Drunk Daughter
By JackS

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In his defense, he was drunk.

He was drunk and so he didn't really know how to react when he came home to see his little girl sprawled out on the couch, the liquor cabinet open and a bottle of blackberry brandy and another of vodka open on the table.

He didn't want to yell or grab her, not while he was so drunk he could hardly stand. He didn't want to lose control, but he had to do something.

He shook his head, he tried to find his balance. He tried to take some deep sobering breaths. He cleaned up the spilled liquor and collected the various juices, sodas and other mixers she was apparently using to make what was obviously her first attempt at drinking alcohol somewhat potable.

Then he sighed and sat down next to her curled up body on the couch. He remembered sneaking drinks for his father's cabinet when he was her age.

"Silly little thing," he whispered, brushing her hair away from her sleeping face.

His hand rested on her bare leg and he nearly jumped at how hot and smooth her skin was. He didn't even know that she shaved her legs. Those were things her mother dealt with. He chuckled, his little girl already shaving her legs? Her skin were pale and flawless, he was hypnotized by how smooth it was; how perfect it was.

She wore the rainbow knee high socks he remembered buying her at the mall one Saturday afternoon. A little skirt, the one he had started giving her a hard time about wearing. She wore a simple white, boys cotton sleeveless t-shirt, which she often liked to sleep in. He didn't even realize, as he looked over his unconscious daughter, that his hand was now on her thigh.

Guilt made his heart ache a little. He felt his face go a little cold. Still he was tipsy, nothing wrong with touching his daughter's leg anyhow. And it was so soft.

"Piglet?" he said, pushing her leg a little.

She didn't stir a bit.

"Wake up!" he said a little louder, but she didn't do anything but let out a little snore.

His hand moved back to her thigh, fingers just under her lose skirt. He heart was racing now. He moved it farther up, letting his arm push her skirt up. She was drunk and passed out, no one would ever know. She was his little girl and every year she became more beautiful. And for every ounce of love and protectiveness he had for her there was just a little tiny dark thought in the back of his mind.

He wondered how far up she shaved. His hand was bolder, moving up farther until his fingers brushed the bottom of her panties. He was hard now, his breathing heavier.

"Piglet can you hear me?" he said, now tracing the elastic leg-band of her underwear, but she didn't stir.

He looked around, knowing no one else was home. He knew she was passed out and probably still very drunk. His mind raced. He just wanted a little bit of her. He needed it. Just to see. Just to get a little bit of those dark hungers he felt sometimes, when he watched her, when she sat on his lap, when she passed up in nothing but a towel in the morning.

And his head was still spinning for all that whiskey. It wasn't fair that he couldn't at least see her. She was his little girl.

He reached his other hand up and took her panties in both hands and pulled them down to her knees. He paused, his heart now pounding in his ears, seeing if she woke up at all; nothing. He pulled them off and dropped them; they were tiny and sort red cotton with little patterns. He was so close to doing something so wrong.

He pushed up her dress quickly, but gently, pushed it all the way up and saw that she'd shaved everything off. Maybe she'd never even grown hair there. He was hypnotized by the hairless little triangle between her legs. Want was rising in him like nothing he'd ever felt. His face and ears were burning red.

He parted her thin legs very gently and saw her little slit, barely opened, pink and perfect. His body was taking over. His guilt was being beaten down by want.

He leaned down and hiss just above the slit. She smelled clean and fresh, like the little girl who kissed him good morning. His tongue slipped down, finding the very edge of where her little lips split. He let the wetness of his tongue spread and found the little curves and soft lines of her little pussy.

A low moan came from his chest. All those little moments of dark lust were finally coming to fruition. The monster inside of him was finally getting what it wanted.

He licked more, opening her legs further and looking at the pinkness of her, the inner lips, finding where her little clit was, then the tiny opening. His tongue explored every part, finally slipping a little way into the tightness of her, not finding the obstruction of virginity he expected. Logic had left though. All that existed was her warm little body in his hands.

He cradled her butt in his palms and held her sex up to his mouth his tongue finding a light musky wetness; her wetness. His finger could barely fit inside of her when he sucked it and then slipped into his little daughter. He watched her face as he penetrated her for the first time with his finger. Her eyes were moving under their lids. He knew that meant she was dreaming. This was all a dream.

One finger barely fit, two was almost impossible. He reached up with his other hand and pushed up her shirt. He groaned again, louder at the sight of her pert breasts. His little girl and her perfect breasts he'd seen little glimpses of, but never like this. He cupped one and he tried desperately to fit his two fingers in to her.

He looked at the clock. It was just past one. His face was beet red and covered in sweat. This couldn't last much longer. She wouldn't be drunk forever. He knew what he was going to do even before his hands were fumbling for his belt.

His mind raced with rationalizations. There was no way out of it, but he couldn't not do it now. She tasted sweater than any woman. She was perfect.

His cock was harder than he could ever remember. It was the erection of need. Teased for years. It looked huge and angry next to her tiny pink slit. He spit into his hand and smoothed it over his cock. There was no more thinking, there was only the monster inside of him. There was only her little girl pussy and the fact that he would be inside of it soon.

He aimed the head against her opening. He felt her slick wetness. He rubbed the head around. He pushed forward, but it was like a vice. He had no time to be slow. He spit more, he rubbed her wetness, which now seemed never ending. He pushed in more and watched as the head of his cock started to disappear.

He heard her gasp just as the first inch slipped into her.

He froze.

Her eyes weren't open but her body was moving. She was raising her ass up, seemingly to get more of him inside of her. Her head nodded back and forth and she bit her lip.

"It's all a dream," he whispered, wishing, hoping, but knowing he couldn't stop himself now.

He pulled out and then pushed back in, the tightness painful, but like nothing he'd ever felt. He kept going until he could fuck her with almost his whole cock. His hands were on her waist pulling her in.

Se moaned, eyes fluttering but not opening and he kept going. She moaned again, her head shaking and her mouth frowning, he started pounding into her, needing to finish before she awoke.

Her eyes opened a little and she mouthed half words.

"Da-? Daddy?"

Just another few seconds. He felt his orgasm coming like a freight train. Some little tiny pinprick of common sense told him that even through the wrongness of all this he couldn't come inside of her. He had to at least be safe. He had to at least do one thing right.

The wrongness of it flared up like a fire in his mind. He could see himself shooting hot come inside of his little daughter's cunt. The worst thing he could imagine doing. Maybe even getting her pregnant because of this one drunken night of uncontrolled passion. The thought alone pushed him over the edge and he came and came, shooting uncontrollable spurts of come into her little body until he was aching and soft and heaving and crying on top of her.

He pushed himself off of her and landed on the floor. She was still in a daze, eyes half open but unfocused.

Not knowing what to do next he went to the kitchen and got a wet towel. He wiped her now dripping pussy as well as he could and put her clothes back on. He smoothed her hair and petted her forehead until the confused drunken murmurs stopped and she fell back into a drunken sleep.