Paternal Cravings

My thoughts returned to the present when I felt the cold liquid hit the small of my back. Its unexpected arrival made me shiver. I soon realised that it was some kind of body oil. The stranger poured copious amounts of it all over my body, in fact I think he must have used up the whole bottle. He began to massage it into me. He rubbed it onto my shoulders, my back, waist, hips and then he got to my butt. I felt him squeeze my cheeks as the oil oozed over my skin. Then, slowly, his fingers traced a path down the crack of my ass towards my hole. I've never really cared for rear entry, but as it seems to have been the favourite method for most of my older clients, I've never objected.

Mr Strange had poured a lot of oil around my ass hole and now he was using the tip of his forefinger to lubricate around and up it. I took the hint and crouched on my knees with my ass cheeks invitingly high in the air. I felt the stranger take up his position behind me and place his left hand on my left butt cheek. He spread the skin apart to expose my hole and then I felt the tip of his penis forcing its way into the tight space.

I grimaced as his meat went right up my ass hole and I hoped this would be over quickly. There was a lot of squelching as he slammed it in and out of my oiled up body with as much enthusiasm, if not more, as he had shown all night. It was only when I felt his hands start to move over my back and around to my hanging orbs that I began to feel any enjoyment. As he squeezed my tits hard I began to moan with delight. Mr. Strange's groans were more guttural now than they had been previously, and in almost hushed whispers I could here him calling me all kinds of not very nice names and suggesting that I was getting what I deserved. In fact, it was precisely the thought of this kind of abuse at the hands of a weird stranger that got me excited again. I heard myself begging him to fuck me deeper, telling him that I was his slut.

The stranger responded as I had hoped, and I felt his hands start to grip my boobs tightly and sadistically. He was thumping into me faster and faster and groaning loudly as I bucked underneath him. At last, I felt him withdraw his cock from my ass and with one hand squeezing my left ass cheek, he let his juice come out and spray my back.

By the time I had regained my breath, Mr. Strange had covered my nakedness with the towel and was getting dressed. I couldn't just leave it like that, I had to say something; it had been the best fucking of my life.

'Mister,' I began softly, 'don't leave it for another year before you come back. Ask for me by name, it's Jordan. And don't worry about the money. You can have me at normal rates'.

There was no reply. But then I hadn't really expected any. There was a soft knock at the door. I heard the door being opened, some whispering between Mr. Strange and the heavy and then it went quiet.

I must have dozed for a while, because the next thing I remember was being woken by the gopher who was untying the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists to get the circulation flowing whilst he took off my blindfold. By the time my eyes had adjusted to the light, he was just about to leave. He smiled down at me as I sat on the bed with the towel covering my modesty, thanked me on behalf of his boss and said that the room was mine until check out time tomorrow. Before I knew it I was all on my own.

I went straight to the bathroom to have a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. My lips were swollen and smeared with the red lipstick. My blond hair was now mousy coloured and lank with sweat. And when I turned around to look at my back, it was thick with oil and I had a long streak of the stranger's semen running down the channel of my spine. But I knew that after a hot shower I would be as good as new.

Half an hour later as I rubbed my hair dry and entered the bedroom, I suddenly remembered the five thousand dollars that I had been promised. To tell the truth, it wouldn't have been too bad if he had stiffed me, because he had been such a good lover. But, from the far side of the room, I could see some money on the dresser.

I walked over to count it anyway.

As I picked the bills up, something about their appearance bothered me. For a second or so I couldn't figure out what it was. Then it hit me like an earthquake. On the top right corner of the first one, in red ink, was the small figure of a '1'. Some coincidence surely, I thought. But on the second was a '2', the third a '3' and so on.

Then the horrible realisation struck me. These were the exact same bills that I had given to my father just the day before to clear my debt to him. I tried to find some reasonable explanation as to why they had come into the possession of Mr. Strange so soon. Maybe he was a business colleague who had been owed money by father. But then I remembered that mother had said that father would be staying home all day today and not going to the office. Then I began to think that the most hideous explanation was the only one that made sense; that Mr. Strange was my own father.

I tried to remember the things that Carmel had told me that morning on the phone. Mr. Strange has been using the agency to provide a girl for sex on the same day for the last six years. That day was my birthday. Had father been satisfying his own fantasies of fucking his own daughter on her birthday by acting it out with lookalikes.? Carmel had said that he had asked for a blond every year except last when he had wanted a brunette. I recalled that around my birthday last year I had dyed my hair dark brown to see if I liked it that way. It would be logical for him to remain anonymous too, as he's quite well known in the area. Then there was the way he had lifted my head from side to side for a good look at me when he first entered the bedroom. He must have thought all his dreams had come true when he saw that his sex slave for this year really was his own daughter. Whichever way I thought of, there was no more logical explanation than that I had been given the best fucking of my life by my own father. And to make matters worse, I had not only begged him to pleasure me, but had pleaded that he use me again soon.

I tried to cry myself to sleep but it just wouldn't come. All of a sudden, I just didn't want to be in that room anymore. I wanted to go back to my own bed, fall asleep and never wake up. But wait. What if I was wrong? Maybe there was a better explanation. I looked at my watch. It was coming up for midnight thirty. She might still be up. I went to the phone and got an outside line. The phone rang for a couple of minutes and when mother answered I apologised for waking her up. She was concerned and asked if everything was OK. I made an excuse and asked if I'd left an earring behind after my visit yesterday. She said that she hadn't found one, so I told her not to worry as it was probably in the car. With a lump in my throat, I asked if I had awoken father as well. All my fears came back to haunt me as mother said he had been at home all day but had gone out to do some business this evening. If only she knew that the business he spoke of was cumming in their daughter's mouth and pussy, kissing her passionately and fucking her in the ass. I bade mother goodnight, got my bag together and went down to the hotel lobby.

I saw a girl on reception that I vaguely knew and went to speak to her. I took out a photo I carried of father and mother and asked her if she'd seen him that evening. My heart sank when she said she'd seen him leave with a big guy a short while ago. Any hope that I'd been clinging to, that my fears might be unfounded, all disappeared at that moment.

I drove the short distance to my small apartment, and had another shower before going to bed. I replayed the evening's events again in my mind. In my thoughts now though, I was not blindfolded. I saw father's expression of lust as he scrutinised my face and saw that the girl he had bought really was his daughter. I saw him stroking my body in a way that no father should touch a daughter. Then I saw father fucking me in the mouth, his face contorted with dark desire as I swallowed every drop of his semen. The same semen that had helped to make me. Then I saw him eagerly licking my pussy. But I also saw me pressing the back of his head so that his tongue could go deeper. As I imagined father laying over me, thumping into me, I also saw my nails clawing at his back and heard my own voice begging him to go faster. And finally, when in my mind's eye, I saw father fucking me up the ass, I also saw my own hips moving to compliment his rhythm. I suddenly realised that now, whilst playing this back in my head, my hand was inside the bed sheets, busily rubbing away at my clitoris. And to my horror, as my dream father pulled his dick out of my ass and sprayed my back with his goo, in real life I heard myself groan:

'OOOOOOOHHHH, yesssss, yesssssss, let me have it daddy, let me have it.

Like I said at the beginning, all this happened a few weeks ago. I haven't been home in that time. I daren't look at father in case he guesses that I know his secret. Almost every night since it happened, I have masturbated over the memories. I know that makes me a wanton slut but I can't help myself. I've told my story to a ghost writer, who will prepare it for you to read. On the day I emailed her with the final details, I received another call from Carmel. Mr. Strange has asked to see me tonight. I think I'll go...