Eleanor Ch. 02

Eleanor woke with a smile still clinging to her lips. She sighed dreamily, stirring amongst the sheets, rolling onto her back and sliding her legs out. It was probably the best night's sleep she'd had in...well, months, and she lay there for a long time with the morning light streaming over her naked body, sheets tangled about her legs. She felt rested, her mind felt so blissfully at peace, her body relaxed, buzzing with latent energy. Her lip quirked up, and she smiled at the ceiling, running a hand over her stomach.

It almost could have been a dream. A part of her wished it was, just a dream she could push from her mind, a fading byproduct of her subconscious mind that she could repress and never think about again.

But there was no forgetting what had happened. She couldn't forget the soft ache between her legs, the gentle burn between her cheeks, or the crusty glaze dried on her inner thighs. More importantly, there was no way she could ever forget how it had made her feel; all those delicious, forbidden things that had consumed her.

El's eyes fluttered closed, and just like it was happening once more she felt her father's tongue slide between her slick vulva. She felt it dance over her tingling rosebud, felt him lap and slather her dripping sex. She squirmed, breathing a little faster, and as her mind wandered back she felt his thick manhood sink deep within her, filling every silken inch of her. She felt him stretching her tiny, virgin hole, parting her velvety rectum, the feeling of him throbbing and pulsating as he pumped his warm seed inside her clouding her mind anew.

A little ripple of euphoria shimmered through her body at the memory, and her crotch throbbed with sudden need. She squirmed, squeezing her warm thighs tight. She was wet, utterly soaked with desire, just as she'd been last night. She squeezed her legs tight, mewling softly, and slowly pushed her hand down, brushing her fingers against her soft bush.

God, she was burning, and so incredibly sensitive, her tender little clit crying out for even the slightest touch, as if it would set a climax cascading through her the second she did. Even squeezing her legs together made her mind swim, and she fought her own hand as it scraped through her downy curls, fingers tightening into a claw against her mound. She couldn't...couldn't give in, could she?

Oh Dad, she thought, I can't believe...can't believe we...

She bit her lip, grasping at a strand of clarity and pushing the arousal back, lifting the haze just long enough to allow herself to think clearly. She wasn't sure she even wanted to think clearly, didn't want to face what they'd done with a rational mind, but...

She had to face it, didn't she? She had to accept that...that...

She groaned, and rolled over and shoved her face into the pillow.

I had sex with Dad. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck...

A flutter of shame tried to rise, a guilty abhorrence threatening to murk her already confused state of mind, but she instinctively drove her fingers down, into the soft, wet warmth between her legs. A sharp spear of heightened pleasure jolted through her. It drove the shame back, as well as the lingering disgust, and the regret that she hadn't spoken out and stopped it from happening before it began. She slid her fingers deeper into her slippery channel, massaging her dewy folds, and that semi-delirious smile fluttered across her lips once more as the lust soothed her torrent of confused emotions.

It's...it's okay, remember? She told herself as she gripped her mound, index delving into her suctioning grip. He won't remember. And I...I did nothing wrong. I don't have to feel bad about...about enjoying it.

It took everything she had to hold onto that thought, to not let it slip beneath the tide of shame and regret pressing against her senses. She squeezed her hand, rubbing gently, sinking further into that lust, remembering what it had felt like once more.

What he had felt like, with his entire, glorious length throbbing within her.

The gentle ache in her ass seemed to throb in response, and she parted her legs and slid a finger down to rub her tender rosebud. She was a little surprised it didn't hurt far more than it did, after having her virgin anus so suddenly and roughly deflowered, especially by a man of her father's girth. But it was just that soft ache, and the raw tingling as she rubbed the rubbery flesh, her finger nudging at her ring.

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, at the taboo lewdness of it all. She'd lost her anal virginity, something she hadn't expected to ever do, and her father had been the one to do it. God, she still couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe he had done it, couldn't believe he had been drunk enough to even consider it, or that he'd actually managed to get it in at all.

She couldn't believe she had taken it all, that his entire massive erection had somehow been inside her tight rectum. She couldn't believe it hadn't hurt way more than it did, and that towards the end she had actually kind of...enjoyed it.

God, had she enjoyed it?

He had hurt her, betrayed her, violated her in a way that should have been unforgivable and painful. So, why did it have to feel so good?

El slipped back, losing herself again in the lingering memory of those feelings, and moaned softly as she rubbed her sensitive bud. His cum had seeped out during the night, and she could feel where it had dried over her skin. She let out a small sigh, and pulled her hand from her tender asshole, dragging it through her sopping cleft and back to her stomach. She needed a shower. Maybe that would clear her mind, help her sort through the tangled web of warring emotions she was currently fighting.

She climbed up, resting on the edge for a moment, and glanced back at the damp stain where she'd been lying. God, she was radiating heat, her lust soaking into the sheets. She tugged them from the bed and left them in a pile by the laundry basket, then headed for the shower. She stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it wash away the traces of sex still clinging to her, and when she finally shut it off she held a trembling determination in her jaw.

She wasn't going to feel bad. She hadn't done anything wrong. All she'd done was...not put a stop to it. She'd been in shock, she wasn't to blame. If anything, she should have been angry at him, should have been hurt and disgusted and betrayed. He'd taken advantage of his own daughter, defiled her.

But when she thought of him, pictured his face, she felt the smile pulling at her lips, the warmth radiating within her heart, and a tingle ran through her crotch. God, why did it feel so good? Why did it feel so...

Right?

She walked to the full length mirror and looked at herself, her soft, pale curves glistening. She met her gaze, and smiled faintly. Her lips were full, rosy, matching the soft blush in her cheeks. Her face was delicately rounded, her murky green eyes kind, her mess of dark hair damp where it clung to her skin. She ran her hands over her thighs, sliding them up to encapsulate the heavy swell of her breasts, her thumbs gliding over the soft pink rings of her large areola, and nudging the small brown nubs of her nipples. She squeezed them, smiling at herself, and then released them and slid a hand down to tickle the dark curls between her thighs.

Then, frowning slightly, she turned, and gripping the soft globes of her ass, spread them apart. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but her delicate little hole looked...well, fine. The soft brown surrounding it was a little flushed, maybe, but her tiny pink ring looked undamaged by her father's forced entry. She spread them a little wider, wincing at the soft ache as her sphincter parted slightly, then released her plump cheeks and sighed.

Alright, El, she thought, holding onto her faint smile, let's go face this day, huh?

She pulled on a long, pale-yellow summer dress, and didn't bother with anything underneath. It clung nicely to her curvy frame, the hem drifting about her pale thighs, and was low enough for her ample cleavage to strain against the yellow fabric. Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, tickling her clavicle. She glanced at herself in the mirror again as she passed, her smile widening.

She looked beautiful. Or at least, she felt beautiful. She ran her hands over her breasts again, her small nipples already nudging against the fabric.

This was what her father saw when he looked at her, wasn't it? He didn't just see his daughter, his little girl, anymore. He saw her as a woman. He thought she was beautiful. He thought she was sexy, and for the first time in a while, she felt it, and it made her heart flutter. She bit her lip, smiling at her reflection, then turned and walked to the door.

She stood in the frame, glancing left to the stairs, and then slowly to the right, to her father's door at the end of the hall. She hesitated, her eyes lingering. It was ajar. She chewed on her lip, then stepped into the hall, walking towards the open door. She swallowed, her determination faltering just a little at the prospect of what she would find.

What if...what if he remembered what he'd done to her? He'd be a mess, surely, and it wasn't as if she could comfort him. She couldn't tell him it was alright, that she forgave him, could she?

God, did she forgive him?

She knew immediately in her heart that she did, but how could she ever put forgiveness like that into words? What if he saw her face and immediately knew that she knew? Worse, what if he knew, from the moment he saw her, that she wasn't angry, that she had secretly enjoyed it? He, at least, had an excuse for what he had done. He had been drunk, well and truly, not in control of himself, overcome by his lust for her mother, who she resembled so closely. What excuse did she possibly have for allowing him to do that to her? For enjoying it? He'd think she was sick, surely.

Her legs trembled a little, and she steadied herself by placing a hand against the wall. How could they ever look at each other the same way if they knew? God, he was all she had, all they each had, she couldn't mess that up.

She pulled in a trembling breath, then shook her head and set her jaw. No, she wasn't playing that game. She would just head downstairs, and go about her day, and act like everything was fine. Because it was. She didn't have to feel bad, and neither would he.

Still, though, she hesitated, watching his door. She should at least check on him, make sure he was okay, shouldn't she? She began to move, edging towards his door, and when she reached it she drifted to a stop. She could hear the sound of soft snoring drifting from the slightly ajar door, and she relaxed, letting out a breath. Instead of leaving though, she reached out a hand, fingers brushing the wood, and then gently nudged it open.

Her breath caught in her throat. There he was, lying spread-eagled atop his covers, completely naked. Her eyes roamed his body, although they slid almost immediately to his rigid erection. Her father's large, thick cock rested against his hairy belly, rising and falling as he snored gently.

She stared, enraptured by the sight, breath scraping as her eyes took him in. She saw him, his manhood, saw it clearly for the first time since that day months ago, saw what had been buried inside her just hours earlier. God, she'd actually had that thing inside her ass, had her tight virgin ring wrapped around it.

Well, not so virgin anymore. A sliver of that same lewd smile actually threatened to slip back across her lips at the thought.

Her eyes devoured his manhood as she breathed deeply, unable to move. From the loose sack of wrinkled skin wrapped about his heavy balls, to the deep ridge defining the base of his shaft, to the thin ripple of veins wrapping his girth, to the soft purple of his bulbous glans. It twitched, rising an inch or two from his stomach, and then dropping back down. It was so thick, bulging in the middle, curved slightly downwards. God, it was perfect.

Her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue over her lips. Without thinking, without considering, she found herself stepping into the room. When no thoughts rose to halt her, she crossed the space, and slowly sat down on the bed beside him. He didn't stir, and she watched him sleep for a moment, watched his stubbled square jaw, his mess of dark hair, the fading muscle of his thick arms. His hairy chest rose and fell, breath whistling past his parted lips as he snored gently. She knew that he was just like her, that when he was under, he could sleep through a damn hurricane. Still, she raised her hand, and placed it gently on his bare chest, feeling his firm sternum, his warm skin.

"Dad?" she breathed softly.

She didn't know what she was doing, or whether she truly wanted a reply or not. He grunted and twitched, snoring away. Her eyes kept returning to the thick hunk of meat rising from his nest of greying hairs. She breathed hard, eyes clinging to the magnificent manhood before her, so close that when she inhaled she could smell his musky scent.

She'd never really noticed the smell before, in her limited experiences with men, but she found herself leaning closer, breathing deeper, filling her nostrils with the deep scent of her father's body. It swam through her, eliciting something primal within her, something beyond the comfort and familiarity of the scent of cheap deodorant and old beer he also carried. Her pussy throbbed with need, her sex steamy between her thighs. She could feel how wet she was, her whole crotch damp with lust. She swayed above him, fingers brushing through the soft hairs carpeting his chest.

Without thinking, without noticing, her hand began to trail down, brushing over his soft belly as it rose and fell. Her breath came fast, vision swimming as she stared at his rigid cock. She felt her arm twitch, her fingers gliding down over his pelvis and down his thigh, only to run back up, skirting the soft wrinkles of his loose sack, and rising above him, hovering over his fat pole, fingers trembling, pushing as if against an invisible force.

Don't... A small, distant voice whispered. Don't do this. Forget it ever happened, it's not too late to get up and leave...

But it was too late, and right then she understood, understood that she didn't want to, that no part of her truly wanted to leave. She didn't want to forget. She wanted...

Her fingers closed around him, encapsulating the thick, warm meat of his incredible erection, feeling him throb gently beneath her palm. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she felt a sudden rush of lust fill her like an electric charge, coursing through her body. Her skin tingled, and she shuddered, back arching a little as her juicy slit quivered, soaking her thighs. She squeezed him, biting her lip, and then forced her grip to loosen, and began to stroke him gently. God, he felt amazing in her grip; soft and tender, yet firm and rigid and delightfully warm, emanating his subconscious desire.

Her mouth was dry, eyes losing focus just a little. She ran her fingers up and down, gliding her palm over his shaft, from the hard ridge at his base, to the spongy softness of his glossy crown.

Oh, Dad... she thought. I can't believe you put this in me...in my...

Her delicate little asshole ached gently in response to the thought, and yet even as it did a little shiver of pleasure rippled through her, as she recalled once again the sensation of his warm seed filling her, spurting into the deep reaches of her clenching rectum. Her stroking grew firmer, fingers trailing his smooth shaft, thumb exploring the contours of his bulbous head. He had still been a little soft, and as she stroked he grew, standing rigid in her light grasp, pulsing as he engorged.

Why does it have to be so nice? she thought, so big, so perfect, so...

She felt herself leaning in, lip quivering, heart pounding, eyes losing focus. That weak, distant voice made one more pleading effort; what are you doing? You can stop this...

But she didn't want to stop.

She pressed her lips to his glans, brushing them softly against the glossy flesh. She held him against the soft embrace of her lips, as he twitched, her warm breath washing over him. He was so smooth, so silky, and she sighed, moaning into him, then breathed in through her nose. His scent, musky and deep, filled her, making her slit pulse. She slid her tongue out, flicking the tip against his slit, tasting the drop of precum welling there. She was breathing hard, hand gripping his shaft, trembling with desire, as the last vestiges fighting the urge withered away.

She licked him again, sliding her tongue wetly over his spongy head. A brief flicker of thought tried to remind her that he had been inside her last night, but it faded fast. She didn't care. She wanted him inside her again. She pulled him into the slippery wet comfort of her mouth, widening the embrace of her lips and sucking on his glossy crown. She moaned softly, swirling her tongue over his soft head, running it around the ridge of his glans. She bobbed her mouth slowly, sucking, savouring his taste, how he felt against her tongue. Her dark hair fell over his lap, strands brushing his skin, and she pushed down, taking him into her, sliding him against the roof of her mouth. She lifted her eyes to his face, but he only snored.

She glided the suctioning seal of her lips gently up and down, sliding him deeper inside her wet mouth. She had to be careful. She couldn't wake him. There'd be no going back if she did, no way to explain. She slid her hand up his thigh, into the soft hairs of his stomach, and purred around the fleshy hardness of his thick meat. Her other hand slid down, caressing his loose sack, fondling his large balls.

Oh, Dad...

She pushed deeper, desperate with the need to take him, forcing him deeper into the tight confines of her throat. She breathed through her nose, letting her eyes drift shut, savouring the feel of his warm, rigid erection filling her mouth. She pushed on, stretching her lips wide, and felt him nudge the back of her throat. Her throat convulsed, and she felt herself gag, and slid him back before she made herself cough. She'd never been particularly good at that, although right now she wished she was. She wanted all of him.

She returned to her sucking, tongue splayed against him, and began to bob slowly and sloppily, letting her saliva coat him. She was quick to lose herself, and began moving just a little too vigorously. When he grunted, leg kicking out, she froze, his cock buried halfway down her throat, her eyes going to his face. He moved his lips, as if speaking, and then returned to his soft snoring. She exhaled a sigh through her nose, and slid back, letting him pop free. He glistened wetly, glossy with her spit, and she curled her fingers around him. It was beautiful, fat and engorged. God, she wanted him, wanted him more than anything, wanted to feel what she had felt last night.

She felt the wild need throb between her legs, her thighs slick with her flowing juices. Her eyes lingered dreamily on him, her head swimming. Could she do it? There was nothing to stop her, nothing except her own self control and sense of judgement, which were vague and distant concepts right now. She supposed they had already done it, hadn't they? Even if she hadn't had a choice in the matter.

She paused, holding him. He had taken all that from her, violated her in the worst way possible. It felt wrong to even think of the word, but...he'd raped her, ejaculated in his daughter's virgin asshole, like she was some filthy whore he'd brought home from a bar. A little ripple of anger slithered through her, but strangely, all it did was strengthen her resolve. It made her grit her teeth, defiance burning. He had taken that from her. Well, she needed something from him, needed to get...even, to wrestle back some semblance of control. That felt...right.