Daddy Wouldn't Dare

A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded her as his footsteps climbed the stairs. Of course, she would have screamed blue murder if he'd tried to touch her ... but he hadn't even tried.

Toni waited a few minutes to see if he would come back, but he didn't. She slid her hands under the afghan, touching nipples that still poked up in puckery little peaks, then roaming lower until she pushed her fingers under the thin strip of elastic and into the damp heat of her pussy. Her hips twitched up in an involuntary spasm. Her thighs clamped around her hand. She kicked off the afghan, letting it crumple to the floor.

Was Daddy upstairs doing something like this right now? Was he up there biting his lower lip to hold in the moans as he pumped his cock with his fist and thought about her? Was he wishing he'd had the nerve to touch her after all, even though it was wrong, even though Mom would kill him, even though Toni was his daughter and would have screamed her head off?

Maybe he was thinking that she wouldn't have screamed. Maybe he was thinking that she would have welcomed it, the feeling of his fingers being where hers were now, probing into her pussy. Maybe he was thinking about her mouth, about rubbing his cock against her lips until she opened up so he could slide it inside.

He'd never dare, though. Never dare do anything like that.

And what in the hell was she doing? What if he came back down and caught her? If he saw her like this, one hand in her panties and the other fondling her own tits ...

She stopped. She didn't want to ... she was so hot, already about to come ... but made herself stop anyway. This was nuts. She had to get herself a new boyfriend before she lost her mind. Much more of this, and she might start thinking that she ...

No. No, no, no. Wrong, sick, bad. She didn't want that.

Toni got up from the couch. Her legs were unsteady, her head spinning, her pussy feeling plump and moist and needy. She tiptoed up the stairs. A blue-tinted nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall shed the only illumination.

At Daddy's door, though she knew she shouldn't, she paused and listened. Silence. No groans. No fleshy sounds of a man in his own hand. No shower running. Only silence. Was he asleep? Was he lying wakeful in the dark, eyes fixed unseeingly on the shadowed ceiling, berating himself for his perverse hungers?

In her own room, she got into bed and stared wakefully up into the darkness herself. She didn't know how she could sleep while still so horny she could barely function, but she didn't want to bring herself off.

This was getting too weird. All she wanted was to tease Daddy ... make him feel guilty for lusting after his daughter ... turn it into an advantage. And maybe get back at Mom a little by doing so ...

It was all his fault, anyway. If he hadn't been ogling her boobs, none of this would have gotten started. What was the matter with him, anyway? What kind of a sick creep looked at his own daughter's boobs?

Eventually, she slept, but had bizarre sex-dreams all night long. Probably her body's way of punishing her for leaving herself unfulfilled. She dreamed of Devin, the only guy she'd been with if you didn't count Bill or Nathan, and she dreamed of Bill and Nathan too, and she even dreamed of her friend Sheila, and Mr. Wharton the math teacher, and her other friend Faye.

She woke up in a state little better off than the one in which she'd gone to bed, but more determined than ever to really make Daddy squirm today. Drive him to distraction, wasn't that the saying? She was going to drive him to distraction.

And then, maybe tonight over dinner, she'd ask him what he thought of this job thing. Didn't he think Mom was being unfair? Didn't he think that she deserved a little time to get her bearings and figure out what she wanted to do with her life?

He'd be feeling so wracked with shame and guilt that he'd agree with her. He'd have to agree with her. He'd have to promise to make Mom back down about the job and the rent.

That cheered Toni up considerably. She bounded out of bed, took a shower, and blow-dried her hair into a silky black wave. After rummaging through her closet and dresser, she decided on a fresh and athletic look for the day ... fresh and athletic with a twist, anyway.

She tugged on a white tank-top, ribbed and stretchy. It molded to her boobs and was sheer enough to show the darker rings of her nipples. Without a bra, her slightest movement made everything bounce and jiggle within the tight confines of the tank top.

By contrast, the red silky gym shorts were too big, loose and floppy even with the drawstring waist cinched fast around her middle. The shiny-clingy fabric draped her ass, making it evident that she wore no underwear. The roomy leg-holes bagged and flapped around her thighs, creating a draft that slipped deliciously cool against her pussy.

Feeling confident and sexy and powerful, she bounced downstairs and into the kitchen. "Good morning, Daddy!" she chirped.

He was in his usual place at the end of the table, looking like he had passed a restless, fretful night. His hair was uncombed, sticking up in dark corkscrews. He was unshaven. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep, but they widened as she came in.

"Morning, Toni," he said.

Daddy had not started the coffee or gotten the bagels from the breadbox or the cereal from the cupboard. He had probably shuffled down to the kitchen like a zombie. Poor Daddy. It served him right, the dirty old man.

She set about those tasks, not quite strutting around but letting her hips swing with carefree, unconcerned ease. She could feel him watching her every move. Could feel his gaze traveling over her ripe, jiggling tits and ass.

"Coffee?"

"Thanks."

When she brought it to him, he dropped his gaze to the table and reached for the steaming cup with a hand that trembled minutely. Toni fetched the bagels, then bent over to rummage for orange juice in the fridge. She peeked back under her arm and saw Daddy staring at her butt.

He was wearing a bathrobe, a plaid flannel thing, and as Toni sashayed over to put the sliced bagels in the toaster, she noticed him surreptitiously trying to adjust the front of it under the table. Was the bathrobe ill-equipped to cover developments in his lap?

"Here you go, Daddy." She leaned over his shoulder to set the toasted bagel halves in front of him, not letting her boobs brush against him but waving them very close to the side of his head.

She heard a dry click in his throat as he swallowed. His voice was unsteady as he thanked her.

"I better water Mom's plants before I forget," Toni said brightly. She bent over again, butt poking out, to search for the long-spouted plastic watering can under the sink.

From this angle, she could see under the table, Daddy's bare legs sticking out from beneath the hem of his robe. His feet shifted uncomfortably. He had the front flaps of the robe bunched and folded over in his lap, in what she surmised was an effort to keep everything contained.

This was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. That heady sense of power sizzled through Toni like electricity. She had him. She owned him.

"Um ... Toni," ventured Daddy, "don't you think that ... um ... that top is ... revealing?"

"My top?" She looked down at it, affecting puzzlement, then smiled. "It is a little small for me, I guess. Don't worry. I'll change clothes before I go out anywhere."

She filled the watering can and began tipping it into the various plants, waiting to see if he would say anything more on the subject. If he'd actually have the nerve.

He didn't. He sat and drank coffee that probably burned his mouth but he didn't care, gnawed on a bagel that he probably barely tasted, and watched her.

Toni wondered if she should spill some water down her front, sort of an accidental wet-tee-shirt-contest look, but thought that might be pushing it. She couldn't let him get the idea that she was doing this on purpose.

Some of the plants hung from the ceiling, out of Toni's reach. She fetched the low, sturdy footstool Mom kept for just this particular chore, and stepped up onto it to water the higher plants. Since she was shorter than Mom, this required a lot of stretching, up-up-up-on-tiptoe, with her tummy sucked in and her boobs jutting way out.

The bottom of her tank top came out of the shorts and exposed the small of her back, the softness of her slightly-too-thick stomach, the dark cup of her bellybutton. The waistband of the shorts, even with the drawstring, drooped low on her hips.

In the various reflective surfaces around the kitchen, the stainless-steel appliances and the glass-fronted cabinets, she was able to keep an eye on Daddy no matter which way she was facing. She innocently posed and turned and displayed, while he got more and more red-faced and flustered.

Then she saw Daddy nonchalantly drop his hand into his lap. Not to hold his robe together this time, either ... in the mirror-shiny front of the oven door, she distinctly saw his arm moving in short, quick twitches.

Was he really going to do that? Really going to beat off right in front of her? Acting like there was nothing going on, acting like it was a normal morning, and there he sat pumping his cock in his fist, staring at her in the bright sunshine that came down through the skylights and filtered green through Mom's plants in the windows?

Did he think he could be so subtle about it that she wouldn't notice? He couldn't very well come on the kitchen floor, could he? What would he do, hope that the table hid it from her sight and then clean it up when she was out of the room?

After a few seconds, she saw his face blanch with the awareness of what he was doing. Daddy yanked his hand out of his lap and brought it back above table level. He shifted in his chair, tried to cross his legs, bumped his knee on the underside of the table.

"You okay, Daddy? That sounded like it hurt," she said.

"Fine," he said. But beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Just these ones left," Toni said, peering up at the highest row of hanging plants. They were above the wide counter with the sink in it, hard to reach. She positioned her footstool and stepped up onto it.

To get to the farthest plants, she had to lean way out over the counter. She stood on one foot, extending her other leg out for balance. Way, way out. Almost in a pose like a ballet dancer.

And of course, with those overlarge red gym shorts, the roomy leg-hole gaped so much that from where he was sitting, Daddy could look right up. All the way up.

Was he looking? Toni was so precariously positioned that she couldn't turn her head to check. But of course he'd be looking. He'd have to look. He wouldn't be able to help it. Looking up her shorts, getting an unobstructed view of her pussy. He'd be staring at the sleek black hair, the pouting lips ...

God, she hoped he couldn't see how wet she was. She felt it, though ... holding her leg out like that, she could feel the rush of cool air against her moist, hot flesh.

The last plant really was almost out of her reach. Toni leaned forward a little more. The leg supporting her weight quivered from the strain. She was tilting over the counter, and the spout of the water can could just make it ...

There was a grating, squawking noise from behind her, a noise she recognized as the legs of Daddy's chair scraping back on the tile. She heard him blunder to his feet in a rush, and a brilliant surge of power went through her as she understood what had happened. He couldn't take it any more, had to run from the room before he did spray his come all over the kitchen. The sight of her naked pussy had done that, and she owned him now.

The footstool suddenly shot from under her, making a squawking noise of its own on the tile. Toni yelped and whirled her arms like she was trying to take flight, but of course she couldn't fly. She dropped the watercan. One flailing hand struck some of the plants, setting them swinging crazily.

She landed in a graceless bellyflop on the counter, with her legs dangling over the edge and her boobs in the sink.

"Oof!" she gasped, the wind driven out of her. She had almost bashed her teeth in on the faucet. Feverish embarrassment set her cheeks to burning.

Thank God Daddy hadn't seen –

A heavy bar slammed down across the small of her back. The image of a rat trap flashed into her mind, but this bar was warm and padded, not cold metal. An arm. Holding her down. Pinning her in place. An arm. Daddy's arm.

"Daddy –"

She felt him crowd against the backs of her legs, felt the flannel robe catch and drag on her inner thighs as he wedged his body between them. When the flannel pushed away, she felt smooth warm skin bristling with fine, wiry hair.

"Daddy, ow, let me up!"

Toni pushed with the upper half of her body but her lower half was still pinned by the immovable bar of his arm. She twisted her head and saw him, reflected in glass and stainless-steel. Daddy's face was contorted into a stranger's mask, lips drawn back from his teeth, eyes bulging. His robe hung open. He was naked under it. His cock was a long stiff curve, thick and engorged.

"No!" Toni shrieked breathlessly. "Daddy, don't, Daddy, no!"

Still holding her down, he shoved his other hand up the loose gaping leg-hole of her shorts. She thrashed, but her kicking legs stuck out uselessly to the sides and couldn't hit him, couldn't knock him away.

Then his hand was against her pussy, groping and greedy. The contact made her scream in shock.

Her elbow smacked against the porcelain side of the sink and a white, glassy pain rocketed up her arm. She heaved her body, tried to bring her legs together, tried to turn over and strike at him, claw at him. Nothing worked. She was held and helpless as Daddy's probing fingers plunged into her.

"Please, Daddy, no!" Toni wailed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

He pushed his fingers in and out, fast, making shameful wet squelching noises. He was bent over her, leaning on her, using his weight on her bottom and thighs as well as the pressure of his arm on her back to hold her down. His breath puffed harsh and hot and heavy.

"Daddy, stop, please, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased you, I shouldn't have, please don't touch me like that please take your hand away don't Daddy don't oh God Daddy please let me up I'm sorry I made you hard Daddy please stop!" The words spilled from her in a babbling torrent.

And he did take his hand away, pulling his fingers out of her. Toni sobbed in fright and relief. He would let her go now. He'd made his point. She had learned her lesson. She would never do anything so stupid again –

Daddy grabbed a handful of loose silky red cloth and pulled the leg-hole of her shorts as far to the side as he could, baring her pussy. He crowded closer. His hips were a wedge, forcing her thighs open.

"No!" Toni cried, seeing the slightly blurred and distorted reflection of his cock, which looked huge and invasive. "Daddy, you can't, don't you dare, I'm your daughter!"

It touched her, that hot rigid rounded fleshy cockhead, touched her slippery-wet pussy lips. Galvanic horror shot through Toni. She scrabbled at the sink, fingernails making brittle tick-tick-tick noises on the porcelain, and tried to pull herself onto the counter, away from that nudging knob.

"Daddy, no! Don't really do it, don't really fuck me!"

As if the actual word had been the final straw, he drove the full length of his cock into her with one hard thrust. He grunted through clenched teeth. Toni screamed so loud that she thought her head would split, the windows would shatter.

"Oh, my God," Daddy said in a low, growling voice that wasn't his own. He didn't move. He only stood there, staring down at where their bodies met.

Toni could see him in the reflections all around her, the bright-shiny-clean kitchen reflections that made this dirty act even worse. Daddy seemed transfixed by the sight of his cock buried deep in his daughter's pussy. His stomach was pressed tight to her butt. She could even feel his balls nestled against her.

"Take it out," she whimpered. "Please, take it out! Daddy, you can't! You can't do this!"

The worst of it, the hell of it, was that her pussy didn't know or care who was at the other end of that cock. That it was Daddy, her own father. All her pussy knew or cared was that it was crammed full of a wonderful hard cock, a cock that throbbed and pulsed and made a sort of flexing eager twitch when her inner muscles involuntarily constricted on it.

"Please, Daddy, take it out," she said. "You're ... you're raping me."

Daddy set his palms flat on her buttocks and slowly drew himself back. Inch by inch, he slid out of her.

Toni held her breath, telling herself it'd be over soon. She watched his reflection, saw his gaze still fixed, looking at his cock as it emerged ... stiff and swollen and glistening ...

What was taking him so long? He had stopped, his cockhead still embedded.

His fingers dug into the soft mounds of her cheeks and he rammed forward again.

Toni howled. "No, Daddy! No!"

He gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, and he thrust, thrust hard, fucking her, yanking her back against him, exhaling in explosive grunts through his teeth each time his stomach slapped against her upturned ass.

"Daddy! Daddy, don't! God! Daddy, stop! It hurts!"

It did hurt; he was driving her against the edge of the counter, her head was banging into the sink basin with each stroke, her legs ached from hanging and flailing uselessly with her feet off the ground ... but she suddenly didn't care so much about any of that.

"Oh ... oh, no! No, no, no!" Toni cried. "You have to stop it, Daddy! You have to stop fucking me right now!"

If anything, he sped up and fucked harder.

"Oh ... oh God ... stop, Daddy!" she begged. "Or I'm ... oh ... going to come! Don't ... don't make me ... ooh, no ... don't make me come, Daddy!"

"Yes!" he snarled, and it was so monstrous, so bestial, that she wanted to think it wasn't Daddy at all but some imposter, some stranger, some possessed-by-the-devil ... but it was just Daddy, Daddy pounding into her. "Come, you little bitch, come for Daddy!"

"No, please, no!"

"This what you've been wanting, huh? This the way you like it?"

Toni burst into hot, horrified tears as she began to shudder all over. Her pussy convulsed around Daddy's cock in violent, jerking spasms. A long, drawn-out shriek of mingled shame and rapture burst from her throat.

She had never come like this before, never, not with Devin or anyone else, not by herself in solitary masturbating pleasure ... never. The orgasm was wrenching, earth-shattering, and went on and on in one peak of ecstasy after another as Daddy kept pumping in and out.

When she collapsed, moaning and half-conscious with her head still hanging in the sink, Daddy's movements slowed to a stop. Toni lay limp across the counter, her legs as boneless as those of a rag doll. Her chest hitched. Her shoulders shook.

It was over. At least, thank God, it was over!

Except ...

It wasn't.

He was still hard inside her, harder than ever, stretching her drenched and tingling pussy with his rigid cock.

"Teasing whore," Daddy said, almost thoughtfully. "See what happens?"

"Daddy ..." she said in a feeble voice. "Please, no."

He pulled out in an abrupt motion. Toni tried to scramble upright but her limbs would not obey her. She slithered to the kitchen floor, her hair in her face, the aftershocks of her orgasm still sparking and jittering along her nerve endings.

Daddy bent and reached for her. She recoiled from his touch, but he was implacable in his strength. He gathered her into his arms and carried her, as she stirred weakly and tried to protest, into the living room.