Coming Home to Poppa

"Oh God papi--please split your little bitch in two with that big prick!"

Her longing and her fuck-holes were so naked he was drawn to her as though by his steel hard cock to a magnet.

With boobs still leaking milk from her daughter's greedy feasting he slid as much as he could fit of himself into her grasping pussy. She was suddenly sorry that Isabella had been born by c-section, maybe a vaginal birth would have better prepared her for the all consuming fullness that now claimed her body and soul.

A few thrusts had his pubes tickling her anus, then he withdrew and that tickle was replaced by an unrelenting pressure as his fat glans bore down on her rectum with only her cunt juice to smooth its entry. "Ohhhhhhhh!"

The muscles of her behind offered mere paltry resistance. In fact she pushed back to meet him as she'd learned from her pastor a few months before, easing the violation of her colon by the fat log of his mammoth dong. She'd had little doubt that he'd be a buttfucker, and of course any organ that generous would be an almost cruel guest in one's hindquarters, but the sensation of fullness drove her out of her mind. His penis seemed to be crushing every pleasure button at once and plunging to a depth the tightness of her young pussy would not have permitted.

"Aaaaiiiiiiiiii"

She practically collapsed as she came. Then her ass was suddenly hollow as he unapologetically withdrew his shaft before sinking it in her cunt again.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh"

Her lungs worked like a coal train's bellows, he alternated thrusts to each of her holes with a brutal indifference that turned her legs to jelly and her mind to liquid.

She was cursing and yowling and then simply panting.

Her pussy's squirting commenced like an octopus spraying ink at a hunting predator. But his cock dived forward again and again. Leaving her cunt and ass each gaping and ravaged.

When he'd had his fill she knew she'd likely have a urinary tract infection and would be walking funny, sitting down gingerly with her back door reminding her for days of this violent soul-consuming conquest.

She moaned intoxicated with gratitude.

Her legs had given way and she was splayed face down on the floor beneath him, trickles of breast milk puddling out to either side of her. Suddenly, his cock smashing her uterus into a pancake, he roared and she felt his cock jerking inside her.

Manny stared down at the young girl who had seduced him with her coarseness and then allowed herself to be fucked senseless. He felt his semen coursing into her in a steady stream. In his minds eye he imagined her fertile egg bent over in equal submission as one of his million of greasy invaders plundered and fertilized it. His dick throbbed again, bathing the gasping woman's organs of reproduction in still more fertile man juice.

He finally withdrew his sword from its new hilt, even as in fact his seed took root in the bitch he'd just possessed body and soul.

She rolled over slowly and looked up at him with a gaze of shy worship. He had humbled her. Fucked her beyond all imagining. She already suspected that he had staked his claim to her womb as completely as possible by making it a home to his child. And as some of his life giving copious semen started to drip from the pussy that hung gaping like barn after a tornado, she scooped it up with her fingers to bring to her lips where she smeared it while gazing at him unblinking. Her tongue swiped it into her mouth, "delicious," she thought.

Then she spoke:

"Do you want some milk? Or" her gaze dropping to his sticky dangle, "do you want to use my face or ass as a toilet first?"

He smiled at her then, so warmly that her heart skipped a beat in her young chest,

"Why don't you tell me your name?" he said.

She giggled, "Shoot, you fucked me silly and I forgot my manners. I'm Jane and the girl who's gonna have to share her milk with her new daddy is named Isabella."

She smiled at him radiantly and he smiled back even bigger.

He took her hand, pulled her to her unsteady feet, and pushed her stumbling ahead of him towards the staff bathroom.

His hand on the small of her back bent her down over the mouth of the toilet. She met his eye over her shoulder as she arched her back and pushed her ass back towards him: "Is daddy gonna give baby a piss enema?"

He didn't say anything, merely planted his dickhead back in her gaping asshole, plugging it tightly, and released a stream of urine that she could feel herself practically tasting in her throat. She purred in satisfaction, her voice echoing in the bowl of the toilet below her.

And deep within her the spark that would become Jesslyn flowered in Jane's ravaged cunt. Planted like a hope and promise by her parent's first brutal coupling.

Chapter 3

Now Jesslyn stood staring at Manny, her father. Even as her own daughter was hurriedly grabbing a handful of clothing and running past her up the open door. She and her father's eyes were locked.

He seemed wholly indifferent to his nakedness. To the picture he presented with his pubes matted with pussyslime and his now softening sausage dangling towards his knees. His lips were parted as though he were on the brink of saying something.

Jess felt overwhelmed, she couldn't face him.

Peculiarly it was she who felt ashamed. Like she had stumbled where she didn't belong. If she could have gathered her thoughts she'd have realized that this probably had something to do with being in her father's studio. A space that was off limits in the years they'd had this house.

The house, the studio, their whole lives growing up had been the product of her dad's cock and his camera. Soon after the start of their relationship, (maybe even with his piss freshly dripping from her ravaged anus), Jane had convinced him to do photo shoots of her.

Starting naked and pregnant with Jess, but with Isabella's breast milk dripping off her swollen tits like sex crazed cow. Once Jess was 18 and and starting to take an irresistible interest in such things she had dug through all the old photos and videos saved on her dad's work computer. Her own sexual horizons had been set by what she supposed many would regard as the depraved images the couple had produced together.

In Jane it was obvious that Manny had found his muse, while she had finally found a man who could satisfy her and possess her utterly.

Looking back Jess can see that she was brought up by a woman who saw herself fundamentally as being a man's property. His to do with as he pleased, with the arbiter of his power over her being the magic dowsing rod between his thighs.

Jess can remember her senior year of high school, watching her mother from the cracked doorway of her parents bedroom, kneeling naked at her husbands feet as he sat on the edge of their bed. Jane would be nursing steadily at the head of Jess' father's engorged prick, often with a dildo or vibrator dangling from her pussy or ass. Minutes would pass and Jane would orgasm repeatedly waiting for her husband to spew his load into her mouth. This would be followed by her drooling the thick gobs of sperm over her upraised breasts. Then she would lick the spatter up from her own cleavage with an infectious gusto.

Remembering this almost makes her recoil, as she can't help recalling what it was like to watch Jane coach Isabella, her older half-sister in the same deliciously debasing act. This had been a reward for having graduated from high school as a valedictorian. She watched with jealousy as her mother helped her sister learn to swallow as much of their father's cock as she could. And on another occasion spied on them as Jane held her oldest daughter's face into the crack of Manny's ass, urging her to "dig in deep with that little tongue so that fuckstick gets hard enough to rail mommy in her pooper".

She's had years to try and come to terms with the impact this environment had on her, but has never freed herself of the unspoken truth of their household. This is why even once she fled she has passed her life selling herself to men. First while being pimped by the college boy who took her in and concealed her after she'd fled Manny's house, and later under her own auspices while trying to raise Caitlyn who that same initial pimp had deposited in her womb shortly after taking her virginity and branding his first initial into her buttcheek to mark her as "his bottom bitch."

Until today she'd imagined that she'd at least spared Caitee the consequences of her confused values and sense of a woman's place. And then while checking the device tracker she'd placed on her daughter's phone to confirm that the girl was really going to a girlfriend's house to study, she'd realized that Caitee was in a part of town she didn't belong and was apparently heading to a house she'd never even been told about.

She had been sick and horrified, and consumed as well by a terrible sense of the inevitable. So that seeing her daughter pinned and speared with her estranged grandfather ravaging her into docile idiocy felt like the cock shaped nail in the coffin of her failure as a mother to protect her baby from their shared wayward genes. Those cursed impulses that made them want to spread and submit. To be ruled by their pussies, and owned by men's cocks.

This is all swirling through her mind as she stands uncertain, still bathed in the pungent stench of her daughter's aggressive deflowering. It's then she distantly hears her own car start up and pull away with a near screech of rubber. Caitlyn obviously fleeing in embarrassment and leaving her mother to stew in her own awkward reunion with a man she has not seen in years but who is never far from her thoughts.

"Shit! Fuck!" Now what will she do?

It's then that Manny's hand closes around her bicep and he is turning her back towards him. The look on his face, desperate, pleading.

"Jess! What are you doing here? Was that really..." he trails off.

"That was your 18 year old granddaughter, Caitlyn, yes"

She can't look him in the face as she says this. Meaning her gaze has strayed downwards to his flat abdomen, his groin.

She can't help note that his heavy flaccid cock gives a sudden throb at her confirmation of his granddaughter's identity.

Where others might whither with shame her father is instead unbowed. Who knows, this may not be the first of his grandchildren he's claimed on camera in this very room. Caitee might just be another very special family notch on her father's much whittled bedpost.

I'm the months following her eighteenth birthday she'd caught him fucking her aunts together with her mother on more than one occasion, and so she knew incest didn't mean anything to him besides having to be careful where he sprayed his seed.

She knows she should be disgusted at his lack of contrition, at the sight of his cock's rearing happily at the thought of having plundered her little girl. But Jess is her mother's daughter. So watching that thick slab of meat dance at hearing that he's just hammerfucked her daughter only makes Jess' cunt drip harder and her knees weaker.

He shakes her arm gently, her eyes spring back upwards. She swallows suddenly, frightened that she has been slack jawed, even drooling contemplating her father's big prick. He is staring at her like he is trying to swallow her up with his eyes. He has always had a probing vision, the photographer's gift.

Strangely now it's she who feels naked, feels too seen by this man who stands before her potent and unconcerned in his nudity.

His question at least is hesitant, "Did she know that I'm" he pauses, regroups, "Did she know who I was?"

"No Manny, I don't think so. I always told him that her grandparents were dead. That that was why I got pregnant so young, why I never finished school, why..." she is throwing the details of her life at him now, trying to wound him, trying to make him let go of her arm. But she shies away from saying "why I'm a sexworker," it's ridiculous, her father is a sexworker. Fucking A they're being recorded by cameras right now. He fucked her daughter here in this room because that's the work he does! But she is looking away again. It feels like shame is drenching her from her head to her toes. Like her father can read a catalog of her failures.

"Let go of me!" She is trying to shout but it comes out as a sob.

"No!" He is vehement, gripping her arm harder, not such that she'll bruise, but enough to know she isn't going anywhere.

"Why not?!" Her anger impels her to look at him again, a new wave of ferocity still failing to quench her desire to flee, to hide.

His countenance is a mask of his own desperation and hurt

"Because I can't let you just run away again! You disappeared almost 20 years ago! We spent years trying to find you! Your mother gave up hope. She assumed you were dead! She got so angry that I wouldn't stop trying to hire investigators that she left me!" (Jess is dumbfounded by this revelation, she can't imagine her mother without her father. The woman had been a teenager when they'd come together and seemed barely capable of living in the world in Jess' opinion.)

But Manny's verbal momentum hasn't slowed. He is staring straight into her eyes, trying to bite into her with his words.

"You've been the missing piece of my life for years. I've been so afraid, and upset, and suddenly here you are, and..." now his words run dry for a moment. He can only gesture at the studio, as though articulating Caitlyn's presence and what transpired between him and the teen girl is too much to summarize. He catches a breath, recenters and continues.

"You ran away from us, you broke my heart into pieces, I can't let you just dash out of here!"

Her mouth has gone dry. She has had years to speculate about her family's reaction to her departure. But her father's work had given her a window into their lives.

For the last 18 years she has watched live cam shows, or prerecorded videos from this home studio. She has watched her father age while maintaining his virility. Watched him with a parade of young women.

"Oh my god" a fully articulated thought "this must have been how Caitlyn found him!" Jess' own poorly concealed browser history. Her stomach falls in on herself, it was probably her own twisted voyeurism regarding her father and his work as a stud and filmmaker that drew his granddaughter to him. She feels dizzy.

Over the years, watching the ongoing parade of fucking and sucking she has presumed, sometimes resentfully and sometimes almost happily that her family's life has gone on as normal. That they hadn't really cared when their youngest disappeared one afternoon.

It is suddenly clear to Jess that part of what she has hidden from all these years is the mask of hurt that her father is wearing. The pain wrapped like binding wires around his words. She did this to them, ruined her parents' relationship. Tortured them with worry. She arrived here the vengeful victim and she can feel the rug has been pulled out from under her. But...

"I broke your heart?!" This is a sob. She feels like a massive raw nerve that her father has just plucked like a guitar string.

"Your heart!?" Her voice is rising and cracking, her nose filling with snot from her tears. "You rejected me! You didn't want me! I wasn't..." what can she say? She wasn't pretty enough? Sexy enough? Loveable enough?

She's had years to try and come to terms with her life, to forgive her parents their perversions and her own inclination to them, to forgive her sister...

A rush of memories. This same studio. That same fucking ottoman (but before getting reupholstered). Her 20 year old sister on her back and her father on top of her, their mouths wide open in a deep soul kiss. Father and stepdaughter lost in each other, no space between them, no room for anyone else. Her thighs straining up towards him without restraint and him driving his cock steadily forward into her unresisting pussy. Jess had watched in secret, a warring sense of overwhelming arousal and terrible jealousy. She shakes her head, this is too much, too much. She tries to pull away again but Manny has her held fast. She drags in a deep rattling breath, but he is interrupting her.

"Rejected you?! You were still in high school! You'd never even had a boyfriend! I woke up in the middle of the night with you trying to push my hard-on into your little honeypot! You could have gotten pregnant! What was I supposed to do?"

Jess is grown now, still younger then her dad was when she'd snuck into his bedroom and coaxed his dick to life by amateurishly slurping at it, careful so as not to wake him, hoping that once she'd slid the big python inside her he'd be too entranced to complain, but she knows that she is a grown up, a mother. Yet she can feel it's the teenage version of herself who is crying, trembling with tears, the fight going out of her, the pain swelling and overrunning the dams she has tried to maintain to contain it. She knows what he's saying is true, but it feels wrong. Her pain feels right.

"I thought you loved me! That you would want me! But..."gasping "you yelled at me. You grounded me!" Now she is just crying. Mute with tears.

Her father is staring at her, his own pain transmuted into something else, his features softening. Then he is pulling her towards him. Her dad is holding her. He's let go of her bicep and is embracing her. She is shaking in the scaffolding of his arms. He holds the back of her head and her face is against his naked chest and she is bathing it in tears. She feels like a little girl again, she feels like his daughter again.

His mouth is down against her ear.

"I'm sorry love. I'm so sorry. I loved you so much. I still love you so much. You're my baby girl. I just wanted to protect you. If I'd realized what you'd do I wouldn't have..." another pause, and he redirects, "even though you were so young, I would have done anything to keep from losing you."

She knows how foolish this sounds but can't help herself.

"But you didn't want me!" She sounds petulant in her tears, ridiculous, but it's the old painful thorn that has stabbed at her for years. Her father wanting her older step sister, her mother, her aunts, the women he would film and fuck in his studio to keep a roof over their heads, everyone it seemed but her. Even then she'd been desirable to men, she knew this, but her father had been immune to her when he'd been open to so many others. She shudders and sobs.

He pulls her face up to look at him.

"Baby! Of course I wanted you" he looks as close to embarrassed by something sexual as she can imagine "do you know how many role plays your mom and I did with her in your clothes after you turned 18 and filled out? Calling me daddy, having me spank her and call her Jess? It was torture watching you ripen and blossom. And the way you started throwing yourself at me, grinding your ass"and here he actually drops one of his hands down and forcefully cups her left buttock, like a butcher sizing up a cut of meat, before squeezing it so forcefully that Jess' eyes widen staring into his. "You left me ravenous all the time! But you were my baby girl! And I didn't want to mess you up! I didn't trust you to really know what you wanted! And then you were gone!"

Her voice is a whisper

"I knew what I wanted. I wanted YOU. I needed you. I wanted you so much..." she has to stop herself. Because his hand still has a hold of her ass, fingers dug into the flesh there such that she actually hopes it'll leave a bruise. That later, she'll be able to look back at it in the mirror and see her father's handprint there, a sign that she is beautiful and desirable to the man she has watched fuck and dominate women like her since she was a girl. The man she still wants most in the world.

But that means she can't say a word now. Though her painfully hard nipples pressed against his pecs and the rising scent of her own sopping pussy in the diminishing sex fug of the studio are doubtlessly conveying some of the effect that his comforting embrace is having on her.