The Sins of the Father

"Relax Daddy. I still love being punished. I just save it for those I really love and trust. That means you and Honey B. But you've got the heaviest hand. One two three..." Two fingers pushed straight up my butt. I hissed at the moment of discomfort. She went back to sucking my limp cock, which didn't stay limp this time. I like to think I contributed to the little guy's recovery by fantasizing out loud about smacking Helen's ass again, beating it until it glowed like a Florida sunset before fucking her in the ass, cumming all over her butt and massaging it into her rosy cheeks as balm for the stinging, much spanked flesh. Whether it was the mental picture of Helen's punishment and degradation or her expert technique, I was standing tall again.

"Now you've got it, what are you going to do with it?" I asked. Just curious, you understand. I was pretty sure I'd enjoy whatever she had planned. She got up and fetched a Hershey bar. On her knees, she broke off a few squares and carefully pushed them into her ass. The chocolate was already quite soft and made her look like she'd forgotten to wipe her bottom. She fed me a couple of pieces of what was left. "Fuck me in the ass again, Daddy. Take me up the Hershey highway."

I didn't get any choice. She pressed me back on the bed and sat astride me, guiding my cock to her sticky sweet ass hole. It was hot in there and chocolate had melted to a gooey slickness. Helen tortured her own nipples as she worked her hips and squeezed me inside her rectum. Did it feel good? You bet her sweet ass it did.

Satisfying though any orgasm is, there wasn't much left in the tank. When Helen coaxed my last climax out of me, I went off more like a BB gun than a cannon.

"Sorry Sweetheart." I said wistfully. "I guess that's my age showing."

She leant down and buzzed me. "Don't apologize, Silly. I wanted every drop of Daddy's special sauce. Now I know I've got it." She turned around and licked at my brown streaked softening cock. "Mmm, it's good. Try some, Daddy." She moved to plant her ass right in front of my face. As soon as my tongue touched her ass, she started to squeeze jism and chocolate out of her body. I lapped it all up. I don't mind the taste of my own mess if it's seasoned with pussy, but chocolate flavored semen was a definite first. Basically, it tasted like chocolate. It took a while but I finished it all.

"Now you're officially the most pervy man I've had. Two guys have eaten chocolate out of my ass but only one of them was my father." We shared a sweet, cocoa tasting kiss.

"The further we fall, the more I love you." In the past, I've compared incest to parachuting -- once you jump, you don't care how far you're going to fall.

"I love you too, Daddy." Another kiss: only traces of chocolate this time.

"Lets take a shower." I suggested. There was sweat, semen, pussy juice and chocolate all over us.

* * * * *

"So, darling daughter, do you have any plans for the summer?"

"Apart from fucking you every which way we can think of?"

"Apart from that, yes."

"I need to find a holiday job."

"Because Meg doesn't know about the wages of sin?" I hitched a thumb at the bag with Helen's money in it."

"Precisely."

"So why don't I 'create' a job for you? Say you're filing, three days a week at my office. I'll pay you out of your own money, laundering some of it from Meg's viewpoint. You'll just have to stay out the house on those days."

"Cool. Could I perhaps work with you for real sometimes? I'd like hanging out in your office, flirting with all those young executives and taking dictation while you look up my dress."

"No, but we can have lunch together. Picnics in the park?"

"Long lunch breaks?"

"Oh yes."

"It's a deal, Boss-Daddy."

We both shut up then. Ms Nina Simone was singing one of our songs -- Sinner man. I brought my little girl up properly: She knows better than to interrupt Ms Simone.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?

"I've got a tiny little video camera that hides in one of my purses. Can I hide it in your room? I want to see you fucking Mom."

"Well, you've heard us often enough. Why not? How tiny? And why have you got it?"

"Really tiny. Smaller than a cigarette lighter. The recorder is separate. I could hide it in your room and watch live Daddy Cam in mine. Wouldn't you like to know I'm watching you and touching myself as you stick it into Mom?"

"Of course I would." I was getting stiff just thinking about that.

"After Mr Deerborne, I got it to record my dates. You never know when you're going to want to prove to some self-righteous bitch that her Daddy wants to sodomize her."

"You wouldn't?"

"I haven't, but I can't say I wouldn't. I'd have to quit work of course. Discretion is one of the things my dates think they're paying for. I didn't even tell Eric about the video. I only owned up to photographing his father's Amex card stuck in my cunt."

"I think I'd like to see these videos sometime."

"Oh, you will. One of my fantasies is to have you do all those things to me again while we watch them. Sort of deja view." She giggled at her own pun.

I had a sudden recollection of Helen's patent leather purse on the table as I made love to B. "Sweetheart? Two nights ago, after dinner..."

"Yes Daddy. I recorded you with Honey B. I'll show you it when I feel like a really romantic, loving evening."

"It's going to be great to have you home for a while."

"It's going to be the best summer ever, Daddy. Shh."

On the CD player, James Brown was "Feeling Good."

He wasn't the only one.