The Sweetest Sin Pt. 10

Hmm. I may have gone a bit over the top with this one. Sorry for any mistakes or missteps. It was written in a rush - I just wanted to get it out and move on. If you scroll to the end, there's a postscript explaining why

Cassie's story, Chapter 5

Dad brought me breakfast in bed on that last morning.

"Are you 100% sure about this?" he asked. "You don't have to come back to me unless you are certain. No matter what happens, I will always have the memory of this time. I swear, if you have any doubts about any of this, we can go back to being father and daughter, and this will be a secret, unspoken episode in our lives. The best two weeks of my life, but a chapter that's closed forever. I'm not saying it won't be difficult, remembering all the things we have done to each other. I don't know how I'll be able to keep my hands off you and my cock out of you, but I won't force you to do anything."

I sipped my coffee. Force me! As if everything we were doing wasn't exactly what I'd planned and wanted. "I'm more than twice your age," he had said. Well, that goes with the territory, when father fucks teenage daughter. And this isn't a chapter; this is our life story. We're going to grow old together. And we won't be like other couples, whose passion fades, who start taking each other for granted, whose love withers away. This father-daughter bond, there's nothing to compare. It's going to keep us loving and fucking and enjoying life for as long as we draw breath.

I said: "I've never been more certain about anything. I'll be on that plane this afternoon, but my life is here. Here - or wherever you are. I will never have sex with anyone else, Dad; I know this is too good to let go of. I could never find anything this amazing again. You and me, we're a team for life. The only reason I'm flying back is to say goodbye to Mom and Jack and to prepare for my new life with you."

He leant in and kissed me, soft and strong. "That's exactly how I feel, baby-girl. My dick just needed to hear you say it."

Time for one last fuck before the flight. Our special position: him sitting with his back against the headboard, me sitting on his cock.

Face to face. I could rock on him for hours, slowly taking us to orgasm. Not as primal as being ridden missionary (the archetypal position, the man planting his seed into the Mother Earth goddess below). Not as fun as doggy (raw sex like animals, the position of mammals for millions of years). With him on top or doing me from behind, he was in charge - which I loved -- but in this special position we were physical equals. Face to face like this, right up close, our hands were free to caress; our mouths rarely left each other. I could grind, I could move up and down on his cock, or I could just sit there, feeling his hard living meat on my vaginal walls.

"I am going to miss you so much," I said, squatting over his hairy groin, grabbing his cock and lowering myself onto him. A little squeal of pain as his big cock-head pushed through my lips, then that lovely slow descent, until, somehow, I had accommodated his entire thick shaft. Locked and loaded. Comfortably uncomfortable with that big prick crammed up me. I began to rock gently. "I don't know how I will survive the next few weeks."

"That's all it is - 28 days. They'll pass," he said, hands cupping my breasts, his dick see-sawing inside me. "And when you come back... Cassie, will you..."

He took my left hand and I felt him slip something on to my finger.

It took me a few seconds to understand. Oh my God. My heart stopped. It can't be. My grandmother's wedding ring. One band of rose gold looks like any other, but to me it was the most precious thing in the world. I knew it was the one possession he would never part with. Now he would never have to.

"Oh my God, Daddy," and the tears came in floods. "Oh my God. I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do."

"My little girl. My wife." His thrusting grew faster, stronger.

"That's it, Daddy," I urged him. "Your dick feels super-good inside me. All that sweet pink candy between my legs, just for you. Only ever for you. Do you like it, Daddy? Are you proud that you are plundering your little girl's candy hole?

"Don't you wish we could tell people, Daddy? Tell everyone how you fill up your young daughter, how you fuck your living sperm into her teenage candy-hole. Maybe we could tell a few people, just a few trusted people, how well Daddy's cock-stick fits his little girl's shaven pussy. Something this good, we should share it with the world."

That "shall we tell someone" line was a good one to work on. I'd come back to it later. "What if someone found out, Daddy, wouldn't that be awful. Oh dear, what if Mom found out, what do you think she would do to us?" Etc, etc. It was his biggest fear - our biggest fear - being found out, but that's not to say we couldn't make it part of our fantasies.

It turned me on, and it was working on him too. He was trembling uncontrollably, but still kept plunging into me.

His eyes were locked onto mine. I held my breasts up, daring him to look. He knew. He knew what I was doing. He refused to take his gaze from mine, but his eyes flinched, and then suddenly he was staring at my big white boobs, with their fat pink nipples, wobbling in my hands, and we both knew I had won. His eyes were devouring my breasts. He was whimpering -- this huge Beast was whimpering, a slave to his little girl's body. He would do anything - anything - to fuck me, we both knew that. There was nothing he wouldn't do to get his cock into me. I savoured a daughter's complete control over her father.

"Come on, Daddy. Harder. Don't be afraid to hurt me. That's what you're baby-girl wants, Daddy. That's what she needs." I reached under to grab his balls, sweaty and hairy, hidden away under our rutting bodies. The crux of us. The engine room of our pleasure, where cock met cunt. I felt his sodden groin hair and inhaled. His wild animal smell mixed with our sweat and my high, sweet tang. And soon, the magic ingredient: his sperm. The smell of great sex.

I squeezed as hard as I could. He whimpered again - but in pleasure, not pain. If my Dad is any guide, men's testicles are like chicken eggs. No matter how hard you squeeze them, they can't break, but even a slight tap and it's total mayhem. With the other hand I stroked his face. I smiled. "You've been a good boy. You can cum now, Daddy."

There was no pretence now of subtly or technique. There was nothing of his usual smooth, controlled tempo. He was just a male who needed to inject his sperm into his mate. He was randomly stabbing into me, grunting incoherently.

Then his hands were under my butt cheeks and he was lifting me off and on to his cock. I held fistfuls of his thick chest hair as I plunged down onto him. The gold flashed, and my pussy went up through the gears. Till death us do part. His tongue was invading my throat. Tears streamed down my face. I could sense it: he was close. Could I get there before him; with him?

The first ripple came, like the incoming tide on the seashore, then the next wave, a little further up the beach, then the next a little further, then a little further, edging towards the carefully built sandcastle. A little further, then a little further, then without warning the ripple turns into a surge and the wave comes crashing down, destroying the sandcastle, then the next wave washes it away and the next wave wipes the shore clean. I have never figured out whether I am the wave or the sandcastle, I only knew I was melting - the heat, the sensation - and I was cumming like never before, my first orgasm as a married woman. For the first time I could feel juice flowing out of me like hot honey, dripping down his stalk. He was cumming too, cumming with me, and the wet slap began to turn into splashing as I felt his seed spurt into me and splatter out of me as he tried to make his dying strokes last as long as possible.

Kissing, grunting, breathing hard, we came down slowly. "I love you I love you I love you" was all I could moan into his mouth. "I love you, I love you."

We stayed there, joined at the groin, his cock going soft, but still feeling big inside me. Mouths locked, my hands entangled in his chest hair, his hands gripping my breasts.

I left it a decent amount of time, then moved to dismount.

"No, wait," he said. He lifted me off his cock and laid me on my back, put two pillows under my butt and positioned my legs in the air. Showing an unexpected burst of energy after all that exertion, he leapt out of bed and disappeared, returning with a tablespoon.

"???"

He spread my lady-lips gently with one hand and scooped. Then he brought the spoon to my mouth. I opened wide and he fed me our cum. He dipped again, inserting it further into my pussy. I swallowed again. A strange taste - not salted caramel... of course not... but for some reason that's the taste that came to mind. And - a hint of aniseed? A delicious mix of his sperm and my juices. He dipped into me again, deeper, and I fed again.

"This will happen often," I told him as I licked the spoon dry.

"You like?" he asked. "It's not every girl who gets to eat herself out."

"I like. I love. But this bride has a plane to catch." I climbed out of bed reluctantly and gave his limp cock a suck, getting my cream from the source. There was time for a quick shower, then into the car.

+++

We caught every green light going and actually made it to the airport in plenty of time.

"I hate to leave," I said as we sipped our drinks.

"No, you have to go, Cassie," he said, reaching across the table to brush the hair out of my eyes. "This is just for a few weeks, then we'll be together. You need to sort out stuff back home."

Back home. But my home now was with him. A bride has to leave her family to join her husband. "I don't want to leave you, ever," I sniffled. "But you're right, darling. I'll arrange to move my things to New York, and then I'm going to fly back and we'll breed happily ever after. You can keep me bareback and pregnant all year round."

I drew a deep breath. I had something else to say. This wasn't going to be easy. "But there's something important I need to tell you, Dad. As soon as I get home, I'm booking an appointment at the doctor for an implant."

He looked puzzled. "Implants? What do you need implants for? You have the most perfect breasts I have ever seen."

"Implant. Contraceptive implant," I said.

He flinched as though I had hit him with a hammer. "You mean... Cassie, no. I thought we agreed. I thought..." He looked as though his whole world had crumbled.

I put my hand on his arm. "No, Dad," I said quickly. "This is just for six months, max. You said the takeover of your business could take that long. I don't want to be pregnant while you're in the middle of wrapping up the deal. You'll be distracted, you'll be working all hours. When I am carrying your baby, when I become a mother, I want you there. With me and our child."

His face softened. "Oh God, for a second there, I thought... No, of course. You're right. I hadn't considered that. Yes, we both have so much to sort out. We can wait. Six months makes sense."

"Six months, I promise. After that, it's straight-up baby-making for as long and as often as it takes. I am going to rock your cock."

With that out of the way, I began to feel impish. Should I? I was a married woman now. Time to put away the Little Girl Voice? Oh, what the hell. He likes it. I like it. Where's the harm.

I puffed out my bra-free chest, my nipples prominent, like on that first day - so long ago - when he collected me from the airport and struggled to keep his eyes off the breasts that had grown two sizes since he had last seen me. "Will you miss them, Daddy? Will you miss my teen titties, so soft and white?"

He swallowed and glanced around to see whether anyone could hear. "No. They're too big to miss," he laughed nervously.

"Will you miss my milk bombs, Daddy?" I bounced ever so slightly in my seat, making my boobs jiggle under my white t-shirt. The nipples stuck out like acorns. "My bombs, my bombs, my milky, milky bombs."

He was trying to stay cool, but his breathing was ragged and he couldn't take his eyes from my breasts.

"What flavor do you think my milk will be, Daddy? Cherry red? That's your favorite, isn't it, Daddy. You loved it when I gave you my cherry."

I leant forward and dialed it up a notch. "I love it when you incest me, Daddy. I love it when you jam your fat prickle into my lady-hole and make me cum-and-cum-and-cum. Or when you grab my hair and squirt your joy-juice down my..."

He squirmed in his seat. "Sshhh, you madwoman, someone will hear."

"Tell me you love me," I said in my normal voice.

"I love you Cassandra, you know that," he said.

"Mrs Quentin. Call me Mrs Quentin."

"I love you, Mrs Quentin," he said, and my pussy somersalted. He looked at his watch. "Now, it's time."

We stood. I moved closer to him and unobtrusively brushed the back of my hand against the lump in his pants.

He groaned. "Christ, it aches like I've never known. I'm going to go home and paint the ceiling cream."

"Uh-uh." I gave him another secret stroke and smiled as he stiffened. "No, Dad. No touching ourselves while we're apart. We promised, remember?"

"I know, Cassie, but how do you expect..."

My eyes narrowed. I lent up to whisper in his ear at the same time as I reached out and grabbed his crotch. I squeezed his balls through two thin layers of cloth. "These fuckers," I hissed, "These fuckers are mine. And whatever they make is mine. Got it?"

He was sweating, terrified in case anyone could see. But we had a corner table. No one was looking and they couldn't see us anyway, with his back turned to them. I glanced down. He was stiff, but his erection was pointing down, through his boxers and down his thigh. Even through his pants I could see the outline of his mighty cock-head.

I squeezed as hard as I could. "These boys are working for me, understand, buster?"

He nodded weakly and glanced around. "Oh my God, here comes Kelli." His eyes widened in panic. Fumbling with his pants, he sat down quickly, trying to drag his jacket over his erection. "Ah, hello, Kelli, nice to see you again" he said, wiping a palm across his brow.

"We're about to board, Mr Quentin. Thanks so much for taking care of Cassie. Shame she couldn't make the WarHammer concert. Must have been a nasty cold." Kelli bent down to give him a peck on the cheek as he sat awkwardly.

I told her: "I'll meet you at the gate. Just give me a mo to say goodbye to Dad and I'll follow you."

I bent down and kissed his cheek innocently and fondled the hardness inside his pants.

"Don't worry, lover. It'll be worth it when I get back. I'm counting the days until you can bash my gash with that big cunt-buster.

"And now, father, I have to go. And you are going to watch my tight teenage ass every step of the way to the departure lounge. And then you are going to go home, and think about that ass, and that hot young honey-hole, and those big milk-bombs, and the cherry you took. And there won't be a damn thing you can do about it."

+++

I slipped into my seat, utterly shattered. Still weak from sex, I was emotionally and physically wrung out, crushed from the weight of the two greatest weeks of my life. And that little performance in the cafe - I had tried to sound sassy and in charge, but it had drained whatever was left of my energy.

"Cassie, can I tell you something?" Kelli asked as she sat down beside me.

"Of course." Kelli had been my friend for as long as I could remember. Sunday school, kindergarten, all through school. We had shared laughter and tears, gossip and secrets. It hurt that this was one secret I could never tell her. "What's on your mind?"

She glanced around, then whispered: "Your father - he's such a panty-dropper. I am so goddamn moist."

I sat upright. Whoa, girlfriend, where did that come from?

No time to think about it, because now she was asking: "Cass, do you reckon he likes black girls?"

I tried to gather my senses. "Um, well... er... I can't see why not. It's not something we've discussed. Anyway, all pussies are grey in the dark."

We laughed at this, then she said, deadly serious: "But I would want the light on. I would want to see everything he was doing to me. Just an hour under that huge hard body, Cass, that's all I ask, and I'll die happy. No: half an hour under him, and half an hour on my hands and knees in front of him. It would be like getting driven home by a diesel-driven 16-wheeler. Or being mounted by the prize stud at the county fair. All that mass, all that power, pounding me."

My God! I never knew Kelli knew so much about animal husbandry, or the American long-haul road transport system. What is all this about???

She leaned in close. "Cass, your Dad is packing serious dick."

My jaw dropped. "Uh..." My brain was about to explode.

"Did you see it, while you were staying with him?" she asked. "Did you catch a glimpse of it? You know, walking in on him in the shower, or if he left his door open when he got dressed?" She stopped. "Oh, that's right, you were in bed the whole time."

My body went into shock. My throat constricted. I swear my heart stopped. Long seconds passed while the gears whirred in my mind. How does she know. "In bed the whole time." How could she possibly...

"That cold must have hit you pretty hard."

The blood began to move round my body again. Every muscle untensed and I managed to stutter: "Oh, yeah. In bed. That cold, it really wiped me out."

But she wasn't listening. She looked around, leant in again and whispered. "I've seen it."

What the hell? What the actual hell?!? This conversation just could not get any weirder. "What do you mean?" I croaked.

"Just then. When we said goodbye. I kissed his cheek, and I looked down, and I saw it, pointing down the inside of his pant leg. Long and thick. You could see the outline of the helmet." She closed her eyes and savored the memory. "There was even a little wet patch. He must have gotten turned on so quickly when he saw me. Dear Lord, Cass, it was big."

She held up her index fingers, about a foot apart. Hmm, slight exaggeration, Kel. I'd have to be hollow to fit that in. She saw my raised eyebrows and moved her fingers another couple of inches apart. "And it was as... as thick as my wrist." I glanced at her arm. Yeah, that's about right.

"Oh God, Cass, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking this way about your father. It's just, well, he looks like a cross between a Norse god and a rock star, he has the body of a linebacker and smells like the best sex ever. And that Dick of Death..." There were tears in her eyes.

I understand, Kel. Two weeks ago, I was like you, willing to do anything to get my hole father-fucked.

As if reading my thoughts, she murmured: "I'd do anything. Anything... I've got a wet-on the size of Niagara Falls."

I felt a tap on the shoulder. "I think I'm in your row," the man said. And that was the last Kelli was able to tell me on her new favorite subject.

On the flight, while she chattered away about the WarHammer concert, my mind and body shut down.

Scene I

I awoke. I was in some kind of palace. A cartoon palace. I lay on a big bed. I looked down at my body. I was a cartoon too. A cartoon Belle. And at the foot of the bed, there he stood. The Beast. His hairy head nearly touched the ceiling.

"You have awoken, my child," he said, his voice deep and powerful. "Welcome to my home." Like me, he was a cartoon character too - a cartoon everywhere except between his legs. His cock, sliding out of its hairy sheath, was lifelike. Not a man's penis. Beast-like, unmistakably. It was an angry red, painfully erect and growing fast, jutting up, veins prominent. Thick where it emerged from its sheath, it gradually tapered, hard and glistening, to a stubby point. Just as I had imagined the Bear in my fantasy would be. Except my Bear stopped at 12 inches.