Incestory: Valentine's Gifts

"I know she's not coming back," Larry stated in a tone of resignation, "it's just ..." he took a sip of his beer and sighed. "Valentine's Day of all days."

He looked at his daughter Linda and she nodded sadly in response, an affirmation of the profundity of his pain and the irony of the date.

"I'm sorry you felt like you had to come all the way out here for me. I'm sure Charlie had plans for the two of you; it isn't easy getting a table at a nice place on ... tonight."

"He understands," Linda replied and sipped her beer, "Really," she insisted, "And if he doesn't, well then he doesn't really understand me."

"That's the thing I loved so much about your Ma," he said and chugged the last of his beer down, "She could always find it in her heart to give to other people without ever askin' much for herself."

"It's got to be tough without her," she smiled warmly; "I know how much she loved you and she'd want you to go on ... you have to know that."

Linda knew he understood the words on a logical level ... she wasn't confident he understood any of them on an emotional one.

"It's been over a year, Dad," Linda looked out over the deck's railing at the blackness beyond the light's reach.

A year since she'd died in the car accident.

"Why don't you move into a place in town?" She grabbed another can of beer from the blue and white cooler between her and her father and flicked an ice cube caught on the rim at him. "It's too damn far out here for a man your age to be livin' alone."

His head jerked up in surprise. "A man my age?"

Linda snorted and managed to spray some of the beer she was just starting to sip over the leg of her jeans shorts and bare legs.

"Shit!" she laughed, "You aint no spring chicken, y'know!"

"Hey now!" he laughed in return. He was a working man and in better shape than the punks half his age at the warehouse. "Forty-Nine is the new ..."

"Fifty," she interjected.

"Forty-Nine!" Larry insisted. "I'm not that old ..."

"Hell! Fifty or Forty-Nine what's the difference?" Linda interrupted, pointing her beer at him for emphasis.

"Think about it - if I'm Fifty then you're Thirty, Missy!"

"Oh yeah," Linda admitted with a smile, "I guess you really are only Forty-Nine!"

He pulled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt and flexed his arm for affect, "Look at that! Hard as steel!"

Linda had to pause and admire her father's muscled arm for a moment. She found herself comparing her father's chest and arms to her own husband's and realized that in comparison, her husband was a bit lacking.

For a moment she imagined she was a little girl in his arms again and smiled to herself at the warmness the thought gave her.

"Besides, old man or not, I can still get it up!"

"Jesus!" Linda nearly snorted her beer all over herself again but managed to just spill it down the top of her blouse.

She sat up quickly and set the beer down and looked around for something to dry her shirt with.

She wasn't wearing a bra and although she was a full grown woman with a husband and kids ... she still didn't feel comfortable with the thought of her dad seeing her tits through her white cotton shirt.

"How many of those you had, Girl?" Larry laughed. "I'm gonna cut you off if you keep spillin' 'em!"

She stood up and staggered for a moment.

"More than I should have, I guess," she managed, "Charlie won't let me drink anymore."

She gulped down the rest of the beer and tossed the can into the bucket her dad set out for just that purpose,

"He says I can't control myself when I drink ... he's such a fucking asshole!"

She gasped when the words she'd just said to her father registered with her own brain. She looked at him apologetically but he didn't notice - he was leering at her tits.

She looked down and could see the dark circles of her hard nipples poking through the thin material outlining her full breasts. When she looked back up, her father was looking away over the railing into the darkness.

"Go change," he said in his certain fatherly way; the way that for some reason, she'd never really had the courage to disobey, "Your Ma's clothes are still in her wardrobe."

He looked back at her and unapologetically scanned her from head to toe.

"You're her spittin' image." His eyes lingered over her thick bare legs and breasts. "You shouldn't have a problem findin' something."

"Okay, Dad," she said, surprised out how 'little girl' her voice sounded to herself.

********************************

Her parent's room was exactly the same as she remembered. The last dress her mother had worn in public still lay draped over the dressing table chair where she'd left it - where she'd left it that last night.

It was a quaint dress, a style Linda considered quite lovely but most women considered old fashioned now.

It was a soft, nearly see-through fabric, a light tan color, and ankle length. The thin straps made the neckline so low that only a woman with breasts like Linda's or her mother's could truly wear it with confidence.

It had an almost Country Western bustier style to the top that helped accentuate the breasts but still had a loose, modest, yet clingy way of flowing around the legs.

She smiled at the image of her mother that the dress evoked in her mind ... the beautiful brunette with deep blue eyes and lips that always seemed to pout even when she smiled.

Her mother was beautiful and everyone had always commented to Linda, and to each other, how much she resembled her.

She crossed the room like she was entering a shrine and delicately lifted the dress to her nose. She imagined she could still smell her mother's scent in the fabric and for a moment she could almost feel her presence.

Her eye caught a glint of diamond from a necklace prominently displayed in the open jewelry box on the dresser. It was a beautiful drop necklace laced with several carats worth of diamonds. It was probably worth as much as the new car Charlie had just bought her.

She picked it up and admired it.

Her father had bought the necklace for her mother to celebrate their thirtieth Valentine's Day together ... the gift he'd had to finance to afford, the gift she'd only had the chance to wear once.

********************************

Linda admired herself in the full length mirror.

She'd pulled her hair up to match the parochial style of the dress; a loose updo that left a few strands of her dark hair to fall and frame her cheeks and blue eyes. It was a style her mother liked and it always suited her.

She pouted her full lips and admired how really beautiful and sexy the combination made her look; she admired how much like her beautiful mother the ensemble seemed to make her appear.

She turned side to side, caressing the soft material around her waist, enjoying the feel of it against her skin.

Her eye caught sight of her mother's perfume. It was ultra expensive and one of Linda's own favorites too. Although she'd run out a long time ago, her cheap husband somehow never got around to replacing it - even when she hinted during the holidays or her birthday.

"Don't mind if I do," she smiled conspiratorially to herself and added the final touch.

********************************

Her father appeared in the mirror behind her; his huge frame filled the doorway as he slumped drunkenly against the doorframe ... a bottle of whiskey dangled from his right hand.

Linda spun and gasped, setting the perfume down on the makeup table behind her.

She was suddenly horrified at the thought that her father might be upset to see her in this particular dress.

She wondered what emotions she might evoke by disturbing the last memories he had of the woman he'd loved since he was a child.

"Melissa?" he slurred, "Melissa ...?" he took a few steps into the room and staggered. He managed to catch himself by the rocking chair in front of the closet but the chair was no match for his weight or his inability to balance himself and he crashed to the floor taking the rocker with him.

Linda rushed to him and pulled the nearly empty bottle from his hand.

"Melissa, where you been?" he asked, hurt tinged his slurred voice, "I've missed you so fucking much!"

Linda put one of his heavy arms over her shoulder and tried to help him up but he grabbed her by the arm instead.

"Where have you been?"

She didn't want to do anything to throw him into a rage. She'd learned that keeping still and not saying anything that could be misunderstood was usually the best way to prevent provoking a drunken man.

He pulled her into his arms. It struck Linda as ironic that she'd imagined him holding her only a short while ago and now that he was - she was a bit afraid.

"Oh, Dear Jesus!" He sobbed into her hair; the passion in him made his chest heave and gave strength to his grip. "I'm sorry, Baby."

"Please!" she cried, her voice muffled by his shoulder, "You're hurting me!"

He let her go and flung himself onto the bed and bunched the sheets around his face to stifle his sobs until eventually, he passed out.

********************************

Linda crawled into the bed next to him and lay on her back, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions coursing through her.

She cried herself to sleep too.

********************************

The gentle rocking of the bed startled Linda awake.

The soft movement of the bed and the barely audible squeaking of the springs under her ear were the first things she registered.

The next things she registered was the feel of an enormous arm around her chest; a rough calloused hand inside the top of the dress gently pinching the hard, sensitive nipple of her left breast; hot breath on the nape of her neck; the feel of an enormous penis sliding slowly along the crack of her ass bunching the long dress between her thighs.

Her breath caught in her chest when she realized where she was and what was happening to her.

"Dad?" She said quietly.

He responded by nuzzling his nose into her neck and tenderly biting her shoulder.

"Dad?" she said again, hoping to wake him. He was obviously asleep, imagining that she was his wife. "Wake up."

"Be quiet," he whispered into her ear. "Just relax."

"Dad!" she cried, "What are you doing?"

"Be quiet!" He insisted.

She finally decided to try to resist but when she tried to move away he brutally jerked her back and twisted his huge hand in her hair to pull her ear close to his lips again.

"I'm not Mom!" She cried out in desperation.

"I know," he said, releasing her hair and sliding the strap of the dress off of her shoulder to free her breast.

"No!" She tried to pull away again but this time he wasn't giving her room to wiggle.

She grabbed his hand as he cupped her tit and pinched her nipple again but she was no match for his strength.

"Please," he begged. His voice cracked with emotion. "I need to believe that you're her right now."

Linda felt herself go to the place she went to when she felt helpless. The place where time stopped and she froze up ... like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck.

"Linda, please," he moaned, "I won't hurt you."

She didn't move when he slid the long dress up over her waist.

She didn't respond until his hand found its way between her legs and cupped her pussy forcing her more firmly against him.

"No! Stop!" She tried to pull away again, "I can't!"

Her father slid aside her panties with his fingers and rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit.

"Yes, you can," he urged.

He pulled his hand from between her legs and slid it up her side.

She shook at the sensation.

His hand lingered over her tit again for a moment and she felt her nipple tingle from his touch this time.

"Stop," she said quietly but it sounded unconvincing, even to herself. "Please."

"You look so beautiful, Baby," he sniffed her neck, "You smell so fucking good."

He lifted the necklace up from her chest with his finger; high enough for her to see it.

"Do you like this?"

"What?" She asked, "Of course I do ... it's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen."

"You like your mother's perfume?"

"You know I do," she replied.

"Then relax," he said in his certain fatherly way; the way that for some reason, she'd never really had the courage to disobey.

He resumed sliding the tip of his giant cock up and down her slit and she felt herself responding, shamelessly rocking her hips in unison with him.

"I ... I ... this is so fucking wrong!"

"I need to fuck you," he stated rather coldly.

She tried to pull away again.

He jerked her back to him again.

"What if I got pregnant?" She shuddered at the thought, "Did you think of that? You know we can't do this!"

"Please, Linda ...!"

"No, goddammit!" She looked meaningfully over her shoulder at him, "I swear to God if you cum in me ...!"

"Fine!" He pushed her flat on the bed and straddled her. "I know what to do."

She tried to turn back onto her side but he pinned her down by her shoulders.

"Relax," he said.

He gently rocked his hips so that he slid his penis between her thick legs, his weight nearly crushing her. Linda could feel the slick, wet, lubrication of his precum spreading over the insides of her thighs and soaking into her panties.

"You can cum like this," she offered, vaguely hoping for a moment that he would ejaculate between her legs now and be done with it. "Okay?"

"No," he replied. "Not good enough."

She flinched when her father spit on his hand and smeared the slobber around her sphincter with his rough fingers.

She understood what that meant and if the feel of his massive penis between her thighs was any indication of his length; she was in trouble.

"No," she tried to struggle, "wait!"

"Shhhhhhhh!" He leaned down and hissed in her ear as he suddenly forced the gigantic head of his cock into her asshole in one strong thrust of his hips.

"Ow, ow, shit, it hurts," she cried. "Please!"

"It will feel better soon, Baby," he replied, "I promise, okay?"

"It hurts!" She cried again.

"Relax."

She stiffened and shook from the pain for a moment but knew that she really had no choice and would have to endure this now ... there was no way out for her.

"Okay," she squeaked.

"I love you so much, Baby," he said as he continued to slowly force his cock into her bowels, "That bastard husband of yours can have you any other day - tonight I need you!"

Linda cried out again then - not out of pain, not because her father was taking her ass; she cried out because now she knew her father in a way she'd never really considered before.

She finally understood that he was a man like every other man she'd ever known.

He seized her hips and pulled her up so she was forced face down into the pillows.

She reached up and grabbed the headboard, vainly attempting to pull her body away from the pain.

Her father situated himself above her and began to thrust at her in short hard strokes.

"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck," She grunted with each of her father's thrusts and had no choice but to lift her ass and try to accommodate his girth as he worked his way into her body.

"That's it," he said encouragingly. "That's so fucking nice!"

She felt her pussy flood with moisture at his encouragement.

"Oh, God," she moaned and stiffened up again with the realization that making him happy was making her wet.

"Relax," he moaned in frustration.

"Okay," she squeaked again. She had to be in shock, she thought to herself; she had to because she should be trying to fight him off - to make him come to his senses before it was too late.

"I'm sorry," she said out loud, suddenly thinking of her children and imagining what they would think if they knew that she was beginning to enjoy being fucked in the ass by their grandfather.

She knew she should've been repulsed at the very thought of what was happening to her. The problem was that she couldn't make herself stop him now.

"I love you," he moaned as if in answer to her thoughts, "I've wanted you for so long!"

"Ow, oh dear, Jesus," she cried as he sank another inch into her.

He loved her, she knew that, he didn't really want to hurt her ... he was just ... just trying to overcome his grief.

"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck," she muttered.

Her father was NOT a bad man; she knew it in her soul. He just really needed his wife. Would his grandkids understand that?

"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck!"

He finally managed to get his entire length into her and settled down on top of her - it was nearly too much for her to handle anymore.

"Uuuuuuuuunnngh! Oh, GAWD! DADDY! SHIT!"

She clawed at the comforter and tried to pull away from the cock filling her but she was pinned now, unable to even move her legs ... like a butterfly pinned to a scrapbook.

"I love you!" He grunted. "I won't ever hurt you! Please, just relax, okay?"

The best she could do was moan in response; she knew she wouldn't be anymore ready any time soon. Best to get it over with.

He held still inside her, finally giving her body a chance to accept the inevitable.

"Are you ready?" He asked, already starting to roll his hips before she could answer.

"Mmmmmm Hmmmmm," was all she could reply with the sensation of her father's monster cock sliding back and forth inside her.

He was right. After a few minutes she was able to push aside the pain. It wasn't comfortable by any stretch of the imagination but at least it was tolerable now.

An intense throbbing sensation overwhelmed her senses and she moaned loudly when she realized the throbbing was originating in her vagina.

"See," Larry panted, "It's not so bad now, Baby."

She reached between her legs and felt the moisture collecting along her slit.

"Mmmmmmmm," she moaned at the sensation of her fingers sliding over her own clitoris.

She never thought anal sex could affect her in this way but the beer she'd consumed, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins only seemed to encourage the response.

He took her moans as permission to begin to really start to pound her ass.

"Fuck ... fuck ... FUCK!" She turned her head around and glared at him over her shoulder, "Take it easy! Shit!"

"I'm sorry, Baby," he moaned and eased back to a less frantic pace.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated.

He looked so sad and desperate at that instant that she thought, maybe if she really wanted to badly enough, she could enjoy pleasing her father just a little in his deepest moment of need.

"It's alright," she forced a smile, "It aint so bad."

She told herself that the sickness that consumed her father, the sickness he had been experiencing for so long, needed healing.

Why shouldn't she help him?

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and concentrated on fingering herself and watching her father fuck her ass.

The pleasure of her self-ministrations, mixed with the pain of her father buried in her ass, combined to take her to a place where she could finally just let go and submit to him.

"Hey!" she looked over her shoulder again and called him to get his attention.

She put on the pouty look she'd just practiced in the mirror this evening, the one that made her look even more like her mother, and flipped her hair so it fell down her left shoulder.

"Oh, God!" Larry moaned when he saw her expression. "Oh, God!"

He came then - pulling nearly all of the way out of her colon, all but the tip, and milked his shaft with both hands as he ejaculated.

He panted her mother's name with each spurt as Linda managed to finger herself to her own little climax.

*******************************

When her father was finished fucking her ass, he crawled over her and fell onto the bed, his softening cock still oozing cum onto the cream colored comforter.

Linda slid the dress off before the globs of cum oozing from her asshole soiled it. She tossed it over the collapsed rocker at the foot of the bed and dropped back onto the bed.