Bad Deal

For a moment it seemed like he was considering it. The plan was that Vanessa missed our earlier dinner because she had a headache, and was supposedly asleep in her room. I was to text her yay or nay, and she would come downstairs in sexy lingerie for the big event, or, if not, we would leave quickly.

We assumed Tony would simply sit there and wait, but that didn't happen.

"You little bitch!"

He flew off the couch and came toward me. The side of my face instantly burst in pain as he hit me with his open hand, knocking me onto the floor. One leg flew up in the air and my dress hiked up almost to my waist. The large-armed, barrell-chested man reached down and grabbed my g-string panties below my navel like a handle. They yielded easily and slid up my thighs and calves, stretching to their limit between my open legs.

I expected him to descend, pin me down and forcefully inject his dick into me, peppering his efforts with more strikes to my face. But instead he twisted the stretchy panties into a rope and instantly it was around my neck. Standing over me but bent down, red faced, veins at his temples bulging, Tony was choking me. This was it, I was going to die. The look of rage in his eyes was truly frightening. My life flashed before my eyes. I know that's a cliché, but it really happened. Many of the images I saw are described above.

After half a minute of painfully gasping for air, I was luckily released. Tony grabbed a nearly full Jack Daniels bottle by the neck and stomped up the stairs. I heard a door slam, then everything was quiet. I heard no noise, and surmised he didn't go into Vanessa's bedroom. As I caught my breath and unwrapped the panties from my windpipe, I felt horrible. I really liked Tony, and now I'm sure he felt completely hurt and betrayed. I went up to our bedroom, and instead of finding Vanessa dressed in lingerie, anticipating a night of incest, she was in a big chair asleep in an old t-shirt, lights on. An empty wine bottle lay at her feet. Maybe she was scared after all, or didn't think I would go through with it. The whole night was a dammed disaster. Wishing I had never agreed to the plan, I turned the TV off, left a single lamp on, slid out of my dress, fell onto the bed and slept.

Tony and Vanessa

A few hours later I awoke to a commotion, then heard my name. The sun was just rising. Apparently Tony had changed his mind.

"Oh shit! Claire! Lube me!" The strained voice was Vanessa's. Next to the bed, she was being held by a choke hold from behind. Her t-shirt had been ripped open, and was now around her waist and one elbow. Her father, who was drunk, naked and carrying a booze bottle, began yelling into her ear. She was now held under hers arms, off the floor, her feet pedaling in the air. Her panties spun off a flailing ankle.

"You're not my little princess! You're just another fucking whore like her!" His eyes were red and glassy from the whiskey. "You know what I do to stinking whores, don't you?"

I panicked as I jumped out of bed and began unzipping the luggage. We always kept lube handy, mostly for my girlfriend's incursions into my rectum. Frantically I checked compartment after compartment. Finally I found the tube and squirted a big, clear puddle into my hand.

Tony had released his daughter and shoved her into the nightstand, knocking over the lamp that singly lit the room. The bulb darkened, leaving the orange glow of the rising sun as the only illumination.

Vanessa, horny and surprisingly not intimidated by his aggression, hopped onto the bed on her back and raised her legs about the time I splashed my palm onto her bare vulva. I fingered her quickly to get the lube inside before her father's infuriated cock arrived. She reached out and held my other, dry hand for a moment and squeezed it. A quick smile formed across her lips as tears of joy tumbled down her cheeks. Suddenly a hand on her jaw forced it to accept a mouthful of Jack Daniels, and she continued to cough down the whiskey as her father used her ankles as handles while he knee-walked between them. I then watched my girlfriend endure a slapping, yelling rampage. Vanessa's face flipped side to side as her father smacked her and called her a whore or cunt with each pass. Her breasts recoiled as they were assaulted also, exposed by the tattered shirt. Seeing Vanessa submissive was rare and sincere; she was usually the dominant one between the two of us, and didn't abide such abuse from any other men.

"Get out you skank!" An order directed at me, accompanied by another strike to my jaw by Tony's large open hand.

The painful slap sent me flying backwards. Off balance, I fell to the carpet. I arose to just over the precipice to see, in silhouette, my girlfriend reach out to him with both arms and dutifully spread her legs wide - at thirty-one she could still almost do a split. Tony lowered his hips and shoved his erect thickness inside his daughter with an angry grunt. The deed was done. There was no going back now, no matter what happened from here on out, he had violated the young woman he sired. The bed began to jolt as those now mating responded like animals, grunting, barking phrases - 'yes Papa, fuck me Papa', 'you little whore, you nasty cunt'. I could hear Vanessa sobbing with joy as their bodies quickly became glazed with perspiration. Their colliding flesh made a slapping cadence and the orange light of the sun gave their sinews a hellish glow, as if to emphasize the insidious, unsanctioned act, undertaken purely for unnatural pleasure.

Mesmerized, I watched them writhe together, occasionally kissing deeply, then she would be slapped again seconds afterward. Vanessa's legs wrapped around her Papa as he fucked her harshly, sometimes biting and stretching the upright peaks of her solidified nipples. Vanessa had become blasé about sex with men in the last few years, but not at this moment. After enduring his onslaught for several minutes, I could tell by her groans an orgasm was forthcoming. It was a sensation, for her, that usually required more specific attention to her clitoris.

Soon she was crying out to the morning sky and her torso was randomly rigid. The profane verbosity continued as her father kept fucking the hell out of her, working off fifteen years of her exhibitionism and flirtation. Vanessa, her beautiful, tearful face now more visible in the dim glow, erratically wailed as she climaxed several more times. Reaching the limit of his restraint and having quite successfully ravished his daughter, Tony, still cursing at her, withdrew his glossy, beautifully sculpted weapon. A reciprocating hand disrespectfully sprayed his seed - the same product that created Vanessa over thirty years ago - like a fountain all over her midsection.

The most passionate, incredible fuck I had ever seen was over.

Tony stood to walk out and grabbed the nearly empty Jack Daniels bottle, and threw it across the room, loudly shattering it and the framed family portrait he was aiming for. Moments later we heard his bedroom door slam.

Meanwhile, the familial fluid, heretically extracted, was deceptively white and pure, like melting snow in her navel. Rivulets spanned her heaving, moist, taut stomach, everything sparkling in the higher sun. A fingertip interrupted the landscape and gathered a quantity for Vanessa to selfishly savor on her tongue, then another, and another.

I crawled back into the bed, greeted by the not uncomfortable aromas of body sweat, vagina and spermatozoa. She spooned me from behind, sobbing softly, moistening my neck with her tears and my lower back with her Papa's cooled semen. We said nothing and drifted off to sleep.

Tony left before we stirred at lunchtime the next day. He practically disappeared for the next couple months, and didn't return our calls. I'm sure it upset Vanessa, but she didn't let it show.

- - -

Near the end of the summer, I got an invitation from Vanessa, a cell phone-garbled voicemail, to meet her at the beach house once more. My response was a voicemail as well, so we didn't actually speak. Her father hadn't banned her from using the house; I think the property was in her name anyway. A sedate weekend with her kids at the beach seemed to be on the agenda.

I arrived and parked in the driveway. I saw no other cars but they could have been in the garage to avoid the summer heat. I grabbed my bags and trudged up the stairs, letting myself into the foyer - I've had my own key for years. I called out but there was no answer. I could hear the television, and wandered in that direction after depositing my luggage in the guest bedroom that I slept alone in under the moniker 'Aunt Claire', when the kids are present.

Suddenly I smelled cigar smoke. Either Vanessa took up cigars, brought a man who smoked them, or most likely it was her father, who loved his smelly Cohibas. They must have called a truce so he could see the kids. My stomach was instantly in knots. I intentionally hadn't given him much thought due to my guilt. Now I had to either work up an apology, or, on a better note, re-commit to spreading my legs for him until he tired of me, since that was part of the depraved deal I made. Not bad terms for me, really. I wanted him anyway, and if his delectably brutal encounter with Vanessa was any forecast of my future, I was all in. Either way, I knew that discussion would not be held while his grandchildren were in the house.

I looked into the living room, and there he was, parked on the couch, facing away from me while a baseball game pulsed across the wall on the large TV. I assumed the rest of tribe was out on the beach. Smoke drifted through the bright, midday sun filtering into the room. My pulse raced. Upon entering, I realized Tony was not alone. A pair of bare, tanned shoulders, topped off by a backwards baseball hat and crossed by a purple bikini string, was moving up and down, twisting slightly at his waist level. He apparently brought some girl with him, and she was giving him a noisy, second-inning blowjob. Maybe I wouldn't be held to my end of the bargain after all, or maybe I would be joining them in bed.

I was about to turn to leave, when the anonymous girl momentarily came up for air.

"Hi Claire Bear!" Vanessa said with a wheeze and cough before lowering her face, eyeliner melting, and resumed her gulping cadence.

Obviously my assumptions about this weekend were completely wrong. Tony and his daughter had reached an understanding, apparently one hell of an understanding. There was no cloak of darkness and likely not much numbness from alcohol yet at one-forty in the afternoon. I was shocked but pleased at the level of reconciliation.

"Hey hey! There she is! Hiya kiddo! "her father said, smiling and motioning me closer.

Vanessa, who had her brown mane up and beneath the hat for some reason, was on her knees, mouth pumping up and down furiously on Tony's stalwart cock. Her breasts had been unceremoniously yanked part of the way out of the bikini top; her excited nipples remained exposed and misaligned.

Tony was donning only a white tennis shirt, with the cigar in his hand and a drink adjacent. His daughter's fingers were running through the prolific hair on his slightly rotund stomach, pushing the shirt out of place. Her other hand was busy fondling his hairy scrotum, wet, no doubt, with the overflow of mucus and saliva inherently produced during such a chaotic blowjob. Vanessa was flexing at the waist, grunting and gobbling him up like starving person attacking a burrito. I had seen her suck cock on dozens of occasions, and we had shared many a boner, but she never seemed to enjoy ingesting an erection so much.

I leaned in to give Tony a quick kiss, bracing for the pungent cigar taste. He looked happy. As I stood next to him at the end of the couch, watching the unexpected show, he reached out and patted my ass, shrouded only by my sundress due to my miniscule panties. He left his hand parked on my cheek. It felt nice; I felt forgiven.

His hand left my ass several cigar drags later, but for a good reason. The idea of being pardoned was reinforced by the sudden moans, tightness of his stomach and movement of his hips up and off the sofa cushion. With both hands, cigar still between his fingers, he held Vanessa's head stationary, impaled on his erupting dick. Her nose and lips were buried in his salt and pepper pubic hair. Tony closed his eyes tightly and grunted loudly several times, toes curling as he no doubt flooded her pharyngeal tissue with his fluid. He kept her head in place for several seconds after the reproductive expulsion; his daughter's smoke-ensconced face contorted to ensure every drop had been obtained.

Her deviant hunger for her father's penis satisfied for the moment, Vanessa raised her face, framed with perspiration, black circled eyes wet, but smiling broadly. She slid up his torso, sandwiching his still-solid dick between them, and kissed him quickly on the mouth. At this angle I could see her tremulous ass cheeks surrounding the thong bikini. They were reddened, I imagined, by a diligent spanking from her father. I suddenly wanted my own share of the discipline, but it would have to wait.

"Thank you, Papa." Her sparkling green eyes were big and seemingly filled with childlike wonder and adoration. "I missed you."

"You're welcome, Princess," he replied, holding her disheveled face. "I missed you, too."

The poignant moment came to an end when, as is common with the male mind, the next fundamental need besides sex overtook his thoughts.

"Hey! Who's up for some lunch?"

After lunch, some time on the beach, and dinner, the weekend continued as one might imagine.

-

Among the three of us in the 'secret club', there have been lots of reddened cheeks, handcuffs, leather belts, fucks, sweat, arguments, tears, and orgasms in the years since that summer, some I was a part of, some not. But none could have been as intensely beautiful as that first raw early morning when Vanessa finally got what she had always wanted, however twisted it may have been.