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Subject: Title story: "A Gift for My Dad" Author: Incestor 61446920
From: TheXfan <ryzij@poczta.fm>
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Date: Wed, 07 Dec 2005 08:59:47 +0000
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A Gift for My Dad by DaddysSlutGirl I woke slowly, peering blurily through my
tangle of golden curls. Last night's champagne started to make its presence
felt in the form of a killer headache. Moving slightly, I remembered what had
happened and whose body was underneath me. After a successful graduation
ceremony and an evening of fine dining and dancing, I had made love to my
father. It had been a sensual, sexy and beautiful experience. My father's hard
body was supporting me now and his thick cock rested inside my pussy. I was no
longer a virgin. I had given that gift to my father. He was reluctant to take
it from me, horrified at the thought, but finally came to appreciate the love I
felt for him. I felt him stir beneath my tender breasts and I turned my head to
look into his eyes. "Morning Dad," gazing into those sparkling emeralds. A
mumbled response made its way through his sensitive lips. The moment he
recalled what had happened last night, I saw his eyes fly even wider apart and
he started to apologize. "Shhhh. Please Daddy. Don't spoil it. I love you even
more now than I ever have before." With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let his
head fall back against the satin covered pillow. His hands slid around my waist
and glided down over my firm cheeks. They massaged and fondled me, and I felt
his cock stiffen inside of me. Suddenly, his hands stopped. "Oh, Beth. I can't
do this with you. Please, get up and let me have a shower. We need to discuss
this. Oh, my head!!!" Groaning, he rolled me over onto the other side of the
bed, extracting his dick from my tight hole with some reluctance but bound by
his morals - incest was wrong. He staggered into the bathroom, shutting the
door quietly behind him. I heard the shower running strong and fast. I rose
from the bed and felt pain between my legs. My pussy was ultra sensitive and
felt sore and battered. But I needed more. I was addicted now, and I craved my
father. Waiting a little longer, knowing that Dad loved a really hot shower in
the mornings, I opened the bathroom door a sliver and slipped into the steamy,
moist room. Through the swirling clouds, I could make out his toned form
leaning against the tiled shower wall. The water gushed over his muscled chest
and trickled down his sculpted legs. He looked tired and despondent, his
shoulders sagging, his head hanging to the side. And I knew just how to cheer
him up! I crept noiselessly up to the frosted glass door of the shower and let
myself in. I pressed my body against his, curving my body around his back and
butt. My hands ...
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