'd been sitting the other night when she had first noticed him staring at her boobs. He knelt beside her. His robe was still open, his cock still rising stiff ... slick with her juices ... his pubic hair damp and matted. She could smell herself on him, her musk, and cringed with humiliation. 

"No, Daddy," Toni said. "I won't tease you any more. I'm sorry."

"Take off that slutty top."

"Daddy –"

"Now!" He did not move to slap her, did not even raise his hand, but his voice was a whipcrack. 

Blubbering, fresh tears running down her face, Toni skinned the tight tank top over her head, freeing her tits. Daddy stared hungrily, then filled his hands with them, squeezing and kneading them, tweaking her nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger, rolling them. 

"No more, Daddy, please, no more," sobbed Toni.

Daddy leaned over and sucked one breast, hard and urgent, his tongue flicking over the rigid nipple. He caught Toni's wrist in a bone-crushing grip and brought her hand to his cock. 

"Nicely, bitch, or you'll regret it," he growled, briefly lifting his mouth from her and then settling it on the other tit. 

She curled her fingers around him, tempted to hurt him but afraid of what else he might do. Daddy groaned and pushed his hips at her, sliding his cock through the closed circle of her fist. Toni rubbed hesitantly, then sped up her pace at the thought that if she jerked him off, if she made him come, he wouldn't be able to –

"Not so fast," Daddy murmured, plucking her hand away from him. "I'm not done yet, oh no, not done yet, Toni. Daddy's precious little girl won't get out of this that easily."

"Daddy, it's wrong, it's so wrong," she said. "We have to stop."

"Take off those damned shorts."

"Please, don't make me."

"Take them off now, Toni."

"Don't fuck me again, Daddy," she said, looking up at him with watery eyes. "Please. I'll ... I'll suck you, if you want, but don't fuck me again."

Without a word, Daddy retreated to his favorite chair and sprawled there with his legs outstretched into a vee and his cock jutting up. Toni's chin trembled and she was ready to start crying again. How had this happened? How had she let this happen? She'd only meant to tease him, get power over him, and now look! Here she was, almost naked and about to take Daddy's cock in her mouth. 

She started to get up, and he chopped his hand through the air in a negating gesture. Understanding what he wanted, Toni got on her hands and knees and crawled to Daddy across the living room floor. Her boobs swayed beneath her as she went. She reached him, kneeling between his spread legs, and sent him a beseeching look. 

"Daddy ..."

"Suck me, baby girl," he said. "Suck Daddy's cock. That's what you want, isn't it?"


He caught a handful of her hair and dragged her head down, jabbing his cockhead against her closed lips. "Suck it, Toni. Open your mouth and suck it."

She shook her head as best she could with him holding her hair. He twisted his hand, pulling, and in her pain she opened her mouth to cry out. As she did, Daddy muffled her cry by stuffing his cock between her lips. Toni tasted herself on him. He held her head in his lap and thrust his hips up at her face, fucking her mouth. 

Desperate to get it over with, she put her tongue to work, slurping it around and around his shaft. She cupped his balls, massaged them, encouraging him with her hands as well as her mouth, wanting him to come. Not caring if she had to swallow it, just wanting him to come and for this nightmare to end. 

She might, she thought, still be able to salvage something of this, once Daddy returned to his senses and realized what he had done. Once he realized he had raped his own daughter, his guilt would be so terrible that he'd do anything to win her forgiveness. 

"Oh, you are a good little cocksucker, aren't you?" Daddy groaned. "Do you want Daddy to come in your mouth, Toni? Will you drink it all down like a good girl?"

"Mmm-hmm," she affirmed, nodding. 

"You'd like that?"


"What if Daddy wanted to get off between your titties? And shoot all over your face?"

She slipped his cock out of her mouth and caught it between her tits, holding them together to form a slick valley for him. Daddy covered her hands with his, fondling her boobs while he humped up and down. 

"Oh, God, that's good, Toni," he gasped. "Oh, yeah."

"Come for me, Daddy," she said breathily, hoping to spur him over the edge. "Come in my face. Squirt it all over me."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Too bad."

She blinked at him, not comprehending. Then Daddy stopped what he was doing and lunged off the chair at her, tackling her, taking her down to the carpet. He landed atop her, pinning her with his weight.

"Daddy! Get off me!"

"Not yet," he said, tugging the loose gym shorts down. "Oh, no, not yet. Daddy's not done with you."

"But I sucked you! You promised –"

"I didn't promise anything." 

He slid down her body, kissing a trail from her nipples to her bellybutton to the patch of black hair at her groin. 

"Oh, Daddy, no, not that!" Toni cried. 

She bucked her hips to try and throw him off of her, but Daddy yanked her shorts off, threw her knees over his shoulders, and buried his face in her pussy. His tongue swirled around her clit. Toni screamed. Her heels drummed his back. He opened her folds with his thumbs and lapped her in long, slow strokes. 

Toni's head whipped side to side on the carpet. "Ah ... Daddy! Oh, God, stop, stop, please, you have to stop!"

Daddy didn't stop, but kept at her, licking her, sliding two fingers inside to press at her G-spot, until Toni was going crazy. She clutched at his head, bucking her hips now not to throw him off but to grind her pussy harder against his mouth. 

"Yes, oh, yes!" she gibbered. "Don't stop, that's so good, don't –"

Suddenly Daddy stopped. Toni's scream this time was one of frustration – she had been about to come again, if he had only gone on for a little bit more! But he stopped, and he rose up over her on his knees, wiping her wetness from his face. His cock bobbed hard and inviting over her belly. 

"What do you want, Toni?" Daddy asked. 

She knew what he was doing and she hated him for it, hated him like fire. She was shaking all over with need. 

"Daddy, don't ..." she said. "Don't make me ..."

"Don't make you what?"

"Don't make me ask for it," she said. 

He gripped himself, running his thumb around the rosy head of his cock. "You asked me not to fuck you again. So I'll just finish off like this."

"But ... but, Daddy ..."

His hand moved up and down. His blue eyes never left hers. A vibrating line of energy like a high-tension wire thrummed through her. She bit her lip to hold back the words, but it was no good. 

"Fuck me!" she shrieked. "Oh, God, Daddy, fuck me, stick it in me, please, I want it, I want to feel it, make me come!"

Daddy smiled triumphantly and eased his cock into her with incredible gentleness, slowly filling her as he sank onto her body. He withdrew just as carefully, and thrust again. It was excruciating, it was heaven, it was torture. 

"There ..." he sighed. "Daddy's fucking you. Is it good, baby girl? Does Daddy's cock feel good?"

"Oh ... oh!" Toni hooked her legs over his ass and clawed his shoulders. "So good! So good, Daddy!"

"Are you going to come for Daddy again?"

"Yes!" she cried. 

"Are you close?"

"So close ..."

"Daddy's close, too ... Daddy's going to come in you, Toni. Daddy's going to fill you up with it."

He started going faster, and that was all it took for Toni. She fucked back at him furiously, her orgasm ripping and roaring through her like a thunderstorm. Daddy pounded into her, shouting her name.

"Toni! Oh! Toni!"

His back arched, driving him against her and into her in a final deep thrust, his entire body stiffening as he flooded her with his come. He stayed that way, motionless as a statue, for what seemed like forever. 

Then, gradually, he began to relax and settled onto her, his weight smothering and crushing her against the carpet. Toni didn't mind ... she liked the feeling of being under him like this, of him being so utterly spent. 

She drifted that way, her body wrung out and exhausted in the afterglow, too dazed from everything that had happened to be able to think. She didn't want to think about it. 

Daddy laboriously raised his head, which had fallen into the cradle of her shoulder. He looked down at her, and she saw her own dazed state echoed in him. But then his eyes cleared, and sharpened in alarm. 

"Toni ... oh, God, Toni ..."

What could she say? What in the world could there possibly be to say at a moment like this? Here on the living room floor, Daddy on top of her with his cock softening in the warm flood of come he'd shot into her pussy ... what could she say? That she'd thought she could tease him and get away with it? That she'd thought he would never dare lay a finger on her?

"I guess I was wrong," Toni said, sliding her arms around his neck. "Daddy would dare, after all." The End