TALES OF TERROR: DEAREST DADDY

BY UNKNOWN

I think the first time I really understood how men think about women was when in my father's car waiting for him to come back from the hardware store. Two men were standing next to it, unaware that I was even there.

This girl walked by, older than me but still a teenager. She had tight, but not super tight jeans, and ignored the men as she walked down the street. I watched the men's heads turn around and their eyes lock onto her wiggling butt. "Maaaaan!" one of them said to the other.

"Some ass," the other sighed.

"Would I ever like to bend her over and stick my log up ass."

"Me too, man. A wiggle like that oughto be rewarded."

They watched her until she went around the corner, then moved off.

I was kind of amazed. I mean, the girl wasn't even that good looking. Even at that age I figured I had a better body. So why had they been so excited about her?

Well, I watched men a lot and soon realized that they were hot for damned near anything that moved and wasn't really fat or ugly.

And that included me. Now that I was watching I caught eyes flicking at me when I walked by, even adult men. I purposefully wore tight pants and went to malls and busy streets just so men would stare at my ass.

It made me hot. I felt wicked and wanton, and really sexy.

I knew that it was wrong of me to act like that. I never wore really tight pants to school, for example, because I didn't want the other kids talking about me and calling me loose.

I wasn't. I was still a virgin. But I was so terribly aware of how hot I was, and exquisitely excited whenever I caught men looking at me. I hated being a virgin, and really wished I had the courage to do something really wicked, but I didn't. My parents had given me the real conservative speech about sex being only for married people, and I felt too intimidated to try it.

I was afraid the guy, whoever it was, would think I was a cheap whore, and worse, would tell everyone about it. Then my parents and teachers would find out and...

Well, the only thing I had to get aroused was to come home after school, when my parents were away at work, put on tight, tight pants and a tight blouse, and go somewhere people didn't know me and guys could look at me. I knew they were thinking just like those men had been, thinking of how sexy I was and how they wished they could bend me over and fuck me.

My jeans pulled up tight against my crotch, and as I walked, feeling slutty and hot, began to rub against my slit in a really pleasant way.

This is how I first learned to masturbate. I came home after a long walk, stripped, and looked down at my pussy where the jeans had been rubbing so nicely, then ran my finger over my slit and began to rub that really hard spot at the top with my finger.

Soon I was laying back on my bed with my legs apart, writhing and gasping in shocked delight, eyes wide as my lower body burned up with lust. My first orgasm was a stunning experience, and I gurgled in wondrous pleasure as it roared through my skull.

My breasts were fairly large even then, but got much bigger over time. And by the next year they were thirty-eight C cups, and were really drawing the men. My ass was full and firm and round, and my waist tiny.

I had a great teenage body, and revelled in it, masturbating constantly.

Of course, I knew that was wrong too, and I felt guilty for doing it, but I couldn't stop. I had a small, narrow face with large seashell blue eyes. I was a natural blonde, and had let my hair grow long, so it hung half-way down my back.

It was thick and shaggy and wild looking, except at the front where I had these cute bangs across my forehead. I loved to swing my head from side to side when I danced naked in front of my mirror, making my hair whip around wildly.

I practised all kinds of lewd dances in front of my mirror, imagining the men looking at me like this, imagining how hot and horny they'd get if they could see me naked.

I was still a virgin, though I had the wildest, sluttiest fantasies a virgin possibly could. A lot of them were rape fantasies. I found it hard to imagine letting a guy have sex with me, see, but if I were raped, well, then it wouldn't be my fault and I wouldn't have to feel guilty.

So I constructed all kinds of rape fantasies where poor little me was lewdly used and abused by big, strong, men, sometimes by more than one at a time. I bought some of the sluttiest clothes, including micro mini- skirts, supertight jeans, short shorts, tight and low cut tops, and sexy, lacy lingerie.

I had to hide it all in the attic so my parents wouldn't find it, but I wore it whenever they weren't around, even when I was alone in the house.

I just felt so incredibly hot and sexy wearing that stuff. Even when I was wearing a plain old dress I liked to feel hot and slutty by wearing something really sexy, like a G-string and lacy black half bra or corset underneath.

One day I put on a pair of really short tight nylon shorts and a tank top with no bra and got on my bike, then went riding in a local park.

The tank top was really tight against my breasts, and had big arm holes, and with my arms forward, hands on the handlebars, half my breasts were bared to anyone I passed.

One guy, who looked cute enough and was maybe ten years older than me, drove up behind me and passed me real slowly. I carefully did not look at him, but felt soooo hot because I was absolutely sure his eyes were on the side of my right breast, much of which was clearly visible through the armhole of my tank top.

I dared to flick my eyes aside for an instant and saw out of the corner of my eyes that he was indeed looking down at my chest. I trembled a little, and my breasts swelled excitedly.

Then he passed me and drove on. When I drove home I stripped and spread my legs and began jerking off. In my mind, things had been different. I fantasised that he'd driven me off the path and into some bushes, then jumped on top of me and torn my clothes off.

He had loomed over me as his big cock had plunged in to my virginal honey pot, and he had raped away my cherry with wild, furious strokes.

I was so excited by the fantasy I grabbed my hairbrush and jammed the handle into my snatch. I intended to only pump it in a little, but I got so hot I had thrust it in so hard and deep it had ripped my cherry apart.

I came furiously, bucking and humping as I slid the entire handle into my quacking pussy slit all the way to the handle.

Which was when my father walked in, having come home unexpectedly from work because of a boiler problem there.

My father was a large, square-jawed man and very religious. He was the only person I knew of who actually watched those religious shows on TV and took them seriously, sometimes saying "Amen," along with the preachers and audiences there.

He said that sex was the devil's tool, and that righteous men only had sex with their wives, and only for the purpose of having babies. I was an only child, so I guessed that meant he hadn't had any sex with my mother since I was born.

When he opened the door I was just in the midst of coming. My legs were wide apart, my feet flat on the bed, and my back arched as I pulled my head way back and gurgled in pleasure. One hand was squeezing my breast while the other was pumping the hairbrush into my sopping wet gash as hard and fast as I could make it move.

Well, I guess he just stood there gaping at me, watching that hairbrush pumping into my slit, and my heavy breasts jiggling and shaking.

What I think was that with my head pulled back so far, from his angle he couldn't see my face. Maybe because of that he saw me as a woman for the first time, saw my soft thighs, dripping snatch, round full breasts and erect pink nipples, and saw me as tits and ass.

And when I finally went limp and rolled my head forward and saw Daddy staring at me with his jaw slack, he had a big hard bulge in his crotch that gave pretty ample evidence that what he'd seen had turned him on plenty.

Well I was stunned. My brain had hardly gotten back on track from that fantastic come when the shock of seeing my father standing a few feet away staring at me. Talk about overload!

I just stared back at him while he stared at me.

"You God damned whore!" he shouted finally. My entire body flushed dark red as I tried to sit up and cover my flesh with my hands and arms. Daddy rushed forward and his open hand lashed forward, smacking me right in the face. It hit me like a train, flinging me backwards onto my back again, setting my ears ringing, and dazing me enough that I just lay there for a few seconds, all spread out and naked, the hairbrush still buried in my pussy.

He leaned over, grabbing me first by the wrist, and yanking me up, then by the hair. I screamed in pain as he yanked me forward by the hair and flung me against the wall. I hit it hard and bounced back, half turning only to meet his open hand again, slapping me right across the face.

I spun around and hit the wall once more, then fell sideways onto the floor.

"You filthy slut! Is this how you act when you're alone! Is this the kind of daughter I've raised!? Are you nothing more than a filthy little tramp!?"

I groaned, tasting blood in my mouth as I tried I pushed myself to my knees. Then I screamed again as he grabbed a handful of hair and dragged me roughly to my feet. he shoved me back against the wall, his face red and eyes bulging.

"You whore!" he screamed into my face.

"I'm not a whore, daddy!" I sobbed.

"You think I don't know a whore when I see one!? Laying there with your filthy legs apart and abusing yourself with a hairbrush!!?"

He slapped my face, then backhanded it the other direction, then slapped it again. I saw stars as my head whipped from side to side.

"You are a worthless whore!!"

"Then how come you got a hard-on!?" I sobbed.

Well, of course I wasn't thinking straight. I mean, my mind was all flustered and dazed from being slapped and the shock and humilation of being caught like that. I think half of his mad was because of that hard-on, and my pointing it out made his eyes bulge so wide I thought for a second they would pop right out of his skull. He grabbed my throat and squeezed, then started shaking me violently, so my hair whipped up and down. He twisted me and flung me against the wall. The back of my head hit it and I tumbled to the floor, stunned.

"You filthy creature!" he hissed. "It is women like you who turn men from the righteous path! Flaunting your nudity before good men and true!"

He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his pants, then slashed it down across my back. I cried out in dazed pain, laying on my belly with my hands under me trying to lift myself up.

The belt lashed across my shoulders again and I sobbed as it flung me down. Again and again the belt whipped across my back as I tried to claw my way to my knees. I got up as far as all fours when he lashed out with his foot, smacking it into my belly so hard it lifted me right up into the air, flung me sideways, and turned me over so I fell onto my back.

I choked and coughed, the wind knocked out of me by the cruel blow. He loomed over me and swung the belt down, and it lashed right across my right breast. The pain cut into me like a knife, but all I could do was gasp and cough and try to pull air into my empty lungs.

Again the belt lashed down, this time across my left breast. I mewled and gurgled in pain, rolling from side to side as I tried to evade the belt. It lashed down again and again, across my belly, across my breasts, across my thighs.

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me on my belly across the room to my bed, coughing and gasping and sobbing in pain all the way. He literally lifted me up by the hair and threw me across the wooden crossbar at the foot of my bed.

I grunted and clutched my belly, finally starting to get some air into me. Then he doubled up the belt and lashed it right across my ass. It hurt a lot more doubled up then it had before, and I sobbed and gasped in pain as it whipped down repeatedly.

As I got air back into me I cried out louder, begging him to stop, but you know what, that damned hairbrush, even after all that, was still embedded in my tight, tight pussy, and it was wiggling and shaking at him as he whipped my ass, and driving him to a feverish pitch of fury and horniness. The more he whipped my ass the more it jerked and jumped. The more my ass jerked and jumped the more the hairbrush shook and bounced. The more the hairbrush moved around the harder his cock got. And the harder his cock got the angrier my father became.

Finally he stepped forward and grabbed the hairbrush to rip it out of my pussy. I felt his hand on it, and then it was like his hand was trembling, and the brush kind of twisted inside me. He pulled it backwards, but my pussy was really clutching it tight, and just as he had it almost all the way out he paused and then thrust it home again.

"Bloody whore!" he snarled, his voice shaking. "Is this what you like!? Is this what kind of girl you are!?"

He jerked the thing back, then thrust it deep again, then again, then again, fucking me with the hairbrush handle. He was cursing me, and pretending that he was fucking me with the handle as a punishment, but even then I knew, I just knew that he was doing it because it turned him on, because it made him hot and hard to fuck my tight pussy with the handle of the hairbrush.

And I didn't mind, because though it hurt it didn't hurt anything like what the belt did, and any respite from the beating was welcomed. But as he raped my pussy with the hairbrush handle, and pretended that it was a punishment, it suddenly hit my dazed mind that he was just like me.

I mean, he needed to make excuses, needed to pretend, needed to be the righteous good man, but at the same time get his jollies from my lush naked flesh.

He started slapping my ass with his bare hand as he fucked me with the hairbrush. He snarled and cursed at me, calling me whore and slut, but when he paused in his spanking he let his hand lay across my hot, red ass cheeks, and left his other hand on the hairbrush so the side of his fist was pressed against my juicy wet pussy.

"Are you sorry before God for your filthy behaviour!?"

"Ye...y...yes, da...daddy," I sobbed.

He pulled the hairbrush back slowly, and then pushed it back in.

"I think your problem is the problem of all females," he muttered.

He pulled the hairbrush out of me and then I felt his hand on my pussy, cupping and squeezing it.

"This is the problem," he said. "This is the devil's playground. It controls your thoughts and your actions. It makes you behave like a wanton tramp because it wants satisfying."

His hand was squeezing and kneading my damp pussy as he talked, and I was sniffling and rubbing my face and feeling stranger and stranger. I mean, ever since I'd discovered sex I'd been fantasizing about men seeing my naked body and getting hot and horny, and now I was naked and bent over with a man fondling the most private and secret and sensitive part of my anatomy.

Okay, yes, it was my own father. But he sure wasn't acting like a father should. No father should be groping and squeezing his daughter's pussy like he was doing.

And maybe...maybe because I couldn't see him, maybe I fantasised a little that it was someone else, some big nasty man who had ripped my clothes off and beaten me as a prelude to rape.

And maybe...maybe because he couldn't see my face, because, like when he'd come in the room all he could see were my slim, wonderfully contoured legs, my perfect round ass, and my soft, seeping, golden furred pussy, maybe Daddy kind of forgot who it was here as well, kind of forgot it was his daughter and not some hot piece of ass.

Neither one of us forgot really, of course. It was just that at the moment I welcomed his hand. I would've welcomed anything other than the belt, for my whole back and ass and even my belly and most especially my boobs were aching and throbbing from its touch.

And as for Daddy, I guess he managed to somehow argue his way around the fact that I was his little girl and pretend that was he was doing was right for me, that it would help me somehow. I don't know. I can't read minds. All I know is even as he squeezed and rubbed my pussy, and told me how it was the source of all evil, I heard his zipper going down.

I felt his cock pressing against my thigh. I knew what it was right away. It was too soft, and yet too hard. It sure wasn't his finger. It rubbed against my inner thigh as he squeezed my pussy, and his cursing about how my pussy was the source of the devil and had to be satisfied became strained mutters.

I felt the head of his prick press against my pussy and rub softly up and down the cleft. I started to get the stunned, shocked idea that maybe he'd...maybe he would...but surely he wouldn't...

Then the pressure grew, and he sank it through my pussy lips, forcing them aside, forcing them wider and wider. I gasped in pain, for I'd just busted my cherry with the handle of the brush, and that handle was the only thing that'd ever gone into me.

His cock was a lot thicker than the handle, and it was straining my pussy wider and wider as he slowly forced it into me.

"Ooohh! OoH! Uhhhg! Daddy! Daadddyyy!" I whined.

"Filthy whore! You have to learn," he gasped between clenched teeth. "I'll...I'll teach you...I'll...Uhhhg!"

His cock thrust in sharply, driving several inches further into my tight pussy tunnel, going further than the hair brush had and opening up the soft flesh deep inside my cunt. I could only moan and clutch the sheets as my pussy burned with pain and a crackling sexual fire.

I felt his throbbing manhood driving even deeper, and felt my belly churning and chewing on it as it slid deep inside me. I was amazed at how deep it was going, and shuddered in uncontrollable heat and lust. I had a real cock way up in my puss and I felt my body glorying in it.

He jerked back, and his pussy tore along my flesh, then he thrust in harder and his cock was buried in my twat, his groin mashed against my aching, bruised buttocks. He slapped my ass, making me cry out in pain, then ran his hands up and down my body with feverish haste, clutching and squeezing as he ground his hips against me.

"You need this, slut!" he snarled. "You need a man up your belly! You filthy whores can't get by in life without plenty of cock meat inside you!"

He jerked his hips back, tearing his big cock back down my sore pussy tunnel, then thrust in hard, driving his cock balls-deep once again. I groaned and trembled, the heat of pleasure and the heat of pain mixing together inside me and melding seamlessly.

As he started to fuck me I lost track of what was pleasure and what was pain. I couldn't tell the difference any more. My body was burning up, and my mind was flooded with fiery heat.

He slammed into me hard, making the bed shake and rattle as he hammered his loins into my upturned buttocks. He showered me with cruel and vicious insults, calling me foul and horrible names as he raped me. His cock was a triphammer, slamming up and down inside me, the head punching against my cervix on every stroke.

Fire flashed across my mind and I came, powerfully. Convulsions wracked my body as floods of sexual gratification poured over me. My body heaved and my guts twisted as the orgasm went on and on.

Finally it eased, and I whimpered exhaustedly, yet my father's hardness kept pounding into my belly. His hips kept smashing into my buttocks. His hands kept roaming my body, squeezing and kneading every inch of flesh within his reach.

He slid his hands under my chest and groped my breasts, his fingers sinking deeply into the soft, tender meat, squeezing and mashing them together, groaning as he pinched and pulled at my nipples and crushed my titties between his fingers.

I felt myself heaving, then came again. A blinding orgasm ripped through my body without warning, and I choked and gurgled insanely, my mind tossing and turning, twisting and bobbing in the relentless flooding sexual ecstasy that was pouring into me.

I'd never felt a come anywhere near as powerful, and was shocked and intoxicated by the massive, quaking climax. My mind spun and my body locked tightly, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. I couldn't breath, couldn't think.

Then I dropped out of it, gulping in air to ease the burning in my chest. I was still shaking and jerking furiously under my father's furious pounding rape. He clawed at my breasts as he gasped and groaned, and then I felt his sperm shooting into me, waves of it pouring down my pussy tunnel and into my womb.

I moaned and wept and whined in delirious, exhausted heat, squeezing my pussy down around his prong until every last drop had been sucked down into my belly.

Daddy staggered back, gasping and red-faced, shaking his head as he slowly did up his pants. He stared at me, but showed no regret. I moaned piteously and he glared, hardening his mind against me, refusing to admit even to himself that he had done a wicked thing by raping his own daughter.

"That'll give you a taste, you little tramp," he gulped. "That's what you're in for as a slut. That's exactly what you deserve too. I'm gonna...gonna make sure you learn...God's truth. You're not gonna taunt men with your filthy flesh and indecent thoughts no more!

"I'll see to it! Don't you worry! I'll break you of your vile and perverted ideas! Even if I have to break every bone and strip every inch of flesh off your foul and whorish body!"

Daddy turned and left, slamming the door behind him. I remained bent over the footboard of the bed, groaning weakly, my legs still spread wide. My ass ached, as did my back, and many other parts of my body, but a soft, glowing satisfaction rested between my legs and deep in my belly.

After a minute or two I managed to push myself erect. I held the bed for support as my rubbery legs threatened to fold up beneath me, then reached a hand down between my legs. I slid two fingers into my pussy hole and spread my lips, groaning as I felt my father's sperm oozing out.