tagIncest/TabooJust Do It To Me, Daddy

Just Do It To Me, Daddy


Valentina seduces her father in this one. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, send feedback; if you don't, send feedback telling me why.

If there are errors, please forgive them; I hope any mistakes that remain don't spoil the enjoyment of my efforts to entertain.

GA - La Fortuna, Costa Rica. 10 April 2012.

With her legs hooked at the knees over the arms of the well-cushioned office chair, Valentina jammed the rubber cock into her opening. Her climax was close, so fucking close, but not even the knobbly, ridged girth of the dildo could induce the orgasm she desperately craved, no matter how rough she was with it. Every tendon in the young woman's neck corded with frustration as she plunged the faux penis into her body. Deeper and harder it went to no avail. Close to sobbing with desperation, teeth clenched and spitting obscenities, the fingers of her free hand scrabbled for the remote control.

The girl spluttered a curse, her frustration peaking as the move for the device spoiled her rhythm. 'Shit ... You fucking bastard,' she snarled. Her green eyes narrowed to slits in her temper and her full lips pouted. Finally the clawing fingers made contact with the plastic of the remote. 'Porn,' Valentina gasped, desire an urgent burning itch between her legs. 'I've got to come.' She sighed when the huge, wall-mounted computer monitor flicked to life. For what seemed an age to the desperate woman, the computer booted up. As the scene unfolded on the screen there came an exuberant, 'Oh yes. My favourite. The absolute best.'

Valentina adjusted the volume and resumed her reclined position in the cavernous seat. With rhythm renewed, a forefinger busy against her clitoris, the blonde coaxed her body towards a violent, but oh-so-satisfying climax. Valentina came as she watched Wendy Taylor, a British porn star who, approaching middle age, somehow managed to exude an indefinable sexiness that belied her middle-class English suburban looks. In the scene Wendy had supposedly set her cap at her son, seducing him with lingerie and gutter talk. What set Valentina off was the part where Wendy, sitting astride the young man, facing the camera and so obviously enjoying the sensation of being split by a thick cock..

'Squirt it you dirty old slut,' Valentina gasped as her insides clenched around the malleable dildo wedged tight in her cunt. 'Piss that stuff over him,' she squealed, eyes gleaming as she released the dildo so one hand could maul at her breasts while the other fingers rubbed at the nub of her clit. 'Your son,' she mewled, the warmth and delight cascading outwards from the hot core of her sex.

The chair wobbled under the vehemence of Valentina's thrashing legs. She took a firm, two-handed hold of the rubber cock. The bliss as the sensations washed over her senses; oh it was sublime, the relief at finally coming. Valentina loved to wank; she adored this thick rubber dildo, her absolute favourite toy. Not too big to cause injury, especially since she really jammed it home, but designed with all the veins and bulging mushroom dome of a real cock – only this one didn't have all the male bullshit attached to it.

Gasping for breath, with the rubber cock half hanging out of her body, gooey piss flaps clinging to the shaft, the idea came to Valentina. She had no son to seduce, she was only twenty-two, but she did have a father.

Oh, Wendy, she thought. What an idea you've given me.

The preparation and planning of her father's seduction gave the woman immense satisfaction. The build up to the moment was so exciting; the anticipation so intense, that Valentina longed to stretch out in her chair in the study with her best dildo and Wendy Taylor's porn.

'No,' she chastised herself. 'None of that until I've got him. No wanking, no strumming my clit. Nothing. Not until I've got Daddy's cock inside me.' She grinned, feline eyes sly. 'Or until I've got him in my mouth.' She nodded. 'When I'm sucking his cock I'll allow a bit of fingering. But until then ...'

The idea was audacious, seducing one's father went way beyond the pale; the act was immoral, wicked, depraved ... Which is why it appealed to a woman like Valentina. She loved to shock, hence the lurid tribal tattoo, the rings piercing the hood of her clitoris, and now the idea to fuck her father.

'Incest,' she said to herself, savouring the sibilant sound on her tongue. 'Fuck me, Daddy,' Valentina practiced, watching her face reflected in a mirror. 'Stick that big cock into my tight little pussy.' She blinked her eyes and tilted her head, and then, affecting an exaggerated moue with those pouty lips, breathed: 'But don't hurt me with it. It might rip my little pussy right out.' A delighted laugh bubbled from her throat before she finally said, evilly: 'But fuck my wet cunt all the same.'

Valentina had the desire but no plan. The potential for disaster was huge. Her father could explode at the suggestion, and then what – a relationship in tatters? And what about the inheritance? If it all went wrong would he cut her off? Valentina was Jonathon Baxter's only daughter; his sole surviving relative.

The idea of seducing her father consumed Valentina. All other thoughts were set aside such was her concentration on this one thing. In her mind she conjured scene after scene, but found fault with each and every one. In the end she decided upon a bold approach, one in keeping with her personality. If she shocked her father into immobility, gave him no time to think, no opportunity to balk, hit him hard with her lewd demands, Valentina reasoned her plan might just work. She began to plot.

On the day, first in the list of preparations was her hair. She had the already short, shaggy mop tidied and dyed her habitual platinum blonde. Next Valentina also opted for a pubic wax, leaving a tuft of fur, also platinum, at the apex of her slit. A manicure saw her nails shaped and then painted a deep red – the colour of sin, she thought. The shade would match the firebrand lipstick Valentina planned to wear. The outfit she chose was daring, consisting of shiny black boots with killer heels, which reached to a point just above the knees. A miniscule skirt so brief and tight over her buttocks she could feel a draught of air wafting around her bare pudenda when she walked. For effect and to break up the line of the skirt she draped a wide leather belt, black of course, loose as a gunslinger's in an old cowboy film, around her narrow waist. On top she managed to squash her not inconsiderable boobs into a zip-fronted vest affair, leaving a large swath of bare, bejewelled midriff on display.

Dressed thus she smoked a nervous cigarette and swallowed a generous measure of red wine. Emboldened by the suffusing warmth of the alcohol Valentina then phoned her father.

'Hi, Dad,' she said when the familiar voice answered. 'I'm going to a club tonight and I've been let down for a lift. I wondered if you'd give me one.' Valentina's heart hammered in her chest; her knees trembled with a mix of sexual anticipation and fear. It wasn't too late to call it off. When her father arrived, and he'd be sure to give his daughter a lift, anything for Valentina, she could still abandon the plan. 'Why,' she responded to her father's question. 'Because I don't want to take a taxi dressed like this.'

'Bloody hell, Tina,' Jonathon spluttered when his daughter opened the door to her flat and he saw the daring ensemble. 'What sort of club is it you're planning on going to?' His eyes roved from Valentina's face down to the deadly heels of her boots.

Valentina laughed, turning away from her father. 'Shut the door, Baxter,' she instructed, using the name Jonathon Baxter preferred. Exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked along the wide hall towards the living room, Valentina hoped he was getting a good eyeful of her backside.

Her fear and anxiety were somewhat displaced by Valentina's arousal. She felt her sex oiling with delicious anticipation.

'Have a drink, Daddy,' she said, lighting a cigarette before pouring wine into a second glass. Taking her drink Valentina moved to a large easy chair in the well-appointed, sumptuously furnished room.

'I thought you wanted a lift,' Jonathon responded, puzzled at the offer of wine; but took the glass and sat in a chair opposite his daughter.

'Later. If you don't mind?' The blonde drew on her cigarette to calm her nerves. She needed something to curb the trembling in her hands.

Jonathon eyed his daughter again. 'You haven't answered my question,' he said. 'What sort of club is it?'

'A sort of ... fetish club,' Valentina replied.

'I didn't know you were ... uh ...' Jonathon shifted in the chair. He wasn't used to the feeling of being wrong-footed; he was the one usually in control. His vast fortune in the media industry hadn't been won by being timid. The stark reminder of his daughter's maturity hit hard. After a sip of wine to lubricate his dry throat, Jonathon continued. 'I didn't think that was your kind of scene, Tina.'

'There's a lot you don't know about me, Daddy.' She used the childish appellation deliberately. Crossing her legs Valentina smiled secretly when she saw her father's eyes follow the movement, and then swivelled her body to afford him an unobstructed three-quarter view of her crossed leg from boot-top to buttock.

Jonathon found he was stuck for a reply. Valentina had always loved to shock, he could see the tattoo for himself; she'd always been the same, belligerent to the point of truculence, and it had only been his vast fortune that kept a younger Valentina from being expelled from school in years gone by. He wondered how much he didn't know about the young woman his daughter had become. She had the looks, Jonathon could easily acknowledge that, and she was well put together, but any thought beyond that were an area he'd never considered. His daughter's sexuality was a subject that caused him discomfort.

Especially her overt sexiness in the black garb hugging her body now.

Valentina crushed the cigarette into an ash-tray. She sipped her drink, allowing the silence to balloon. Finally she spoke. 'The club ...' she said, her voice deep and husky in response to the lust boiling between her legs. I want to rub my cunt. It itches and burns ... Oh, Daddy, lick my cunt. '... is a bit more than a fetish club.' She watched her father's reaction closely. So far the situation was retrievable, but soon, very soon, she'd have to cross the point of no return. How would he take it?

'I see,' Jonathon replied, visibly uncomfortable.

'Do you mind, Daddy?' Valentina asked in a whisper. 'I'm a grown woman now, but I'm still your daughter. Do you mind if I go to places like that?'

'Tina ... I ...' Jonathon exhaled a great lungful of air. His fingers combed through his iron-grey hair.

Distinguished, Tina thought. He looks exactly as he should as a captain of industry. Trim and athletic at fifty, Valentina had always thought her father looked good in a suit – powerful and in control. But here he was in faded jeans and a button down blue shirt. Still sexy with a physique that befitted an off-duty fireman, yet in no way in control of the situation.

A sudden jealousy surged through the man's veins. His daughter, in a place like that, with men leering and lusting over her ... even worse, doing things to her. The hand not holding the wine glass clenched into a fist.

'It does bother me,' Jonathon blurted, surprising himself at the outburst.

Valentina saw the violence in her father's eyes. The passion in him aroused her. Desire for her own father made her reckless. She would press on and damn the consequences.

'What is it that bothers you?' she asked quietly. The mood subtly thickened between father and daughter. Both recognised the shift. 'Tell me,' Valentina insisted in a treacly voice. 'Is it the sex, Daddy? Is it because I have sex?'

An image, disturbing in its vivid intensity hit Jonathon then. In his mind he saw his daughter, with those boots waving in the air as she lay on her back, legs wide in invitation as a man writhed and squirmed on top of her. He saw the red-painted nails gouge great welts in the man's back as he thrust relentlessly into the girl. Baxter heard his daughter's moans.

How did I get here? Jonathon thought. How did the conversation begin?

Seeing her father's eyes squeezed closed, Valentina continued. 'I like the sex,' she murmured. 'In the club I often have two or three men together ... And then there's the women,' she purred.

'No, Tina ... Don't ...' Why was she telling him this? Why was she dressed like that in front of him? 'I ... This isn't what a father wants to hear, Tina.'

'But it's what I do,' the girl continued. She stood up, slowly uncurling her limbs. 'More wine?' she asked, moving slowly towards her father as he sat in the chair and stared.

An expression of confusion blanked Jonathon's face. 'But I have to drive,' he said, blinking up at his daughter.

'I'd rather talk to you.' Valentina took the nearly empty glass from the man's nerveless fingers. 'You're more interesting than being fucked by a room full of old men.

Old men, Baxter thought, wondering just how old they were. He imagined a dimly lit room illuminated by single bare bulb, like a suicide hanging from the ceiling. In the centre of the room, under a weak cone of light from the low-wattage bulb, Valentina was slowly stripping off her clothes, teasing the shuffling, formless shapes lurking on the periphery of the circle of light. In his mind, with Valentina naked except for her boots, a series of pudding-bodied men, all of them grey haired or bald, advanced upon her, their erections jutting from pubic bushes the colour and texture of steel wool. The men's' faces all wore that slack-jawed, drooling expression of the dissolute for young, nubile flesh, and Baxter almost groaned in despair as the leering zombies reached for his daughter with greedy, grasping fingers. The first man touched the girl, grinning as she reached for the pathetic needle of his cock projecting from beneath the awning of his protuberant gut.

'Jesus,' Baxter hissed through grinding teeth.

'But if you don't want to talk about it ...' Valentina said, continuing the conversation as she held a full glass to her father.

'Oh, Tina,' Baxter sighed. 'I don't know what to say ...'

The young woman sipped her drink. 'Baxter,' she said, standing in front her father with her bare midriff scant feet away from his face. 'I'm a grown woman. I have needs, physical desires.' She took a pace towards the man. 'I love the feeling of a man inside me. I love to feel a cock, that living pulsing thing as it stretches me open. I take lovers, Daddy; I need them.' She moved closer, inch by almost imperceptible inch, not exactly sure what she was saying, more just speaking quietly, a hypnotic lullaby to hold her father rapt while she moved ever closer.

Soon, she thought, a great euphoric wave washing through her. Valentina felt the wild, irresponsible jubilation of a person who was about to gamble all. If the gamble paid off ... 'I win, she said to herself.

'I like to watch films, Daddy. Dirty films. Films where I can watch people fucking.' Her father gasped. He opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to utter a curt instruction for her to stop. Valentina stood so close to him now. If she leaned forward and reached out an arm ...

'Seeing big cocks fucking tight pussies, Daddy; it makes me so hot to watch I just have to touch myself.'

The woman's voice was a mere whisper. Jonathon looked up at his daughter, not seeing the girl he knew, it was another woman standing there; his Valentina wouldn't use such language – not in front of her father.

'I want to touch myself now,' Valentina murmured. 'I want to finger myself ... Here.'

'Tina ...' Jonathon gurgled, shocked when his daughter calmly grabbed at the hem of the irresponsible skirt and, with a little difficulty at its tightness, bared her vulva.

'Here, Daddy,' she moaned, thrusting her hips forward aggressively. 'I want to touch myself right here.' A finger slid between the petals of her labia. 'It's so wet,' she sighed. 'You should lick me.' Valentina turned and Jonathon gasped at his daughter's perfect buttocks. 'Lick me here.' The girl bent at the waist, reaching back to splay the cheeks of her arse. Her labia gaped, sticky with lust. 'Go on, Daddy. Lick my cunt.'

Jonathon, mouth gaping and eyes on stalks struggled to make sense of what his brain was telling him. 'No, Tina ... No,' he muttered through the confusion.

'Yes, Daddy, yes,' Valentina whispered as she turned to face him again. She unzipped the front of the vest. 'I want you to.' Seizing the moment, if she delayed her father might suddenly recover and push her aside. Valentina eased herself onto her father's lap. 'Kiss me,' she whimpered.

The kiss broke him. At the very second he'd been about to stand up and order a halt to the disturbing ... disgusting ... scenario his daughter was engineering, she clambered into his lap and slid her tongue into his mouth. That writhing tongue sliding over his; the heat of her body pressing against him; those beautiful round breasts he'd glimpsed so briefly; her buttocks, so, so taut; and the tuft of bleached hair at the top of her plump cunt ...

'Tina,' Baxter groaned into his daughter's mouth. 'We shouldn't ...'

She had him! Valentina knew, with that utterance, that she had him. He was hers, hers to play with. Her father, she was going to be fucked by her own father.

'We shouldn't,' she agreed, wriggling her sex against the erection she could feel in his jeans. 'But we're going to.' She kissed him again. 'We're going to fuck, aren't we? I'm going to suck your cock and you're going to lick my nasty cunt ...'

A hiss from the man beneath her body: 'Yes.'

Jonathon realised, dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, in some tiny, lucid place, that his daughter was an adult with a life of her own – a sex life as well. She was bound to use her vocabulary to arouse a lover; this was normal, nothing unusual, for he too often used smutty talk with his occasional lovers, but to hear his daughter using that obscenity – and directing at him! Baxter was paradoxically enthused and appalled.

Giving her father no time to assimilate exactly what was about to take place, before he could register the enormity of what they were doing together, Valentina left her father's lap and stood up.

'Up,' she commanded, crooking a finger at him. 'Stand up.' Still reeling from the kisses, a dazed Baxter complied. 'Kiss me again, Daddy,' the blonde said as she shed the unzipped vest.

Baxter felt her fingers at his belt while his daughter's tongue slid into his mouth. The kiss went on and on until Valentina broke away, eyes shining, and with her father's erection in one fist. 'Big and hard,' the young woman murmured appreciatively. 'Sit back down,' she added, pushing Baxter's chest so he fell back into the chair. 'I'm so horny, Daddy,' Valentina moaned. The girl turned, facing away from the man crumpled untidily in the chair. She splayed her labia with her fingertips, and couldn't resist a quick rub at her clitoris. Valentina gasped. 'Legs straight,' she ordered before, uncaring about the damage the boot heels were about to inflict upon the furniture, she dug her heels into the chair and squatted over her father's body. She reached between her legs for Baxter's stiff cock. Holding it upright, Valentina rubbed the domed head against her sodden vulva. 'Just do it to me, Daddy,' she sighed.

The couple gasped simultaneously as Baxter's length slid easily inside the girl's body.

'No, Tina ... no,' the man objected weakly, uselessly, for it was too late, his daughtert had taken the whole length in one effortless slide.

Fabric rent beneath Valentina's shifting feet. She reached back, straight armed, palms down against the chair arms to support her own weight. Baxter, in a reflex action, wrapped his hands around his daughter's narrow waist. The skirt bunched under his palms as he looked up at the impossible sight of his daughter's bare back bridged above him. He moaned softly when Valentina then began to slide up and down on his cock. She was so tight, so wet, soft velvet clenching around his girth.

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