Eve’s Halloween Daddy (and Mommy?)byscouries©
This is my official entry in the 2009 LITEROTICA Halloween Contest (if I finish it in time).
It's approximately three and a half (3 1/2) Literotica pages long.
WARNING: This story describes incestuous sexual activity of a non-consensual nature between family members all over the age of 18. If this is not what you were looking for please click out a.s.a.p.
ALERT: This story will likely be removed from the site relatively quickly. If you think you might want to revisit it sometime in the future I'd suggest you save it.
To those of you who've noticed my absence from LITEROTICA: I've been away over the last 6 months (in South America). I'm back in Miami now, hard at work on a bunch of new stories. I hope to have another new one out next week.
Thanks and enjoy!
So who's to blame? Am I who I am due to nurture or nature? Born bad? A teenage temptress. Or evil? Evil eighteen year old Eve? The Devil's spawn?
Well it doesn't really matter you know. Because when you get right down to it "nature" is my parents and "nurture" is my parents. It's their fault! Daddy's and mommy's! If I happen to be highly sexed I must have inherited it. Or maybe I'd been influenced by the sounds that had emanated nightly from my parents bedroom over my formative years. My innocent dreams invaded by the nocturnal cries of my mother's passion as daddy repeatedly thrust his big prick inside her. Dreams that had slowly turned her precious young daughter into a girl who craved cock! But whose cock?
Anyway, that's what I told Gunther when I finally explained the full details of my Halloween plan to him. After I told him I could see that he didn't agree, that he'd love to argue with me. But he didn't dare! He wasn't going to jeopardize his chances of getting into my pants.
I never thought of my father that way growing up. In a sexual way I mean. He was just Daddy. I was daddy's little girl.
And then you grow up. And out. Things happen. You listen. "Daddy's penis is how big?" You learn...
Gunther - September 9th
Gunther, my friend, was a weirdo, an outcast. Our next door neighbour, with his bedroom windows facing mine, he'd been in my class since elementary school. The goodie, goodie, teacher's pet, nerdy type who'd slowly morphed through various transformations (computer geek, drugged out punk) as he'd aged. Now, starting his senior year of high school, he'd decided he was going to become a famous film director some day and was trying to act the part. But with a beret on his head and a camera hanging around his thick neck he still remained a total social outcast.
He was, at five foot six, three inches shorter than my five nine. He'd never grow much taller now but he'd grown out in the past couple of years. Put on muscles on a once scrawny frame. He now had a barrel like body but one, surprisingly, with no body hair to speak of on it. A wisp under his arms and at his groin belied his enormous teenage horniness.
I was his only friend. His parents loved me. So did he. He always had. So it wasn't just the female body I'd suddenly sprouted in the last two years that drew him. It was my brain. And the fact that he had recognized something in me that no one else had. My wild side, my badness. I looked like the perfect "in crowd" high schooler, it was only Gunther who could see below my cheerleader/miss homecoming queen facade.
So when I was ready to put my plan into action he was my obvious choice as an assistant. No one else would do. Certainly not my regular friends, my girlfriends. They wouldn't have understood. And even if I found one that would have been willing to go along I knew I'd never find one who'd keep her mouth shut. Gunther would! Who could he tell?
Mind you I didn't tell him my real plan at first. I'm not stupid! You've got work up to it slowly...
"You're not going home with that jerk are you?" Robbie asked. It was the third day of our senior year of high school and my almost perfect boyfriend was pouting as he stamped his feet impatiently. He hated the idea of a Gunther living in his world. The fact that his girlfriend would actually talk to him or worse, drive in his car, baffled him as much as it angered him.
"He lives next door Rob, gotta go," I answered sweetly, then pursed my lips and sent him a little kiss.
"He's a retard."
"He going to help me with my Chemistry homework," I countered. Robbie didn't take Chemistry so had no idea if I had any homework.
"He's not our type, he's a pervert." Robbie couldn't keep the petulant whine out of his voice.
Fuck you I wanted to tell him but instead I smiled sweetly again. "Really, I gotta go, luv ya, I'll phone you later," I promised.
"So, do you like girls? Or have you become gay now that you've gone Hollywood?" was my opening salvo as we drove home from school. Once in a while I let him drive me home in his old clunker. Partly to bug my boyfriend Robbie but mainly to check up on what Gunther was up to. In many ways he was the most interesting person in my life.
It was a crazy question because every girl in our school knew that Gunther was a perv of the first order. Walking around with his camera. Lurking near the entrance to the girls change room and shower. Of course no one would go out with him.
"Fuck you," he muttered defiantly but then quickly glanced over to see how I'd react to his new tough guy mode. He was always trying new personas out on me. I simply raised my eyes to the sky.
I pressed on. "Well, how come you're still a virgin then?"
"Who said I was?" he demanded. He was blushing through his scowl.
"Do you have a big cock?"
He looked like he was going to have a fit before he finally stammered out a, "Christ Eve, what's got into you today?"
"Would you like to?" I teased as I put my palm on his thigh.
"Like to what?"
"Get into me? Robbie wanted to. He didn't want me to drive home with you." My hand slipped up into his crotch. His whole body jerked as I traced his length. It was surprisingly big for so little a boy.
"EVE!" it was both a warning and a plea.
"I have a plan," I announced as I took my hand from his cock.
"You do?" he asked suspiciously. He'd been made to participate in some of my plans before.
"Uh huh," I answered as he turned into his driveway. After we'd stopped I quickly exited the car and turned to cross the lawn towards my house. I wondered how long he'd wait before he spoke. I was only about a third of the way to our side door when I heard his plaintive call.
"Well, what is it? It's not like the last one you had is it?"
I turned and walked slowly back towards him, stopping only when I was less than a foot from him. Looking down at him and clearly in his space, I waited a second before talking. "You'll have to obey me," I warned, then stepped around him and headed towards his back door. He rushed after.
"Obey you? What are we going to do?" he couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice.
"Among other things we're going to make a film Mister Director," I announced back over my shoulder as I entered the Klugge kitchen. "Hi Mrs. Klugge," I announced cheerfully to Gunther's mom as I proceeded through the room.
"Oh hi sweetie," she welcomed. I'd always been her favourite. She'd even gone so far as to thank my parents for having such a nice daughter. I had basically been the only one of his classmates who'd ever played with him. She thought I was a 'good girl' and I'm sure her greatest hope was that someday her son and I would become a couple.
"Gun's promised to help me with some homework," I said as I moved towards the hall and stairs beyond.
"Would you two like something to drink, some cookies first?" she offered. A great cook, she always wanted so badly to entertain Gunther's friends. But he didn't have any.
"I'm getting fat, I have to diet, but thanks anyway," I said with the sweetest smile on my face. I could charm anyone!
"Eve, you're beautiful, not an extra ounce on you. You've turned into a stunner. Hasn't she Gunther."
He simply muttered as he followed me up the stairs, then grumbled in a squeaky falsetto, "I'm getting faaaaat."
"Shut up and lock the door," I ordered. I wasn't going to give him an inch of wriggle room.
"So what's the plan?" he asked after throwing himself nonchalantly across his bed. Mr. Cool lifted the camera and aimed it at me.
Not just yet little Gunny I said to myself as I sat down at his desk and spun the chair around so I was facing him. Gave him a good long stare before I demanded in my most authoritative voice, "I want the film."
"What film?" he asked nervously. In response I simply stared him down until he broke eye contact. Then waited. Each time he looked back up I met him with my most truculent look.
"Eve--" he tried but he couldn't hide the whine. I continued to wait with my hand out.
He tried again. "I didn't do anything wrong." I waited. "It was your fault, you shouldn't have--" He stopped talking as he saw the anger rise on my face.
Finally he rolled off the bed and walked towards the stack of DVDs that sat on the top shelve of his bookcase. "Put it on so we can watch it on your TV," I instructed after he'd grabbed one from the pile.
"You want to see it? Here?" I nodded yes. He nervously fumbled around inserting the disc, hoping against hope for divine intervention. The tape finally started to roll.
"I was right, you are a pig!" I announced after watching sixty seconds of the tape. It was a tape that showed me undressing in my room. It showed me as I lay back on my bed ... as I touched my body ... as I inserted the plastic penis slowly between my legs. It was a performance I'd specially staged for my horny neighbour just ten days earlier.
"You shoulda closed the curtains, it's not my fault." He didn't realise I'd put on the show on purpose.
"You've masturbated to it haven't you?" I accused.
"I have not!"
I was on a roll now and knew I had him where I wanted him. "Perv! Show it to me ... NOW!"
"Show you what?"
"Your little cock! Now hurry," I ordered.
"Why should I? And it's not that little," he insisted as he backed away from me. When the back of his legs hit the bed I gave him a hard shove and he tumbled down onto his back. I climbed on top and sat straddled on his knees as I looked down at him.
"What aaaaare you doing?" His squeal clearly showed his panic. After quickly undoing his belt I slowly pulled down his zipper.
"Don't! Mom might come." Gunther was panicking. I pulled his pants and shorts down below his penis in one fell swoop.
I inspected the already erect shaft, let my eyes play over it, licking my lips as I devoured it. He actually had a pretty nice cock. "It's not bad for someone like you," I said as I shook my head slowly from side to side, belying the words I'd just uttered.
"What do you mean, 'someone like you'? What's wrong with it?"
I ignored his question. "Show me what you do when I'm not here and you're watching the film," I ordered.
"No way!" Even as he tried to decline I knew he was excited, knew that he loved it that I was finally looking at his penis. He'd wanted me since he'd learned what a cock was really made for.
"Show me!" One of Gunther's hands twitched, then moved downward. Seconds later it was wrapped around his eighteen year old cock. His whole body was trembling. I watched as his penis started to fuck his fist.
"You don't have much hair," I complained as I continued to inspect him, then added, "You know of course that body hair is usually a sign of male virility don't you?"
"I've got all the virility any girl will ever need," he boasted but couldn't hide the nervousness from his voice. I knew how badly he wanted to impress me.
"Daddy's covered in hair, his legs, his chest, his beard..." I mused as I slipped my hand under his shirt.
"Around his cock too. It's like a jungle."
"Your father's penis? Have you--"
I interrupted. We'd talk about daddy later. "Do you always think of me when you're doing that?" he shook his head yes in answer as his hips began to thrust upward. Wanting his chest bare when he came I grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it upwards. He released his cock for a second to let me pull it over his head. His hand rushed back to his cock.
"You're sick," I accused as I watched as his fat cockhead repeatedly thrust through the fist holding it.
"Everybody does it."
"Rob doesn't. He puts it in me," I whispered hoarsely.
"Rob can't add one and one, I don't know why you spend even a second with him," Gunther complained in a panting gasp. I knew he was close. I took his free hand and put it under my sweater.
"Do you want to fuck me? Fuck your little Eve?" I demanded. His hand closed angrily over my breast. Squeezed.
"You're crazy," he groaned.
"Say it," I ordered.
"I want to fuck you." His words were a hoarse whisper but there was no mistaking the passion behind them.
"Let me," I offered as my hand closed around the base of his cock and pushed his hand away.
"I can't... don't ... I'm coming," he cried as I pumped him. Then I felt it, felt the jerking spasm that announced the first creamy strand that was rushing up his shaft. I aimed him so that his string of cream spurted up and then down onto his heaving chest.
"Eeeeeeeeeeve!" it was a cry of release, a cry of pain, a cry of ecstasy. And each time his prick jerked in my hand he cried out my name again.
"You're a pig," I accused when he'd finally finished, when I'd squeezed the last drop of his cum onto his stomach. He watched, silent and panting, as I dipped my finger into the sperm that had pooled around his belly button.
"Jesus," he moaned softly when I stuck out my tongue and licked his baby making cream from it. He gaped when I pushed my sticky finger into my mouth and noisily sucked it. Then I dipped back into the still warm pool of cum and got another finger full. He whimpered when I pushed my laden finger between his lips but he made no other complaint as he cleaned my finger, as he swallowed his own spunk.
"It's good, yummy, yummy," I said as I smacked my lips.
"You're a sex maniac," he accused.
"Are you complaining?"
"I want to fuck you." There was a begging, desperate tone in his voice.
"Not until you've done your part in my plan."
"I'll do it, I'll do it. Fuck, what do you want me to do?" I knew I could make him do anything.
"I'm not sure now if you can do it." I was quite happy to take my time playing him.
"Please. I'll do anything."
"I thought you were a better filmmaker. That's crap," I said as I pointed to the amateur production still playing on his TV.
"I wasn't prepared ... I didn't have the right camera ... the windows," he tried to explain.
"You're supposed to be the expert." I saw he was about to sputter out some other explanation so I held my hand up. "Anyway, it's not your filmmaking ability I need to start the plan."
"I'll do anything. What do I have to do?" he was desperate.
So I told him. Slowly. Very clearly. Every time he tried to interrupt I silenced him by squeezing his balls. I finally finished.
"What are you going to do with them? You're going to drug someone aren't you? Who is it? And why the two different kinds of drug?"
"One for the man, the other for the woman."
"Man? Woman?"I simply watched him as he tried to work it out. "Cathy Jennings," he finally spat out as he snapped his fingers. "You're going to drug her aren't you? You've never liked her since she was picked Freshman Year Queen have you?"
"No, it's not her ... mind you that's not a bad idea Gunther. Maybe later we'll drug her and I'll let you fuck her. Would you like that?" Of course he would!
"Well who is it then?"
"I have to go, we'll talk about it again next week," I told him as I turned towards the door. Then I turned back and ejected the film from his DVD player.
He looked up. "Yes?"
"If you want to fuck me, if you think you're going to lose your cherry with me, there's other things you'll have to do to."
His face fell. "There are?"
I walked over to his computer and typed in an address, pushed enter, then turned and left the room. I'd just reached the top of the stairs when I heard his almost yelled words, "Penis tattoo? You want me to get a fucking penis tattoo?" I continued down the stairs and then out the front door. I texted him five minutes later: 'I'll have the design for you when you've got the drug info'.
Two minutes later he texted back: 'u r crazy if u think I'm going to tattoo my cock'.
'you'll also going to have to be disciplined for spying on me ... for secretly filming me'.
'how' came right back.
I'm eighteen years old and my name is Eve Marie Scoreli, an All-American girl who lives in an upper class suburb of a large city in a Mid-Western State. I get good marks. I'm the number one cheerleader and am almost sure to be picked Prom Queen. I love sex. I'm a control freak. I want my daddy...
Daddy, thirty-nine now, a third generation American of Italian ancestry (which helps explain his hirsuteness) met mommy on Halloween night of nineteen eighty-nine when they were both Sophomores at University. My mother, from Lyon, France was spending her exchange student year in the States. She never left! I appeared some fifteen months later and then, nine years later my little sister Martine popped out.
We're a normal American family.
Except...My parents like SEX! A lot. Mind you it's only been in the last couple of years that I'd figured that out. You start off of course knowing nothing about sex. Oh we had sex ed classes and with the internet it would be impossible for even a thirteen year old to be ignorant of sex these days.
But it's not like really knowing. You don't really understand anything about it until your body starts talking to you about it.
Until you and your friends start talking about it at sleepovers. About what you're all feeling. In fact it was at a sleepover at Tricia Martin's house that the subject of parents and sex came up for the first time among my friends and me.
Nothing planned. It just started by Tricia saying nonchalantly that she didn't think her parents 'did it' anymore. This prompted over twenty minutes of discussion and speculation about our parent's sex life from the six of us present that night.
Someone finally asked me, "What about your parents Eve?" I immediately realised I had no idea. Parents Sex Yuck! I didn't want to think about it.
"I'll bet they do it all the time," someone chimed in.
"Your dad's hot," came from another. My dad was hot?
"Your mom's always touching him, kissing him when we're over there," came from Tricia.
"I'll bet he has a big cock," Chrissie added, trying to shock us all with her use of the forbidden 'c' word.
"Gross! That is so gross," I answered the grinning faces of my five friends that night. But once something like that is said it's not that easy to forget it. Not that easy to get it out of your mind.
And so my interest in my parent's sex life was born. And when you seek you often find...
You no longer can ignore the noises that emanate from behind a closed bedroom door at night... hearing them you can't help but imagine what's going on.
You suddenly notice the little touches, caresses your mother and father continually exchange. And understand the implication of them.
And you see the bulge in your father's pants after he releases your mom from an impromptu hug...
Of course my mother had talked to me about sex before that. She's French for crying out loud! She explained the basics as I'd passed through puberty and then augmented her original advice as the years had passed and I'd matured.