Daughter Sucs Dad's Coc

Taking her deceased mother's place, Wendy willingly and consensually has sex with her grieving father.

Continued from Chapter 01:

"I tried to explain the feelings of sexual pleasure that I receive when controlling a man with my hand and, especially, with my mouth," said Elenore. "Yet, my friends looked at me as if I was crazy. Disgusted by the thought of a man's prick in their mouths, they didn't even want to hear the reasons why I enjoyed having oral sex."

Elenore sipped her wine while confiding in her daughter about her holier than thou, sexually frigid, and seemingly, virginal friends. An unfair exchange, all of them married for money but instead of giving their men what they wanted, sex, especially oral sex, they gave them their unpaid, charge card bills. Instead of giving them sex, while hoping that their husbands would take lovers and, then, they could divorce them, they gave him their nasty attitudes.

Seemingly, only having sex in the beginning to get what they wanted, money, they all hate having sex. Obviously, they truly don't love the men they married. Sadly, and undeniably, they had sexual intercourse to entrap their men. Then, once they had his baby, and got what they wanted, they stopped having sex," said Elenore. "Is it any wonder why all of their marriages ended in an embattled and bitter divorce?"

Much different from those women, like mother like daughter, she knew that Wendy sucked cock because they had that mother and daughter, sexual talk years ago. With them open and honest in their mother and daughter sexual discussions, she knew that her daughter loved sucking pricks as much as she loved sucking pricks. A natural aphrodisiac, albeit an acquired taste, like mother like daughter, Elenore knew that her daughter loved the taste of cum as much as she loved the taste of cum.

"Because of you, I love sucking cock, Mom. There's something special about getting a man off by stroking him and sucking him. Then, when he ejaculates his cum in my mouth, I take that as a compliment for a blowjob well done. Finally, always a nice surprise, when I release his prick from my lips, I love it when he ejaculates a second load of cum all over my face, in my hair, and across my naked breasts," said Wendy while relaxing with a glass of wine with her mother.

Elenore smiled lovingly at her daughter.

"I assume you're using that oral sex, cum bath technique that I taught you," said Elenore.

Wendy returned her mother's loving smile with her loving smile.

"Of course, I am, Mother," she said. "Thank you for teaching me that. I never met a man who didn't like that special, oral sex talent."

Even though her daughter admitted that she was using her mother's oral sex technique, and with her not having much longer to live, less she forget, Elenore felt compelled to reiterated her sexual instructions regarding giving men better blowjobs.

"When sucking a man, after he cums in your mouth, especially when he hasn't already ejaculated a second load of cum yet, you must continue sucking him while licking him clean. Using your mouth as if your lips are your hand, apply firm pressure to both sides of his cock with your lips by moving your head back and forth and to and fro," said Elenore.

Wendy nodded her head.

"I know all of this mother. You told me and I use your technique when giving a blowjob," said Wendy. "I do," she said.

Ignoring her daughter, her mother continued with her oral sex instruction.

"When applying additional pressure to the sides of his cock with your lips and to the head of his cock with your tongue is like shaking a champagne bottle," said Elenore. "As if his cock is a volcano that's about to blow, you'll know if you're doing it correctly when you feel his prick throb and pulsate in your mouth."

Wendy patted her mother's hand.

"I know that Mother and thank you for teaching me how to give a better blowjob," said Wendy.

Obviously, she was grateful for her mother's tutelage in graphically and sexually explicating instructing her on how to give a better blowjob and how to be a better cocksucker. With her mother, clearly thinking it that important enough to reiterate her instructions, and not wanting her daughter to forget her last, oral sex instructions after she was gone, she continued repeating all that she had already told her daughter.

"Then, when you finally release him from your mouth, he'll explode a second load of cum and give you a much deserved cum bath," said Elenore with a dirty laugh. "Many women suck cock but all men love women who really know how to suck cock. All men love cumming in women's mouth. All men love women who swallow. It's really not a blowjob, unless a man cums in your mouth and you swallow his cum. Lastly, and equally as importantly, all men love giving women cum baths," she said with a dirty laugh.

If only her mother knew that she was giving her daughter instructions on how to blow her father. If only her mother knew that soon, Wendy would be sucking her father's prick. She couldn't help but wonder if her mother would have been as forthcoming with her blowjob and cum bath instructions if she knew that her husband would be cumming in his daughter's mouth and all over her face. Then, again, maybe, subconsciously, her mother wanted her daughter to take her place. Better than having sex with one of her friends, maybe, she wanted them to have sex after she was gone.

Chapter 02:

A good-looking man, in good physical condition, and earning a good living, my Dad always looked ten-years younger. With him now newly widowed, as if he was fresh meat, brazenly, aggressive women swarmed around him vying for his sexual attention and his romantic affection. My mother's friends and women he didn't even know and have never met continually called him on his cell phone to offer their condolences while, obviously, hoping for a date.

How they got his cellphone number, he didn't know. Unable to change his number, he had clients who called him on that phone. Yet, one after another, a procession of shameless women continually called him on his cell phone.

The lonely and opportunistic women sent him a barrage of unwanted e-mails some with photos of them scantily dressed in their nightgowns, bras and panties, topless, and even naked. How they got his private e-mail address, he had no idea. When he didn't answer their phone calls and/or respond to their e-mails, while dressed in their sexiest clothes and wearing their best and most expensive, French perfumes, they unexpectedly and unannounced came to the front door to visit.

A sheep surrounded by a pack of wolves, unable to read the landscape, obviously, they couldn't see or chose not to see that my father preferred simple women. He preferred women who didn't need expensive clothes, lots of makeup, and perfumes to make the appear sexy and beautiful. My mother was a natural beauty. She could have gone out not wearing any makeup and with a bag over her head and men would still turn and stare.

With my lust, jet, blue-black hair and my bright blue eyes, I was the carbon copy of my mother. We looked alike, talked alike, laughed alike, and walked alike. A younger version of my mother, I could have been her younger clone. Anyone who saw us together, instantly knew that we were mother and daughter. Some men even mistaken us for sisters.

After offering him their condolences, inviting themselves inside his house, they didn't leave until my Dad lied about having an appointment. Smiling sexily at him while flirting with him, they blatantly threw themselves at him. When sitting across from him, while pretending that they were unaware that they were flashing him, they seductively crossed and uncrossed their legs. They continually flashed him up-skirt peeks of their nylon clad thighs, garters, and silk panties. Then, sexily leaning over him to hug him and kiss him goodbye, they gave him slowly and deliberate down-blouse views of their cleavages and bras.

'Whores. They're all such whores. Yet, nothing more than window dressing when they refused to move down to their knees to suck cock, what kind of woman doesn't give blowjobs? A gold-digger, that's the kind of women who doesn't suck cock,' thought Wendy. 'They're not after him. They're after his charge cards. They don't want him or his prick. They want his money.'

# # #

"Dad. Mom asked me to protect you from them," said Wendy disgusted by their phony show of caring about him. "I apologize for being so explicitly sexual but she told me to tell you that none of them suck cock," said Wendy giving her father a sexy smile and a naughty look. "Even though they may look like they would, not one of them have ever given a blowjob. Forget about cuddling on the couch, once they get you to marry them, they'd never have sex with you again. They'd be too busy spending your money," said Wendy.

Her Dad sadly smiled while nodding his head in agreement.

"I know. Your mother warned me about them. Thank you, Wendy," he said giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "You're a good daughter to watch out for my best interests."

Knowing that he was lonely and missing his wife, her cooking, and her baking, while hoping to tempt him into a sexual relationship or more with food, women continually brought him food and fresh baked goods. Finally, for them all to stop and leave him alone in peace to grieve, no longer being polite, he stopped answering their phone calls, their e-mails, and the door. Yet, every day for more than a week, he'd find cards, flowers, balloons, and food whenever he opened his front door. Ignoring them, he ate the food and the baked goods and threw all of the rest in the trash.

Only with my Dad, Steve, driving back and forth to visit my mother in the hospital, the nursing home, and in Hospice care, my father hasn't had a good night's sleep since she was diagnosed with stage 4, terminal cancer. I worried about him not sleeping. Unable to sleep, not knowing what to do with himself, he stayed up late watching TV or mindlessly staring out the window. Unlike most men who'd lose themselves in alcohol or who'd have meaningless sex with a multitude of women, a good man, I was thankful that he wasn't much of a drinker or a philanderer.

The love of his life, obviously, he deeply missed my mother. Married for thirty years, when he lost my mother, lost without her, he lost his best friend, his confidant, and his constant companion. While talking, laughing, and joking around, they'd play cards, board games, and watch movies while cuddling on the couch, having sex, and making love. Traveling whenever on vacation, going out to eat, and going to the movies, they were happy together.

The couch, positioned in the far corner of the living room and angled away from the light, the perfect, private place to watch TV, to cuddle, and to have sex, was symbolic of their love. As comfortable as their bed, every night my mother would fluff up the pillows and put a clean sheet on the couch. The couch was where they made out, had sex, and made love while I was sleeping. With the couch, an overstuffed, oversized one, plenty long enough, wide enough, and comfortable enough for two people, instead of going to bed, many evenings they fell asleep on the couch holding one another.

The next morning, I'd find them there still asleep on the couch while holding one another. Childhood sweethearts, they truly loved one another. I wished that I had a loving relationship with someone like my mother had with my Dad. I wished that I loved someone in the way that she obviously loved him and in the way that he obviously loved her. Instead of hurrying to leave me as soon as I finished sucking them and/or fucking them, I wish someone would spend the night with me and fall asleep while holding me in their arms.

Yet, men are much different now than when my mother was dating. Instead of finding someone from their own neighborhood, they searched the country and the world on the Internet to find their special someone. Even after finding their perfect love matches, unable to commit, they continually played the field. The last thing that they wanted was to settle down and get married. They last thing that they wanted were children to ruin their good times, spoil their fun, and spend all of their money.

'A good man is hard to find,' thought Wendy while looking at her father.

# # #

With her always cold, my mother had a collection of long and warm, flannel nightgowns. His favorite type of nightgown, my father loved flannel nightgowns, too. Instead of wearing a short, sheer, low-cut, and sexy nightgown, even in the summer, she wore her long, thick, and warm flannel nightgowns to bed. If she got too warm, she'd just kick off the covers and/or crank up the air conditioning. On the warmest nights, stripping themselves naked sometime during the night, I'd find them sleeping there with just a sheet over their naked bodies.

I'm not ashamed to admit that seeing my parents naked while only covered by a thin sheet, especially when seeing the big bulge my Dad's cock made beneath the sheet, made me as jealous as it made me horny. In the way that he was always touching her and feeling her through her nightgown, he obviously loved my mother's sexy, flannel covered body. Never asking her to wear something sexier to bed, he obviously loved how flannel felt on her shapely body and in his hands.

Now, with him living without her, not wanting him to become ill from lack of sleep, I racked my brain trying to think of what I could do to help my Dad get some much-needed rest. Unless I fixed my Dad up with another woman, yet, too early in his mourning period for that, there was little that I could do. I wasn't his wife, his girlfriend, or his significant other. I was his daughter.

'He can't go on like this,' I thought. 'It's up to me to help him. It's up to me to save him from himself. Yet, what can I possibly do to get him to sleep and get him some much needed rest,' I thought?

Having had that all of his life, obviously, lost without my mother, he needed the loving affection and sexual attention of a woman. Only, and again, I was his daughter and not his wife. There was little that I could do or give him to help him. There was nothing that I could do to get him to sleep.

What my father needed was what I couldn't give him. For him to sleep, my father needed a woman's willing hand, her experienced mouth, and her warm, wet pussy. He needed the sexual excitement and relaxing comfort of a sexual relationship. He needed sex. He needed my mother to give him that but, with her no longer alive, she was dead. My mother was dead. His loving wife was dead.

After witnessing the endless barrage of wicked women chasing after him, I feared that he'd be weak enough, lonely enough, and sexually tempted enough to succumb to one of them. The last thing that I wanted was to lose my father to some bitch of a gold-digging and conniving whore. Besides, I promised my mother that I wouldn't allow that to happen.

With my mother always sucking my Dad's prick and none of those women giving blowjobs, they could never sexually satisfy him enough for him to sleep in the way that he did when soundly sleeping with my mother. As strange as it was true, with my mother giving my father oral sex nearly every night, he had become accustomed to cumming in her mouth. Obviously, he couldn't sleep without that kind of sexual excitement and relaxing comfort. Clearly, the blowjobs that he received from my mother was his security blanket.

# # #

Then, I finally thought of something, something as loving as it was innocent. Yet, perhaps, if someone with a dirty mind turned my innocent, loving actions, incestuously sexual and sexually wicked, my suggestion for him to sleep may be deemed sexually inappropriate. Nevertheless, hoping to replicate the cuddling experience so that my father would finally get a good night's sleep, a bold and selfless act on my part, I decided to cuddle with him on the couch while watching a movie.

Hopefully, a dangerously, decadent thought, maybe he'd even have sex with me in the way that he had sex with my mother. Only, in the way that he'd never have sex with his daughter, I'd never have sex with my father. Nothing more than just cuddling while watching a movie, forget about having sex with my father, hopefully, he'd fall asleep holding me in the way that he fell asleep holding my mother. Hopefully, he'd finally get some much-needed rest.

Still, a shamelessly, drastic move on my part, as if sub-consciously vying to take her place, I even wore one of my mother's long, flannel nightgowns to cuddle with him on the couch. Hard for me to believe but I felt sexy wearing one of her flannel nightgowns. Maybe, him touching and feeling the flannel would soothe him to sleep. Maybe, him touching and feeling me would help him from missing my mother. If it helped him to sleep, I'd be willing to allow him to hold me, touch me, and feel me through my mother's nightgown.

'Suddenly, in the way that he did every night with my mother, I was sexually aroused by the thought of my Dad feeling my tits, fingering my nipples, and feeling my ass through my mother's flannel nightgown.'

Unlike the short, sheer, low-cut, and sexy nightgowns that I usually wore to bed, easy to put on and easy to remove, the flannel nightgown buttoned from the neck all the way down to my pubic hair. Shamelessly, while buttoning the nightgown in my full-length mirror and embarrassing myself, I imagined deliberately, sexually teasing him. I imagined walking around my Dad with my nightgown totally unbuttoned. I imagined my naked breasts and erect nipples clearly visible along with the top of my black, trimmed, pubic hair.

'Did I dare show my Dad my naked breasts? I didn't know if I was a whore enough and if I would but, suddenly, I wanted him to see my naked tits,' I thought. 'In the way that I wanted to see his naked cock, I wanted him to see my pink, symmetrical areolas, and my pink, erect nipples.'

Sexually arousing myself and making myself wet, while making my flashing appear unintentionally accidental, I wondered what he'd do or say if I exposed my naked breasts to him. Now, that I thought of doing it, something that I never thought of doing before, with my mother no longer around to judge me, I'd love to show my father my naked breasts.

I wondered if he'd look. I wondered if he'd stare. I wondered if he'd leer. I wondered if he'd comment on my naked breasts in the way that he always commented on seeing a woman with big breasts on TV.

'Nice tits, Wendy,' I imagined my father saying. 'Your breasts look exactly like your mother's breasts,' I imagined him saying that and for him to have a closer and longer look at my naked breasts. 'May I touch them? May I feel them? May I suck them,' I imagined him saying while getting myself all wet. 'If you allow me to touch, feel, and suck your naked prick, I'll allow you to touch, feel, and suck my naked tits, Daddy,' I imagined saying.

Then, imagining that he'd look, stare, and comment, if he dared unbutton me while cuddling with me on the couch, he'd have access to my not only my naked breasts but also to my naked pussy, too. Already horny, and with my sexual thoughts about my father making me even hornier, I imagined him touching my big tits. I imagined him feeling my big tits while fingering my erect nipples. I imagined him sucking my big tits in the way that he always touched, felt, and sucked my mother's big breasts.

'Not that he ever would, yet, I was already sexually aroused just thinking of my father touching me and feeling me through my mother's flannel nightgown. I was already wet just thinking about my Dad slowly and stealthily unbuttoning my nightgown while cuddling with me on the couch,' I thought. 'Busy cuddling him, I'd pretend that I was unaware that he was unbuttoning me. With me being the wicked whore that I am, I'd love him to see, touch, feel, and suck my naked breasts while turning, twisting, and pulling my erect nipples,' I thought.