Of Daughters and Mates Ch. 03

A groan of pleasure emerged from Samson as Rebekkah wrapped her hand around his manhood. It was velvet softness wrapped around a core of steel. She stroked it once, letting her thumb trail along the underside of the shaft, then bent forward.

The salty, bitter taste of precome greeted her tongue as Bekkah swirled it around the mushroom tip of her father's dick. She'd never been very fond of the flavor before, but things were different now. She flicked her eyes up to her father's face, ensuring he was watching, then parted her lips and took him into her mouth.

"Angel," her father whispered. "My beautiful angel." His right hand settled on Bekkah's head, stroking her hair, blunt-tipped claws scratching her scalp. If she'd been a cat, she would have purred. Instead, she had to be a little more direct. Eyes still locked with her father's, Rebekkah sucked in a deep breath through her nose, then lowered her head until his cock nudged at the entrance to her throat.

Samson's hybrid form was larger than his others, which carried through to his dick. The differences weren't massive, an inch or so in length, less in girth, but every little bit mattered. Taking one more nasal breath, Rebekkah relaxed her throat muscles and pushed downward, determined to succeed.

The extra smidgeon of width was clear to Bekkah as her father's cock entered her throat. There was always some pain to the process, a natural consequence of using her body in ways it wasn't designed for. So, the burning sensation creeping down her neck as more and more dick entered her pharynx wasn't unexpected. It was a little sharper, a little harsher. Her gag reflex was a little harder to suppress.

The look in her father's blue eyes made it all worthwhile.

Samson watched her with rapturous attention. Despite the drool dribbling from Rebekkah's unpainted lips, despite the involuntary tears welling up at the corners of her eyes and the splotchy redness blooming across her cheeks, he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

It was a different sort of look from the ones she expected when giving blowjobs. The nerds, cute mousey things she liked giving confidence boosts, tended to react with bewildered shock as if a miracle was happening between their legs. Men who were confident enough to pursue her and attractive and charming enough to catch her, on the other hand, usually beheld her efforts with lust-fueled dominance or possessiveness.

There was still lust lurking in her father's eyes. Possessiveness as well, but they were the least of the emotions there. Awe was present, leading the charge. Wonder shored up the flanks. A core of pleasure held things together. Woven through it all, shining and resplendent, she saw unqualified love. Not Storge, the love of a father for his daughter. Not anymore, not with what she was doing, what he'd done with her. Not quite Eros, for while it included appreciation of her physical form and sexuality, it went further.

If Bekkah had to put a name on it, she'd call the look in her lover's eyes Agape. Not the love of God for His creations, but rather the unconditional, transcendent feeling of warmth, charity, and togetherness binding two people who were meant for each other.

Looking into her father's eyes made Rebekkah feel like he saw all her flaws and issues, acknowledged them, accepted them. It wasn't that they didn't matter, but rather they were part of her, and thus he loved them, too.

Tears of happiness spilled down her cheeks. They swept over and through those caused by the pain and discomfort of pleasing Samson, obliterating them and leaving only joy behind.

Bekkah hummed her delight. The moment she started, her father's fingers flexed on her head, tangling in her hair and digging into her scalp before releasing again. He trembled beneath her, his hips, thighs, and belly muscles tensing and releasing, desire to thrust into her throat clear, as was his iron control keeping him from doing so.

Moving in a slow, careful manner because it wasn't something to rush into, Rebekkah swallowed her lover's cock to the knot. She held her position there, with the final inch defying her. There was no way she could go any further, no matter how much she wanted to. Her lips were stretched wide as it was. Any more risked injury.

Fingers trailed through her hair. They exerted no pressure downward. There was no demand for her to attempt the implausible. Rather, the touch was a gentle caress, a message of approval, appreciation, and acknowledgment of limits. With an internal sigh, Bekkah let it go. She lifted her head with as much care and caution as she spent on the way down, allowing her father's length to slip inch by inch back into the cool morning air.

Once her mouth was empty again, Rebekkah kissed the tip of her mate's cock, then his groin, hip, belly, abs, sternum. As she crept up his body, she ensured his saliva-slickened hardness passed through her cleavage. After all, God and good genetics blessed her with tits big enough to pull it off, so why not let Samson enjoy them?

Bekkah spent excessive time on her father's belly and chest, sliding up then back down again in search of a new place to lay a soft kiss. All the while, his manhood throbbed between her breasts. His hands stroked her hair and shoulders as she teased him, showing not a hint of impatience, and it drove Bekkah wild. Each gentle caress stoked the flames higher until she couldn't take it any longer.

Carried along on wings of desire, she pulled herself into a seated position astride her father's hips. His hardness burned like a bar of steel in a blacksmith's forge as it nestled between her lower lips. It was too much and not enough. She needed more. Bekkah bit her lip and reached down between her legs, holding her father's manhood in position as she slipped forward, then pressed back, impaling herself on him.

A pair of moans echoed in harmony as inch after inch slid home. Rebekkah leaned forward and grabbed Samson's shoulders for leverage. At the same time, she tilted her head back, arching her chest toward her lover. His eyes dropped to the irresistible view her new position offered. One hand slid down to her waist, then crept back up. "May I?" he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

Rebekkah whimpered at the thought of his hands on her breasts while she rode him. Even more powerful was him asking at all. She was his in every important way. He could do whatever he wanted to her--and would--but his question fanned the inferno raging in her belly. "Yes," Bekkah said to her father, "Please." Then, when she felt his padded palm racing up her torso, "But, mm, be gentle? To start? Oh!"

The texture of Samson's hand was different in hybrid form. Tufts of short fur poked out between the thick, rough pads of skin covering his palm and the undersides of his fingers. He was careful with her, his blunt-tipped claws pressing into Bekkah's soft skin without scratching. Every point of contact blazed in her mind, sending bolts of molten pleasure straight into her brain.

Rebekkah lowered her head, letting her hair fall in sweaty strands as she stared down at her mate. His eyes drank in her tits, darting back and forth between the one grasped in his inhuman hand and the other, bare and wobbling with her movements atop him. He looked at her like one of her nerds. As if she was a goddess whose presence in bed with him was something at the far edge of his ability to comprehend.

"I love you," she gasped as she felt her father's knot pressing against her inner lips. "I love you." She rose back into the air, her mind going fuzzy at the dual assault on her pleasure centers. "Oh, Daddy," Rebekkah sighed as she sank back down onto him and ground her hips in a circle. "I love you so much."

To her surprise and dismay, tears welled up at the corner of her father's eyes. "Oh, my darlin' angel," he whispered, inhuman jaws twisting and flexing as he forced the words out for her. "I'm so sorry, but I can't go back. Now I've seen you like this. Now I've touched you," the hand on her breast squeezed tighter, pulling a squeal of delight from her lips, "and felt you come for me. I can't go back to thinking of you as my little girl."

"But I am," Bekkah protested as her own tears sprung forth. She paused in her motions so she could speak without interruption. "I'm yours, Dad. I want to be yours. Everything you do and say makes me want it more. It's not the bond." She grabbed the hand on her breast and clutched it even tighter. "I would never have thought of you this way without it, but now we're here, I never want anything else."

"Baby--"

"No!" Bekkah's frustration boiled over into her tone. "It isn't the bond, Dad. Samson. I can feel it in my head. I can feel when it makes me do something, when it changes my mind for me. Right now, it isn't. I'm doing this because I want to." Still frustrated, restless, unsure how to make her point, she started moving atop him again.

"The bond wants me submissive to you." A pant or moan punctuated each phrase she spoke as she drove herself down onto her father's prick. "It wants you on top of me, behind me, taking me like a bitch in heat." Rebekkah felt the magic stirring in her mind at her words, spiking her pleasure, slipping in little glimpses of her father rutting away at her. She fought it off by focusing on the sensations already coursing through her. "But as long as I don't try to do something too far from that, not opposing you, it lets me be. I'm still your little angel, Dad. I'm still your Bekkah. Just... more yours than I ever thought possible, and I love it."

"Bekkah..." She could hear the strain in her father's voice, both emotional and physical. He groped her breast on his own now, her flesh bulging out between his widespread fingers. His left hand dug into her hip and ass. Every squeeze and scratch sent stars shooting behind Rebekkah's eyes, and she knew she didn't have much time left.

Bekkah cupped her left breast in one hand and the back of Samson's head in the other. She was shorter than him by half a foot or more, which meant she had to stretch and contort her body, but she was determined. Intense blue eyes widened as her father realized what she was doing. Then he bent his neck, leaning forward and taking her proffered nipple between his lupine lips.

As soon as she felt the connection, Bekkah's eyes rolled back, rapture crashing over her. She teetered on the peak, buffeted by strong winds, rocked by tremors and quakes. Beneath her, her father's eyes grew wild, dark and stormy, full of need--seeking completion and absolution both.

With one final exertion of will, Bekkah offered them. She drove herself back as hard as she could. The thick bulge at the base of her father's cock resisted her efforts, so she slid forward an inch and thrust backward again. Twice, thrice, four times, she bounced off the stubborn knot. Then, at last, her lower lips spread wide, and his entire length was inside her.

Bekkah howled in ecstasy as she felt the ball of flesh expand and lock her in place. Two pairs of claws sank deep into Bekkah's skin, pulling her down as her mate pushed up off the bed to meet her. His shouting, snarling voice joined hers. Her father's cock swelled and jerked within her spasming depths, releasing waves of warmth against her walls and into her womb.