Porn Star's Daughter Ch. 15

His massive cock was pinned between us, a ramrod pipe that I could climb like a fireman's pole. It pressed against my pussy, stomach, and chest all at the same time. I'd had the dildo in that position before, but this was completely different. This moved on its own, it pulsed against my tummy and sternum. It was nothing like I could ever imagine.

I tried to wrap myself around him, to envelop him the best I could. My tiny body was no match for his large frame, but it felt like I was in complete control. I held his head against mine, our kisses becoming more intense, more passionate. My pussy was soaked and I felt my panties begin to chafe as the wet fabric stuttered across our moist flesh.

"Watch me," I said as we separated. Again I nodded, and he mimicked my movements. I slid off of him and pulled his shorts and boxers down as I went. To my amazement, he lifted his ass off the couch to help. I wasn't sure if this was just habit, or if he was fully aware of what he was doing, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Team SUAFM laughed at that. Yes, you are!

Before I knew it, I was in position. The weight of my reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Every minute - every second - was pushing boundaries at light speed. Everything we were doing was wrong - so, so wrong - and yet in some way it felt like the most natural thing ever. I was with my Daddy; what could be more normal than that?

He was now open to me, harder than iron, and a lustful desire completely dominated his expression. I took his dick in my hand, and marveled at my situation.

Three months ago I had been a mousy, wimpy, skinny girl with no confidence. I had walked through life hunched over, hoping that no one would see me, that no one would notice. At the same time, I lamented the fact that no one seemed to know I existed. I had been the architect of my own misery, and never even knew it at the time.

Tracy had been right about one thing, though. My father was the perfect specimen of manhood. He was the complete package. He was kind, thoughtful, considerate, had a one-in-a-zillion cock, and he loved me.

He loved me, and he wanted me.

This is it, Team Morality and Team Shutupandfuckme said in chorus. This is what you've been waiting for.

"This will be fun," I said, keeping my attitude front and center. I leaned forward to push the head of his cock against my lips, and went to work.

For months I had been practicing on the dildo and on Andrew. I had tried to imagine what it would be like to have the give and unpredictability of a real live cock like his, but with the sheer size and displacement of the dildo. Without realizing it, I had been treating every blowjob and every attempt at deep throating as a mechanical effort, trying different things to figure out what worked and what didn't.

I wanted this to be as smooth as possible. When I first went down on Andrew with the tongue stud, he had come in three strokes. That was the moment that I realized that a small piece of jewelry had a much more powerful effect than I could have possibly imagined.

My father was far more experienced than Andrew, but I still had no idea how he would react, so I needed to be extra careful. I licked his staff and tried to get as much of my saliva as I could across his skin, but I hadn't anticipated just how much his cock would absorb it. I wasn't sure if I had enough to keep him lubricated for what I was about to do.

I wanted to keep my eyes locked on him, but there was so much to see right in front of my face.

Pun intended, Team SUAFM giggled.

After everything I had done, I was still amazed at how un-prepared I was for the real thing. I must have had sex with Andrew four or five dozen times by this point, so I had started to get habituated to the feeling of his cock in my mouth. I had gotten used to his movements, his noises, his telltale warning signs.

Most of all, though, I had gotten used to his cock. In comparison, the dildo was huge, but it was still a dildo. Now, though, I felt as though I were Pygmalion, with the statue of my father's cock coming to life in my hands. Like that mythical sculptor, I found myself falling in love with the flesh-and-blood creation.

Familiar veins and ridges passed through my lips, but I couldn't hide my surprise when contours that I had experimented with for weeks suddenly moved on their own. I found myself shifting from the mechanical motions of wetting his shaft to the growing natural enjoyment of the activity.

In my head and in my groin, a switch was flipped. I found myself becoming more aggressive, more enthusiastic. More Punk Girl.

The attitude came forward, and I attacked his cock with more gusto. The lubrication was working, and beginnings of a desire to feel his cock fill my mouth. A deep oral fixation took hold, a feeling in my jaws and in the back of my throat. His cock wasn't in there yet and I wanted it to be.

I returned to the tip of his cock and knew that it was time. I had practiced this in the mirror for weeks. We would see if it would pay off. I only hoped that I wouldn't fuck it up.

I looked up at my father's face as my lips pressed against his massive head. For months I had watched the video of him getting blown by girl after girl, seen his reactions from all angles. I had seen him fuck so many times that I nearly had his reactions memorized. Nothing could have prepared me from the perspective that I had now.

He was so close. He filled up my entire field of view, and I was acutely aware of how I had possessed his focus and attention. I could see his eyes peering down at me, the look of incredulity on his face. The struggle about whether or not to stop me or let me try. The concern in his face if he did either. I could register every emotion on his face and the sound of his breath in full living here and now-ness.

I took his cock into my mouth.

Unlike going down on Andrew, I couldn't purse my lips or create a ton of suction. My father was simply too big. The massive head spread my lips apart, and I felt my throat generate even more saliva in anticipation and preparation.

With the head now aimed correctly, I locked eyes with him again. He had no idea what was about to hit him. I thought about taking him out of my mouth briefly to tell him to keep watching me, but it soon became obvious that it wasn't necessary. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Slowly, his cock began to slide forward into my mouth. My lips began to stretch, the corners tucking inward and causing some discomfort. I backed off enough so that I could go further, and continued to ease him back and forth until he had slipped through another inch.

Just like you practiced, I told myself.

I didn't have the mirror this time, so I found myself unsure of how to gauge my progress. Being able to watch him, though, meant that it didn't matter. He was shocked with what I was doing, and even with only a few inches of his dick in my mouth, I could see he was impressed. It meant more to me that anything I had ever experienced in my life.

And it was only going to get better.

"Oh my god, baby," he said, and his words of admiration and approval overrode everything. I had to fight the urge to push him all the way down my throat right then and there.

My father reached down to move a stray hair that had gotten loose out of my face. He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers, a look of sheer, unmitigated pride crossing his features.

Suddenly, I didn't feel the need to prove anything. There wasn't even a question any longer about what I could or couldn't do, or whether it even mattered. I was taking my father's massive cock in my mouth - what more did I possibly have to prove?

My throat immediately relaxed, and I leaned forward to let him slip inside. I never took my eyes from his, and I could feel him desperately try not to move. I couldn't tell whether or not he was too shocked, or if he was too afraid to hurt me, but he remained stock still. I pulled back a little, took in some air through my nose, and then returned his cock to its rightful place in the back of my throat. I closed my eyes in pure enjoyment of the sensation of enclosing his cock with my throat.

I think I was more surprised than he was when my lips reached the flare of his root. At that point, I could no longer have seen his face even if my eyes were open, but I couldn't go any further, either. The base of his cock was simply too wide.

Not that it mattered. I had done it. I had just deep-throated my father. Like a master sword-swallower, all of the practice and video lessons and exercises had paid off, and I had taken him all the way to the root. I wanted to keep him there, but breathing was starting to become a major issue.

Fortunately, I knew exactly how much air I had left as I started to back off his dick. I knew that simply letting go could cause some pretty serious damage to either my throat or his dick, and that would ruin the rest of my plans.

"Shannon," he whispered as I finally disengaged. "That was amazing."

"I told you," I said, trying to get my vocal chords to work. "I can give you everything you want. Everything."

I glanced over at the clock. Time was running out. I wanted to deep throat him again, but I had to keep going. I almost felt bad for only taking him to the root once, but there were better things to come. If I missed my window, however, then the big finale would be ruined. One deep throat, one moment of proof. I wanted more, but needed to stick to my plan. I had a feeling that I'd be able to do it again, if I just stuck to the plan.

I stood up, and straddled his legs. Even standing up the tip of his cock still reached my pussy even though he was sitting down.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked, amazed.

"A girl can't reveal all her secrets," I said, coyly. Little did he know how truthful that was.

I slipped a finger underneath my nylons, dipping it down into my sopping wet pussy. I shuddered and gasped as I brushed my clit, and his eyes flashed straight to my crotch.

The look on my father's face had evolved from a concerned and hesitant father to a man on the brink of sexual starvation. Having my father look at me with unbridled lust was an alien sensation. His cock throbbed, soaked with my saliva, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

"Oh god, I'm so wet," I said, mostly to myself. I wanted to ask permission - to beg him - but the plan called for attitude. "Lick -" I started, but he was already in motion.

My father's powerful arms grabbed me, lust overriding any lingering doubt about whether or not our union was too taboo to move forward. I found myself lifted in the air, my knees coming to rest on either side of his legs. His fingers grabbed the crotch of the nylons and panties and he pulled with tremendous force.

My wetness certainly aided him, but there was no denying the power behind his tearing of my clothing. The nylon shrieked and gave without any serious resistance, and the panties were torn into shreds. All of my privates were now exposed and accessible.

That was so hot!

The entire moment was surreal. My father had just ripped open my clothing with the intent to bury his face in my pussy - confirming everything that I had hoped for and wanted. He looked ravenous, and I knew I was in for an extra special treat. My father, the man that I loved and Tracy had tried to keep from me, was about to eat me out.

Do it! Team SUAFM screamed in my head. Do it now!

His desire for me was overwhelming. I felt like the sexiest woman on the planet just by the sheer force of his arousal for me. He wanted me, and he was going to have me. I thought about how he had fucked Tracy like a rag doll and knew that it was about to happen to me. I quivered all over in anticipation.

His massive hands snaked around my waist and I felt them cradle my ass and lift me into the air once more. This was not the firm, eager grip that Andrew had, this was a man's grip. I found my legs sweep around his shoulders, his hands holding me in place, and my father's stubbly cheeks press against my inner thighs.

I couldn't do anything except rest my hands on top of his head as he ate me out. The instant his tongue danced across my clit I shuddered, going from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. I had been aroused before, but now I was absolutely incendiary.

I screamed, "Yes!" before I knew what hit me. Here I was, floating in mid-air, suspended only by the strength of his hands and his eager mouth - and I couldn't have felt more secure in my life.

Andrew had been eager, and I found that his enthusiasm made up for a great deal of his inexperience. My father, though, was experienced and eager. He knew how to play my body with his mouth and hands, working together in concert to completely own my pussy.

My mind briefly flashed to a memory of watching a porno of a girl riding one of those machines that have a vibrating dick, and how she just seemed to sit there as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. I felt like that, but just held suspended in air and sitting on a real man's face as he went to work on me. My father's face.

My hips acted on their own, sliding up and down on his tongue as he licked me. Each stroke ratcheted up my arousal in a rapid crescendo, until I was screaming at the top of my lungs. He didn't do it like I had taught Andrew, and it made me realize that the difference was that while I had taught Andrew how to lick me like I masturbated, my father was teaching me how to be licked.

The true extent of my perversion hit me at that moment, and I allowed myself to accept it. I no longer wanted to be 'normal,' and didn't want to hide it from myself or my father. I looked down and saw that he, too, shared my perversion and my lust and my arousal and my disdain for being constrained in a box. He and I really, truly, honestly were supposed to be together.

"Daddy!" I shouted, my voice hoarse from the deep throat and the difficulty breathing. I had never screamed during sex before, never completely lost control to that extent.

Finally allowing myself to call him that, no longer afraid that the word would shake us out of a delicate bubble of denial and push us apart, unlocked the floodgates. It felt like the right time, because it was the right time. It was natural, and I was supposed to call him Daddy right. Fucking. Now.

I convulsed on his face, aftershocks hitting me one after the other. in rapid succession. I was mildly afraid he would drop me, but he just kept on holding me until I was able to calm down enough to let me slide gently to his lap.

I kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. Everything was swimming around me, washing over from the left and the right, threatening to overwhelm me. I was kissing my father - my father - and tasting my juices - my juices - on his lips.

His lips were so soft after having eaten me out. The difference between before and after going down on me was like night and day. They felt like little pillows and molded into my own mouth so much better. I moaned despite myself and lost myself in his kiss.

I did that, I thought. My pussy made his lips perfect for kissing.

"You came fast," my father said, smiling, when we broke the kiss.

"You bet I did," I said in agreement.

We both looked down at his raging erection. I looked back at him, and could see a small tinge of sadness in his face. I touched his chin with my finger, and lifted his face so that he could look me in the eye.

"We're not finished," I said.

"Shannon," he said. "I can't. Zoey -"

He couldn't finish the sentence. The guilt he felt for the internal damage he had caused my birth mother, the damage that ultimately killed her during childbirth was threatening to unravel everything. I needed to do something, and quick, or else the rest of my plans would go up in smoke.

"Zoey hadn't been planning for this for months," I said softly. "She didn't think about you every day, train herself to take you inside of her, practice until she could fuck you as hard and fast as you like."

My father's eyes grew wide as the full import of what I said struck home. "You mean..." he said, but then stopped.

I nodded. I lifted myself up enough so that I could put his giant head at my entrance. "I've been fucking myself for weeks thinking about this," I said.

His mind whirred as he played back the past several months. "In the car," he said as he finally hit upon a memory. "Months ago. You were masturbating next to me."

I couldn't help it. I blushed, nodding and smiling impishly. So he had caught me. I gripped his dick with my hand even harder. "I was thinking about this," I said, and then made my move.

He groaned as the head slipped inside effortlessly. The initial penetration was always my favorite part with Andrew. The sudden invasion of his penis in my vagina always felt like the best part of fucking. Once we got into a rhythm it was still fun - and I was able to orgasm quite easily - but there was nothing like that very first sensation of feeling his head slip through my entrance.

Take that feeling and multiply it by infinity, and you might get to the pleasure my father's cock gave me as he spread me open. It felt like a force of nature, a hurricane, tornado, and earthquake all rolled up into one.

This is what I had been waiting for for all of these months. This was what I had been denying for even longer. I had been lying to myself, even been in serious denial since the moment I opened Simone's 'gift.' Looking back upon that moment now, I realized I must have wanted him even then, desired to be filled by my father's actual penis - not just a replica.

I remembered how I recoiled at the sight of it at first. How Simone had gotten to me, how I rejected the thought of what that piece of plastic meant. I remembered waking up with it next to me, how it had fallen against my pussy and generated such vivid sex dreams, only for me to rebuff it in horror.

I thought about how I had washed the dildo, running my hands over it as I cleaned it. I had tried to tell myself that I wasn't enjoying it, didn't actually want it. Thinking back at those first days, how naive I had been! For all the times that I had fucked that dildo since, for the number of times I had practiced in anticipation of the real thing, I tried to reconcile what I had been denying myself all those months ago.

How long had I actually wanted my father and not known it? How long had I been in denial about how I felt?

As I grabbed his cock with my vagina, absorbing him into my body like a sheath to a knife, I began to think about things from his perspective. How long had he been in denial about me?

I thought about how I had been in this very house before I met Tracy, before I even knew she existed. I thought about how I had struggled to get the head of the dildo into my mouth. I thought about how all of those issues had fallen away when he had called my name that first day. I remembered how his voice, calling my name, had triggered my orgasm at the time.

Did I know it even then? Had I simply refused to admit it to myself? Had these latent feeling for my father only manifest themselves so that I could ignore them no longer - just by him saying my name?

"Shannon," he whimpered, as if reading my mind.

It was music to my ears. My vaginal muscles automatically relaxed on cue. He slid in a couple more inches. "Does that turn you on?" I asked. "Knowing that I have been masturbating every day, thinking about you?"