Valentina seduces her father in this one. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, send feedback; if you don't, send feedback telling me why.
If there are errors, please forgive them; I hope any mistakes that remain don't spoil the enjoyment of my efforts to entertain.
GA - La Fortuna, Costa Rica. 10 April 2012.
With her legs hooked at the knees over the arms of the well-cushioned office chair, Valentina jammed the rubber cock into her opening. Her climax was close,
so fucking close,
but not even the knobbly, ridged girth of the dildo could induce the orgasm she desperately craved, no matter how rough she was with it. Every tendon in the young woman's neck corded with frustration as she plunged the faux penis into her body. Deeper and harder it went to no avail. Close to sobbing with desperation, teeth clenched and spitting obscenities, the fingers of her free hand scrabbled for the remote control.
The girl spluttered a curse, her frustration peaking as the move for the device spoiled her rhythm. 'Shit ... You fucking bastard,' she snarled. Her green eyes narrowed to slits in her temper and her full lips pouted. Finally the clawing fingers made contact with the plastic of the remote. 'Porn,' Valentina gasped, desire an urgent burning itch between her legs. 'I've got to come.' She sighed when the huge, wall-mounted computer monitor flicked to life. For what seemed an age to the desperate woman, the computer booted up. As the scene unfolded on the screen there came an exuberant, 'Oh yes. My favourite. The absolute best.'
Valentina adjusted the volume and resumed her reclined position in the cavernous seat. With rhythm renewed, a forefinger busy against her clitoris, the blonde coaxed her body towards a violent, but oh-so-satisfying climax. Valentina came as she watched Wendy Taylor, a British porn star who, approaching middle age, somehow managed to exude an indefinable sexiness that belied her middle-class English suburban looks. In the scene Wendy had supposedly set her cap at her son, seducing him with lingerie and gutter talk. What set Valentina off was the part where Wendy, sitting astride the young man, facing the camera and so obviously enjoying the sensation of being split by a thick cock..
'Squirt it you dirty old slut,' Valentina gasped as her insides clenched around the malleable dildo wedged tight in her cunt. 'Piss that stuff over him,' she squealed, eyes gleaming as she released the dildo so one hand could maul at her breasts while the other fingers rubbed at the nub of her clit. 'Your son,' she mewled, the warmth and delight cascading outwards from the hot core of her sex.
The chair wobbled under the vehemence of Valentina's thrashing legs. She took a firm, two-handed hold of the rubber cock. The bliss as the sensations washed over her senses; oh it was sublime, the relief at finally coming. Valentina loved to wank; she adored this thick rubber dildo, her absolute favourite toy. Not too big to cause injury, especially since she really jammed it home, but designed with all the veins and bulging mushroom dome of a real cock – only this one didn't have all the male bullshit attached to it.
Gasping for breath, with the rubber cock half hanging out of her body, gooey piss flaps clinging to the shaft, the idea came to Valentina. She had no son to seduce, she was only twenty-two, but she did have a father.
Oh, Wendy, she thought. What an idea you've given me.
The preparation and planning of her father's seduction gave the woman immense satisfaction. The build up to the moment was so exciting; the anticipation so intense, that Valentina longed to stretch out in her chair in the study with her best dildo and Wendy Taylor's porn.
'No,' she chastised herself. 'None of that until I've got him. No wanking, no strumming my clit. Nothing. Not until I've got Daddy's cock inside me.' She grinned, feline eyes sly. 'Or until I've got him in my mouth.' She nodded. 'When I'm sucking his cock I'll allow a bit of fingering. But until then ...'
The idea was audacious, seducing one's father went way beyond the pale; the act was immoral, wicked, depraved ... Which is why it appealed to a woman like Valentina. She loved to shock, hence the lurid tribal tattoo, the rings piercing the hood of her clitoris, and now the idea to fuck her father.
'Incest,' she said to herself, savouring the sibilant sound on her tongue. 'Fuck me, Daddy,' Valentina practiced, watching her face reflected in a mirror. 'Stick that big cock into my tight little pussy.' She blinked her eyes and tilted her head, and then, affecting an exaggerated moue with those pouty lips, breathed: 'But don't hurt me with it. It might rip my little pussy right out.' A delighted laugh bubbled from her throat before she finally said, evilly: 'But fuck my wet cunt all the same.'
Valentina had the desire but no plan. The potential for disaster was huge. Her father could explode at the suggestion, and then what – a relationship in tatters? And what about the inheritance? If it all went wrong would he cut her off? Valentina was Jonathon Baxter's only daughter; his sole surviving relative.
The idea of seducing her father consumed Valentina. All other thoughts were set aside such was her concentration on this one thing. In her mind she conjured scene after scene, but found fault with each and every one. In the end she decided upon a bold approach, one in keeping with her personality. If she shocked her father into immobility, gave him no time to think, no opportunity to balk, hit him hard with her lewd demands, Valentina reasoned her plan might just work. She began to plot.
On the day, first in the list of preparations was her hair. She had the already short, shaggy mop tidied and dyed her habitual platinum blonde. Next Valentina also opted for a pubic wax, leaving a tuft of fur, also platinum, at the apex of her slit. A manicure saw her nails shaped and then painted a deep red – the colour of sin, she thought. The shade would match the firebrand lipstick Valentina planned to wear. The outfit she chose was daring, consisting of shiny black boots with killer heels, which reached to a point just above the knees. A miniscule skirt so brief and tight over her buttocks she could feel a draught of air wafting around her bare pudenda when she walked. For effect and to break up the line of the skirt she draped a wide leather belt, black of course, loose as a gunslinger's in an old cowboy film, around her narrow waist. On top she managed to squash her not inconsiderable boobs into a zip-fronted vest affair, leaving a large swath of bare, bejewelled midriff on display.
Dressed thus she smoked a nervous cigarette and swallowed a generous measure of red wine. Emboldened by the suffusing warmth of the alcohol Valentina then phoned her father.
'Hi, Dad,' she said when the familiar voice answered. 'I'm going to a club tonight and I've been let down for a lift. I wondered if you'd give me one.' Valentina's heart hammered in her chest; her knees trembled with a mix of sexual anticipation and fear. It wasn't too late to call it off. When her father arrived, and he'd be sure to give his daughter a lift, anything for Valentina, she could still abandon the plan. 'Why,' she responded to her father's question. 'Because I don't want to take a taxi dressed like this.'
'Bloody hell, Tina,' Jonathon spluttered when his daughter opened the door to her flat and he saw the daring ensemble. 'What sort of club is it you're planning on going to?' His eyes roved from Valentina's face down to the deadly heels of her boots.
Valentina laughed, turning away from her father. 'Shut the door, Baxter,' she instructed, using the name Jonathon Baxter preferred. Exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked along the wide hall towards the living room, Valentina hoped he was getting a good eyeful of her backside.
Her fear and anxiety were somewhat displaced by Valentina's arousal. She felt her sex oiling with delicious anticipation.
'Have a drink, Daddy,' she said, lighting a cigarette before pouring wine into a second glass. Taking her drink Valentina moved to a large easy chair in the well-appointed, sumptuously furnished room.
'I thought you wanted a lift,' Jonathon responded, puzzled at the offer of wine; but took the glass and sat in a chair opposite his daughter.
'Later. If you don't mind?' The blonde drew on her cigarette to calm her nerves. She needed something to curb the trembling in her hands.
