Disclaimer: This work of fiction contains incest between a father and a daughter. The characters in this work are all fictional and at least eighteen (18) years of age or older. This work also contains extreme breath play and sadomasochism. The author does not condone the activities with in this fictional work. If you don't like it, please do not read it.
Sunday morning I woke up very early since I had fallen asleep so early the night before. The first light of dawn dimly lit my room, making the pinks and baby blue hues a wash of grey. It felt like a dream, half faded and obscured by the rush of fear that followed the incestuous events. But when I lifted the sheets off my body, the smell that drifted up from my pussy made it all a reality. It was the smell of daddy's cum rotting inside me. It was the smell of my bed, still damp with my juices. All the memories of the previous evening came rushing into my head. I remembered the feelings too, both physical and emotional. The forceful way that daddy took me and the arousal that it sparked inside me. I enjoy being in control over everything in my life like my school grades, my lifestyle, my diet, my appearance to some extent, my friends and boyfriends. Up until last night I thought I had control of daddy too. I knew what outfits drew his attention. I knew how to get money out of him. He spoiled me, and I controlled it. Then he ripped that control from me. It was breathtaking and exhilarating to relent to his whim. It was also humiliating and demeaning, though part of me wondered if that only added to my arousal.
"Does humiliation turn me on or the loss of control?" I wondered in a whisper to myself as I pondered the previous evening.
Perhaps it was the purely perverse nature of it all that made me hot.
"The incest? No... it's all of those things." My hand roamed over the damp spot on my bed as I sat up naked and sticky with yesterday's sweat. There was a small circular crusty spot where my crotch had been.
I'm going to have to wash my sheets today,
I thought as I stared at the spot which I could only think to be some of daddy's cum. My thoughts wandered from one topic to the next.
He wants me to stop the birth control and fuck his friends. What if I get pregnant? Do I really want a baby? Having his baby, daddy's baby... Yeah... That would be hot. Risky, reckless and stupid yet still sooo hot... in a perverse way. Wow! I suppose I am officially a pervert now. I might become a mother one day soon too. A mother... shit... MOM!
Guilt overwhelmed me and I began to cry. I love my mother and I suddenly felt terrible about what I had done to her.
Why didn't I think of her while daddy was seducing me, while I was bending over the kitchen counter flashing him my pussy. I could see her out the window but...
I cried for a few minutes, but I had to pee really badly, so I gathered myself up. I wrapped myself in my bathrobe, a long pale pink fleece that was so warm and soft and fluffy. It instantly comforted me as I tied the fabric round my body. I let out a sigh, turned on the lights and went to the mirror to dry my eyes. I looked like a train wreck. My hair was scraggly and my makeup smeared and running down my face. Finally I quickly picked out something to wear for the day, a pair of light blue denim shorts and a simple black tank top, and then I made my way to the bathroom across the hall. I peed and left my clothing on the counter while I went down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I could smell the eggs cooking as I descended the stairs. I wasn't surprised, daddy was always up early. Although I hesitated walking into the kitchen, I knew I should tell daddy how I felt about mom.
The dimmable recessed lights in the kitchen were on full blast along with the light above the stove. The sudden brightness hurt my eyes and I squinted as I walked into the kitchen. "You're up early," daddy said. "And you look like you've been crying."
For some reason I found it difficult to make eye contact with him, as if I were ashamed of myself. Yet I forced myself to express my emotions openly and honestly, I knew it was for the best. "I feel guilty... you know... about mom. I feel like we cheated on her."
Daddy was standing over the frying pan and he chuckled, "Trust me. You don't need to." I looked at him puzzled and confused. He answered before I could ask, "I suppose you've never figured out that she and I have an open marriage."
"You mean..."
"...we fuck other people," he finished as he flipped his omelet. "We have for years now, ever since we moved into this house. I'm surprised you never figured it out on your own."
A smile came to my face, astounded though very relieved. "Then why can't we tell her?"
"She's... She wouldn't like it. Aside from our open marriage, she is very traditional when it comes to sex. Anything out of the ordinary..." He looked at me, "Well you get the point. Besides, one of the ground rules your mother wants is that neither of us is to speak to each other about their dates in anyway."
I tried to piece it all together in my head.
Most Friday nights my father goes out for guy's night out and most Saturday nights my mother goes out for ladies night out. They always get home so late. Mom is always coming home late from work too. She must be doing some guy there. How could I have known unless they admitted it? Hmph... The phone calls, men calling for my mother, women for my father, never the other way around. He's right. I should have noticed that. I must have been too absorbed in...
"Do you have any other regrets," daddy asked startling me out of my thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Regrets, about what we did?" Daddy had to reiterate.
A grin found its way to my face and I answered, "No way! Are you kidding? It was amaizing! I've never had that happen before."
With a confident smirk daddy said, "I noticed," as he plopped his omelet onto a plate and sat at the table he fucked me on the evening before.