Porn Star's Daughter Ch. 10

"It looked like it was going to tear you apart!" I said.

"Oh my god, Shannon, it was amazing," she gushed. "I've had a lot of cocks in my life - a lot of cocks - but your father's is the only one I've ever had that reached every part of me. He's managed to touch places that I didn't even know exist inside my own body!

"In a way, I feel bad for you," she said, shifting gears and catching me by surprise. "With that dildo, you only get an impression of what he feels like, how big he is, but it's just not the same. With a dildo, you have all the control. In real life, you never quite know what's going to happen next.

"You can't imagine what it feels to have something like that being inside you, pulsing, moving in ways you don't expect. When it's constantly changing inside you, you can't think of anything else. It takes over every part of you, and it's all you can focus on. It's like..."

She paused, trying to find the right words. It took her so long, I was beginning to think that she was lost in her own masturbation and had forgotten what she was about to say.

"It's like," she finally continued, "your body has limits, ya know? You think you know what they are, but then someone comes along and shows you that there is so, so much more than you could ever know about yourself.

"Plus, his cock is so hot. I'm not just talking about being sexy, I mean it actually gets hot!" She sighed again. "And when he comes inside you - oh my god! It gets even bigger, even harder. It takes me by surprise every time. Just when I think I've been at my limit, he takes me one step further."

"What does it feel like?" I asked before I even knew the words were coming out of my mouth.

There was a pause, and I wasn't sure if she was going to tell me. Finally, she said, "When your father comes inside of me, it feels like an explosion has gone off inside my body. There is hot liquid everywhere, but there's no room for it to go anywhere.

"My body takes over and it's like I'm the only person in the world who can keep that explosion from tearing apart the world, so I squeeze him with my muscles as hard as I can. That just makes him shoot harder and farther.

"It happens so fast. You know it's going to happen, but it only takes a second or two, and yet at the same time it feels like time has stopped. It's a chain reaction, going up and up and up and ohhhh," her breath caught, and then released into a beautiful moan. I realized I had just heard her come. The sound was pure music, almost like she was singing - a melodic note coming through the phone next to my ear in perfect fidelity.

Her breathing became tight and erratic, and it took her a while to calm down. I continued to rub my nipples and I couldn't help but stroke my clit gently. I wanted to fuck myself so bad, but all I could do was tease. I thought about what she said about the pain, but somehow it felt like I couldn't quite control it after the fact. I'd just have to hold on to that piece of information for later.

"... and I come every time he does," she finally said. Her voice was warm syrup, sweet and sticky in satisfaction.

She had been waxing so poetic about my father's cock that I couldn't help but feel a strong current of envy. I couldn't fathom the feelings she was describing, but they sounded amazing. I wanted some of that for myself, and wished I wasn't quite so sore as to use the dildo again.

I was horny, and frustrated. Her words had brought me to a precipice that I didn't know if I could cross, but I was caught between how they made me feel, and what they actually meant.

Even so, there was something slightly off about what she was saying. I got the impression that Tracy was teasing me. No, that's not quite the right word. Taunting me? Tempting me?

Her tone was matter-of-fact, more like a girl gossiping with her close friend about her love life, so it was difficult to tell. But surely she must realize that she was telling all of this to me, right?

I had never really met any of the girls my father dated before. I think he had one girlfriend once, several years before, whom I had actually met. I didn't even remember her name, though. So, was this the kind of woman he usually dated? Someone this open about their sex life?

Was this normal? It didn't feel normal to me.

I also wasn't sure if I cared. I also didn't think I had any room for complaint given what Tracy and I had done, and what I had seen. After all, I called her. She didn't just drop all of this on me unexpectedly. This was all on me.

"So what is it you want, Shannon?" she asked, breaking into my thoughts. It was a pointed question, loaded with innuendo. "What do you want... right now?"

Did she want me to come out and say that I was envious? Did she want me to say that I wanted to fuck my own father?

Well, do you?

Put on the spot, I swallowed, afraid that my next words might drive her away. Despite everything, I found myself faced with a fear that she would reject me. Nevertheless, I decided to be equally direct.

"Now I'm horny and I want to hear your voice to help me come."

There was a slight pause. It was just long enough to make me wonder if I had said the wrong thing.

"Ooh, baby," she cooed when it became clear I was waiting for her response. "Good girl. Tell me more."

I swallowed, gathered my courage, and whispered, "I wish you were here right now. I bet I could come even harder just by you sucking on my nipples."

I'd never said those words to anyone in my entire life. Even before they left my mouth, I felt the sharp rise in panic that she would laugh at me, or get angry with me, or hang up on me. She had just masturbated to orgasm with me on the phone, and here I was, scared shitless that she was going to reject me.

"Oh god, I'd love that," she gasped, allaying my fears. "I'd love to suck your beautiful tits until I feel you come."

Sighing in relief, I pinched my nipples and allowed myself to imagine that she was lying on top of me. I pictured her lying between my spread legs, her beautiful breasts pushing into my lower stomach as she took the nipples, one at a time, in between her full, pouty lips. In my mind's eye, I couldn't reach underneath her to touch myself, almost as if I was trying to marry my fantasy with my reality. I was too sore to be penetrated, so I simply fantasized a scenario where being unable to play with my pussy was justified.

"Shannon?" she asked, trying to get my attention.

"Oh, sorry, I'm here," I said.

"I can't stop touching myself," she said. It was a plain statement, but I could hear the strain in her voice. Even after she had orgasmed the simple declarative sentence resonated with me. Something about that confession went straight to my libido.

"Oh god," I said. "That turns me on so much!"

"Talk to me," she said. "I want to come so bad."

She paused, and then said, "Again."

Suddenly, I had no idea what to say. I felt put on the spot with her simple confession. My mind raced to come up with something, but I kept drawing a blank. Nothing fancy or poetic seemed to work, and I felt like my words would just be a mess.

My hesitation apparently needed a prompt. She said. "I can almost feel you underneath me, feeling those nipples brush against my lips."

I took her cue. "Yeah, and I run my fingers through your hair and hold you to my chest."

"Keep going," she prodded. "I'm doing what you're telling me. I'm running my fingers through my hair and pulling a little, just to feel what you're talking about."

The image of her pretending to do what I say gave me the motivation I needed. "I loved it when you sucked on my nipples, and I never wanted you to stop. I keep thinking back to when we were in the bathroom, too," I said. Suddenly the words were coming easier.

"Oh, yes," she whispered. "What would you have done differently?"

"You were standing behind me, and you put your arms underneath mine and began warming my tits with your hands."

"I remember," she purred. It sounded like it was a fond memory.

"But now I can see you in the mirror standing behind me, but instead of trying to make them go down, you're pinching and squeezing them. It's the first time anyone has ever touched me like that, and I'm scared and nervous, but I don't want you to stop."

All of that was true, even though it didn't actually happen that way.

"I didn't want to stop," she said. "I loved the way they felt in the palms of my hands."

"I was so sad when you did," I agreed. "But now I am watching you in the mirror, and you start kissing on my neck, and my earlobe. I'm melting under your touch."

"God, I want to fuck you," she said abruptly. My own libido was already in high gear, and not being able to touch myself was both incredibly frustrating and pushing me even higher.

It took me slightly out of the moment, but I had to ask. "Do you mean now? Or do you mean you say that in my fantasy?"

"Both," she said, and I could almost hear the coy smile on her face.

"It's my first time," I continued after a deep breath, "so I don't know what to do. All I know is that I'm really enjoying what you're doing, and I want to know what you're going to do next."

"So, what do I do next?" she asked, teasing me.

"You grab my chest with both hands, and then push your body against my ass," I answered without hesitation.

I heard her gasp. "Oh yes," she growled. "Let me rub myself onto that beautiful little bubble butt."

Now it was my turn to gasp. So it wasn't just self-flattery on my part. She had noticed, too! It wasn't just my imagination. I continued to rub my nipples with my hand.

"I need both hands," I said, breaking into my own fantasy. "Let me put you on speakerphone."

"No!" she said with some force. I froze. "If you do, it'll sound like you're far away. I want to hear your voice right next to my ear."

"O-okay," I said, and kept the phone where it was. It was frustrating, and yet at the same time I understood what she meant. Her voice, her breathing, everything was right next to me. I wished I had found my earphones before I called her, but it was too late for that now.

"Keep going," she prompted.

"I'm watching you in the mirror, and I can see you getting more and more turned on." I found where I had left off, and my voice sounded a little bit hesitant, but it soon returned to full strength. "I've never been the object of someone's desire before. This is all new to me."

"Oh baby," she purred. "I have so much to teach you."

"I know," I said. "You already have, too."

"I keep interrupting you. I'm sorry, please keep going."

"I'm scared and nervous, but I'm horny too. I want you to watch everything you do. I love being wanted, and I love what you're doing to me. I can feel you pull my chest with your hands, pulling me against your body as you hump my ass."

"Ohh," I heard her moan. "What do I do then?"

"You're getting more and more turned on, and I can feel the heat from your pussy through your skirt and my jeans," I am freestyling now. I have no idea where this is going, but I'm really liking it. My nipples were loving it.

"My father calls to see if we're okay, and you shout at him that it's all fine, that it's 'women's stuff,' and he's okay with it," I say. It seemed a bit odd to throw my father into the mix, but I'd already said it and now I can't un-say it. Besides, it added to the sense of realism for the fantasy.

"You tell me that we don't have much time," I said, "and then you reach down to my jeans and pull them down to my thighs. You lift your skirt and now I can feel your bare pussy against my ass."

"Keep going, Shannon!" she pleaded. "I'm so close! Please make me come again."

Her voice sounds desperate. I suddenly found myself eager to let her come with the story version of her. I think she's holding off just to keep in time with my fantasy.

"I've never been with a woman," I continue as if she hadn't said anything, "and I have no idea what to expect. Your pussy is wet, and my ass is starting to get wet from you. I'm still watching you in the mirror, and you're grinding against me harder and harder."

Her breathing was loud and ragged. She was frisking away at her pussy like mad. I could just about make out the faint sounds of wetness in the background.

"All of a sudden, you grab my nipples and squeeze as hard as you can," I say, pressing my own hands against my chest at the same time. You look up at me on the mirror and look me straight in the eye. Your eyes go wide open and you tell me -"

"I'm going to come!" she shouted, finishing the thought.

I was close as well, but when I heard her gasping and moaning on the other end of the phone, I simply stopped and listened. Not only was it the sexiest sounds I had ever heard, but I didn't want to ruin it by trying to talk. It was her second time in only a few minutes, and the power of her climax seemed to take both of us by surprise.

My hand instinctively reached down to my pussy, and I forgot all about how sore I was. I pushed my hand against my mons, and slipped my fingers around my clit and through my pussy lips. The shock was instantaneous, and I sucked in a huge gasp of air as my orgasm pushed through my body, ending in a loud squeak.

"Yes!" I heard her breathe into my ear, encouraging me.

My muscles clenched, and a cramping pain crept into the orgasm as well. The mixture of pleasure and pain was an odd combination to process, and I wasn't sure how much I liked it. I needed it, and was grateful for the release, but the accompanying soreness definitely dampened my enjoyment. It was very different than the "stretching" pain of being penetrated in the first place. I thought back to what Tracy had said, and wondered if I could figure out a way to control that and balance it like she did.

"Oh god, Suh-Shannon," she cried, as she finally found her voice. "There's nothing quite like knowing someone is masturbating while thinking of you. Did you just come too?"

Her stutter caused me to pause. Was she just about to call me by another name? No, she just couldn't breathe right, that's all. After all, just how communicative are we supposed to be after a massive orgasm?

"Yeah," I said. "But I just wish I wasn't so sore."

She laughed at that. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "Welcome to the club."

I suddenly realized that she was probably just as sore as I was. After all, she had been tossed around by my father as if she was a rag doll. "Oh god, that's right!" I said. "How can you even think about touching yourself?"

She thought for a second, and then said, "It's difficult to explain. I'm sore because it's the price I pay to get fucked within an inch of my life. I like to get fucked like that, so being sore reminds me that I've been fucked just the way I like it."

"So," I said, thoughtfully, "I should like walking funny?"

She laughed. "Oh, baby, all I'm saying is that if I hated being sore more than I like the way your father fucked me, I'd be climbing the walls. God knows I lived far too long that way."

Coming down from my orgasmic high, the conversation suddenly felt weird. I was suddenly reminded that I was, effectively, causing her to cheat on my father. Well, maybe "reminded" wasn't quite so accurate as "no longer unable to forget it."

I thought about her words. Specifically, she'd mentioned more than once that she had a long dry spell of sorts between the times she dated my dad. My father had only hinted at what had happened in the past. I thought that, perhaps, Tracy could help me understand.

"Tracy?" I swallowed, trying to get the courage to ask the question.

"Yes, baby?"

"Why did you and my dad break up?" I wasn't sure that I wanted to hear the answer. "Way back when, I mean."

There was a very long pause, and I began to fear that I had offended her. That's none of your business, Shannon! Way to take a sharp left turn in the conversation!

Well, she did just mention how long she had gone without it. Even so, I got nervous. "I mean," I said, trying to fill the vacuum, "he said that it was his fault, but he didn't tell me what happened."

"He said that?" she asked. Her voice sounded generally curious. "Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it."

I was starting to feel that I was treading in dangerous waters, but I couldn't understand why.

"Look, it's complicated," she said. Then, after some consideration, she added, "I know that people say that when they don't really want to talk about something, but in this case it's true."

I thought for a long moment before finally saying, "Okay."

She sighed. "I can tell you this, Shannon," she said. "You can tell I'm a very sexual person, right?"

Understatement of the year. "Yes," I said.

"I love men and women, I love coming, and I love sharing myself with other people," she said, matter-of-factly. "When I was younger, I had the girl-next-door looks but a nymphomaniac's libido. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I was a pervert, because back then girl's weren't supposed to want sex."

"I think I'm a pervert, too," I said, quietly.

"Oh, honey," she soothed. "Of course you are. Probably more than you even realize."

The words struck home, and I felt the hairs rising on the back of my neck. I had no idea why, but it made me feel nervous.

"As they say," she laughed. "It takes one to know one."

"You're lucky, though," she continued. "You can be a pervert now because everything is wide open to you. When I was your age, the most perverted thing that girls did was give blowjobs, but they weren't supposed to like it. Forget anal. You would almost never find a girl who would even talk about it, let alone admit to being curious about it, let alone liking it.

"Nowadays, all you have to do is go onto the Internet and see anything you like. Bondage, anal, incest porn - you name it, it's all there," she said.

Tracy was on a roll. I had apparently tapped into something she felt she needed to say, so I stayed quiet.

"Right now, I'm loving life," she said. "But back then, well, it was another story. I was frustrated and wanted to break out of my mold, change the rules. I wanted a boyfriend that I could do everything with. Someone who would get me, you know?"

It was the first thing that she had said that I did understand. I was pretty much a loner - shy, kept to myself, didn't really have any true friends to speak of. I wanted a boyfriend too, someone that I could talk with and - yes - fuck from time to time. That didn't mean that I didn't want those things, of course, but I didn't really know how to go about getting them.

In her own way, my mother had tried to help. She had tried to mold me in her own image, one of a glamorous, flirtatious seductress - because it had worked for her. That person, the one she wanted me to be in order to get the boys, that person wasn't me. I wanted someone who wanted me for me.

So yes, I understood her perfectly.

"When I met your father," Tracy said, breaking into my thoughts, "everything fell into place. He loved my perversions, loved the fact that I had a wild side. He read me like a book, saw through the supposedly innocent exterior with ease. He knew me, knew that you wouldn't know how naughty I could be by looking at me. I was the picture of the good girl next door. He would tell me over and over that I was a wolf in sheep's clothing. And he was okay with that.

"I remember the first time I saw his dick, Shannon," she shifted gears. "Oh my god I swear that I saw beams of light coming out of his jeans."