A Family's First Experience Pt. 01

Editor's note: this work contains scenes of fictional rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.

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This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Frost laid back on the sofa, the fenpil, a species all unto his own, visibly tired from the day. He couldn't help that his daughters, Omaira and Iclyn, often ran amok -- not in a bad way, of course, but in the sort of way that always had him trying to keep up with them, left feeling like he was chasing his own fluffy tail, the white and blue flitting back and forth, forever dancing out of his reach. Of course, the fenpil was far from a youngster who would have, actually, chased their own tail -- and his daughters were well into adulthood too, even if they still lived at home. He just wanted to make sure they were okay, that they were well set up for life, and having them home with him made it so that he had company there that, otherwise, he may not have had.

So, it was not all that bad, not as he dozed there, slipping into a deeper sleep in their shared living room, the detached home private and secluded, everything that they needed. One of his bare hind paws, exposing the white fluff of his toes before his fur blended into a muted, medium blue, like a teal, twitched over the edge of the sofa cushion, though the two-person sofa was a little too small for the fenpil. It didn't matter too much, however, for there was another, larger one in the same room, set up so that they framed the TV. The TV, fortunately for Frost, had turned off automatically after a period of inactivity, so he didn't have to worry about switching it off as he slept before midnight.

He should have gone to his bed, but that night would turn out to be the start of something new, a bulge rising in his boxer shorts from his dream. It was not a dream that he would remember when he woke, though it must have been a good dream indeed as Frost squirmed in his sleep, scratching his stomach in his sleep, muscles moving lightly beneath his fur. His large ears twitched, scooped and pointed to cup and filter sounds, but he was not listening, not as his shaft pressed urgently against the front of his underwear, need coursing through him.

Everything could have been fine...if not for Omaira, his daughter. She mooched down the hallway with light steps, deliberate steps, the steps of someone that didn't want to be heard, for she only wanted a glass of water. For all he did for them, she didn't want to risk disturbing her father, not after she had heard him snoring softly through the midpoint of the movie he'd been watching. He needed his rest, but at least he had been out with them that day. Even if Omaira would not have admitted it, she was glad to spend time with him, despite not quite being as open about that as her sister.

She had a short muzzle with a soft round and a tight kind of smile that made those around her wonder if Omaira knew something that they did not. Her rich, burned-red fur was eye-catching, though it was the ruffled blue crystals on the points of her elbows and down the line of her spine that really set her apart. It did mean that she had to be careful about the clothes she wore, but Omaira, frankly, was more comfortable in loose trousers and a crop top for daily wear. It was one way, after all, that she could show off her body while doing all that she needed to do, breasts nicely filling out the crop top while being coolly confident in herself. The splash of white of her belly, which rose to the base of her neck where it split to allow the red fur to cut in, set off her looks perfectly, with minimal effort.

Still, not even Omaira could have been prepared for finding her father on the sofa with the thick bulge in his underwear. She had to cross through the living room, if she didn't want to use the squeaky door to get to the kitchen from the other side, to get to the kitchen, her glass and water waiting, tantalisingly out of reach. Her ear flicked, tail twitching, swaying lightly back behind her. Only wearing a light top that flowed loosely down to her stomach, a strip of bare fur was left between her shirt and her shorts: her comfortable evening and sleeping wear.

She'd never seen her father like that before, even though she had been with others, done some things... Truth be told, Omaira had found them boring, no one really claiming her interest. And yet she found herself, right there, with her gaze locked onto her father as if she could not drag her eyes away.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Something scuffled further back in the hallway, perhaps her sister, Iclyn, and she stepped fully into the living area, letting the door fall nearly closed behind her. Not all the way, of course, for she didn't want to alert her father to her presence... Not when she was curious. And Omaira was not a creature that enjoyed not having her curiosity satisfied.

She crept closer to him, stepping lightly, eyeing up the round of his package, how his genitals pressed out through the front. There was even a little line in the red fabric that she thought might have been his balls, rather than his shaft, but it was not something she had seen in person before.

"Hm..."

Omaira licked her lips, though she was not one to dither. After all, she was her father's daughter. She could have held back, could have shaken him by the shoulder and told him that, well, he was in a rather exposed position in the living room...but she simply didn't want to do that. Her heart pounded, her blood up, though Omaira, even later, would disguise it all as curiosity, hiding what had truly led her there. Her nostrils puckered and flared, her body greedily sucking in the scent of a male, seeing her father, for the first time, in a new light.

But she had to move quietly, had to be discreet, though she pushed the rational part of her mind aside, a crooked smile on her lips as she folded to her knees. A part of her knew there would be no going back once she was caught, if she was caught, but she wondered too if there was a certain reason that everyone else that she could have been intimate with had bored her. Her father's bulge tempted her and she ran her fingers around it lightly, taking the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts in her fingertips, very lightly.

"Mmmm..."

Her father groaned in his sleep, but she did her best to pay his shifting no mind, not as her mouth filled with saliva. Yet that was not where Omaira's mind was, not then, not as she slid his underwear down to free his erection. His shaft was easily nine inches long, plump and thick, though where it differed from other males that she had been with was the fact that it could do more than twitch a little back and forth.

"Oh..."

She moaned softly, watching his cock as it twitched further, practically coming to life as it swelled and moved back and forth, though she had heard that some guys had dicks like that too, to use the rather crude way of putting it. It was called a prehensile shaft and she was very much okay with that, her fingers tentatively, for concern of waking her father, curling around his shaft even as it curled back and forth.

Her body ached with a deep need, a deep that seemed to emanate from the core of her being, though the single-minded Omaira was not about to set something down now that she knew, in a way, what she wanted. And she was more than keen to see just what further she could pull up from the depths of lust, unaware that her body was in heat, that the prickling, tickling, aching tongues of fire simmering through her veins. Not that she would have had it any other way as she groaned deep in the back of her throat, trying to keep the tenor of her voice low.

She had to explore his cock, licking her lips as she ran her paw up and down his fleshy length. With nine inches to play with, there was plenty for her to do, squeezing him lightly, experimenting with his body. Her father was far from a toy that she could use at her disposal, but he was something that she yearned to uncover, panting very lightly, though her tongue did not spill from her mouth like that of a common canine. No, that wasn't something her species did.

"Mmm..."

She let out the tiniest of moans as she pumped his shaft in her paw, fingers closing around him, though they could not quite meet all the way. She had always had delicate paws, or so she had thought, but his cock made them look even smaller, her heart hammering. It was only a sliver of a gap between her fingers and thumb, but she squirmed in place, grinning increasingly widely at the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Maybe it was fate that she had come there that night, that she had found her father in such a compromising position. She stroked his cock and caressed his balls, careful with the weight of them, for she still did not want to wake him, as much as Frost wriggled slightly back and forth in his slumber, clearly feeling the effects of her touch. A little more for her, yes, a little more just for Omaira: didn't she deserve to feel the pleasure of a male's body, after all, without anything else getting in the way?

At least, that was what she thought and there was no one else there willing to tell her not to as she dipped her snout gracefully, with a sense of poise and deliberation, her pink tongue flicking out to lap teasingly over his shaft. It was all in experimentation, of course, tasting him, the laps of her tongue starting small and then growing bigger and bolder, swiping over more of his flesh in one go.

Her father took a shuddering breath and Omaira knew that she didn't have much time, pressing on, taking his shaft into her mouth. Sure, she didn't get as much time as she'd wanted to in lapping over his cock -- not even getting to go down to his balls -- but that would have to do. She moaned faintly around him, the subtle vibrations from her tongue and lips trembling down into his length, though her father grunted, his fingers twitching.

His cock felt too good in her muzzle for her to pause or slow, however, delving on with her usual hard-headed determination. She'd found what she wanted and nothing was going to get Omaira to stop, not with his hot, slick length pushing over her tongue, taking him into the back of her throat. She didn't have as long of a muzzle as some anthros, but there was more than enough space there for her to play with her father's cock, enjoying the smooth push of him over her tongue as she cradled him. Sure, her head was at a weird angle, but, for her, it was more than worth it to feel each throb of lust powering through him, how even the beat of his heart was connected to his cock.

Maybe that connection was what she had been seeking too. Frankly, Omaira didn't care anymore.

"Guhhh... Mmmm... Omaira?"

Frost blinked, slowly coming around, though he didn't quite know what he was doing or seeing. He had to be dreaming, yes, he had to, especially a pair of large, red years bobbed up and down, his cock tingling, slick with saliva. Oh, heavens, that felt good! Without thinking, still believing he was in a dream, Frost rested his paw on the head of the other anthro, grunting, licking his lips, getting into the moment.

"Mmmm..."

Wait...what? His brow furrowed and he blinked more rapidly, horrified as sleep faded from his eyes. He wasn't dreaming! Who was that there? Yet his stomach sank as realisation struck him with the force of a bolt of lightning, electrifying him through and through as his torso jolted up from the sofa, suddenly acutely aware of his state of undress.

Jeans! Where were they, his trousers? Anything! But he couldn't stop her, his dearest daughter sliding her muzzle up and down his cock as if it was something she had done a hundred times over before, not even looking up at him while she sucked on his length. Her cheeks hollowed lightly and, briefly, her eyes flicked up to meet his, though it must have been an uncomfortable action for her to perform, so she did not maintain eye contact.

She groaned as she strained to take every inch of his shaft into her mouth, relishing in how it twisted back and forth. Once he'd woken up, though her heart pounded, his cock had suddenly come to life in her mouth. Oh, to have a cock like that, over and over again... She chased it with her tongue, laughter on her lips, though it was muffled by his thick shaft, the press and the push of it trying to twist back and forth in her mouth. She swiped her tongue over the head eagerly, circling the glands, and was rewarded by a deep, throaty moan from her father.

Even if Frost had woken up, Omaira could not help but notice that her father had not told her to stop, no... If he had shouted at her, told her that he didn't want what she was doing to him, she would have stopped straight away. She was not so far gone, after all, in her heat, pressing her thighs together, wet between the legs, that she would not have been able to overrule even that primal instinct.

Maybe that meant that he wanted her to... Maybe that meant something more... Either way, Omaira was going to uncover the truth of it.

"Hi, dad," she teased, drawing back and shooting him her best coy look as she stroked his shaft in her paw, teasing the head of his length with soft, subtle laps of her tongue. "I think...you were in need, when you were asleep."

Continued in part two of two...