Author's Note: Am I doing an author's note right? Hi. I had entirely forgotten I had an account here. I went to make an account, found my username taken, and realized I had written some weird ass shit four years ago. I laughed my booty off but was honestly excited to write some more. Yo, chapter 2 of Max and Chris coming sometime.
*****
"Dangerous how?" Charity asked.
"He'll hurt you. He has no care for your feelings once he's in *that mood.* He'll use you and discard you until he sobers up." It was hard for Charity to watch her mother tear up. "Just don't let yourself get into a position where he may be tempted by you. He won't be able to help himself."
"Why are you telling me this? What are we even talking about?!"
"You're eighteen, now, and it could happen again any day from here on out."
It occurred to Charity what her mother might be going on about. "Are you talking about... what happened with Sara...?"
"Yes."
"So, it's true."
"Yes."
"We should call the cops on him."
"I could never. I love him."
Charity couldn't deny that she loved her father, too. "But... he can't go around after raping his daughter..."
Corina's face hardened. "He can. And I will protect him."
Charity was outraged. "Mom-"
"Charity! Just-don't let it happen to you, too. He will ravish your tiny body." She leaned closer, wiping her cheek. "*Do not let him see your breasts.*"
* * *
It's true that Charity had large breasts. They were sure to grow, seeing as her forty year-old mother wore a 40FF bra. Most men she'd ever seen had been tempted by them. She wore low-cut shirts in public, and always became giddy when revealing them for the first time for someone over the internet. Looking at them from the front, the areolas nearly covered each entire breast. Her nipples were thick little chodes, her best friend once quipped. For several years prior, she had called Charity "dick tits" in private. She'd occasionally wake from an erotic dream with her nipples erect and rubbing the blankets. She slept naked.
Confirmation that her father raped her sister blew her mind. She saw her father in a whole new perspective. It felt dirty to live in the same house as him. As she watched her father cook, it occurred to her to glance at his crotch. Again, she gained a whole new perspective. She could barely rip her eyes off the bulge, even after he called her by name and saw her staring. He grew silent for a moment-so slight a moment Charity almost missed it-then asked his question.
Charity called Sara. She was on vacation with her friends in Africa, the lucky bitch. She had just woken up, yet Charity was mostly able to communicate with her. She told her she was sorry for not believing in her when she confided in her that she had been raped. Charity cried on the phone while Sara shouted many *it's okay*s at her.
Sara thanked her for calling, and said she loved Charity, but Charity stopped her. "That's only part of the reason I called," she said.
"Oh? What do you want?"
"I-uh," Charity stammered. You can't just ask it so frankly, you freak. "Can you tell me about... what happened?"
"You want to know how I was raped?" Sara asked.
"Not really," Charity mumbled.
"You want to know what positions he fucked me in?"
Charity blushed. Sara came across as actually liking what happened to her. But that couldn't be the case, could it? Charity's perspective was biased for her fetishes. If that bulge was representative of the real thing... Charity's stomach fluttered at the thought. *Sara hates dad,* Charity thought, confident.
"Charity," Sara said, more quietly. "I have to go."
"Wait! We never have time to speak-"
"Charity," Sara whispered. "Do you still like big dick?"
Even after being asked that in random conversations across her life, Charity still felt butterflies when she was asked that. She nodded, then forgot Sara couldn't see that. "Yes," she whispered back.
"Dad..."
She paused. "What?!"
"Dad... has a giant, fat cock."
Charity was stunned. She could barely breathe.
"It's fucking enormous. It's thick as hell and longer than anything you've ever seen."
Charity was immediately wet. Images filled her mind of her father's cock. She couldn't believe both what she was hearing and that her sister was speaking to her like this. She thought Sara was a prude.
"And that's before it gets hard."
"What?!" Charity shouted. She cupped her mouth, looking around. She peeked around the hall and saw her mother looking right at her. She smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"Nobody said anything," her father shouted from the couch. Corina giggled.
Sara was still talking. "...like a fucking horse, and cums even more than one-"
She was feeling so many emotions she didn't know what else to do but hang up. She couldn't move. Her thighs cooled at the presence of her juices. She felt her panties, and they were soaked. She hated Sara right now... and she loved her. She thought only of Dean. She imaged him doing many things: rolling over in bed, stuffing it into his boxers, trying to hide it in public, pulling it out of the boxers slit to piss, holding the arching beast to aim correctly into the toilet, dropping his boxers to reveal it hanging heavy, masturbating, fucking it with his hands, stuffing it into mom, stuffing it into Sara, stuffing it into her-Charity couldn't take it. Without even rubbing her sex, only pressing down on her groin, she orgasmed heavily into her panties.
* * *
She didn't act on her new knowledge in any way, except stare at his crotch every chance she could get without being caught. He only ever wore pants, even in the middle of the summer. She fingered herself multiple times a day, thinking about him.
One day, she thought she'd be real clever and try to see his cock for real. She set her alarm for 3:30 in the morning, and went downstairs to the master bedroom. She opened the door, and it creaked like always. It was probably 5:00 by the time the door was open and she had entered. She looked at the clock and it was 3:33. She had half an hour until he would get ready to leave for work. She went into her mom's closet, and waited.
She wore no panties. She sat cross-legged, baring her vagina to the closet. Soon, with all these thoughts of her father, she couldn't help but rub herself. She masturbated in her mom's closet.
Dean's alarm spooked Charity. She jumped, but didn't bonk anything. She stood quickly and peaked through the slits. He turned on the lamp. He was leaning up, shirtless. He had no back hair, but plenty of chest hair. He did nothing but breathe for a minute or two, then he swept the blanket aside and stood. He shut the lamp off. No! She could make out his image drunkenly cross the room and enter the bathroom. She couldn't see anything!
She heard the door shut, and soon the shower start. She didn't dare leave until... there! She heard the curtains move twice. She opened the door and tip-toed to the bathroom. She grabbed the handle and twisted, slowly. It was silent, unlike the door to the room. Light cascaded into the master bedroom, and she looked towards the curtains to see him staring right at her.
She almost screamed. She bolted, without even shutting either door. She was so stupid! What was she thinking trying to look at her dad's cock?! He must think she's so weird to be creeping about like this! She was furious with herself, and couldn't fall asleep again for two hours.
* * *
A week passed, and though she still thought of her father when masturbating, she hadn't considered seeing his dick even once. She wasn't a freak. Plus, it was her father. Sara's words excited her, but they would have had the same effect if they were said about any man. At least, that's what she hoped.
Another week passed. Nothing. Dean began to get replaced by other images and concepts when Charity masturbated.
Another week passed.
Then it happened.
Her alarm woke her. She set it across the room so that to turn it off she'd have to get out of bed, which she did. She slapped the button and sat on her bed again, exhausted. Dean and the prospect of him having a huge dick crossed her mind, and she had her morning solo quickie. She entered her bathroom, and meant to sit on her toilet but was blocked by a man who was already using it.
Wait, what?
She looked up from the floor, wiping mucus from her eyes. Her father was peeing in the toilet. She could see it. He was facing away from her, but the toilet was to the left, and... she could see it. He held it at the base, and it arched forwards and downwards. *Oh, no,* she thought. Sara had spoken true. Charity was, again, frozen, staring at his cock. She instinctively covered her breasts (as best as she could) with her hands.
He sensed her presence, and stopped his pee stream. He turned his head. He wasn't shocked. He had intended to get caught. His eyes lingered on Charity's eyes no longer than anything else in the room. His gaze went straight to her large breasts. She wasn't doing a good job of hiding much.
Her eyes were wide, and she was horny as hell. She couldn't believe what was happening. She didn't move a muscle.
He turned to her, still holding his cock. She saw his balls, then. She mistook them for grapefruits at first, considering their size. He let go of his cock. It fell and swung between his knees, heavily. She leaked onto her thighs, staring at it.
He continued to stare. She couldn't cover both her breasts and her vagina. If she turned, he would see her thicc ass. Not that she wanted to turn.
They just stared at each other's bodies. He wasn't covering what she was enraptured by, but she was covering what he was enraptured by.
He began to grow hard. He wasn't even masturbating. Don't guys need to do that to get hard? Charity watched in delight, horror, disgust and lust as her father grew hard right in front of her.
He grabbed it with both hands, as if to stop it. His fingers didn't wrap all the way around, not even close-and his hands were much larger than hers. He was a towering guy, standing 6'8", compared to her mother's 5'1" and her own 4'9".
"Please," he said in a low voice. "Leave."
Charity recalled what Corina had told her. *He won't be able to help himself.* She saw only one solution. She dropped her hands to her side, and her breasts fell slightly.
She could tell by looking at his face he changed. His guilt turned into stoicism. Instead of appearing to attempting to stop his erection, his hands squeezed and thrust on his cock.
