Last Days with Daddy

"Dad! No!" I pleaded, quickly closing my legs and covering my breasts with my arm. "Don't send photos of me to Uncle Mike, I don't want him to see me naked."

"I'm not going to send naked photos of you to him," he said. For a moment, I always felt something like relief, until he spoke again. "You are."

"Me?!" I questioned. To my horror, my father handed me the phone, at which point I realized it was not his, but mine.

"Michael had two daughters about your age, from what I understand he tried to offer them the same ultimatum as I offered you. It seems like he wasn't able to convince them, and his wife wasn't too happy to hear he offered either," he told me as I finally realized why Uncle Mike's family had abandoned him with such few days left. If my own father thought he was taking a risk with me, the girl he lived alone with across the country, I can't imagine how brave Michael had to be to try to convince not just one daughter, but two daughters and a wife, to allow something like this.

"I started a group chat with You, Michael, and myself. Send him the photos, flirt with him, and do what he says."

Somehow, I managed to still feel disgusted by him, even after everything he has done. I am Daddy's toy, his plaything, and he is lending me to his friend. My body is no longer my own, the view of my most private parts was free for him to keep, or give away, whatever he wanted. As my finger hovered over the send button, I secretly thanked god that we moved away, unsure of what else my father would lend to him if we didn't.

I hit it, and after a few moments, a photo of me on my knees looking up at the camera, my breasts fully exposed, entered the chat. Seconds later, little bubbles started to appear.

"Wow, you look incredible," A message from the phone contact listed as "Uncle Mike" read.

"Thank you," I replied, not knowing what else to say. Objectively speaking, it was a nice thing to say, even if I knew the compliment was likely on my breasts and not my face.

I sent another, and another, photo after photo down the line. Each photo would be met with a compliment, and sometimes a question.

"How big are your breasts?"

"How old are you?" Slightly disturbing he asked that one second.

"Why aren't you wearing more clothes?"

"My clothes belong to Daddy now," I admitted.

"Can I be your Daddy too?" he asked. At that moment my heart sank, falling through a hole I didn't know existed in the deepest depths of my soul. Were all men gross perverts? We're all fathers secretly lusting after their daughters, their friend's daughters, or even just all young women? While it was bad enough learning my father was secretly a pervert, I had always had nice memories of Uncle Mike, but he was ruining those now.

I look up from the phone and meet the gaze of my father, I offer him a look that I hope reads "Help me," but instead of responding, he simply nods.

"Yes, Daddy," I type back.

I don't know if he was coached beforehand, or it was sheer luck, but as he responded, he said those two words.

"Good girl,"

I sent him the video of my greedily sucking my dad's cock, the photo of his cock resting across my face with a big toothy smile, and the video of me telling the camera how many times I swallowed my dad's cum.

"If you still lived here, would you take care of me too?"

Suddenly the thought hit my mind, Michael from what I remembered was fit, at least fit enough, handsome enough, and kind. But I imagined what it would be like if my father invited him to stay with us for the end of the world. Would he have kept me for himself, or would I be forced to become a sex toy for his friend as well? If I caved would he offer my mouth to Uncle Mike? If I refused, would he turn the other way and let him rape his daughter's throat?

I answered the message honestly.

"If my other Daddy wanted me to, I would," I said, completing my full transition into a slut. I felt my hand inch as I began to spread my legs again. As I continued to speak to Michael, I began to rub my clit. I couldn't believe it, but I was actually getting turned on.

"Are you sure you can take both of us?" he asked before sending a photo of his erect penis in his hand.

Even though it was another checkbox on the list of things I never expected or wanted to see, I told him, "I would just go back and forth swallowing my Daddy's loads all day." Suddenly turning on the camera and taking a close-up photo of my open mouth.

"Would you like that?" he asked.

"Mmm yes," I replied, "I want my stomach full of Daddy Cum, 6, 7, 8, loads a day. I want you both to drain your balls down my throat."

I looked up from the phone and noticed my father was beginning to stroke his cock.

"You are the perfect daughter," Michael said.

"Thank you, Daddy," I replied, as I felt myself reaching orgasm.

"I'm going to cum," I told my father, looking up from the phone. Without saying a word, he placed his phone on the counter and began to watch me. I continued to rub myself until I came.

As my body twitched, a smile formed on his face. He was watching his daughter, as she masturbated on the counter, completely nude, and as she came right in front of him, he smiled. When I caught my breath and my head stopped spinning, I started to smile too.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

My father stuffed his cock back into his pants with a look of displeasure and stomped over to the door. After looking through the peephole, he opened the door and was greeted by a little white pamphlet as it was immediately outstretched to him.

"Do you know where you will go at the end of the world?" the voice at the door said, or at least that was what I was able to make out.

"Not interested," my dad said politely yet firmly. Despite this, he was met with more religious shill material. "I'm kind of busy at the moment," he said gesturing over to me, who still sat on the countertop completely nude. Quickly I crossed my legs and covered my breasts, but thankfully I was not in view of the door, and the man soliciting did not poke his head in.

"Too busy for Jesus?" he asked acting shocked at the prospect.

"Yes," my dad repeated, "too busy for Jesus..." before closing the door on the man.

I relaxed as he walked back over to me, and gestured to me to follow him into the living room.

That evening I found a comfortable spot on my father's lap at his request and allowed him to play with my breasts.

"I think I heard a gunshot today," he said, not taking his eyes off my breasts which sat comfortably in his hands.

"Really?" I questioned.

"I don't know, maybe,"

"Are we safe?"

"Yeah, it was early and I didn't hear anymore. If it was a gunshot, it was just one. If people like that Jesus nut still feel comfortable going door to door, it can't be that bad."

I pondered his words for a moment. The belief in a higher power's salvation was all well and good, but it was no bulletproof vest. My father however was not spending what precious time he had left on such trivial thoughts, as he abruptly buried his face into my chest.

"God, I love your tits," he said which was barely audible since it was muffled in between the mass of my breasts. But before I could respond, he quickly took one of my nipples into his mouth and began to suck on it. He grabbed the other breast and squeezed it hard, and although it hurt a little, his excitement excited me.

After a day of sexting and flirting with Uncle Mike, I realized just how excited men seem to get when you talk dirty to them. Now that I sat on my father's lap, it seemed like the perfect time.

"Oh Daddy," I moaned, although admittedly a little exaggeratedly, "Your mouth feels so good on my tits. It's making me so horny. I don't know how I ever lived without this." He continued to suck and grope me, but it was hard to tell if he was even listening. It was time to pull out all the stops. "I wish you had just ripped off my tiny black bikini and sucked on my tits back when I was in high school, Daddy."

Suddenly I was thrown back onto the couch, and as soon as I realized what was happening I saw my father climb on top of me as he released his cock from his pants.

As his meat got closer and closer to my face, without instruction I opened my mouth and he pumped himself deep into my throat. Once, twice, three times, before pulling it back out. I flinched after I felt something wet hitting my body, was he cumming already? No, this wasn't cum, it was spit, he was spitting on me.

"Spit on your tits," he ordered, and I bent my head as far forward as I could, spitting onto myself as much as possible. Then he grabbed both of my breasts and sandwiched his cock in between them. Using the combined pool of our spit as a lubricate, he began to thrust in and out of my breasts. Each time he pushed in, I could see the tip poking out and thrusting toward my face before it was pulled back inside, and forced through all over again.

"I'll teach you to wear that skimpy black bikini around me," he growled. "You should know better than to tease your own father," He said, acting out as if we were back all those years ago.

"I'm Sorry Daddy, I just thought it was cute," I pretended to plea.

"Cute? It makes you look like a slut. If you want to make everyone think my daughter is a slut, then I will treat you like a slut."

"No Daddy I'm not a slut, I'm sorry for teasing you," I whimpered.

"You are," he snapped back, "You are my daughter, my own flesh and blood, I gave you those tits, and you used them to make me hard, now I'm taking what belongs to me." With each thrust, he pushed hard, shaking my whole body. I could feel his member slide around inside my spit-soaked cleavage. It was becoming clear that he wanted to live out his fantasy, but it was more than just lusting over my tits, he fantasized about taking me by force. I wasted little time wondering if this is what he actually wanted to do all those years ago, and instead focused on the overwhelming lust he felt. As we roleplayed, I decided to push him a little bit further and allow him to imagine he was taking his unwilling daughter.

"No Daddy please, what are you doing to my tits?" I cried.

"I'm doing what every guy who sees you imagines doing to you, if anyone should be allowed to fuck your big slutty tits, it should be your father."

"No, please," I begged, "stop fucking my big tits Daddy, you shouldn't be doing this. I'm sorry for teasing you, I'm sorry for making you hard." Despite my words, I didn't want him to stop, all I really wanted was for there to be a way I could reach my pussy so I could finger myself as hard as he was fucking my tits. "I'm sorry for being a slut, it just felt good to know I was making you hard. I will strip for you from now on, I will let you touch my boobs, I will even let you jerk off while you look at them, just please, please stop titty fucking your daughter," I bargained.

"It's too late for that," he told me, "you should have given it to me sooner. Now be a good slut and eat Daddy's cock with your fat tits."

Suddenly a buzzing sound came from just above my head, a new notification from Uncle Mike.

"Answer it," my dad said.

"What are you doing baby girl?" the message read.

Quickly I typed back, "Daddy is fucking my tits."

"Can I see?" he asked.

I handed my phone to my father.

"Film me," I said, "film yourself taking my tits, let Uncle Mike know how much of a slut I've been,"

As he grabbed the phone, I took over squeezing my tits against cock, as he held the phone with one hand, and used the other to support himself on the back of the couch.

"Punish me, Daddy," I moaned.

"I'm going to fuck your tits hard Amber."

"Do it, teach me," I begged, "I've been acting like a slut, teach me how a slut gets treated, be rough on my tits, brutalize my tits with your cock Daddy."

He did as I asked, and soon each thrust was throwing me back with such force my head kept hitting the back cushion. I was becoming slightly afraid that if my grip loosened, his cock might slip out from between my breasts and give me a black eye. And it didn't help my neck was craned forward so I could watch him fuck my tits.

Yet, I felt his excitement pass on to me. To see him in one of the most animalistic forms I had ever seen him, and out of lust for me no less, pleased me.

Soon his breathing staggered and he began to pause before thrusting hard, a sign I had come to noticed meant he was reaching his breaking point. After 3 days of being used by him, I learned his signs without needing to be told. I tilted my head even more forward, hoping he would enter my mouth, but instead, as the tip was thrust out from in between my tits, he erupted.

My father's semen shot out and began to paint my face. Glob after sticker white glob showered down on me. I caught what I could in my mouth, but the rest smeared across of face, making contact with my cheeks, nose, forehead, and just about every other spot there was.

When he finally ran dry, he climbed off me and fell back into his seat, tossing my phone to the side. I climbed on the floor between his legs and firmly inserted my fingers into my dripping wet pussy. He grabbed his cock, and began to rub it across my face, smearing around the cum, and scooping up some of it, which he delivered to my mouth.

The entire time I moaned as his big hard cock smeared semen across my face, and I brought myself to orgasm.

After he decided my face was clean enough, I sent the video to Michael. He texted back later saying he jerked off until he came watching it.

3 Days Remain

Waking up in my unfamiliar surroundings, I remembered I was in Daddy's bed. The previous night, after being bothered by the religious nut again, Daddy said I could sleep in his bed with him, to which I obliged.

Now that I was awake, I realized I was alone, Daddy had already gotten up and out of bed, and I could hear the clinking of plates as he prepared breakfast.

"Good Morning Amber," he said, a warm smile on his face as he plated two eggs.

"Good Morning Daddy," I said, only to be distracted by three loud bangs on the door. Earlier that night we were awoken by some kind of commotion outside, but it thankfully never seemed to reach our front door, if it was dangerous that is. However now, my dad let out a long sigh knowing who the breakfast-interrupting guest likely was.

"Amber, get the door, check the peephole, and if it's that Jesus asshole again, make him leave," he commanded.

Strolling over to the door, I checked through the peephole and saw an older man, maybe not much older than my father, but much more weathered by time. With a balding spot, and a not-so-subtle combover, an outfit that said "I'm professional, but approachable," and a bible tucked under his arm, I knew that was the guy.

As I opened the door he began his pitch.

"Do you know where you are going to be going when the world-" he managed to say before stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes just about bulged and darted around as I stood before him, completely nude. "Do- Do- Do you," he began to say again as if the shock of my brazen nudity was a bug in his system and he needed to reboot himself.

"What are you selling?" I asked, leaning against the door frame and making no effort to cover myself.

"Uh- Jesus," he said.

"Jesus?" I questioned, "Listen, you seem like a nice guy, but my dad and I aren't really the religious type."

"Your dad?" he asked, as the gears in his head could almost be seen turning.

'Yeah, my dad and I probably aren't Jesus's favorite household."

"Amber! Breakfast!" my dad called from the kitchen.

"Coming Daddy!" I called back before returning my sights to the man. "I got to run, thanks for stopping by but I think we would appreciate it if you didn't come by again, good? Good." I began to close the door, and I could almost see the man leaning to the side so he could see my body just a little bit longer. Once the door was finally shut and the latch hooked, I peered through the peephole again and saw the man stand there for a moment, before he shuffle his feet, brushed his hair slightly, adjusted something in his pants, turned, and walked down the steps.

I felt no attraction to this bible pushing nuisance. But I would be lying if I didn't say I love the look on his face when he saw me. Knowing there was yet another older man out there who knew what I looked like naked didn't even bother me.

Asa I rounded back to the kitchen, I saw my father on the phone.

"Yeah, mhm, yeah," he said, before listening for a moment, "ok I will, thank you Michael... and goodbye," he said before eventually hanging up the phone. Turning to look at me, his face no longer had the smile he had worn earlier this morning. "You answered the door naked?" he asked as I found my seat and he took a big bite of egg.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know his take.

"No, just as long as you didn't do anything sexual to him." he clarified. I had to place my hand on my mouth to stifle the laughter. "What?" he asked, a smile now coming to his face.

"It just seems funny," I admitted, "after everything I am sharing with Michael, everything I said I'd do to him, I wasn't aware that there were limits."

"Well, Michael was a friend, he was basically like an uncle to you. That guy showed up unannounced and began bothering us two to three times a day."

"So if he was friendly and less intrusive, you would whore me out to him?" I asked a smile still on my face to let him know I wasn't being too serious.

"Like I said, he isn't Michael," my father repeated.

"But would you actually make me? With Michael I mean. If we were back home, would you actually share me with Michael?"

"Listen, I want to tell you something," he suddenly said putting his fork down. "Don't worry about Michael anymore," he said bluntly, "he has something to do, so he won't be messaging you anymore, and I don't want you sending anything else to him, okay?"

"Okay Daddy, but what is doing?" I asked.

"He has somewhere to go, let's leave it at that," he said. I paused for a moment to think.

"Is he okay?" I asked, knowing he likely considered this to be going against his orders.

"If you keep asking questions, maybe I'll go chase down "Mr. Second-Coming-of-Jesus-Christ" out there and offer him a go at you after all," he suddenly said, moments later his lips curled into a grin.

"Eww," I said, as I scrunched my nose as if I had just smelt something rotten. At that we both began to laugh so hard, I thought I was going to choke on the food.

We flicked on the news, only to find not a single station was still on the air. Channel 5 played the classic colorful bars with the ear-splitting tone, Channel 7 had a classy technical difficulties message, Channel 8 played what seemed like non-stop commercials, and Channel 10 featured an empty desk where reporters once sat. For a moment we thought we noticed movement in the reflection of one of the screens in the background, and ended up watching Channel 10 for twenty minutes trying to see if it happened again or the thing that caused it appeared on screen. It didn't.

That day, the noise outside grew louder, nondescript yelling, tires squealing, even a window or two being shattered. We decided it was best to not draw attention to ourselves, and kept all the curtains and shades drawn, despite the noises being sometimes hours apart. Dad suggested it was likely runoff from the town center, which was where most people lived, where all the shops were, and what was probably getting the worst of it.

Instead of worrying, however, we took our minds off of things by roleplaying. Throughout the day, my father would share times he allegedly lusted for me, and I, being the good daughter I now was, helped him act it out. Only this time, he got to fulfill his fantasies.