Her Daddy's Dick

It wasn't just sounds; it was words, too. She thanked me. She told me it felt so good. She asked me to hit certain places and then moaned, "Yeah, do me there." She told me how much she liked how I touched her.

Then, she asked if I might switch to a massage.

I knew I shouldn't, but I did. I hesitated for less than a second before I laid my palm flat on her back and pressed my fingertips deeply into her flesh, rubbing and kneading.

"Oh, Daddy. Oh, my gosh that feels amazing."

I swallowed the dry lump at the back of my throat. I glanced at my cock, and I could see my pulse throbbing on one of the thick veins coursing down the shaft.

I worked on her shoulders and the back of her neck. She hummed and moaned with satisfaction. She told me to go lower.

I massaged around her shoulder blades and her upper spine. More cooing, more relaxed sighs. She told me "lower."

I kneaded around her waist and lower back. Vicca told me how good my hands felt on her body. She said she would do anything to show her thanks. "Anything, Daddy," she repeated.

She told me to go lower, and there was only one place to go.

And I wanted to go there, and I hated myself for wanting it. For a moment, my hand hovered in that space between my erection and Vicca's butt. My fingertips trembled. My palm turned up toward the ceiling as if pleading for help.

"Please, Daddy, just a little," Vicca cooed, and her voice was all sweetness and innocence. She needed this last thing, and nothing more, her voice seemed to say.

Maybe just a little.

The first thing I did was caress it the way a man might judge the haunches of a big, strong mare—get a feel of the shape and strength of it, feel the warm, living flesh under my entire hand.

Vicca let out a long, soothing moan.

Next, I curled my fingers over her hip, letting my thumb press into the soft flesh of her ass, and I held her there for a moment. This, I thought, is what it would feel like. This grip, I knew, is the one I would use to drive my cock into her from behind.

Vicca held her breath.

Then, I kneaded my fingers deeply into her and began a proper massage of her buttock.

She let out her air in a sigh of deepest satisfaction. She sounded like a girl slipping under downy covers and cool sheets after forty-eight straight hours of calving work in the December wind.

Then, I realized a way out for me.

There was no courage in it. There was no re-assertion of my place and hers in it. It was just a way out at a time when I was in no state of mind to be brave or put my foot down.

For a minute or so, I relaxed my breathing, and with it, my hand.

Then, I settled my head and body into the mattress.

Finally, I let my breathing sound completely rhythmic, and my hand slid down Vicca's butt, totally limp.

I didn't snore; that might have been too much.

"Daddy?" I heard her whisper. "You asleep?"

I didn't respond.

Vicca rolled towards me, and my mind swore at the stupidity of my plan because now Vicca would see that ax handle of an erection jutting through my pajama pants. She would know that hard cock pointed at her wasn't the result of some damned sex dream, like before. Vicca would instantly realize that it was her ass that had done it.

I heard a shallow gasp. She knew. Hell and damnation, she knew.

Why didn't I just stop massaging and tell her, "That's enough now. Get on to bed, Vicca"? She had been facing away from me. In the time it took for her to turn around, I could have pulled the sheets over my erection, and it would have been over.

Imbecile!

"Daddy?" she whispered.

Too late now, I knew. I can't wake up like this. Got to ride this train to the end of the line.

"Daddy?" she repeated a bit louder, and this time, her hand alighted on my hip, and she gently shook me.

Nope. Uh-uh. Not waking up.

I felt Vicca move. Her hair touched my chest, and shortly after I felt the top of her crown gently nudge against me in the same place.

She's looking down. She's staring at it.

It seemed like minutes passed.

I almost lurched when one of her fingertips landed on its length. The finger very gingerly crept toward the tip and vanished.

It returned a moment later like a wary mouse to a motherlode of cheese. The fingertip touched the side this time. It dragged back and forth twice, and then it was joined by her thumb. Together, the two digits gently pinched just behind the plum tip. The fingers vanished.

A beat passed.

All five mice showed up for the next exploration of this newfound treasure. Using only her fingertips, Vicca explored the length and girth of my erection. Interested, it seemed, by the ridge of the tip, I felt all five fingertips trace the around it, back and forth, and then she dragged them over the ridge and back. Over and back.

Was I holding my breath? I wondered. I needed to be breathing in an easy, steady rhythm.

Suddenly, the cat arrived on the scene. Vicca's hand wrapped around my cock, and she squeezed it weakly. Once. Twice. She held it without moving, waiting. A second later she stroked it and waited. She stroked it again and stopped.

Five seconds later, Vicca quickly adjusted her grip, and she began to slowly jerk me off.

I could not stop the groan that escaped me.

Vicca's hand instantly froze. Her head left my chest, and I knew she was looking at me.

It had to be obvious to her, I thought. Vicca could probably see my heart, beating like the pistons of my Papa's old tractor, on my bare chest.

I willed myself not to move, although the whisper of a voice said to me that I could wake up. I could suck in a snoring gasp of air, catching it in my throat, and open my eyes. Vicca, the voice urgently hissed to me, would instantly release my cock. She would pretend to stretch and say something like, "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry for falling asleep in your bed, Daddy." Then, as she rose, she would pull the sheets over my erection without noticing and wish me a good night.

But, I didn't move or make a sound.

Vicca did. I heard her body on the sheets, sliding. I felt the mattress undulate as she repositioned herself.

When she stopped, I silently asked myself if Vicca was insane. The risk she was taking with me was incomprehensible. She had to have understood that if I woke, I would be churning with fury at her indiscretion—that she risked being permanently kicked out of the house.

I felt her breath on my erection.

I was two different people. Three, in truth. The first urged me to stop Vicca before it was too late.

The second cajoled Vicca, dared her to do it—wanted her desperately to do it, the sexy little fat-titted, big-assed beauty.

The third person sat back and watched the scene. He let my imagination fill with the imagery of what was actually happening down there, fractions of an inch from my cock: Vicca licked her lips. Her eyes fixated hungrily on what was in front of her.

The third person wondered what would happen next and speculated about future events. There would be intense pleasure and crippling guilt. Where, this other pondered, could this possibly go from here, if not disaster?

Vicca's tongue tasted the skin of my erection, a light, but thorough lick.

A moment passed.

I heard the whisper of air in her throat, and I knew that my daughter had just opened her mouth wide.

No.

Yes.

Oh, shit.

Her lips secured around the knob, and her tongue fattened and lifted against the underside. I felt light suction for an instant, and then her lips came together and expelled me.

Another few seconds ticked away in silence.

I heard a faint gulp, and then I heard the sticky wetness of her salivating mouth gaping open again.

I felt the tip bathed in humid heat. More. More. She still hadn't yet clamped down with her lips. More. Then, finally, I felt her lips.

Vicca had just taken a shocking length of cock into her mouth.

I groaned.

Vicca held without moving.

I knew she was looking up at me. My daughter was gazing at me, her mouth was full of my cock, and her eyes were wide with fear.

I wanted to see, but I knew my imagination would have to do.

The wait for her to continue was maddening, but she made up for it.

Her lips, secured tightly around my girth, dragged back to the tip, and then they plummeted. She took the whole damned thing. It was all gone, my cock. Vicca's lips clutched the root, having pushed the loose fabric around the slit of my pajamas flush against my skin. Her tongue slithered underneath.

I stifled a gasp.

Vicca held me there.

I groaned deeply. There was no more holding it back.

Still, Vicca latched as if my cock were something to be devoured whole or as if she felt only by engulfing it completely would it render up the nourishment she sought.

The urge to peek, to open my eyes for the merest fraction, hammered at my brain. I would see her mouth against my lower abdomen. I would see her eyes, glassy and bloodshot from the strain, looking up at me in wide-eyed desperation.

Suddenly, she drew back and off with a gasp. I felt her saliva dripping off the knob. I knew there would be lines and webs of the sticky fluid still connecting her lips to my erection.

In that brief interruption, I thought my daughter must somehow have become a cock-sucking whore. I imagined her pleasuring the hands out in the remote pasture, taking them deep. Maybe they lined up. Maybe she took them all on at once.

Then, I dismissed the idea. The way I had seen her studying my penis as I drove it into Denise, the way she tentatively explored it here on this bed moments ago, these things convinced me that she had never actually done any of this before.

But.

But, she had been taught. Vicca had learned and practiced.

Denise.

Vicca's mother must have shown her what to do, and I knew I was right. This blowjob was not a mimicry of my wife's, but one certainly inspired by her momma's method.

Denise! I thought with horror. My gosh, what am I doing?

This had to stop.

I heard another gasp, and the satisfaction was so sharp that I couldn't move. Vicca's mouth rode the entire length of me like an oil derrick's pump. I felt her nose bounce off my abdomen. She drew back, and I felt her lips tighten on the knob before plunging deep again.

Gritting my teeth, I muttered the last word in my mind, "Denise!"

Drawing back, Vicca hesitated for an instant, and then she just sank. Her head fell into my tummy, and I came.

Vicca issued a long, piping hum, feeling it.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to watch her distended gullet throb every time the thick cock inside her throat flexed, feeding her my semen in gluey jets.

I couldn't do any of those things. I suppressed everything but a few muted grunts.

Vicca must have felt the contractions end. She towed her lips back to the knob, and I heard her gulp. Immediately after, she released me with a gasp. I listened to her panting to get her wind back. She was quiet about it.

Uttering Denise's name had been a mistake at the time. I didn't mean to do it, but I realized that it gave both Vicca and me a kind of escape. Vicca could convince herself that I had been asleep, that I didn't know, and that her Daddy would think of it as one of his special dreams.

What's more is that even if Vicca knew her ass had given me that erection, who was to say that I didn't actually fall asleep afterward? Who was to say that I hadn't been dreaming about a blowjob from my wife?

Vicca would have her secret; I would have mine.

The mattress undulated again.

She's going to go back to her room, I thought. Good.

But, she didn't. Her body was still there, beside me. With another adjustment, Vicca sighed.

Shit. She's decided, I thought with dread, to sleep here.

I was wrong; there would be one more secret.

The mattress carried her tiny movements to my body. I heard her murmur some sweet, hushed sound. A scent wafted to me. It was subtle but unmistakably female.

It's Vicca's pussy, I realized. My gosh, she's masturbating.

The fractional vibrations grew in pace. The aroma of her sex, not unlike Denise's, saturated the room. Between stifled moans and muffled gasps, I heard the faint slop of her fingers between her legs, rubbing in what had to have been a pussy dripping with hot lubrication.

Vicca caught a whimper in her throat.

I opened my eyes, knowing that if she was on her back, she wouldn't see me.

In the moonlight, I could see beneath me Vicca's lips sucking deeply on three of her fingers, sliding them back and forth. I saw her eyelids pinched tightly shut in ecstasy. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her right hand was a blur between her thighs.

Vicca's breasts surged upward, and I listened to her cry into her fingers.

Then, she stopped herself.

She withdrew her fingers. Silently gasping for breath, she carefully rolled her body toward me. I closed my eyes the instant I saw her face turn toward mine.

After several seconds of frozen silence, I felt her move. She eased herself from the bed, and the floor creaked underneath her feet as she left the room and closed the door.

A new erection was growing down below. It might have stopped once Vicca left the room, but it didn't. It grew to rigid completion when a simple idea entered my mind: giving her daddy a blowjob had so aroused Vicca that she was able to bring herself near to climax in no more than a minute.

She only stopped so that she could finish the pleasant errand back in her room where she could more safely express her rapture.

Vicca's smell lingered in the room, and I thought of Denise.

Oh, shit, no. What have I done?

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and whispered curses. The revulsion—the utter hatred for myself that I felt in that moment— was so acute as to be almost horrifying.

I needed to forget.

I needed to get back to work.

There was a noise; I quit thinking and listened for it.

Through the walls of our home echoed the muted, blissful cries of my daughter's orgasm.

*****

Author's Note: Strange one, yes. This is self-edited, so I hope you can overlook the mistakes I didn't catch. Thanks for reading. -FS