Father Fucked on Valentine's Day

Disgusting Story: Fucked by Me Father on Valentine's Day

All characters are over the age of 18 years. The story takes place in Ireland, England, and Spain. Irish vernacular is involved, these words are not grammatical errors or typos.

MUM'S MISTAKE AND MY BEGINNING

Let me tell ya right off. I'm Irish. If ya don't like it, ya can go fuck yourselves. I've been on my own most of me life. Hard times and easy times, I survived. When my brain couldn't solve problems, I used my body.

Please don't ask me about me father. I never knew my friggen Da. As far as I knew, he left town as soon as me Mum told the bastard that I was arriving. About the only thing I knew about him was his name, Seamus Cadell. My father, as listed on my birth certificate.

It's a sordid tale of the seduction of a young woman who had too much to drink. The event leading to my creation took place on the evening of Valentine's Day. My Mum knew little about him other than he was a newcomer to the city with a wispy mustache and reddish sideburns. A good looking young bartender at The Temple Bar near Ha'penny Bridge, Dublin. It's a pub where Mum and her friends would hang out and listen to Irish folk music and smoke cigarets. Mum had one picture of Seamus Cadell, standing behind the bar, looking cocksure with long hair like a rocker musician.

One night me Mum got drunk on "Looney Soup." That's the name the locals called "Woodpecker Hard Cider." They'd call it that because if you drank a few pints, you were bound to do something foolish. Mum doesn't remember much about that night. She recalled the friendly bartender invited her into the cellar after hours, a dark, damp place where the heavy metal kegs of Guinness and other Irish beers were stored. He kept kissing her and grabbing at her tits. Mum had enormous mammaries, as do I. Men are always hitting on big breasted girls. She let him touch her titties, but then He kept reaching for her pussy. Finally, she felt sick from the drink, pulled away, leaned over a cold keg, and vomited.

Seamus used that inauspicious moment to lift up her dress, pull down her knickers, and the next thing she knew, the bloke had jiggled or screwed his big cock right into her keepsake. Even though she felt sick, having his dick filling her so tightly up gave her the impression of peace and security. Unfortunately, that sensation would not last much longer. She said nothing as he satisfied himself.

Once finished fucking, his task done. He lifted Mum from the floor, used a damp beer rag to wipe off her face, and admonished her for drinking so much.

"It'll get you into trouble," were his parting words.

That's all she knew. When her friends got home, she was still dripping gobs of cum out of her pussy. She realized her seducer was a good Catholic. Father Brown had cautioned the girls not to allow the boys to use condoms or they'd burn in hell for sure. Her period, as regular as the moonrise, stopped coming by next month. Mum was pregnant. Despite what her brother told her to do, she kept the baby, giving birth to me just before Christmas at The Rotunda Hospital over on Parnell Street.

It was a place unwed mothers often ended up. She rolled me home in an old baby carriage that the McMally's lent her brother Sean. Of course, we were the scandal of the neighborhood. When Mum would take me to the park, the other mothers would get up, collect their kids, and walk away. My childhood passed quickly, all in a blur. Eventually, though not forgotten, I was accepted as the black sheep in the neighborhood.

I don't remember much of the early years. I recall birthday visits made to the zoo. Sometimes Uncle Sean and his son would accompany us for a picnic lunch in the park. I got a ride on the Elephant, that was fun. Another time we were admiring the llamas, and the nasty critters spit at us with foul-smelling chud.

A few years later, Mom met and married Jason Pennysnap, an Irish-Australian who'd come home after making a bit of money in the down-under. They were married on a trip they took to London. The family kept my origin a secret, pretending I was adopted. They said I was an out of wedlock babe from a relative. He never knew who my mother was.

Mum went on to four more kids with him. I was the official babysitter, but it won me no privileges. I always felt I was the odd one. He who should have been my step dad treated me like unpaid hired help. It didn't help my self-esteem growing up.

Jason was a penny pincher, well named, he'd buy all the dented food cans at half price and expect us to eat them. He never paid much attention to me and would pull me plate away if I wasn't dining fast enough and give it to his dog.

"Too slow it's gotta go," he'd chant.

Most of the year, we lived on potatoes and discolored cheap cuts of meat, often foul-tasting and gamey, that he scavenged from the butchers.

Most of the years, before my menstrual cycle began, are a blur. I hardly remember anything. When I was 14 years old, I dropped out of school and took the ferry to Great Britain. I found odd delivery jobs before hired as a maid for an elderly lady who treated me well. I worked for five years for Mrs. Harris. When she died, I was 19 years old. Her death was the end for me. She left me a stipend in her will of 500 Euros.

ADDICTION AND PROSTITUTION

Once more, I was on my own again. I started making mistakes. I began consorting with the wrong people, drinking too much, smoking reefers. Stupidly, I tried a free sample of crack cocaine. The experience was unforgettable, it was as if the back of my head opened up, and every trouble or concern spilled out. Unfortunately, in subsequent attempts to repeat the profound ecstasy of that first taste, I was never able to achieve the same high. Pursuing the dark dragon had its consequences. Before I knew it, I was addicted.

By the time my stipend had run out, the crack dealer had suggested I turn a few tricks to support my habit. I foolishly took that road. Of course, he was the first one to fuck me. He reneged on the deal to give me two lumps and handed me only one.

"That fuck was worth only one. You didn't even suck my cock," the dealer said while pissing.

I learned right then, you can't satisfy everyone, and you get paid before you spread your legs. Up to then, I was giving sex away for free. It made sense that I might as well get paid for it.

I started as a streetwalker, but I was smacked around by other girls and their pimps who resented me standing on their territory. Within a few months, I ended up being run by a knife-wielding Turkish pimp who offered protection. It was three other girls and myself. When I told the Turk how the drug dealer shorted me, he cut a long scar in the guy's cheek.

We lived in a caravan in a horrible area alongside refugees who didn't speak our language. The Turk handled the negotiations and pocketed the profits. Even though the men were wearing ragged clothing, they somehow found the money to have sex. Being an attractive young woman with long legs and red hair, I was their fantasy fuck. They wore out my pussy, often ten or more times a night. I had no choice but to submit or be beaten. Since I was in a drug-induced stupor most of the time, I just laid there. They'd pinch my tits and fuck me raw.

One thing I'll say for the Turk, he made sure most of them wore condoms. He'd tell them if they didn't, they'd catch something and take it back to their wives. Another thing he taught us had to do with the older men who had trouble ejaculating. For a man to fail at sex was a terrible thing in their world. He taught us to put a finger in their assholes to help get them off. I guess it had something to do with their prostates. He always had these baby wipes on the side of the bed so we could clean our hands. I thought the whole thing was unpleasant, but my finger did save the day for frustrated elders trying to be young again. There is nothing sadder than the expression on the face of a man who can't finish after he starts to have sex.

ESCAPE WITH A BAND OF HIPPIES

On a stroll down Penny Lane, one Sunday, I met a college boy, Charles Hopkins. He told me a bunch of college kids had bought an old bus and were heading to Spain for the summer holidays. He invited me to join them. Of course, I wanked him off in an alley to keep on his right side. I thought this was my chance to break away from being controlled by Mustafa, my Turkish pimp.

I met Charles a week later at a designated spot. I had stopped smoking black tar (crack). I suffered, but I was able to break the addiction. I sweated it out on the trip. We took a ferry to the continent. Everyone on board was drunk on French cognac or beer. One of Charles's friends, Alex, bought me dinner and drinks. I let him fuck me in a lifeboat.

The bus kept breaking down. After several days, we finally arrived at Fisterra. This peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic had become a hippy colony. Its sandy beach was beautiful. The nearby forest was green with pine trees and lush vegetation. Indeed, it was God's country.

Of course, I had to deal with Charles wanting to fuck me every day and then discretely sharing me with his friends. I had little choice, but they fed me and looked after me. Once the tourist season was over, the students headed back to England. I stayed on. I was successfully giving up drugs. Life in Spain, though cheap, still required money. Once summer turned to winter, I had to do something or starve to death.

MY NEW JOB GOES ASTRAY

I was offered a job with room and board in a bakery. I shared a room with two other girls working at a restaurant owned by our Boss. Ludovico was a Rumanian who made it clear the first night that the bodies of his employees were his to access whenever he liked. He kept us locked in our bedroom after 9 pm. Fortunately, there was a bathroom within. He lived downstairs with his wife, a nasty woman who knew her husband was fucking the three of us.

The Boss seemed to have a perpetual erection and would often fuck two of us in one visit. He was able to get us birth control pills, so none of us got pregnant.

When the Boss was very horny, which was often, he'd take me into a back room in the restaurant before opening. He'd tell me to get nude and get in the shower. Then he'd stick a rubber hose in my ass, and it was quite unpleasant. Once I was toweled dry, he'd chain my arms to two metal hooks on the wall and fuck my ass while I was standing up. The first few times, it was excruciating because he was large and never used a lubricant. He'd give me a small bottle of brandy afterward to ease the pain. I got used to anal penetration, but I never enjoyed it. The Boss, on the other hand, relished the kinkiness of it.

I asked the other girls if he'd done the same to them. They said no and hardly believed me. When I asked,

"Why me?"

The girls told me, "Because you have a boyish ass."

They all thought Ludovico also liked young men. That explained it. Towards the end of my stay, on two occasions, he invited male employees to share me in these horrid anal rapes. I'd see him nude behind the younger naked men, urging them on while prodding them with his erection, often fucking them as well. When they finished the second time, they left be chained up for several hours until Ludovico's wife found me and whipped me with a straw broom before releasing me.

I could not take it anymore. The only good thing to come of all the anal penetration the Boss and his cohorts put me through was that it seemed to cure a lifelong problem of constipation. I guessed the long dicks straightened me out inside and widened the channel. Perhaps the copious multiple cum loads acted as a lubricant or laxative. I realized, months later, my bowels were no longer hampered.

ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY

After three months, one of the girls, Brenda, a German girl from Berlin, suggested we move to Barcelona. We left late at night after picking the lock on our bedroom door with a bent clothes hanger. Brenda's parents wired her money after a few days. She took the train to Germany.

Having no way to support myself and unable to find employment, I reverted once more to selling my body. Prostitution is legal in Spain and a magnet for international tourists who are looking for cheap pussy and kinky adventures. I fell back on the only skill I possessed--fucking for money.

I met another working girl. We got a room at the Hotel Excelsior, on Marques de Barbera. It was a cheap Hotel that looked the other way for sex workers. We would stand outside and wait to get picked up by clients. We'd give the hotel clerk a piece of the action. Everyone was happy. Often the clerk would send us clients. A late-night three knocks at the door meant another profitable encounter.

AT LONG LAST HE CUMS

It so happened that I was alone when I heard the three knocks late one night. When I opened the door, a fifty-something-year-old man with attractive features was standing there. He had curly hair greying at the temples. I felt at ease when he asked for Delores, that was my work name. It meant the hotel clerk had sent him and he was ok. Also, he had an Irish brogue, so I felt comfortable.

"Where are you from?"

"Here and there," he said. "Originally grew up in Galway."

.

"So, you are taking a holiday?" I asked.

"Yes, I've been coming here to the Excelsior for a few years now, usually around Saint Valentine's Day. The local street food is quite good. I enjoy the tapas bars as well. And this place has the choicest morsels when it comes to pussy."

There we go, we were quickly back on the business route.

"What did you have in mind?"

"The usual, a bit of cock sucking and then finish with doggy."

"Ok, that's easily accomplished. It'll cost ya 80 Euros."

"Fine, should I pay you before or after."

"Whatever," I wasn't worried if he was staying in the Excelsior. He was a safe bet to pay up.

"Ok, dearie, you can put your clothes on the hook," I suggested.

My roommate Elsie knew if the door was fully locked, that I was serving a client. In that case, she'd go down to the bar and look to pick up a hotel guest.

The older guy looked quite fit in the nude. Although he was mostly bald, brushy grey hair covered his arms and chest. He had disrobed quickly, except for his socks. I took off my bra and panties. He leaned over me and started sucking my left tit immediately. Those of us in the profession often start the men off this way. Titty sucking usually gives the client a firm erection that makes it easier to suck them off. The longer you suck his cock, the quicker he will shoot his load.

I put a condom in my mouth while he was slurping my nipple. When he finished, his dick was flying high. I bent over him and rolled the condom on his good-sized cock. It's the most hygienic way of fitting the client. They often don't even realize what we are doing.

I finally got the glove over his long cock that was curved round in the middle sort of like a pig's tail. When I finally got the condom unrolled, it only covered about two-thirds of the shaft. It was a little strange in appearance but appeared to be a healthy cock, uncut, and despite a few bumps and crevices, it was still manageable.

Of course, his pubic hair was quite long and bushy. Older men don't practice the nicety of trimming the bush, to make it more presentable. They leave it full, and it scratches you in the face when you blow them. But he must have washed up before coming to me because there was no pissy smell about it.

I sucked until I could feel the dick begin to pulsate. That was when he tapped me on the shoulder. I released his strong erection from my lips and got into an all-fours position, my ass on the edge of the bed. He stood up a little shaky, I could smell alcohol on his breath, but that was fine. Some blokes need a shot or two of whiskey to relax.

He stroked my ass and started to put his cock into it,

"The wrong hole," I said, "I am not in the mood for that."

"Sorry, but as the sailor said, any port in a storm."

I wasn't going to put up with being butt fucked, so I reached back and guided his dick in the right direction. I spread my legs to accommodate his extra width.

The gentleman made the most of his entrance, and with his hands on my hips, he picked up steam and barnstormed my vagina like he hadn't had any pussy for years. I could feel his warm hairy balls beat a tattoo on my taint in a pleasant manner, like a long drum roll, as he humped me. It took a little while, but all the time, I could feel his hot breath on my back and neck. He pulled me closer as he gave my ass his final desperate shove. I could feel the spurt of his hot toddy fill my cunt, but it felt wet.

I knew something was the matter. I tried to squirm away, but the older man held tight until he'd deposited every last drop of cum. Finally, he released me and fell back onto the bed, out of breath.

"Rest a while, you've given me quite a workout," I said.

He laid back. I could see the condom was pushed back against his pubic hair. His cock's head had broken through the condom and was wearing it like a wedding ring. The tip of his cock, now covered with his foreskin, nicely red and bulbous, was still oozing cum.

Oh damn, I thought, I hope this old guy didn't get me pregnant.

I had stopped taking birth control pills as I was gaining weight and feeling woozy. I knew I could take a day-after pill; they sold them across the counter. The few times I'd used them, I felt sick for several days. Right now, I needed a full work week to meet expenses.

The old guy had a happy smile on his face, and to my surprise, he'd fallen asleep. I got up without disturbing him and went into the bathroom to douche. When I finished washing out his abundant cum deposit, I went back. He was snoring like a lumberjack. I'd brought a damp towel. By now the condom was laying on his groin, his cock was much smaller now. I took the jimmy off of him and threw it into the toilet. I wiped his dick clean. He looked calm and content.

His pants had fallen on the floor. I bent over to pick them up. His wallet had fallen out. I figured I'd take what he owed me, no more no less. I opened the wallet. There was his ID card. There was his name, "Seamus Cadell,"

Oh my God, I'd just been fucked by my father! And right on Valentine's Day.

I put the wallet back in his pants pocket just as he was awakening.

"Oh, that was a good fuck," he said, "excuse my language. But I'm sure you've heard the word before. You remind me of a young girl I used to know back in Dublin."

"Yes," I answered, "It's a small world after all, as the song goes."

"Aw, be Jesus, yes it is."

"Ya know ya made me laugh when you said, you're going in the wrong hole."

"Well, you were."

"Yes, but ya know back before they'd let the stores sell condoms in Ireland, the girls would prefer to be fucked in the arse to please their beaus and not run a chance of getting with child."

"Is that a fact,"

"Yeah, and I really struggled one night to get my cock into my girlfriend's ass, but seeing my dick is kinda strange shaped, I ended up in her cunt instead."

"Did ya?"

"It happened just after I'd signed on to work at a big London Hotel."

"Yes, and they tell me I've got a daughter about yer age back there."

"Ah, the saints be told, yer a bad man to have done that."

"Ah, don't be a say-in that deary, every babe is a gift from God they say."

"Do they? And why didn't you go back to the girl and babe?"

"Actually, I did come to visit the old country. I made some discreet inquiries and learned the girl had married another man, so I thought it best not to interfere."

"Did ya."

"Well, here I be a jabbering on, a waste-in-ya time deary. Please let me pay ya, sweet lady. It's the least I can do with you hav-in to put up with this old codger."