Olivia's Night Out

Like I'd been doing for the past 6 months or so, I came home drunk that Saturday night. I'd been out partying with friends, because everyone knows there's nothing better to do in this shitty town than to drink. Besides, I was 19. I'm allowed to drink if I want to.

I clumsily unlocked the front door and stumbled carefully inside and leaned against the door, waiting for the house to stop spinning for a bit. I let my handbag fall to the floor, and started walking towards the stairs when he angrily cleared his throat, frightening the shit out of me.

I turned and saw my dad in the living room, looking very displeased. He ignored my pathetic yelp and started his prepared lecture. "Olivia, it's almost 3am." He stood up and walked towards me. Calm, but purposeful. I won't deny it; he's quite handsome, at times. Sometimes he can be a bit timid or weak or something, but other times - like now - he could be very attractive and strong. Okay, yes, he's my father, but ...I'd fantasized about fucking him. More than once. But it'd been months since I'd done so. Any time he'd give me this lecture about staying out late, drinking, whatever, he'd lose a bit of appeal. The more he reminded me he was my father, the less I wanted him. I guess that makes sense, right?

"I know, Dad." I shrugged. "Not like it's a school night." I stretched an arm out and steadied myself against the wall. "Besides, it's not like I'm hurting anyone."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Olivia." I wasn't used to hearing Dad swear, so that caught me off guard, and he could tell. "I don't mean to swear, but Jesus, Liv. Every night you go out for lord-knows how long, your mother and I are here, worried sick. What if something happened to you?"

I sighed. That old chestnut. "Nothing's gonna happen. My girlfriends and I, we all know what to look for. It's fine. Just... can I go to bed now? You can lecture me in the morning." My patience isn't too deep at the best of times, but when I've been drinking it usually downright vanishes. There wasn't much left at this point.

"Goddamn it, Olivia, no." He stepped closer, less than an arm's length between us. "I'm trying to talk to you. You can't just fuck off upstairs just because you're too damn drunk to stand up straight." His eyes...changed. Maybe he was seeing red. I'd only seen him this angry a handful of times in my life, and I never liked it. I'd begun to think I'd pushed him too far this time. He continued speaking in an angry whisper. "You think you're so special ever since you turned 18? That somehow that means you don't have to treat your mother and I like real people anymore?" He spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm fucking sick of your childish, selfish behavior, and you're long overdue for someone to call you out on your fucking bullshit."

Yes, okay, I definitely pushed him too far. But like father like daughter. He pushed me too far and so I had no choice but to fight back. I replied in a similarly angry whisper, "Stop acting so fucking high and mighty, Dad. You've been trying to control me my whole life, and I'm so sick of it! I had to get a job where you said, not where I wanted. And even now I'm 19 fucking years old, you still can't let me be my own person. Well I'm fucking sick of taking your shit. Leave me alone. I'm going to bed." I started walking away. Two steps from the staircase, I muttered under my breath, "I can't believe I ever wanted to fuck you."

He grabbed my arm. Oh yeah - I forgot I don't have great control over my voice when I'm drunk. "What the fuck did you just say?"

I was still angry from his rant, so I felt like digging my claws in a bit more, my incestuous concession notwithstanding. "Yeah, ever since I was little. What a waste of time that was. Not like you could get it up, anyway. Probably why you act this way; trying to control me because your dick doesn't work."

If I thought he was angry before... how naive. He looked like he was going to burst. For a second, I thought he was going to hit me. Instead, he growled "That's it," and reached for his pajama pants, pulled them down, and suddenly I was staring down at my father's erection. It was angry, pulsating, and so very hard.

I don't know why. But I giggled. Not maliciously, just at how ludicrous the situation was. "Well, that proves me wrong, doesn't it? Um, congrats, I guess, Dad." I turned once again to leave and go to bed. It'd been a long night.

Dad grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. Hard. Luckily my back hit the wall first, not my head - that would've really hurt. His face was now mere inches away from mine, now close enough to smell each other's breath. He'd been drinking, too. That explained a few things, I suppose.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me down. I didn't have much choice but to follow. He slid me down the wall, closer and closer towards his crotch.

In my drunk brain, it was a good idea to try and provoke him more, apparently. I asked him "Oh, so this is what's happening, is it?" I was now kneeling in front of my father in the front hallway of our house, at almost 3 in the morning, staring straight at his thick, hard, throbbing cock. A few months ago, I'd have been thrilled to bits to be given the opportunity to suck this man's dick, but tonight was different. There was hostility and rage in the air, both of us having reached our breaking points for things to have come this far. "Well, fine. But you couldn't handle it, Dad."

With a weird combination of spite, pride, revulsion and eagerness, I opened my mouth and took my father's cock into my mouth. It tasted...well, like a cock. But the fact it was my father's cock? The man who raised me? That made it taste so different to just any old dick. Of course, it would've been even better if I wasn't angrily forced into sucking it, but beggars can't be choosers.

Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, I quickly wrapped my lips around his thick purple cockhead and pressed my tongue to the underside, then started bobbing my head back and forth, giving Dad a hands-free blowjob. Like I said, completely out of spite. And wanting to back up my claim that he couldn't handle it. Totally not because I wanted to please my Dad like I'd fantasized about for years.

He started groaning and moving his hips to match my speed. Hearing him moan like that...okay, fine, I confess. It turned me right the fuck on. I couldn't help myself. I hiked my dress up a little, slid my hand inside my panties and started rubbing my clit while sliding my mouth up and down my father's warm, hard cock. My mouth was watering, covering his cock in my saliva, turning it into a wet, sloppy blowjob.

Watching me play with myself while sucking his dick must've been too much for my father to handle (like I predicted). A few seconds later, his whole body got tense and his cock started throbbing in my mouth. I kept on sucking, so ready to taste his cum. He grunted once more, a deep growl, and his dick exploded in my mouth, pumping rope after rope of hot, thick, bitter cum into my mouth. It didn't taste anywhere near as good as any of the other loads I've swallowed, but I didn't care. Dad had cum in my mouth, and it was the hottest thing I've ever done.

I cleaned up his cock, swallowing my own saliva and the remnants of his cum, and stood up, smiling at my Dad, who was still breathing heavily from his orgasm.

I reached behind my back and started to unzip my dress, but Dad grabbed my arms, stopping me when I was about halfway down. He reached for my panties and pulled them down to my knees, then yanked hard at the top of my dress, shoving the shoulder straps aside, and pulling the dress down until he'd freed my B cup tits. Dad smiled evilly when he saw that my little pink nipples were hard with desire.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head to the side with a jolt. Not to mention the pain in my scalp. My father then pushed me backwards against the wall again. With his free hand, he reached down and shoved two thick, calloused fingers inside my pussy. I was so wet, he slid right in without an issue. I gasped and bit my lip to stifle a moan when he started thrusting his fingers back and forth, in and out of me. His thumb brushed against my clit at the peak of every thrust, sending jolts of intense pleasure through my body.

"Oh, I've bet you've wanted me to do this for so long, you little slut," he growled angrily into my ear as he fingerfucked me against the wall.

I wasn't exactly in a position to deny anything. "Fuck yes," I whispered breathlessly.

"Mmm, that's what I fucking thought," he growled in response. He started sucking on my tits, hard and rough, devouring them like a hungry child. His fingerfucking was relentless throughout, slamming into me, thumb rhythmically slamming against my hypersensitive clit.

I've never been submissive, but that feeling of powerlessness while Dad had his way with my body, "punishing" me for asserting my independence? Combine that with the utter taboo of the dominant man doing this to me being my own father, and I'd never been so incredibly turned on in my life. I started grinding my hips between the wall and Dad's thick, pounding fingers.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I panted as my face started to flush red, and my breath grew shallow.

Dad spat my breast out and lifted his head back up, his mouth right next to my ear. "You're gonna cum, aren't you?"

"Yes, oh fuck yes, you're gonna make me cum," I confessed. It was getting harder and harder to stay quiet. But I felt like I needed him to know how much I wanted this. "Please make me cum, Dad," I moaned, turning myself on with my own words.

"Mmmmm, you little slut," Dad growled approvingly, shifting his gaze to watch his fingers pumping in and out of my pussy.

I moaned and my whole body shuddered as I came from Dad's fingers and dirty words. My knees buckled and I almost slid down the wall. "Fuuuuuck," I whimpered, lost in the throes of my orgasm.

When the orgasm high faded, Dad was still inside me, still with a fistful of hair. "On your fucking knees," he commanded.

By that point, I was completely his. "Yes, Dad," I agreed. He withdrew his fingers from my aching pussy and shoved me to the floor. I adopted the position he commanded - on my hands and knees, ass in the air, presenting myself to my dominating father. "Give it to me, Dad, please. I need your hard cock inside me."

Within seconds, my father was on his knees behind me, dick in his hand, lining himself up with my desperate pussy. I couldn't believe it. 10 minutes ago, in my mind, this was my meek-but-cute Dad - the man who used to read me bedtime stories, taught me to ride a bike, and the man I'd have the occasional guilty cum about, fantasizing about seducing him. Now he was a rage-fueled, insatiable, dominant beast. And I was completely surrendering to him.

He slid his thick cock inside me easily, then grabbed my hips hard. He started thrusting hard and fast. He grunted approvingly when I started thrusting my body back towards his. He spanked my ass and I squealed. He grabbed my cheek hard where he'd smacked and dug his fingers in. He started thrusting harder and faster, grabbing my hair again with his other hand. I moaned rhythmically, powerless and overwhelmed by lust.

"Oh fuck! Fuck me, Dad," I begged, panting.

"Daddy," he corrected me.

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned. "Fuck me hard, Daddy," I encouraged.

"Mmm, you're a dirty little slut, aren't you?" Fucking me harder still. Our bodies collided with hard, wet smacks.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm your filthy slut," I confirmed, somehow turned on even more by his degrading language. "I love your hard cock, love it fucking me."

"Tell me who's in charge, Olivia." He yanked my hair harder, like a jockey disciplining his horse.

"Ow! Oh fuck! You are, Daddy," I conceded. I squeezed my pussy tighter around his hard, relentless cock. "You're in charge, Daddy." I moaned.

"Damn right," he moaned, then started fucking me as hard as he could.

I completely gave in to him. "You're in charge, Daddy. You own me now, you own my cunt," I panted. "I'm all yours, Daddy."

"Daddy's little slut, aren't you?" He spanked my ass again, then pulled my hair again.

I squealed in pain-pleasure. "Yes Daddy, I'm your little slut, fuck me hard, fuck me, oh fuck me," I begged.

"Oh god oh fuck, you want Daddy's cum, don't you?" He panted, his breath shallow and desperate.

"Please, Daddy. I need your cum, oh fuck, give it to me, Daddy," I pleaded with him. I needed to feel him cum inside me, filling me with his seed. "Give it all to me, fill my cunt, Daddy!"

"Guuuuuh ooooh fuuuuuck," he growled. He thrust deep inside me and froze there, his body turning rigid. He pulled my hair tight again, and dug his fingers into my ass hard enough to leave marks that were still there in the morning. I felt his cock throbbing and then explode wet warmth inside my pussy. Throb after throb sent load after load of my father's thick, hot cum inside me. He shuddered occasionally until he was spent. He thrust once again, shoving it as deep inside me as he could, then he pulled out, and told me breathlessly, "No more going out on Saturday nights."

I stayed where I was, on my hands and knees, ass still in the air, keeping Dad's cum from spilling onto the floor. Still catching my breath as well, I panted back, "Only if I have more of this to look forward to."

Dad picked up his pajama pants and pulled them back on. "Heh," he chuckled, then headed upstairs, where my mother was somehow still asleep - despite how noisy we got.

Once their bedroom door closed, I picked myself and my panties up off the floor. As I stumbled up the stairs to my room with Dad's thick cum leaking out of my vagina, I thought to myself, "But he didn't say anything about the other 6 nights a week."