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From: tariq.1.rahim@spamgourmet.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.support.incest,alt.fan.jane-krankowski,alt.tv.the-net
Subject: another hideous daughter-rape story (repost)
Date: Sat, 31 Jul 2004 21:29:07 -0700
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not written by me:
Daddy Dearest
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 elaborate rape fantasies where poor little me
was lewdly used and abused by big, strong, well-hung 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.