Climbing The Family Tree Ch. 02

He laughed nervously. "C'mere," she said, opening her arms and her lips. He did not resist, and met her there over the center console. Their lips found each other again and fit together again with passion and ease.

Cindy was unashamed now. "Had to be a lady in public," Cindy said, breaking their endless kissing and helping herself to a long feel of the crotch of his jeans. "Oh my god, Daddy, it's so hard."

"I'm--I'm married, sweetheart," her father protested.

"I know," Cindy said. "That's okay, we can take things slow," she said, lifting his hands and putting them on her chest, over her thin top, so he could feel how well his daughter filled out a bra. "Just feel me up, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and did, and kept kissing her, and kept loving it. Loving how big and full this woman's breasts felt--his daughter's breasts felt!--how hot and wet and melty her kisses were!

"That feels so good," Cindy said, breaking this kissing again to lift her thin top off her head with one, crossed-armed movement that graceful women all seem to know how to do. Her bra was full, purple, lifting her breasts to maximum cleavage.

She reached behind her back and undid the clasp easily. Shrugged off the purple bra's straps, pulled it off her front, and there for her father's fascinated eyes:

Cindy's perfect chest, marred only by the red lines made from how tight her bra clung to her shoulders, to under those tender, pink breasts. Lifting and supporting and separating.

Cindy saw him looking at her chest as if hypnotized. And then she felt her father's calloused hands, large and worn, holding the softest parts of her. Her brain was an electrical storm of pleasure as his large hands were a match for her large breasts. Her breasts of impossible delicacy and suppleness. His hands of years and toil, lined and so full of roughness she could feel his roughness on her tender skin.

"Oh, Daddy," Cindy moaned, but he was already kissing his darling daughter's mouth again.

Her nipples filled themselves out under his touches and pinches and then sucks and then bites, finding how the particular ways this big-titted beauty liked to have her heavy-hanging breasts mauled and punished, so that the pain on her chest brought her only more pleasure and more wetness between her legs.

"You're so beautiful, but we shouldn't," her father said. Handsome, stern, principled.

"You're so beautiful," he continued, "but this is so out of the blue."

"But it feels so right," Cindy protested. "This feels so right."

"I'm married."

"I'm married," she countered.

"I'm your father."

"I'm your daughter," she countered again. But she did not feel like a daughter, it felt laughable, how could this be taboo because it did not feel wrong at all. He felt to her like a man whose body and smell was a perfect match, who turned her on simply by looking at her and now she was incredibly turned on by this absolutely stranger... the idea that he was her--I mean, it was laughable, no one so incredibly sexy could be--

Cindy's body and her mind were awash with all the chemicals of desire and pleasure and need.

"Look, you're in pain," Cindy said, her glance at his crotch and the bulge in his jeans.

"It's--"

"Just let me take care of you, no one will know," Cindy said, getting up on her knees on her seat and leaning over the center console, her hands heading for his belt buckle.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. Resting, or stopping her?

"You can think about things after, take it slow, like I said," Cindy said. She had his belt unbuckled. It made a sound that to Cindy was like a musical note.

"Oh, god," he said, and then Cindy unzipped the zipper on his jeans.

Before doing any more, she put her nose into the open zipper, inhaled deeply. "You smell so good... Daddy," Cindy said, her stormy blue eyes making contact with his stormy blue eyes.

He wiggled his hips, he was still stiff against his cotton underwear. Cindy quickly undid the button atop his jeans. She reached her hand into his older man's underwear and extracted a veiny, girthy cock.

The cock that made me, Cindy thought.

"Guess I should really give credit where credit is due," she said, and Cindy took her father's cock into her mouth for the first time.

A few good sucks to get it stiff and generally lubricated, and then Cindy popped it out and began the long, slow licks, base to tip. Taking her time and not shy about rubbing her daddy's cock along her face while she sucked it, looking up at him so he could see in her eyes how happy she was to be suddenly blowing him, out of the blue, in the middle of the day.

Cindy bobbed her head up and down in the older stranger's lap. Strange but not so strange. Cindy gave him wet, sloppy top, what she thought of as pickup-truck head. No need to be fancy, she thought, but yes a need to get him to the back of my throat as quickly as I can.

Give him all of me, Cindy thought. Give him all of my mouth and as much of my throat as he needs. Who cares about making a mess, just get him nice and slick and that cock won't scratch your throat on his way down.

Meanwhile, her father thought of nothing, his eyes were closed and he was giving in totally to the sensation, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other resting on the steering wheel, just laying back and letting her work his cock like she was on a personal mission to see how long she could keep it in her mouth and how far she could slip it down her throat without having to come up for air.

Turns out, Cindy could keep it in her mouth without a breath for a very long time, and she could eventually, that encounter, slip it all the way down her throat until the biggest danger was sneezing from how his soft, greying hair tickled her nose as she proved to herself that she could take everything he was going to give her, because she knew he was going to have to keep giving her this, here down her throat, here in his car, and elsewhere, many places elsewhere.

Oh my god, I do love gagging on my Daddy's dick, Cindy thought, feeling her eyes water and loving that her eyes were watering and her throat was gagging.

Giving you my all, Daddy, she thought.

Cindy's father was a sweet, wholesome man who might have knocked up his teenage-but-legal lover many years ago, but he was not a dirty talker or a particularly kinky fellow. But his low moans while Cindy sucked his cock up and down in the cab of his truck, along with how rock-hard-stiff his cock was, let Cindy know how good she was sucking his cock.

He could come at any second, Cindy thought, and she started working him a little more shallowly with her mouth, using her mouth and her hand to take him only deep enough that she could collect all of his cum when he unleashed it in her mouth, and could minimize the risk of choking on it or, worst of all, missing or spilling any of it.

Spilling cum was a no-no, Cindy thought. Spilling cum was not at all how Cindy thought of herself as a woman.

That was not the first impression Cindy wanted to make on her biological father. She had gone on a long journey to finally achieve her dream like this.

She wanted all of his jizz, received lovingly into her mouth, and then swallowed into her tummy. The first of many new connections of this special family bond.

She wanted him to see her perform that sacred act of love and forgiveness and reunion that, Cindy knew, could only come from swallowing his seed.

That fateful day, Cindy was not to be denied.

With diligence, effort, and her father moving his hands down to her swaying, bouncing tits, he felt up his daughter's chest while shooting his cum and draining his balls into his biological daughter's mouth.

"Oh, Cindy. Oh, Princess," he exclaimed, softly, exhaustedly. Like she had just sucked the life out of him.

Cindy swallowed, and smiled, and showed him. "All gone, Daddy. All gone. I finished it." And Cindy giggled.

"You're a very good girl, Princess," he told her, cradling her head in his hands, in his lap. "A very good girl."

"Thank you, Daddy," Cindy said to him, settling back down in her seat. She flipped up her skirt, exposing the satin pink panties she wore underneath. "Before we go, I wanna ride your big fingers, okay?" Cindy said, taking his right hand and guiding it towards her panty-clad pussy.

"That's it, right inside," Cindy said, holding his wrist so he took the hint and slid his large hand down the front of her underwear. Feeling instantly how totally smooth and bare and innocent she was; his fingers searching for that cleft, that wet, wet cleft--she was opening her thighs even more in the front seat so he could have easier access to it. To her.

Those thick fingers were going to need a wide gateway, she thought.

And then: she felt those thick fingers, opening her up. Peeling back her petals. Gently. Tracing the ridges and valleys of her lips with thick daddy-fingertips. The ones she had been earlier sucking into her daughter-mouth. Now she's kissing them with her other lips and his finger tips are kissing her. Caressing her.

Teasing her clit, ignoring her clit, circling her clit until her clit is big and angry with all the teasing and wants All The Attention and wants it Right Now!

Cindy grabs his wrist and pulls his fingers to exactly where she wants them, and holding his wrist in place, rides his fingers with her clit, rides his rough, strong fingers, and he knows she comes becomes her constantly guttural dirty talk stops and she closes her thighs tight around his hand and his fingers she nearly crushes to death.

Spasms. Twists. Shakes. Grunts. Silence.

Then collapse. Then her own exhaustion. "Oh my god," she says.

"Oh my god," Cindy says again, collecting herself and realizing where she is.

Feeling so good in her body and soul.

She looks to her left: yes, that's his face. Yes, that's him. Yes, this is his truck.

Yes, that face confirms it. Those blue eyes confirm it. He is exactly who you thought he was.

You just did it. You just sucked your biological father's cock.

You sucked his cock and he came in your mouth. He fingered you off. Way to go, Cindy.

That's nothing after what happened in Parador, she also thought. Was that the voice of Red? Red? Red! Oh my god, Red!

Her car was right there, blocking the road.

Her father's cock was soft in his lap. Still exposed, still sexy. Looks like he could go again, Cindy thought.

"Oh my god, thanks for that," Cindy said, leaned across the center console again, and kissed the older man on his cheek, slowly, with feeling.

"That was delicious. All of it," Cindy said.

He was speechless, wordless, sinking into the afterglow of his own. She put her bra back on, and then pulled on her top. She touched her ears to make sure: yes, both earrings still there.

"See you soon," she said, opening the passenger door and slipping out of the truck. She walked around the front, her hips extra loose, her spine extra straight, her shoulders extra high.

She opened the door to her small, red car and sat herself back behind the wheel.

He honked his horn. "Drive safe," he said. "Don't tailgate any strangers." He smiled.

"You, too," she replied. "I mean, look at this," and she gestured, indicating how his truck spread across both lanes of a two-lane road. He smiled back.

She turned her engine on, it roared like she just had on his fingers.

She blew him a kiss, and the took a photograph of the phone number on the side of the truck. "Only way to prove this wasn't a dream," she thought, "is to dream it again."

Cindy executed a slick, two-point maneuver, spinning her agile red machine back around the direction she came. The wave of her hand, her red-finger tips wiggling girlishly in the air, raised from her outstretched arm, the convertible top still down, was the last thing he saw as she sped away down the road, at a speed far higher than was legal for that simple country lane.