Chloes Corruption Ch 02

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It involves elements of incest, and questionable consent. All characters are at the legal age of 18 or older.

*

It was many hours later when I regained consciousness.

I stirred, and at first didn't even remember the events of the previous night. It took a few moments before the dull pain settled in. There was a persistent ache, somewhere deep inside my crotch. The memories of what happened came flashing back, and I frantically turned around only to find myself all alone in the sleeping bag. The tent was empty. My father was nowhere to be seen.

It was a relief. I wasn't ready to face him. Hell, I didn't even comprehend what really happened. With a steadily quickening heartbeat, I reached down to unfold the sleeping bag. Maybe it had been a dream, maybe nothing really happened.

My fingers grasped the smooth fabric of the bag tightly, and then pushed it apart to get a better look at myself. Despite my underwear, there was an immediate scent I didn't recognize - pungent and potent.

I also noticed right away that my bra was still out of place. Right there across the surface of my pale breasts, I could see the red imprints of large masculine hands. I could remember the way he manhandled the delicate flesh while he fucked me. My heart sank a little at the prospect that perhaps it hadn't been a dream.

But there was still one more thing I needed to inspect.

My eyes darted back down the front of my body, past my breasts, and I peered at my underwear. A snugly fitting, purple pair of lace boyshorts. Except, I could right away see a dark, wet spot right in the crotch of my shorts. Dread began to fill me at the prospect of what I may discover.

I lowered my hand down, and pulled the crotch of my underwear aside. I instantly could see multiple strings of a thick beige fluid connecting the fabric to my vagina. The smell grew worse, too. It was the smell of unprotected intercourse.

With nothing left to imprison it any longer, a faint trickle of semen began to ooze out. I watched it in disbelief and shock. This was real. I was no longer a virgin and I had fucked my own father. More than that, my labia was still gaping lightly, and was swollen to twice its usual size. This felt like part of my punishment. I looked like a girl who had gotten

fucked

good and proper.

His sperm gradually escaped me, and uselessly dribbled down to my buttocks. I felt emptyheaded, and simply closed my legs to spare myself the sight.

Just in time, too. The one responsible for my situation appeared before me. My father brushed the flap of the tent aside and stepped in, after which he turned to look at me. Then, his gaze lowered to my crotch. Even with closed legs, parts of my battered vulva were still visible. It was an incredibly awkward situation, neither of us had said a word yet. I could only assume he was about to apologize, frantically, for what he had done. He must have spent his entire morning attempting to think of an excuse for his actions.

"Good morning," he chirped happily.

His eyes moved back up to meet mine, and he seemed to show no concern, or guilt. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me," he went on to explain. "If I had known you were into that, too, I wouldn't have waited this long. Feels like we have a lot to catch up on," he said, after which he sat down on his side of the tent just a few feet away.

I was completely confused and caught off-guard by his brash approach. "You had sex with me," I pointed out.

"Yes, we had sex. I didn't hear you complaining when we did it." As he said that, my mouth opened to retort but no words came out. "It's all right to have some regrets, that's normal. I'm not sure how it began, but it was more fun than I had in years," he added.

Upon hearing those words, a blush crept across my cheeks.

"More fun than he had in years,"

was how he described first popping my cherry, and then unloading his semen into my unprotected pussy.

Still, it was weirdly flattering. I felt desired, even if the affection came from the absolutely last person I wished to gain it from. I had never been the type to masturbate a lot either, so the thought that my genitals were actually good for something, was mildly comforting.

This whole situation was a lot to take in - this was the complete opposite of the desperate apology I had anticipated. He seemed to be under the impression that it had been something mutually beneficial. He didn't seem to be aware that it began with his sleepwalking. Maybe he even assumed that I was the one who initiated it all, or that we both agreed to it.

It occurred to me that I could simply correct him - but that could make him feel guiltier than I wanted to. The damage was already done, after all. Making him feel bad would not restore my virginity.

"I don't have regrets," I replied nervously. Dumb things happen all the time, I figured. Regardless of what happened, I didn't want to damage the relationship with my dad. "People have sex all the time, right? It's normal, I guess." I did not mention that it certainly was

not normal

for father and daughter to fuck each other.

"Thanks, I'm glad you see it that way! Now then, breakfast should be ready soon. How about you clean up, and then join me outside?" He gave me another cursory glance, and left the tent.

I was dumbfounded for a long moment. That was it, that was all he had to say?

"Ow," I cried out bitterly as the ache in my nethers draw my attention once more. The intense scent of sex overshadowed even the damp scent of the forest. I didn't know what else to do, so while more droplets of cum still oozed out of my tenderized slit, I hooked a finger into the crotch of my undies and pulled them back in place. It was an eerie thought to trap his remaining sperm inside my vagina, but what else could I do? There was no sink, or bathroom to clean up.

As soon as the fabric snapped back in place however, I could feel a warm shiver running down my spine. It was like a shock of arousal. It was dazzling at first, but as my thoughts raced to make sense of the situation, one possibility crossed my mind. What if that unexpected encounter last night...somehow got the wires in my brain crossed? Maybe I was now associating the risk of getting knocked up directly with a thrill of pleasure?

"Chloe," I whispered to myself. "Don't be ridiculous." This had been simply a mistake, an accident. As soon as I got back home, I'd take a morning after pill and be done with it.

After making sure that my bra and panties were properly adjusted, I also grabbed a fresh shirt before leaving the tent. He had already seen it all, but I didn't intend for him to see it ever again. A shirt made me feel slightly more modest than flashing my breasts.

The campfire was alive and well once again, and my father had set up a little contraption that allowed him to place a frying pan above the open flame. Within that pan, I could see slices of bacon and some eggs already sizzling away. There was a pleasant aroma of breakfast, but I couldn't ignore the more prevalent issue on my mind.

"Dad, actually...give me a second," I said.

"All right, just don't take too long. I don't want to burn the food on our first day out here," he replied. If I didn't know any better, I would dare saying that nothing extraordinary had happened.

But as I returned to the creek I found a day ago, I very well knew that wasn't the case. The clear water flowing through the creek was pleasantly shallow at multiple points, so I could freely step on a couple well-placed rocks. I didn't even get my feet wet in the process. Then, I awkwardly crouched down and slid my shorts down to my knees.

It took a few seconds like that, with me crouched down and the water still running freely below me, before I could feel something. It began somewhere in my stomach, just under my bellybutton. It was an unfamiliar sensation, slippery and wet as gravity coaxed it downwards. I glanced down to the lips of my vagina, and spotted the first drop of my father's cum emerging from between my aching folds. It uselessly dribbled out of me, and into the water below.

A thicker tendril followed, beige in color. "Oh, God," I muttered to myself. "That...had been inside of me, all night?" The whole concept of cum was still so alien to me - the idea that when a guy ejaculated, his dick would squirt semen everywhere. The female orgasm was clean and graceful in comparison. It was so gross to think that when a man has his orgasm, his dick would squirt this thick white goo.

But, the proof was undeniable in front of my eyes. The sticky tendril of goo eventually severed and also dripped into the water, to be washed away. It felt good to get rid of it, albeit in such an embarrassing fashion. The more I sobered up to reality, the less did I wish to accept even a small chance of getting pregnant.

The process continued for a few minutes. Until I was certain that every last drop of cum was gone - or at least as much as I could rid myself of. Afterwards, I made sure to use plenty of water to thoroughly rinse and clean my vulva from every last trace of what happened.

For the first time since I woke up, I felt somewhat at ease again. The lips of my vagina still blushed with a faint shade of red, but I attributed that to my soreness. After all, the previous night was the first time that something had entered my genitals.

Without further delay, I returned to the campsite and shared a meal with my father. Neither of us made an effort to continue talking about the sex we had. When we were done eating, after we still barely exchanged any more words, he went to rummage through some of the things in the van.

"What are you doing?" I inquired, and approached him from the side. When I peered into the back of the van, I noticed that he was filling a backpack with supplies. There were also two fishing poles, which he proceeded to pick up and push into my arms. "Huh?"

"We're going fishing, it's part of the experience," he replied.

"What experience?"

"The tradition, of course. Just because your mother didn't give birth to a son, it doesn't mean that we will skip the fishing part of the trip. I planned to give you the full experience, so that's what we will do," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Alright, cool. So how do I carry these?" My eyes wandered up and down the fishing poles. They looked incredibly fragile, and swayed with every motion. It took my father another moment, but then he reached for something in the back of the car, and handed me a couple Velcro straps. "What should I..." it took a moment, but then I realized his intention. "ah." I applied the straps to the bottom and top of the fishing poles, which held them together tightly. They no longer felt as fragile as before, it felt more like it was a single sturdy stick I was holding.

"Look at you," he remarked. "My little princess figured it out on her own!"

"Dad!" I grumpily pouted back at him, yet he relished my annoyance. Someday I'd hopefully get used to it, but that day was not today.

Regardless, both of us put on some proper clothes, and departed. I expected it to be a short trip to some nearby lake, but my father surprised me by guiding me through a dense forest vegetation for much longer than I thought. Eventually, the scenery opened up into a lush patch near the mountainside. A wide river ran down the side of the mountain, and passed us nearby, which seemed to make for a decent fishing spot.

We settled down there, just a few feet away from the crashing waters. A blanket made the gravel easier to sit on while we unpacked. Even before we cast a line, I already spotted some fish rapidly swimming down the flow. It would make for another fascinating memory. The only fish I'd seen before, were those in the supermarket, deep frozen and ready to go.

"So, what now?" I interrupted my father, who was readying the fishing poles. "Do we just sit here and hope that we catch something?"

"No, that's not the point of fishing. Really, it's more about just learning to relax. It teaches you to be patient and to just accept things as they happen. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don't." He finished preparing one of the poles, and reached for the next.

"That's surprisingly profound, coming from you," I teased. Alas, he didn't seem to react to it. Apparently he wasn't nearly as easily teased as I was. "So what are those fish doing there anyway? Seems like a bad idea to be such an easy target."

"They're spawning," he replied.

"What, like in a video game?" I watched him cast a line into the waters before he continued his explanation.

"No, not like in a video game. Spawning is like, well. Fish usually don't fall in love, hump each other and accidentally make some babies in the process. It's more straightforward. The female usually just squirts out her eggs into the water, then the male squirts his sperm onto the eggs, and that's it. It's not magical. It's very instinctive for them," he explained.

"It's not about making each other feel good, it's purely about reproduction," he continued. "The females reach a certain age, then specific hormones get released, and then all they can think about is making babies. The sooner, the better."

"Gross!" I interrupt. "That can't be right. Why would anyone do that?"

"It's natural," he replied. Before he could say anything else, a fish took the bait. It was a brief but energetic struggle. Ultimately though, the fishing line broke and the brave fish escaped to live another day. However, it was impressive to watch the way my father fought to catch it. It was a side of him that I hadn't seen before, full of drive and ambition.

We remained there by the river for a few more hours, with varying success. The little bucket we brought with us eventually contained just enough fish to serve as hearty dinner, at which point we returned to the campsite. By the time we actually arrived, the sun was already beginning to set again.

This time, I helped my father as much as I could with the preparations. We were working as a team - I took care of the fire and the tools, while he made sure that the fish were ready to be grilled. The final result was a lavish meal, which tasted twice as good considering how much work had been put into making it.

The whole experience began to feel like a little vacation. As the evening came to a close, we retreated into the tent - mostly - we still had our heads sticking out of the tent and were stargazing. We talked about whatever came to mind. We spent the entire time simply lying on our backs, pillow underneath the head, while staring up at the starry night sky.

But, then came the reminder that this wasn't a normal vacation. I hadn't even noticed it at first, but my father's hand had lingered on my thigh. If I had been born as a son instead of a daughter, none of this would have ever happened. And yet, just because of my gender, I once more found myself in such a difficult situation.

It took a few more minutes before my father's hand wandered up to my belly, and then in one smooth motion slid back down - under my pants, and beneath my panties.

"Dad," I mumbled. A part of me wanted him to stop, since I had been under the assumption it would be a one-time freak accident that we had sex. Apparently he had other plans. Another part of me however also felt a pinch of guilt and empathy for him. He hadn't been dating anyone else ever since he broke things up with my mother. It was safe to assume that he didn't have sex with anyone, either. Would it really be fair of me to deny him that kind of release? It wasn't like I had a virginity to worry about anymore.

His fingers explored my pussy for a brief moment. Then, one of his digits slid down into my cleft and nestled between the warm folds of my vagina. It was such an awkward feeling, to surrender my private parts to him so easily.

When I made no visible effort to stop him, he proceeded to apply gentle pressure until the tip of his finger plunged into me. "Ah," I gasped softly. My flesh was still sore. His intent was still unclear to me, I didn't know if he wanted to simply play with me, or if he was preparing me for intercourse.

That became clearer when he simply began to push his single finger out and in, steadily penetrating me. It did very little for my actual arousal, there simply wasn't enough stimulation. He certainly didn't appear to be a very skilled lover - perhaps one of the reasons why my mother left him? Intentionally or not, he was avoiding my clit. But then another thing occurred to me, based on how silent he had gotten.

It was like he treated me as two different entities. There was the "

me

" as his daughter and child, who he enjoyed spending his day with. But then there was also the "

me

" as a girl, as vagina-owner. Right in that very moment, I realized, he seemed to mostly care about the second one. He wanted access to what was between my legs. It no longer mattered much to him that I was his daughter. He simply wanted to get his dick wet, and expected my pussy to get that job done.

It didn't take long before I could hear a slippery squelch originating from below my waist. It was such an obscene noise, and yet, he seemed to enjoy it since he continued fingering me. It was so damn embarrassing that he could hear the growing sounds of my arousal. I could barely even tell if I was getting turned on. My body reacted by itself!

He took it as sign that I was ready enough. Since we were so close to the entrance of the tent, there was enough moonlight to see what was happening. He got back up on his feet, moved into the tent, and began to remove his clothes, one piece at a time. His dick was already mostly erect. It bounced and swayed with his motions and I could scarcely believe that it managed to fit into me. It was a grotesquely thick appendage, full of angry veins. It clearly hadn't been satisfactory for him to have sex just once. His cock looked like it had been waiting to get back inside me ever since it finished spewing its first load into me.

I also realized the precarious position I placed myself in. On my back. As soon as my father approached and knelt down between my legs, he was able to grab the waistband of my pants, and tug them along with my panties right down. He discarded them just as easily and tossed them into the back of the tent, far out of reach.

Finally I mustered the courage to bolster myself up on my elbows, to be in a slightly less vulnerable position. It didn't make me feel any more confident, unfortunately.

"Good idea," my father spoke to me. "You should get your shirt off, too. Let's see your tits, I'm sure they're just perfect. Maybe a little on the small side," he remarked, "but I'm sure they can still grow."

"I, uh..." before I could speak up, his helping hands already snatched the hem of my shirt and pulled it up before throwing it away. At that point, I reluctantly gave in and reached behind my back to undo my bra. As soon as it came off, my father gave a pleased nod. I was completely naked.

For the first time since I was a child, my father looked me over completely with nothing to obscure the view. My youthful breasts were still perky, and caught his attention first. It must have been many years ago since he had last seen a teenager's tits like this - back when my mother was still around my age. His lecherous gaze wandered down my tummy, flat and toned as it was. There were no scars, no remaining baby fat, I was in pristine condition.

And finally, his eyes moved down to my pussy.

"Oh, God,"

I thought nervously. I couldn't understand what attracted him so much to that particular spot. As far as I was concerned, it was simply a body part. It was a useless slit, good for nothing.