On a Sunday night, the front door opened with a bang, and in stumbled a young and pretty brunette, who wore a bright smile and drizzled makeup, and whose tank top exposed her cold and brittle nipples to the world; her breasts were perky and not constricted by any undergarment, nor were much of her legs covered, save about seven inches of skirt over her thighs. She reeked of liquor, yet that could be forgiven by any man who lacked sexual continence, and in fact only added to her charm, as her youth made her intoxication only the more sexually appetising.
Jessica Rodgers wobbled to the kitchen and plugged in the radio. It boomed a loud crackling sound, but she turned the dial until a brilliantly catchy pop song sang out of its speakers. She started to wave her arms and sway her slender body to the rhythm of the upbeat soundtrack. Her perky tits jiggled as she bounced up and down, her white tank top struggling to keep them within its cloth. Jessica’s bubble butt also rippled to each beat of the bass guitar. Not a wondered went to how loud the music was, and that it might affect the other person in the house.
Suddenly, she heard someone shout from within the master bedroom. Her heart sank, as the realisation dawned on her that her father might not appreciate her late-night shenanigans. Jessica searched for the radio, but her vision was mildly blurry. She switched the music off, but the sound of heavy bootstraps replaced it.
A shirtless man rounded the corner, slowly entering the kitchen; He was pointing a revolver straight at Jessica. They recognised each other, and for a split second, Jessica wondered she was safe, for a bright smile appeared upon her lips, and her eyes shone like the moon at seeing her father holding the gun, and not a crazed intruder.
“What the fuck time do you think this is?” The old man yelled.
Jessica snapped back to reality. “I am sorry, father, I will go straight to bed,” she cried.
“The hell you will not! What in the world are you wearing? You are dressed like a whore. If your mother saw you now…” He said.
“You can put the gun down, now,” she said.
“I almost shot you,” he scoffed, lowering the barrel, “where have you been?”
“I have just been out with some friends.”
“And you reek of alcohol: it is disgusting.”
Jessica smiled, trying to hide how ashamed she felt at her hearing her father’s insults. “I am sorry, father, I will go take a shower.”
“No, I do not want you wasting water washing away the filth that you brought upon yourself,” he spoke like a preacher.
Jessica held her hand behind her back and fiddled with her fingers; She crossed her bare legs together, and looked down at the floor. “I will not do it again, father.”
“Why do you have to be such a fucking disappointment? Do you know how it would make me feel knowing that any of my neighbours could have clocked you coming in at this time of night dressed like a whore! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“I am,” Jessica said, meekly.
“It is a Sunday, and I have work tomorrow morning. You have pissed me off.”
“Father, if there is anything that I can do to make you feel better – to make it up to you – just tell me, please,” she begged.
“You are pathetic,” he said as he looked at his daughter’s shivering body; he caught himself mentally undressing the wet clothes hanging from her overdeveloped tits.
Jessica began to sob, “I am sorry, daddy. I am so sorry.”
Aleks stared at her, secretly gratified by the tears his daughter shed. It made him feel crucial, even powerful. He wanted to grab those breasts, but he stopped himself before it was too late, before the animal instinct inside him was let loose upon the only woman he had left in his life.
“Go put some clothes on before you catch a cold,” he said, waving the gun in the direction of her bedroom.
“Yes, right away, father,” the young girl said, her head down in submission to the patriarch of the household.
Aleks watched her walk to her bedroom, before opening the chamber and emptying the bullets into his palm and stashing them in the pocket of his robe. He was thirsty, so he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and went to the sink. As the tap was running, his daughter came sulking back into the kitchen, with her dirty tank top covering her naked breasts, as she stood in the kitchen doorway semi-nude. Aleks was shocked and could barely utter a word.
“Daddy, can I please take a shower. I know you said I was not allowed, but I am so dirty, I cannot sleep,” she begged.
“Go take a shower, and then come to the living room and watch a movie with me,” he said, his penis tingling.
Jessica looked at him wide-eyed, but she did not protest, as she itched to get under the warm shower head.
Aleks stood in front of the small laundry room, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. Jessica walked over to him and looked behind his shoulder at the pile of neatly stacked towels.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said.
Her father glared at her, and she felt small against his tall stature. After a few moments of his penetrating stare digging deep behind her eye sockets, he stepped an inch to the side. Jessica took this as a sign that she could pass, but that she would have to earn it through humiliating physical discomfort. She turned herself sideways and pressed herself against his bony arm. Aleks felt her massive breasts squeeze against him, as the corner of the dining table stabbed her the bulbs of her spine. He smirked – the smirk of an accomplished villain.
“You know, Jessica, nobody could ever love you,” The man said, menacingly.
She bowed her head, as though to say, “I know – you are right; nobody could ever love me.”
The little eighteen-year-old girl felt ashamed, and she began to wheeze as her hot body struggled to push past the elbow of her father. Eventually, with what felt like hours of pushing against a hard icy wall, she managed to finally escape the tight space her father had created; her arm, however, was caught between his meaty bicep and his torso. She said nothing but looked at the white stack of clean towels on the small prop-up table.
“Do not waste my water, Jessica,” he said, clenching her forearm.
She pulled and pulled, but it was he who relaxed his arm, letting her go. Jessica swung for the towels in a heartbeat, and she grabbed the first one. Unintentionally, however, the subsequent towels – there was three underneath the one Jessica grabbed – dripped onto the floor into an untidy puddle, another unacceptable configuration of cloth to Aleks, who, in a flash, seized the arm of his daughter with white hot eyes.
“What the fuck was that for?” He yelled.
“What? What are you talking about?” She cried.
“You know what I am talking about, you bitch!”
“I honestly do not!” she was sobbing.
“The towels; the towels!” He shouted into her soft, pink ear. He clamped her arm like an angry parent, embarrassed by their overactive toddler in the supermarket.
“Please, Daddy!” The brunette begged, sweating like a roast chicken in the oven.
He held her there for a moment or two, and then released her hand into the air, slowly bringing his own down to his torso.
Jessica, tears rolling down her eyes, held her hands up to her face and crouched down into the corner of the laundry room. She followed his glare and looked at the towels now tangled on the floor, and she picked up on his silent demand. Slowly, she picked up each towel, crying softly.
“Do not worry about wetting them, I will gladly dry myself with your teardrop
Jessica took her towel and went to the bathroom. Aleks watched as his daughter slowly and cautiously walked away from him, her ass cheeks sliding up and down alternately with every step. His hand clawed, and he struggled to keep it from grabbing a fistful of her.
He heard the shower turn on, and he crept to Jessica’s room. He checked that Jessica was in the bathroom, and he opened her bedroom door. She had left her dirty clothes in the corner of the room, and Aleks walked over the pile, and picked up the red lacey tong sitting on top. His mouth frothed, and his eyes glared at the piece. He felt insulted, betrayed and ridiculed by his daughter – he wondered of the men she must have been with in the night, and how these men must be laughing at having fucked the daughter of Mr Rodger. He turned pale. He brought the put the panties to his nose and sniffed. It smelled like funk – a mixture of sweat and musk – and fish. His cock began to grow in his pants, but he refused to unleash it, instead letting the tip rub against the harsh metal of the zipper. The grown man played with the knickers, fingering each hole between each panty string. He sniffed it again, but this time it was a massive sniff, and his daughter’s fishy cunt permeated throughout his lungs. A wondered came to him – he tasted the cloth; he tasted the inside of the underwear – he tasted the discharge left – the tiny slither of it where her pussy lay moist for hours and hours during the day. Aleks stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it, sucking it dry of all the sex and filth that had built up during the night.
Suddenly, Aleks heard the bathroom door open, and without warning, Jessica flung open the door.
“Daddy, where are my clean clothes?”
Her question was interrupted by what she saw. A look of horror flashed her face; she had no words to describe the scene in front of her, for her mind had never forethought that her own father would ever be found sniffing her dirty underwear.
Her father turned around, his massive frame swinging around to face her. She had never seen his face as white and pale as it was at that moment.
Aleks marvelled at his young daughter’s young eighteen-year-old body. She dripped sex, a towel concealing her breasts and bare pussy. Her hair was wet and stretched down onto her shoulders., flowing and gorgeous. His penis jabbed against his jeans, desperate to erect in his daughter’s presence; desperate to be touched.
“What are you looking at?? Come here, I am sure I put your clothes in one of these wardrobes,” he said.
“Well,” His daughter began to speak.
Sensing her hesitation, Aleks repeated his command, “Come here, I am sure I have put your clean clothes nice and tidy in your drawers.”
Jessica did not want to move, she did not want to even breathe, but she felt compelled to do so, for it was her father – and she was worried what he would do if she disobeyed him. She walked, nervously, into the room. Her heart was in her throat. She thought what her father wanted from her.
“There, there.” He spoke.
“I cannot see where you put my clothes,” she said, opening the first drawer. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she cast sideways glances at her father, who stared each attempt of hers to escape down with the look of a desperate man -a frustrated man.
“Keep looking,” He fiddled with his zipper.
“I cannot find it,” She repeated, now looking at his hands.
Aleks unhooked the buckle of his belt
“Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Something I should have done to you a long time ago,”
“Daddy, please do not hit me; I am sorry about the towels!”
“This is not about the towels, sweetheart,” He threw himself at his daughter. She screamed, and tried to shake him off, but he was too strong for her. He tore the towel off of her, exposing her flopping breasts. He grabbed her breast with his clawed hand, and the neighbours heard her cry for help.
George Antworp was sitting in the living room flicking through the channels when he suddenly heard a cry from across the street. He went to the window and pulled back the curtains, peering at the row of dead houses across from him. Save for the television, George heard nothing, and thus chalked what he had heard to a tired, ageing mind.
“Am I really hallucinating again?” George muttered. He pressed her fingers to her temple, and felt a slight throb radiate their tips. The elderly man closed the curtains and returned to the couch, his attention quickly reabsorbed by the television set, and his unconscious mind slowly replacing the audible memory with the verbose talking points of local celebrities.
Mr Rodgers, having betrayed his daughter’s trust with a wickedness all men possess but a few who realise, for they lack also ambition, pulled and twisted her giant nipple, so that they were hard and red, before throwing her to the floor.
“You disgusting whore; look at what you made me do!”
Jessica did not say anything; her glare said it all.
“Aw, are you going to cry? Give me a fucking break. Come to the living room after you have cleaned yourself up.” He said. Aleks went to the living room, and plopped himself on the couch.
Jessica sat on the floor where her father had left her, sprawled out and trembling.
It was not the first time, and she was sure it was not the last, where her mind wandered to the dark side, wherein all her thoughts became dark and frighting – suicide.
“I am not lovable,” she said.
The young woman glanced at the stars outside her small window. “Will not someone save me from this madness.”
She pulled out her mobile phone from the top drawer, and she dialled her ex-boyfriend.
“Tony,” she breathed.
“Jessica? What do you want?”
“I am not feeling so good. Could you come over?”
“You cannot just ignore me for weeks and then expect me to be there waiting for you. I have moved on. I hate when you women do this.” Tony complained.
“I was not ignoring you. It is just that my father grounded me.”
“Save it, Jessica. I know you have been out tonight – I heard it all from Derek. If you really wanted to talk to me you would have called me the second you were available.”
“But Tony,” she began.
“No, save your breath. I have had it with you. Goodbye.”
Her sobs were swallowed into the cold night, as tears rolled down her pretty white body, when all of a sudden her bedroom door slowly opened. She did not wish to look, but his heavy masculine scent gave it away. It was her father, the man who had tortured her for years, and now he was back to extract more from her – more than a daughter should give; yet, between her legs, her pussy pulsed with excitement – and that made it all the worse for her. It was not enough for him to occupy her mind, he must also take control of her body.
“What do you want?” She said, tauntingly, preparing herself for a slash across the face.
“I heard you speaking to someone on the phone,”
Jessica said nothing, but instead looked down at the floor as a tear fell upon the floor.
“I hope it was not Tony,” he said.
“And what if it was?” Jessica said, giving her father a sideways glare.
“You deserve more than that prick?” He said.
Shocked, Jessica tried to hide her puzzlement, “what do you mean by that?”
“A beautiful woman like you deserves a guy who will not cheat on you.”
Jessica soaked up his compliment, almost forgetting what had just transpired half an hour ago.
“Do not think that I am not still mad at you,” Jessica said.
“I know,” Aleks said.
“I am hurting,” she cried.
“Let me comfort you,” her father stepped into the bedroom.
Jessica stayed where she was, her tears crashing into a pool beneath her.
“There, there,” he said, as he placed his big hands on her shoulders.
She shivered, and tried to pull away but she relented to his tight grip. Her breathing slowed as they embraced.
“I do not know how I feel about this,” she said.
“Do not think; let your father do the thinking,” he replied, squeezing her tighter. He tried to slip his hand in between her legs, and even though she instinctively clamped them shut, her father had successfully made her pussy as wet as the sky in a storm, and thus her subsequent blush made it apparent to Aleks that she was his.
“Daddy, what do you want from me?” She asked.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he replied, rubbing her smooth thighs.
“And how do you suppose that?” A little smile spread upon her face. “Only a boyfriend could do that.”
“Oh, really?” He slowly slid his hand towards her pelvis.
Jessica blushed and relaxed the muscles in her thighs. Aleks withdrew his hand and rested it upon his crotch. He unzipped his jeans and pulled down his underwear, letting his penis flop down his his thigh. He watched Jessica’s face as it devolved into a silent gasp – her widening mouth only exciting his cock more, causing it to grow the length of his own hand.
“Do you like this?” He asked, smirking.
Jessica stuttered, “Yes.”
Jessica watched as her father’s penis wobbled side to side.
“It is so big,” she said.
“Thank you; that makes me so happy,” he said.
Jessica’s breath became shorter and more intense, and her hand drifted towards her aching pussy.
She felt a puddle emerge beneath where she sat – a hot and moist pool of her discharge. Her face reddened severely.
“Come to the lounge with me, and I will put on a movie for us to snuggle up and watch together,” he said, softly. It was an enticing offer, Jessica wondered, but she desperately needed to masturbate, to unburden herself of the frustration her father had caused her, and for which she felt a mixture of shame and disgust.
“Daddy, I want to stay here,” she breathed.
“Maybe I could bring my phone into here, and we can watch it together.”
“Where would we sit?” she asked.
“Yeah, where would we sit?” he asked, glancing at her bed.
“I guess I could make room for the two of us,” she replied.
“Great, I will get my smartphone.”
“And I will set up my bed!”
“Good girl,” he said, as he launched out of the room, turning on the light before he closed the door.
Those words made Jessica blush uncontrollably. She wrapped herself up under the covers, leaving enough room for her father to lie beside her, and took the opportunity to delve deep between her legs, lightly touching her damp clit through her pantie-lining. Before she knew it, her fingers were rubbing her pussy lips in circles; every so often, those same fingers would break their clothed barrier and touch the fuzzy skin of the vaginal instrument, sending shivers throughout her whole body. The young woman closed her eyes, and imagined her father’s cock sinking into her eighteen-year-old pussy. She kicked the covers off.
George Antworp felt a chill run down his spine; he turned off the television and peered again through the curtains, scanning the whole street ahead of him. Diagonal to his living room window, he saw a young woman lying in her bed. Nervously, he stared intently at her bare thighs upon the scrunched-up duvet, and thought why she was squirming, for he was only able to see the lady’s lower body from his position. The old man retreated from the window, and his eyes flashed with excitement. He searched his empty and scattered living room, before remembering that it was upstairs. He found it in his bedroom – his digital camera.
The door to Jessica’s bedroom crept open. To his surprise, he saw his daughter spread out on the bed like warm butter, and instantly he felt his temperature rise and his breath go wild. He placed his phone on the desk beside the door, wherein a mixture of paper and books lay scattered, and slowly descended upon the gorgeous creature; she did not hear him come in, for her fingers maintained their casual rhythm inside her, and her eyelids remained closed – but when she felt the hairs of her father’s burly arms lay across her bright chest, she gasped and shook with the intensity of an overvoltaged wire. He discarded his pants into the corner of room, and threw his bare leg over her trim torso. Aleks could now feel the hot, rapid breath of his daughter upon his neck as his heavy body sank into hers; she felt his cock hardened against her clit, and she removed her dripping and sticky fingers from her pulsing cunt, and dug them into her father’s back, pressing him further into the bed.
George walked quickly down the stairs, careful not to trip over himself and break a hip like many of his coworkers have done over the years, and returned, giddily clutching his camera, to the window in the living room, wherein the lens poked out between the fabric slit of the curtain; through the viewfinder he zeroed-in on the woman’s bedroom window. His palms struggled to hold onto the equipment as he noticed an extra pair of legs in the stranger’s bed; George’s chest grew heavy at the interlocking bodies, and excitement convulsed throughout his entire body. For a moment, he forgot that he held a camera in the hand, distracted by the naughtiness of what he was doing, and by the prospect of masturbating to these memories later. CLICK! FLASH! The camera nearly slipped out of his greasy hands – he forgot to turn off the flash! George, horrified, pulled the lens from between the curtains and drew them back quickly.
“Fuck,” he cursed.
He looked down at his hands, and waited for them to stop trembling; he fumbled with the camera, almost letting it slip onto the floor, and gently pushed the camera through the curtain. He looked again through the viewfinder, and was petrified at what he saw.
Aleks Rodgers slowly inserted his cock into his daughter’s soft eighteen-year-old pussy, and fell deep into an intoxicating feeling of peace and warmth, similar to how one felt as a child embraced by their mother. As he thrust his hips up and down, sliding his thick penis further and further into her wet cunt, the young woman felt more and more unresponsive to the outside world, concerned only with the prospect of reaching orgasm.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She said nothing and kissed him passionately.
Suddenly, a FLASH rocked their tiny window, and it took a few seconds before it registered on Alek’s mind that it was in fact a strange phenomenon, but by then it was too late – he quickened the pace, turned on the more by his daughter’s breasts flopping up and down by the motion. He engulfed one of her tits, and sucked its flesh. She grabbed the back of his neck and pressed down onto her chest, and screamed in pleasure. Her body convulsed like a mad woman, and his hips buckled in tandem. He came inside her, and she hugged him, sweating.