Temptation's Contrast

Anne Marie was the receptionist at my job. Her long dark hair traveled all the way down her back and grazed the very tip-top of her ass. She often wore glasses to hide her two separate colored eyes. She had one blue eye. She had one green eye. And she'd fucked everyone at the office. One day, she'd even slutted her way up to me and I took the bait. I'd fucked the hell out of that girl in a hotel room with my big cock and I thought that would be the end of it.

Well, it turned out that Anne Marie was into much more than getting her rocks off. She was into blackmail, extortion, hell maybe even racketeering for all I knew. She had taken pictures of our tryst and had plans to use them for something. What she had planned, I didn't know. She told me once that she didn't even know.

She'd given the pictures back to me. It wasn't because she wanted to. It was because she had been ordered her to hand them to me. She had been instructed to give up all of the blackmail material by my only daughter Yvette.

She'd obeyed Yvette because my daughter was her sexual master.

And for a good while, I'd obeyed her to.

Yvette was the most sexually capable person I had ever encountered. She'd sucked my cock like no other. She'd banged me in the presence of my sleeping wife --and she'd wiped cum on her sleeping face. She'd commanded me to shoot drugs up her asshole and I'd complied. She'd taken me into a church to suck and fuck and together we'd defiled a very holy place. Sex with my daughter had simply been the greatest definition of total carnal lust and bestial need.

And now it was over.

I had violated her rules. Sex with my daughter had come with a lofty price. She had given me three simple rules to follow.

Always protect her. Always respect her. Never refuse her.

It was understood that I would never, ever fuck anybody but her. She, obviously, was allowed to fuck everything under the sun, but I wasn't even allowed to fuck my own wife. It was a total fucking double standard, but I'd agreed to her conditions.

And then I broke them.

I had sex with my wife and she'd caught me.

Yvette had told me once before that if I ever violated her conditions that she would destroy me. The events of our affair suggested to me that she could. My daughter had a unique and diabolical mind. She'd gotten me to drink her piss one time. She'd forced me to watch her fuck my own boss --a man I hated. She'd made a Sunday School teacher rape a woman from his Church. And she'd gotten the rape victim to eat her out with a fat lip.

Destroy me.

She didn't say that she'd cut me out of her sex life. That wouldn't be price enough for her. No. She had something else in mind for me. Probably something she'd planned a long time ago.

But there was no way for me to know what.

I was in bed, contemplating the gravity of how my life might change for the worse in the days to come. The smell of my wife was all over my pillow. There wasn't a lot of sleep for me the night before. I stared at the ceiling most of the night and wondered what might happen.

Angela had woken up before me to put breakfast together.

I thought maybe now was the time to check in with my daughter and beg her not to make me an enemy. I fantasized that I could somehow get her to understand why I'd gone back to my wife. I hoped that there might be some way to get her to understand. Maybe there was still time to beg and to promise and to do anything to turn her hatred another way.

I pulled my pajama pants on and lumbered down the hallway to my daughter's room. Her door was closed. I breathed in as if the roller coaster were about to begin. I brought up my fist to knock on the door, but I was interrupted.

"Kyle!" Angela called from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

I paused. I didn't even want to holler back to Angela. I didn't want Yvette to know that I was so close to her door. I didn't want her to know I was a coward who couldn't even knock. So I went down the stairs to see about breakfast.

I was shocked to see Yvette at the kitchen table. She wore a denim skirt and a little white polo shirt. She seemed to be dressed conservatively by her standards. She didn't look at me she just spoke to Angela.

"Over easy, mom. Okay?"

"Over easy?" Angela asked with a spring in her step. "You usually like them scrambled."

"I used to take creamer in my coffee too, mom. But now I like it black."

Angela cooked the eggs at the stove and I slowly approached the kitchen table. I knew that if I didn't sit down, Angela would think something was wrong. Yvette knew that too. So I sat.

"Good morning," I coughed.

"Good morning!" Angela smiled at me. She seemed very happy to have our sex life back.

Yvette looked at me with humored blue eyes, "Good morning daddy. Today's the first day of the rest of your life." She smiled at me graciously.

"That's an odd thing to say," Angela said from the stove.

"It's true," Yvette said to her coffee. "It's just a saying. Like 'top of the morning,' or 'the more things change the more they stay the same,' or 'I fucked your dad.'"

I felt the blood rush out of my face as Yvette peered at me from behind her blonde bangs. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and savored my expression.

"Yvette! I can't believe the things that fly out of your mouth sometimes." Angela said over her shoulder as she removed the eggs from the stove.

"I can't believe some of the things that fly

into

my mouth sometimes." My daughter shrugged.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Angela asked and brought a plate of eggs over to Yvette. She set the hot plate down and went back to the stove.

My daughter took up her fork and proceeded to break up the eggs. Despite everything she had said to my wife, she still wanted them scrambled.

"Tell me what?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer or not.

"Yvette's going to get a job."

"Really," I said. My mind raced. "Where?"

"Friends at church," Yvette deadpanned.

"I didn't even know she was going to church, Kyle, did you?"

"No," I said off-handedly.

"Oh, come on, daddy... you knew. Remember Carl and Nadia? We've gotten kind of close. They know some other people who would like to meet me. I can do all kinds of things for them." She paused to chew some of her food. I hung on every word she had to say. Once she swallowed, she added, "of course, you know me... I'll probably end up running the show."

"Coffee, Kyle?" Angela asked. "Whose Carl and Nadia?"

"Don't worry, mom, you'll meet them," Yvette chimed.

My heart skipped a beat and I gave my daughter a pleading look. She caught my look and widened her eyes. She put more eggs in her mouth and chewed them while she stared at me coldly.

"Maybe we should go to church with you sometime," Angela said as she poured my coffee. I felt my breath quicken at Angela's innocent remark.

"I'm not really much of a churchgoer," I managed to say.

"No," Yvette smiled at Angela. "I think that's a great idea! If you'd prefer not to go, daddy, I'm sure mom and I can go without you."

I had no idea what she meant by that. I was quick to amend my statement.

"No, no... you're right, I should probably be with her. You. I should probably be with both of you... when you... we... go."

"Good. That's in... one, two, three, four days. Counting today." Yvette said and forked more food into her mouth.

"This is nice," Angela said. "Breakfast as a family. No arguing. No yelling or screaming. Yvette going to church. I think some things are changing for the better."

"No, mom," Yvette said sheepishly. "Change isn't always good. We'll just have to see, right?"

"I guess. I'm just glad that you're with positive people. Maybe they'll rub off on you."

"I'm sure they already have," Yvette said without hesitation.

Angela blushed a little, "it feels silly to say this, but with all of this church talk, I realized that we didn't say a prayer before breakfast."

"I don't think it matters when you pray, mom," Yvette touched Angela's hand. "I think you can pray whenever you want." She then looked at me. "Would you like to pray, daddy? I mean, do you think it would do any good? Or is it too late for all of that?"

Yvette forked the last of her eggs into her mouth.

I had no idea what she was up to. My mind was a spiral of innuendo, subtext, and manipulation. I must have looked so pale while I sat there at the table with my untouched coffee.

"Are you alright, Kyle?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, daddy, what's wrong?" Yvette looked concerned.

"I think I'm going to lie down," I said. I stood up suddenly and walked out of the kitchen. I could feel them both staring at my back. But I especially felt Yvette.

The walk upstairs was long. I could feel my skin crawl as I approached my bed with heavy feet. I curled up on the bed and kicked all of the pillows away. I heard Yvette and Angela downstairs laughing. Apparently Yvette was making my wife laugh somehow because Angela was laughing louder than I'd ever heard her.

I couldn't drown out their noise, so I decided to take a shower. I wanted to drown them out. I needed time to myself. I needed time to think and not worry.

I also didn't want to go to work, so I used my cell to call in.

Anne Marie answered.

"Hey, It's Kyle... Baron. I'm calling in sick today."

"Under the weather?" She asked in a strange tone.

"Yeah."

"Thought you might be. Zachary told me he

does

expect to see you tomorrow though... just a heads up."

Before I could speak, she hung up on me.

The shower was custom built a few years ago. More like a small room, it was covered in brown marble tile. It was the sort of shower you stepped down into when you entered. Angela and I had spared no expense. Marble shelves sported all of Angela's designer shampoos, soaps, and conditioners. I closed the glass door behind me and switched the water on.

Steam bellowed up from below and I got undressed. My uneasy stomach lurched from the nerves. I felt a dry heave creep up from my belly and I knelt at the toilet. My muscles forced stomach acids up my throat and out my mouth. I heaved another string of saliva and stomach acids. I had nothing in my body to puke up, so all I could manage was the pain of an empty, agitated stomach. I flushed the toilet and stepped through the open shower door.

The water felt brilliant on my back and hair. As it rushed over me, I closed my eyes and gave in to the one guilty sensation left to me --hot water. The sound of the water was all I could hear. No more laughter. No more mysterious dialog. Just the ease of the water as it poured, cleansed, and rinsed. I stood there for such a long time in the same position.

I opened my eyes to look for the soap.

Yvette was in the shower with me. She was dressed in her denim skirt and her white polo shirt. The steam had had its way with her blonde locks --they were damp and stuck to her skin. The shower had sprayed her enough for me to see through her polo shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra. The soaked fabric was wrapped hard against her D-cup tits. Two wide, dark dots signaled her pink nipples and the color of the hoops attached to them was clearly visible. Gold. The shirt dipped inward and hugged her tight belly. She closed the door to the shower to keep us both inside.

"Yvette—" I said.

She slapped me across the face. I shouted my response. Right away, she smacked me with her right hand and her left hand. I reached up to stop her, but her hands stopped on my face and she squeezed my cheeks together. The distance between us was closed when she leaned up and spoke lowly inches from my face.

"Shut the fuck up!" Her voice was forceful. She held her grip on my face. "Or do you want mom in here? Huh?" As she forced my cheeks together and she licked my lips multiple times. Her voice dropped in pitch and she mocked me in a little girl's voice. "Oh? What's that taste? Is it

puke?

Oh. Daddy? Did you throw up? Did you? Oh, poor baby... was it nerves? Are you scared?" She shook my face from side to side as she pinched my cheeks together.

She pushed my head away from her and I grabbed a shelf for balance. A couple of designer bottles fell to the floor of the shower with a crash.

"There you go..." she hissed. "Making a mess of things. Again."

She squatted over the bottles and squirted berry scented conditioner into one of her hands.

"Yvette..." I spoke down to her.

"Talk all you want. I don't hear you anymore, daddy."

She rubbed the conditioner between her hands and then she looked up at me. Her eyes were distant, cold, and totally pissed off. She brought her hands upward and stroked the conditioner over my cock. I felt the cream and the wet shower mix with the temperature of her hands. Her hands glided over my shaft with the right amount of familiarity and vigor. I felt the blood rush into my cock. I stared at her wet shirt and the shapes all but completely hidden away. I was getting hard for my daughter. I felt the erection climb higher and higher with her deft orchestration.

"Before we go any further, father..." Yvette said as she stood up and pointed my raging cock into the steaming shower. The smell of berry filled the steam as she rinsed it off. "You need to know two things..."

She pivoted my cock back toward her with one hand and the other lifted her soaked jean skirt. "First... I'm not wearing panties." She brought her leg upward and rested her ankle on my chest. She touched the head of my raging rod to her all too familiar pussy. She slapped the head against its fleshy lips. Her wet pussy slipped back and forth over the helmet of my meat. My cock was teased.

"Second..." She gave a sinister grin. "...I left the bathroom door open."

My hands went instinctively to her ass and I rammed myself into her. I felt the rush of her familiar shape as her sweet twat engulfed my pole. My daughter grabbed the nearest shelf for balance and her eyes rolled back as I filled her. She lifted her chin and gasped a moan as I pulled back and slammed into her again.

I glanced at the glass shower door. The glass had steamed up with a great, thick layer. The steam on the glass was the only privacy Yvette had afforded this fuck. I had no idea what she was up to, but I was glad to have her informal folds once more milking my proud prick.

"Lift up your shirt," I barked at her.

"No way, fag," she growled and bared her teeth.

I grabbed her shirt and yanked it upward. I pulled it hard and I hooked the bottom of her wet shirt around her head. With her face hidden in the cotton wrapper, I stared at her gorgeous tits as they lifted and fell again with each of my powerful thrusts. I grabbed the closest breast and twisted its fat nipple. I pinched and needed the rough, rubbery flesh of that suckable nub. I could see Yvette's mouth open and stretch the shirt as she gasped in pain. I looked down and saw that I had tugged her nipple ring so hard that it had torn her skin a little.

Blood spilled from her chest and into the shower's water. I bent my head down and kissed it. I touched my tongue to the wound. I felt her hand on my chest as she tried to push me away. I sucked my daughter's blood through her tit and ignored her physical pleas. All the while, she writhed against my cock with as much fervor as she'd ever done before. My baby switched tactics and pounded my head with a fist. She struck me once, twice, and on the third time, I fell back. Both of us tumbled to the floor.

My cock fell out of her dripping sex and she struggled with the shirt that was stretched over her face. She ripped the wet polo off of her face and arms and tossed it aside. The shirt hit the water with a very loud slap and she grabbed my cock in her hand. The water poured over both of us there on the floor and she took my flesh into her mouth.

She grazed me with her sharp teeth and slammed her lips around it.

"Are you alright in there?" Angela said from the other side of the glass door.

Yvette stopped sucking me and stared at me with amusement.

"Yeah!" I said.

Yvette released my cock and stood up. She stepped up to the door. We both knew that she was mere inches from my wife. It was only the barrier of steam that kept her from seeing the two of us.

"I heard something fall," Angela called out over the pouring water.

Yvette lip-synched her and looked down at me.

"Yeah... I dropped some of the conditioner..." I called out. I stared up at Yvette's perfectly tanned body as she held her shoulders back and did a physical impression of Angela.

"No. It sounded like

you

fell!"

Yvette mouthed those words at the same time and pointed down at me condescendingly.

"I'm feeling sick is all! I'm okay!" Which was mostly true.

"Oh, buddy..." My wife said sweetly. "Want me to come in and wash your back?"

Yvette's face lit up and she grinned. She nodded her head up and down like some stupid cartoon character.

"No!" I blurted. "It's fine. I'm fine. I'll be out soon!"

My daughter then turned her back to me and squatted. She lowered herself onto my erection and forced it back into her hot and dripping cum catcher. She raised herself up and down on my cock, a few times and then she leaned backward. Her back touched my chest. She grabbed my hands and ran them over her fleshy breasts. She squeezed my hands into them before she forced my hands further down. She held my fingers to my own cock. I could feel the point where my monster penetrated her. I felt the point where I parted her glistening gash open with my iron hard dick. She forced both of our fingers to stroke the joining.

She sighed on top of me and turned to whisper in my ear, "this is how she should find us..." Her tongue lashed my ear and I stifled a groan.

Yvette put her feet on the shower wall and used the leverage to hump her hips against me. She breathed in through her nose hungrily and sighed through her nose as my cock went in deep and then fell to a shallower depth.

"I liked the sex last night," Angela said. "You've never... kissed my asshole before..."

My eyes shot to Yvette. She frowned at me and locked her blue eyes on mine. "Gonna tell her who taught you that?" She murmured.

"What can I say..? I guess I've always been..." When I spoke, Yvette squeezed my cock with her pussy. She did her best to pervert my tone. She wanted to give us away. "...cur...i...ous!"

"Are you okay? You sound cold." Angela said.

"Naw. Be out in a few!"

Yvette moved forward. With my cock still inside of her, she touched her finger to the steamed glass. She looked over her shoulder at me. Her expression was that of total evil and total sexual ecstasy having a child together. She made two dots and traced a smile beneath them. She then circled the smiling face she'd made there in the steam.

My look must have been of absolute horror, because she almost laughed. She covered her lips with both hands and fell back against my chest. Using her footholds, she rocked her pussy over my cock again. She writhed with the precision and experience I'd come to expect from the slut. The girth of my fat quim-stake was rubbing her right because she was gasping in my ear as she writhed her hips over me.

Angela didn't say anything.

It was possible that she might have left.

Of course it was also possible that she was watching us through Yvette's impromptu peephole.

I didn't know which and I didn't care which, because I could feel myself eager to cum.

"Did she

blow

you last night, father?" Yvette panted near my ear. "Did she taste me... off of your cock?" She rocked her hips even harder. She taunted my cum with her dripping wet, hot cum sucker. I mumbled to her. I mumbled affirmatively. "I wonder what its like for... her... for An

gela

... tasting such a dirty dick, but just loving to have a cock back..."

I lifted my ass up and down on the shower floor. I was desperate now to cum in my daughter. I couldn't wait to hand her this victory. "I wonder if I could ever be that... path

etic

..." Yvette bit my earlobe with her teeth.