Leasa

When I got home, I made plans to go to Houston and visit my dad. He was glad to see me and started right in with his "Aryan Princess" comments, etc.

When we met at the airport, my mother wasn't there because she was staying with some relatives in Washington . As I came down to the baggage area, Daddy ran up and held me in his arms and whispered, "Welcome home, Princess."

We went out to dinner and Daddy's eyes never left me all evening. Several times, he reached over and held my hand as if we were something more than just father and daughter. He told me repeatedly how beautiful I looked, never once asking about Andy.

When our black waiter was late with our bill, my father made one of his usual remarks about, "those people!" My parents were fairly well-to-do and had always had a superior attitude toward others. My father had this attitude much more with blacks than my mother did, however. As a child, I remember picking some of this up from them. I laughed to myself: my recent past was certainly erasing any feelings of superiority I may have had regarding blacks—or at least, black men--I thought!

When we got home, it was late and I went up to my bedroom and began to undress. My door was left only half closed, and I noticed that Daddy, in his room down the hallway, could watch me in his mirror via mine. It was almost a view by proxy of these two bedroom mirrors.

This brought back so many childhood memories of my undressing while Daddy would often watch me from the view afforded by his bedroom-mirror.

From the age of twelve, Daddy would watch as I combed my long blonde hair and casually undressed myself for a bath or for bed.

I remember it strangely exciting to find myself so subtly and secretly admired by the most powerful man in my young life.

Of course, all this was in the back , the very deepest recesses, of my young mind. But still, if I didn't know, I sensed that this was some secret, erotic dance we would perform, so many nights ago, as I blossomed into womanhood.

Even at twelve and thirteen, I would often find my mouth dry and my hands trembling as I began unbuttoning my blouse, seeing my 'almost hidden' admirer watching me fixedly from his mirror's view.

Some nights as I disrobed, I would see his light go out, and I would have no idea what took place as he watched me in the dark of his bedroom.

Sometimes I would hear Daddy's bed creaking gently, but rhythmically, as I slowly disrobed for him. And I often found, as I'd remove my little panties, a dampness in the crotch that I didn't understand.

The next morning, Daddy and I would continue as father and daughter, as if nothing had happened. And in my mind, nothing did...in that I never understood the meanings of our strange ceremony...and never knew that these things didn't happen in other houses.

After all, we were wealthy, very upper middle class, and considered respectable church-goers to any one who knew us.

Since I was very young, Daddy would often come in and sit me on his lap to say good night. As I entered my teenage years, around 14 or so, Daddy's 'good-nights' to me became longer. In fact, our goodnights became so much longer and closer that we would sometimes be together for an hour or more.

Daddy would hold me on his lap and caress the smooth skin of my thigh as he whispered wonderful and loving endearments to me. I was his "Aryan Princess," the "most beautiful girl in Texas," and many other things that made me lightheaded resting in his strong arms.

He would kiss my forehead as he whispered these loving phrases, and soon, his kisses would trail down the slope of my nose, to my cheeks and, ultimately, to my lips. Soft and light at first, but finally building to deep kisses where I could feel the slight trace of his tongue along my lips--sometimes even touching the tip of my tongue.

I was never sure what to do or how to react, so I would close my eyes pretending to be asleep or in some sort of swoon. It was an understanding we both had, that I was not to be fully aware of all this. Or of the soft caresses of Daddy's hands...along my thighs...and under my night shirt, teasing the nipples of my young—but already full—breasts.

Often I'd find, after he'd lifted me into bed, pulled up my blankets and left my room, that my panties had become moist again. Sometimes more than just a moist. Sometimes my exploring fingers found them soaking wet.

My strong sexual drive was already growing rapidly in my early teens, coaxed on by the tender ministrations of my father's hands, and mouth, and lips.

During day hours, as I became sixteen and seventeen, I'd often find Daddy admiring me in the outfits I chose. He loved my style, my look. Tall, blonde, he called it, "Stately". I think that's where all the "Aryan Princess" stuff came from, as well as our Germanic and Scandinavian heritage (our heritage went way back—we were very Americanized over many generations).

I always loved the admiring way he would look me over in my short skirts, or tight jeans and tank tops. It made me feel very beautiful...and very sexy. Of course, I knew better than to ever mention this to anyone. What I felt from my father's looks and glances was something I knew no daughter should feel--from or about her father.

But inside I knew that I did have these feelings. And I liked them.

And so I found myself undressing again, in the same bedroom I grew up in, at the age of 30, and from across the hallway Daddy and I fell into our old custom.

As I combed my hair before my mirror, I wondered what Daddy would think if he knew that his 'Aryan Princess' was now carrying the seed of a 65 year old, black janitor's baby in her belly. I laughed to myself...what if he were to have seen me the other day chasing this old man and submitting to him in a back room at my workplace. Or down on my knees servicing him in a hallway. His 'Aryan Princess' insanely in love with an old janitor's, big, coal-black dick.

I thought it would surely kill him. Poor Daddy...he worshipped me. And yet it was he who probably awakened the early seeds of lust I had for older, forbidden men.

As I continued to comb my hair I felt a love, a lust, and yet...an anger too...at this man who couldn't keep his hands off me since I was just a little, blonde, twelve year old pixie.

That terrible side of a woman came out in me, and I wanted to tease him unmercifully. Make him want me so badly...and then punish him somehow.

I looked into the mirrors and could see him laying on his bed, pretending to read the paper, but really peering over it, into the mirror, at me.

My fingers began to tremble as I placed my brush down, reached up, and began unbuttoning my blouse.

As I peeled off my blouse, my full breasts, bulging slightly from my brassiere, came fully into view. I played with my hair a little more, putting it up in a pony tail, so as to tease Daddy with the delay. I could see him staring intently at me through the mirrors, his paper lying on his chest, no longer being able to even pretend he was involved with anything...other than watching me.

After fussing with my hair for a few minutes longer, I reached back and undid my bra...but didn't remove it. I let it just sit loosely on my breasts as I pretended to be putting away my jewelry.

In the mirror, I could see Daddy staring strangely at me, his chest rising and falling heavily, and his hand now roughly stroking his rising crotch.

After a few long minutes of sustaining this suspense, I reached up, casually crossing my arms in front of my chest, and slipped the straps of my bra from my shoulders. It slid down my arms and I placed it on the dresser.

My breasts now stood out, full, soft, and yet, firm. They looked almost too big for my slender frame, almost like they were fake, except for the way they'd swing and move so naturally as I continued to brush my hair.

My father's light went out. The familiar, gentle creaking of his bed began. I knew it was time for my performance for Daddy. A performance I had been practicing since I was twelve. One I had perfected for his enjoyment...and satisfaction.

I stood up from the dresser and turned my back to the mirror. I undid the buckle to my jeans and then pealed them off, bending over to display my naked ass to the mirror—I wore only thong panties. (Did I know I would be performing again for Daddy when I dressed that morning?)

I looked over my shoulder to the mirror and rubbed my prominent ass cheeks (men have always told me I have a superb ass), and then pulled my thong up into my crack--in an exaggerated way--before turning back again toward the mirror.

The rhythmic creaking of Daddy's bed grew faster and louder.

I held up my arms to affect a play at my ponytail, but in reality it was to display the full size of my 36C tits against my slender 24 waist frame.

The creaking continued at a still faster pace.

In the mirror my thong panties were now displaying a wet splotch between my thighs...I peeled them off. My bare pussy now glistened in the mirror, its lips full and pouting, my clitty stiff but still sheathed...I began to run my fingers along my slick gash...it felt so wonderful...I wiggled my fingers on my clitty and it brought a moan from me.

The bed was creaking very loudly at this point and I knew Daddy would never last another 2 minutes of this.

At this point, I stopped abruptly. I leaned down and opened my small, carry-on luggage case on the floor beside me. Suddenly, I pulled out a 14" black dildo I purchased on my way home from Amos' fucking of me the day before.

At this the creaking suddenly halted. I smiled to myself, "So Daddy, what are you thinking now?" I held the huge thing up and kissed it, looking directly into the mirror. Then I licked it with such an exaggerated swipe of my tongue that it served as a challenge to this older man just a room away...a challenge to my father...was he man enough to compare himself to this symbol of African manhood.

I lay back on my bed, still in full view of the mirror, spread my long slender legs, and with my right hand began to work the over-sized phallus into my hungry, wet slit.

I screwed my face up painfully to show my father how hard I would work, and how much pain I would bear, to have its size and blackness in me.

First the knob popped in. Then I began to work its length in and out with deeper and deeper strokes. Soon, I was plunging it into my belly, ten or more inches, with each stroke.

The creaking of Daddy's bed had begun again.

I then laid back and began using both hands ramming the huge, ebony surrogate, 12 inches and more, into the depths of my womb. I was grunting now, in a sexual heat nothing was going to soothe except orgasm—the orgasm I could only achieve from pretending I was servicing black manhood.

As sweat poured off me, I could hear the loud banging rhythm of my father's bed creaking and moaning from the other room like I had never heard it before. It spurred me on to ram the humongous, black dildo even harder into my depths. My pussy lips ached from the strain of stretching themselves around the girth of this black, monster dick.

Soon I could hear Daddy grunting and moaning loudly as he achieved his massive orgasm. I continued to work away toward mine, jamming the huge rubber organ into my ravenous vaginal chamber, until suddenly it hit! I screamed loudly, "Amos!!!" Waves of heat seemed to stream through me, my temples pounded, and I broke into a heavy, profuse sweat. Daddy could now watch as his "Princess" shook in a virtual heat, slaked with sweat , climaxing--again and again—over the black, imitation dick stuffed in her grinding twat.

As wave after heated wave of orgasm continued to sweep over me, I felt like my head would explode or my chest would burst. But it felt so, so good. My pussy continued to contract and squeeze away at the large rubbery dick that had given me so much pleasure. I thought for sure I was ruining the toy for any further use the way my spasming pussy continued to grind away at the poor thing.

When I was finally done, I lay there breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath. I lay with my legs wide-spread, the dildo remaining stuck deep in me, with only a few inches sticking out.

I thought I could probably get up and walk around that way with the intensity that my vaginal walls and pussy lips clasped the damaged toy.

I was done, but my pussy wasn't; it didn't want to stop its enjoyment.

It took a few minutes laying there before the large, black toy began oozing out of my battered channel and finally, with a dull thump, fell out on the bed.

I pulled myself up and staggered into the shower.

I thought, "How was the show tonight, Daddy?"

That night I lay restlessly in bed. I was shocked at what I had shown to Daddy and what he may be laying in bed thinking of me.

I dozed off restlessly, dreaming of black tribesmen whipping me and tattooing my ass with the brand of their tribe. I remember being on my knees, hugging the thigh of the aging, African Chief, begging for mercy, offering him anything—anything—for his mercy!

Then I was awoken in the middle of the night with my door being open. Bare feet trod along the floor to my bed, my blankets were lifted, and Daddy climbed naked into bed with me.

He mounted me wordlessly and urgently, and then reaching down and stroking his meaty tool along my swollen gash, he thrust himself into me.

As he began stroking his thick dick into me, my body responded almost immediately...we had both waited so long...

My hips responded to his as though we were age old lovers, and we were soon in perfect sync, slapping our loins together in life's oldest dance.

"Princess, Princess..." he whispered repeatedly in my ear.

"Daddy...ohhh, Daddy..." I chanted heatedly in his.

I held him to me and kissed his neck as he sucked on mine. Over his shoulder, I could see my feet, high up in the air, bobbing with each thrust of his hips into mine.

We were perfect lovers. The engorged lips of my aching pussy, squeezed and sucked away at his fat, pulsating manhood.

This wore on for fifteen minutes, with my bed creaking and banging the way I had always dreamed it would...with the man I had always dreamed it would... Until we reached a crescendo of moans and grunts, and finally a tremendously wicked climax that wracked us both almost simultaneously.

I bit into his shoulder and he groaned with pain combined with delight. His fingers squeezed the cheeks of my ass as he pulled me into him, and our loins seemed molded together as if they were made to be together in just this way.

My long legs locked around Daddy's hips instinctively, and my arms squeezed our chests together as if I wanted him to be mine forever. Our hot , naked bodies sweat into each other and smelled of nasty, nasty sex. A smell that should never be born from a closeness between father and daughter. A smell I had always dreamed would come from the mating of his body with mine.

After minutes of holding each other like this, and straining, panting for air...we finally were able to relax our hold. He brought his lips to mine and we kissed the most sinful kiss a father and daughter possibly could--our tongues fully explored each others' mouths. When our lips finally parted, I let my tongue reach out and slide back over his lips, teasing him into clamping his mouth back down onto mine.

His dick began to get hard again and we began grinding into another round of violent love-making.

We made love five times, on and off, through the night. Around 3:00 AM, we finally fell into a deep, deep sleep, exhausted from our labors.

As morning light began streaming through the bedroom window I could feel a hand stroking my ass. Cool air swept over my naked flesh as the covers were pulled off me.

Daddy continued stroking the fullness of my ass-cheeks, as I lay facing away toward the window.

"So beautiful...," he whispered, with a lust I had never heard in his voice before.

As his hand began stroking more roughly and occasionally even grabbing and kneading the soft flesh, he whispered again, almost as if he were in some erotic trance, "Sooo fucking beautiful!!!"

"Ohhh Princess, your ass is fucking perfect," he hissed. And he began kissing my ass.

I rolled over face down, into the soft pillow I was hugging. I lifted my ass slightly, encouraging his worship of my backside. It felt like nothing I could ever explain.

I felt so beautiful to have this man, my father, kissing and making sweet, sweet love to my ass.

I lifted myself slightly onto my elbows and let my large breasts hang down into the pillow. I began to, ever so gently, wiggle my ass under my father's, almost tickling, lips and tongue.

Daddy began to gently bite my cheeks, playfully and lovingly, at first, then more roughly.

"Ohhh...Daddy," I moaned as the sensation and pleasure--the whole idea of it--continued to build in me. I reached down and began lightly massaging my clit, as I knew I would soon need relief from the building tension.

Then I began to feel it. Daddy's tongue was licking the mounds of my ample ass, first one, then the other. And then I could feel his warm, wet tongue slowly work its way into the crack of my ass.

My finger began wiggling more urgently at my clitoris now and the thought of what he was about to do made my breathing very heavy and labored. I was becoming so excited that I was having trouble getting air into my lungs.

Daddy's tongue stroked and wriggled its way deeper and deeper into the well of my ass cheeks. Soon he was licking fully up one side of my crack, then up the other. I spread my knees further, lifting and opening my ass obscenely to accommodate him lapping even deeper into my ass crack.

Then—at long last!—Daddy's tongue stabbed into the crevice of my anus! I thought, this is my father, penetrating my most intimate hole with his tongue—his organ of taste! He forced his tongue deeper into my ass hole, probing into a recess so forbidden I'd never even let my husband there before. But now I opened this secret, sinful orifice...to my father.

I pushed my ass back gently, trying to offer more of my anal channel to Daddy's exploring tongue as it began to fuck in and out of my back hole.

Daddy was now slobbering and wiping his face back and forth into my ass cheeks, as he held my hips firmly. He snorted and breathed deeply, like a man possessed. I could hear him almost chant like, muffled deep in the flesh of my ass crack, "Princess, Princess...so beautiful..."

My pussy juices were flooding down my inner thighs as my father ate away at my ass!

Finally, he pulled his face out of my ass, grabbed three pillows, piled them on the lower part of the bed and said, "Princess, drape yourself over these with your sweet ass way up high, honey!"

I was so hot! Without question I maneuvered myself as he had requested and bent myself over the pile of pillows, my ass sticking high up into the air, exposing it fully to his lust. I even subtly shimmied my knees on the bed, so as to widen my cheeks for whatever Daddy might have in mind--to satisfy our mutual craving.

Kneeling on the bed, positioned right behind me, as he was, staring intently down into the crack of my ass, rubbing his slick, fat dick up and down lewdly between my cheeks...Daddy seemed to almost be praying at the alter of my ass. It was as if he was about to perform a sacred, ceremony...initiating his own daughter into a secret, taboo rite of passage.

The fat plum that was the head of his dick began to lean in on my anus. The pressure slowly was building but Daddy hesitated for some reason. The tense silence in the room was broken with my answer to his hesitation: I whispered,"Yesssss! Daddy, yesssss...."

He plunged his beer-can thick cock deep into my tight, virgin ass. "Owwww...." I screamed at the searing pain in my bowels. But, at this point, Daddy was lost in a crazed obsession to possess my anal cherry.