Breaking My ResistancebyTrudy_Antone©
(NOTE: All the characters in this story are above the age of 18. This piece contains incest, anal sex, and group sex. If this is not your thing please do not read on. This story is a fantasy and in no way reflects my true views on incest. That said, I hope you enjoy! Please take the time to comment and vote if you do x)
It happened while my wife was away.
Our youngest daughter, our most difficult rebel – the runaway – came crawling back, no explanations, begging to come home.
Up to me, I would've put her over my knee and paddled her bottom for giving us so much grief, but she was all grown-up and I knew it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. Motherfuck! We didn't know where she'd been for three missing years. My wife had cried herself to sleep so many times our bed was a sodden puddle. I should have been relieved Madison was standing before me in one piece. Instead, I was fuming.
I looked at her badly dyed red hair, her ridiculous sunglasses hiding her no doubt stoned eyes, her taut little belly exposed above those nasty cut off shorts, the tight material flaunting her nether lips to all and sundry. "Hey Daddy," she said, as if we'd said goodbye only yesterday, giving me a lingering kiss square on the mouth, her sassy boobs pressed into my chest. I jerked away. I should've sent her packing. I should've closed the door in her face as only a heartless bastard can do, only... Her eyes are exactly like Lana's, bluey-grey and soft and framed by the darkest eye lashes. I thought of my wife and knew she would never forgive me if I sent Madison away.
I followed my almost-twenty daughter in to the house, not saying a word about the tramp stamp tattooed in the small of her back. Goddamn those shorts were so small I could almost taste her crack. She had an ass identical to her mother's, tight and high and rounded. I wondered if she loved taking it there as much as her mother did, if she begged for it like Lana.
As quickly as that my blood was up, my cock heavy, a feeling of nausea crawling over my soul. I put Madison in the spare room – her old bedroom was now a gym - and got out of there, hoping to hell that distance would return my sanity, a normal state of mind where normal men did not consider the anal proclivities of their daughters, at least, not to the point of gaining an erection over them. I've always been an ass man, it's my particular weakness, one that my wife loves and plays upon for all she is worth. I told myself it was thoughts of Lana that boosted my erection. Standing over the bathroom sink I pumped in to my hand and told myself over and over it was Lana I wanted. Only, as I climaxed, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror because it was thoughts of Madison that overwhelmed me; Madison, my beloved girl, finally home.
We circled each other warily for days. I merely observed and didn't ask questions I knew I wouldn't like the answer to, which meant everything was unmentionable. I was waiting for my wallet to go, for Lana's jewellery to disappear, to wake up and find the appliances cleaned out and Madison gone. Past actions had eroded my trust, my confidence in my daughter less than functional. It left an aching sadness in me.
"Do you like this Daddy?" she asked.
I'd come home from work and found her sitting at the table sketching. I was pleased to see her being constructive and creative however one look at her naked back – intersected by two lines of a string excuse for a top – and a feeling of dread hit me. I felt like a fish being reeled in. My balls contracted when I saw her work, my heart went AWOL; she was talented my beautiful daughter, talented and perverted as fuck.
In a bold, realistic hand, she'd portrayed a woman kneeling on the bed, her head dug in to the sheets, her neck twisted to one side while she stretched apart her buttocks with her hands. I was the star player – depicted with not as much muscle as I deserved – perched between the woman's legs, probing her anus with my tongue.
What was I supposed to say?
Was I meant to explode and rip the artwork to pieces? Compliment her and say 'excellent technique if a little cartoon-ish, pity about the subject matter'? Was I supposed to feel shame? Madison had always been like this, far too street for her own good, her mission in life to shock and confuse.
Her pornographic work caused me a rush of blood, a kick in the groin and a raging erection. I said nothing.
"I always wondered what it would feel like if you did that to me Daddy," she whispered, not looking at me, her eyes burning a hole in my rampant crotch.
I really did explode.
"Jesus fucking Christ Maddi that is not appropriate." I got out of that room faster than the main event at the Melbourne Cup. Seventeen days until Lana came home from the States. How was I going to survive until then, living with the walking, talking reincarnation of filth itself? No wonder I was secretly, guiltily, relieved when Madison ran away. I'd always known what was coming: Hell on legs.
I called David the next day. He's five years older than Madison, head on straight, Lance Corporal in the Army; I'm so damned proud of my son. He was home for a rare R and R, and sympathised with my plight.
"I can't make it until next Monday Dad, but I'll be there."
That still left me four days to hold out on my own. I told Madison David was coming but I knew as I said it that I should have kept silent, I should have made her brother's visit a surprise. Was it an escalation of tactics on my part? I don't know. I like to think my rational brain was in control, that yes, my daughter was sexually attractive, smokin' in fact. I could acknowledge it like a man, but I would never, ever act on it.
Madison had other ideas.
Suddenly she forgot to take her robe and towel in to the bathroom, not once, but twice. Bringing her her things like a lackey with nothing better to do, I copped a look at her breasts, her nipples like little red cherries begging to be sucked, water streaming over them rinsing the soap off like cream. She stood there, not bothering to cover her thatch of dark pubic hair, holding the shower door open like an invitation. I watched drops of water streaming between her thighs and dripping from her curly hairs in to the shower stall. I threw the towel and ran but there was no escape from the image of that sensational body burned in to my brain.
My daughter's figure was so like Lana's in every way, bar the shape and size and colour of her breasts. Lana's were mouth-sized and sag-less with caramel nipples. Madison's breasts took after my mother's, rounded and full and much more than a handful. I'd always had a thing for titty sex, pressing big tits around my dick and delivering a pearl necklace. That had never been possible with Lana.
There was nothing left to do but hide in my wife's closet rampantly fisting my cock in one of her satin dresses, my cum squirting white and sticky over the red material. Lana wasn't going to be happy with me. Damn it, I wasn't happy with me!
The second time Madison forgot her towel, I knew not to go in, I knew it wasn't a smart move, but I found myself pushing open the door regardless. I saw that the perfect little triangle of black curls between her thighs had been waxed away – every single hair – leaving her baby soft and smooth, her slit indecently open. My tongue fell out of my mouth, licking the air, licking my lips, licking again. I was a sad, dirty old man with a clit fascination. When I finally lifted my eyes to hers she was sucking on her finger, sliding it in to the depths of her mouth, tonguing it and running it over her trembling lower lip.
I know it sounds outrageous. It IS fucking outrageous. Madison has never been sweet, never behaved; she's always pushed the boundaries. She knew exactly what she was doing to me; the glint in her eye was unmistakable.
I set another land speed record. This isn't about a loser running from a beautiful woman. This is about a man running from his gorgeous, fucked-up, seductress, bitch of a daughter. I only had so many limits for wanking in to my hand before I needed something better, wetter. A hot, dripping cunt, a tight, dirty asshole.
I missed my wife, jaunting off around the States with her girlfriend, leaving me to suffer. She knew it too. The last words she'd whispered to me at the airport were "Think about my ass while I'm away baby. Think about how much you love being inside it."
"Wench," I'd said under my breath, but Lana heard it and laughed and tied my tongue in knots with hers, then disappeared in to the terminal with Kelly, her skirt flipping up in the wind giving me one last serendipitous look at her beautiful rear. I missed her before I got back in the car. That was ten weeks ago.
I didn't stand a chance when a crying Madison woke me at two in the morning. I'd been dreaming about her, covering her nipples in whipped cream and playing peek-a-boo with my mouth. In my dream, she wasn't my daughter, she wasn't related by blood and genetics, she was just a beautiful girl laying herself out for me, begging for my growing hard-on. Reality made me even harder.
She huddled half on top of me as I lay naked in bed, her body pinning down my arm, her tight little ass curved in to my hand, her firm, round tits pressed in to my side and chest, her nipples poking me, nothing but her silk camisole and a sheet to separate us.
My daughter, my conscience screamed, but my cock yelled even louder, not for this night.
"Daddy," she cried, her tears dripping down my neck.
"Tell me baby," I whispered, squeezing her ass and running my other hand under her top and up her naked back for comfort. It was only a handful of ass, just a touch of skin. I'd touched my daughter a million times; hugged her, held her hand, picked her up. Why was a handful of ass or the curve of her spine under my hand, so different? Was it my awareness of how grown-up she was, of how close I was to her hairless pussy?
"I don't want to sleep alone."
"Sh baby." I kissed her cheek, nuzzled in to her neck and kissed her earlobe. Her hair, no matter how awful and sluttish it looked, smelled wonderful. I couldn't help inhaling again and again. My hand massaged the smooth globe of her ass, squeezing the one cheek I had access to, my heart thudding loud in my ears. I wasn't thinking about it; I was conscious of our mingled breathing in the dark that was all. My hand moved of its own will slipping down the back of her panties. My fingers rested over her beautiful crack and I stroked her cheeks with the heel of my hand, around and around, gentle, non-threatening.
"Daaaad-dy." She drew my name out, low and breathy.
"Sh baby," I said. If I was going to do this I had to do it in the dark, in the silence. I had to forget who I was and who she was, everything except how good she felt and how much she meant to me. "What do you want?" I whispered, scared, but knowing underneath it all that the tears were just a sham, an excuse to come to me.
She touched her lips to my chest and ran her tongue, her curious, wet tongue, over my collar bone and up my throat, all along my jaw to my waiting lips where I sucked her inside.
Oh shit and Christ. How does it feel to tongue kiss your own daughter?
It feels hot and wet and sweet and a mimicry of sex that sets your pulse flying and your groin throbbing, just as it would if you kissed any woman, but better than that...better than that because you know how dirty, how wrong, how incredibly twisted and fucked up it is, you know how much you should stop but you have no intention of ever doing so.
She tasted good. Better than good. She tasted like the entire world was watching me, getting off on her through me. She made me feel the way I did every time I pushed my erection into my wife's ass – like a bad boy ready to explode.
I twisted on my side to fully embrace her, to hold her stunning nineteen year old body against mine, to pull her against my angry cock to settle him down, give him a purpose, something warm and willing to rub up against. Her sexy little mewls were so hot. She moaned and stabbed her tongue in to my mouth, palming her underwear and wriggling it off.
I regretted not turning on the light when I traced my hand in to her slippery pussy and discovered how wet she was. I fingered my daughter's clit, circling it, rubbing it, feeling her tiny button erect in its silky hood. I sucked on her tongue while I lifted her Camisole top higher and captured a titty in my free hand, pinching her stiff nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
She was smooth and hot, moaning and rubbing herself against me, her hands clutching at my shoulders, streaming over my back.
Nineteen year old pussy, glorious, unbelievably tasty... I know that because I kept bringing my hand up to our mouths, sliding my fingers between us to taste her juices. She latched on to my fingers, sucking herself off me. I took her nipple in my mouth and tongued it, bit it, suckled it. My hand went back to her dripping pussy and I pushed in to her sweet hole, finger fucking my own daughter, first one digit, then two, then three, my hand sliding back and forth making sticky, suction sounds. I couldn't get enough of that sweet, forbidden pussy. I wanted to own it, fill it, lick it, fuck it until it quaked around me.
I forgot my own rules.
"Sit on Daddy's face baby," I urged her. God, just hearing the words aloud from my own throat and my balls almost exploded. Contrary to nearly every order I had ever given her, Madison didn't need to be told twice, she flew across me in a rush to kneel over me. I groaned as her wet pussy dragged across my chest, her sexy little ass seated just in front of my chin.
"Put your tongue in me Daddy," she begged as I reached up and found her holding her lips open, ready for me.
I teased her for a bit, inserting my fingers in her sweet, forgiving flesh, rubbing her clit with my thumb, loving the way she moved against me, flexing her hips, undulating on my chest. I swear I could feel the bud of her asshole pressed against my skin, dilating and contracting. Gripping her bottom, I pulled her forwards on to my tongue.
God, the taste of my daughter's cunt was fresh and clean and salty. Better than Lana's – I can't believe I'm saying that. My wife's pussy is better than the finest champagne, the best Belgian chocolate, and yet there I was, chowing down on a superior meal. As I open-mouth kissed my daughter's pussy, tongued her slit and nibbled on her swollen lips, my cock was an iron bar, the sheet tangling over my hips until I kicked it free.
"God Daddy, oh my god." Madison loved being licked and eaten and tongue-fucked. I could barely breathe with my nose driving in to her clit, my mouth kissing her dripping cunt, her juices flooding my lips like rain and melted snow as I penetrated her with my tongue, spiking in to her tight passage. Listening to her little gasps and whimpers, I brought my hands in to play, sinking my fingers in her, tonguing her clit in shorter harder sweeps, clamping my lips and tongue to her little hooded pearl until she screamed.
She came like her mother. Loud and long and vicious, enough to wake the dead and register on the Richter scale. I slid my slick fingers into her mouth to shut her up and tried not to yell when she bit down on me, my mouth still suctioning her clit until she jerked away from me, her knees knocking against my ears. She heaved up and reversed direction, kneeling back over my face, collapsing forwards on to my chest, her body still shaking, her hair tickling my cock, her ass spread open right in front of my face.
Fuck. I wished the light was on.
I wish the light had been on, and I had been able to look upon the pretty little sphincter nestled between my daughter's cheeks. Just look my fill of the puckered hole I so love to play with and taste and fuck; and resting just below that, her naked sopping pussy, still spasming, another glorious hole to thrust in to.
What I would give to gaze upon that heavenly vision.
Madison was still shaking, her hips rocking slightly, rubbing her wet snatch over my skin. "Do it Daddy, lick it please" she begged, reading my mind (or perhaps mine and Lana's ass fixation is genetic). There was no question of resistance when she backed up to my chin, her cheeks hovering over me, the smell of her naked pussy, the thought of her sexy ass, filling my mouth with saliva. I thrust my tongue in to her cunt and moaned, sucking up her delicious juices, smearing her essence all over my face, lapping her like a cat.
Slowly I licked up, up, down, two licks forward, one lick back, moistening her perineum with my saliva, savouring the journey to the finish line.
The tip of my tongue met her delicate little ring and she jumped; her tiny asshole tightened. I moaned louder and pulled away, started again. Long drags of my tongue up my daughter's crack, from pussy to asshole, pussy to asshole. As I slid the flat of my tongue over her gorgeous sphincter, holding back from spearing the tip inside, I didn't know who I was teasing more, her or me. My hips were lifting up and down, her hair caressing my cock.
Madison was vocal about what she wanted.
"Stick that tongue in. Give it to me Daddy, hurry up and give it to me." She kept trying to back up on to my mouth. God, she was so like her mother, horny, impatient and insatiable. I, on the other hand, wasn't going anywhere for hours. I had all the time in the world to satisfy every hunger, to keep licking at her tiny orifice until I couldn't control the need to push inside it with my tongue.
Then her tiny hand settled over my cock and lifted it, Madison's smart mouth closing over the tip, hot and greedy, then sucking me all the way inside, tickling her tonsils with the eye of my penis. The hot, wet, vacuum of my daughter's mouth was so...so...good... I pierced her ass with the tip of my tongue and reared up so hard she gagged.
I had a sudden flashback of her as a child, choking on a lolly a shopkeeper had given her. Her symptoms had been so severe I'd done the full panic – truly believed she could die. Lana had dressed Madison in the ugliest purple ensemble that day, and the only reason I remember this inane detail is because of the intense relief I felt when Maddi threw up all over it.
The thought was sudden and loud and ugly in my head: What the FUCK are you doing Tom? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
I've never pushed a beautiful woman off me, never declined an offer of hot ass, and believe me, as a professional footballer I've had plenty (before, during, and within my marriage, but that's another story). I coach now but my body is still the same as it was when I was twenty-five, fitness has always been my way of life. It came in handy when I bench-pressed her petite fifty kilos off me and wrapped her malleable body in the sheet, my chin still wet with her juices. I sat on the other side of the bed and wiped my face, my stomach turning over, trying so hard to be strong.
"This isn't right baby. You have to go back to your room. You can't come in here again." Madison was crying, making me feel even more the lowlife piece of shit I am.
"But..." She touched my arm and I shook her off.
"Get out of here. Go!"
She was up and out in a second, the air heavy with her departing sob. My cock felt stiff and sore and wild. My heart was aching. It took hours to go back to sleep and when I did I slipped instantly in to the whipped cream scenario, only this time Madison was perched on all fours on the kitchen table and I was licking cream from her ass, a tube of lubricant in hand.
I woke up with a raging hard-on, grumpy, with the feeling of butterflies trapped in concrete in my gut. My mood didn't improve when I found my daughter in the kitchen, still in the same camisole from last night, her tramp stamp – Celtic symbols probably pertaining to 'whore' – branded across her precious skin, her ass hanging completely out, a miniscule piece of black string swallowed between her buttocks where my tongue had been. God, she had such a beautiful, tempting ass. I saw red.