Janet’s way of telling the time of night and day relied on her father more than a watch nowadays. She was big and heavy already with pregnancy, though she was only almost five months gone, and she waddled more than she walked.
If her mother, Harriet, was any more aware of Janet and her daddy’s incredibly intimate relationship, or of Janet’s blooming size, she made no more comments on it now than she had before; only disdainful sniffs like Janet was a bad smell entering the kitchen in the morning, or reproachfully watching her husband lingering dutifully around their daughter. Simple disdain, maybe minor disgust, but no criminalising accusations or outright comments, and then her mother was gone quick enough, away to her law firm, away to leave Janet and her father to each others hands and tongues, to steadfast panting and eager lips, to heavy, wet breasts and firm flesh.
Janet’s daddy wasn’t model material; he was homely, with what she thought of as a typical fatherly-look: a little thinning around his sandy-blond hair, a middle-aged paunch settling in around his stomach. But it was that normalness, that familiarity that made her feel so comfortable and loving toward him. And his smell – a rich scent of a man’s natural body mingled with soap – and his large square hands for her large burdensome breasts, they drew her towards him in lust. True too, the fact she was his daughter: somewhere, always in the back of her mind, Janet had always been tempted by the thought that her father’s hands should know how to please and tease and excite her; many a thought of him had scurried into her mind’s eye as she’d masturbated or had another man laying on top of her, a cock that went too fast and too careless to be considered more than a fuck filling her cunt up.
When Janet’s daddy found her in the kitchen that night and helped her to express, she had almost (almost) been ashamed to feel a fluttering within her belly that hadn’t been the baby, and a persistent twinge from her clit. She’d checked herself after, when her father had finished and they’d both returned to their rooms, and she was so wet that her fingers, pulled from her panties, were shiny with a slick clinging sheen.
She never told her daddy, but after that night when he’d started milking her by hand, she had been unable to lay in bed with her cunt dripping into her knickers; where her breasts had been squeezed – and finally – drank dry, her clit throbbed in turn, tormenting her, and her wet silky slit had tempted her to finger, grope and toy with herself. With her arms reaching around her big belly, she slipped two suckled fingers back and forth inside herself and with the other hand pinched her clit into captivity between her fingers and relentlessly rubbed herself into a swift heady orgasm. The second time she was slower, softer, and Janet’s mind indulged her in fantasies of her father licking her juices away, taking the wetness of her onto his tongue, whispering her name in shivers of adoring ecstasy in between capriciously kissing and sucking her trembling bud of a clit.
His handling of her never failed to deliver Janet into her own hands once she was tucked back into her bed, and most nights as they met in the kitchen she was already wet in advance, her body pre-empting the gentle but firm caressses of her sore tits, the nipples ever-erect for her daddy’s fingers and loving lips, soft yet persistent as they took what they wanted, his tongue lapping her milk into his mouth.
It was the morning after they’d both (finally!) confessed their love for each other, not only as daddy-and-daughter but as soul-mates, that – for the first time – Janet had actually considered how to thank him. Yes, daddy drank her milk each time he took her overwhelming breasts in his big hands, confident and caring in his capabilities, but she wanted to thank him for doing that as much for her as him.
The morning after their love-making and joint confessional, Janet and her father weren’t so much sheepish around one another as they were furtively nurturing rampant desires and trying not to get caught; Harriet, Janet’s mother – daddy’s wife – had returned back from work that morning. Though she’d done the cursory (and recently baÄŸcılar escort distant) greetings (and Janet had watched her daddy pretend he could dote on his wife, though the truth of it was she was cold and he was a bad actor), her mother had swiftly carried herself away to the marital bed, that same marital bed that the night before daughter and daddy had consummated their love on. All the same, they both felt as if they were under the waking watchful eye of Mother Dearest (as Janet, even a little resentfully, dubbed her) even as she slept. There was an atmosphere of ripe repression between the two of them as they pretended to be busy around each other with household chores, as if they were ever on the brink of being caught in the middle of last night’s desires. It also tinged their lust with an agony that made them ache to be in the same room together, yet both thought it would be far worse any farther apart.
Their nighttime meetings had been a beautiful secret between the two of them, one that could be shared in the glances they gave each other even when Harriet had been around. But their fervent love-making last night had blown the secret into a truth that couldn’t be denied or hidden, and both were sure that it was a matter of time before Harriet confronted them. The time since had been short, but Janet and her father saw telltale signs everywhere: the scent of sex that surely lingered in the air, the desire that emanated from each of them; the underlying frustration Janet felt at her mother’s presence, and – even more irritating to her chastened heart – the guilt that flickered in her, yet could not rise to the heights of her yearning for her father. She felt a little perturbed discovering a territorial aggression regarding the marital bed and her parents’ room: was her mother truly so blind as not to realise that daughter and daddy had unleashed their ecstasy in that room, upon that bed where Harriet now lay asleep? Did she not realise, Janet thought with a bitterness she hadn’t known she’d possessed, that by the virtue and rights of Love, both bed and room and marriage acts belonged to Janet and her father now?
It was these thoughts and feelings Janet found herself wrestling with as she and daddy cleaned (almost an attempt, she thought, at removing any trace of their passion) around each other that morning.
Until she could take it no longer.
Having tolerated as much as she could take of their deliberate attempts at ignoring each other, of her own irritation (and a further thought to fuel the flames: her father’s cowardice at trying to lock his heart back up now that Harriet was back), Janet was firm with herself that enough was enough. She could see that daddy could see, could feel, the dark atmosphere created by her suffering heart wrapping itself like a choke-chain around the soul-searing love they’d made last night. This further pain drove her to at last (had it really only been a couple of hours since her mother had arrived back home and divided them so?) grab her father’s arm, shocking him into finally looking at her face-on once more. She was delighted to see that not only did he look directly into her sparkling eyes – bright with love or lust or tears – but his hand twitched as if overcome with the familiar motion of seizing her breasts or stroking her pregnant womb. His eyes, as well as lingering on hers, could not resist taking to her ripe breasts, the maternity top she’d squeezed them into damp with her milk and moisture.
As he looked back toward her face, she saw he licked his lips, perhaps with nervousness at their being so close this morning (and why wouldn’t he be? No doubt they were both bombarded with delicious daydreams of last night), perhaps with sheer lust. Janet didn’t doubt that by looks alone they could both tell how desperately they wanted each other. Her cunt and the core of her ached like a void to be filled, and she felt as if her body was begging her brain to direct all energies on fulfilling that one desire; if there was a God of flesh and desire, He knew how much her soul longed for her father too, to feel his large hands upon the dripping wetness of her breasts, to feel his fingers stroke her belly full of life, to cihangir escort – this was her soul shouting in aggrieved passion now! – have her father’s cock fill the tight hollow of her cunt, to scream openly how much she wanted him deep and deeper inside her, until all rapturous sighs and groans and orgasmic shouts had been wrung out of her very being. And then she wanted to do it, again and again, certain that her father was the very flame of her soul, the reason she was made of flesh, to satisfy and be satisfied by him. She hoped, one day, that a baby would be born between them, a life created from the union of her eggs and his sperm, and she could only anticipate the shuddering of the sweetest ecstasies at the thought of daddy’s life-giving jism flowing upward into her womb, his gloriously hard and relentless cock pushing and pulsing inside of her gushing cunt as she received the best gift he could give her.
But before all of that, she wanted to thank him for being such an attentive father, for teasing long streams of milk from her tits, from taking their heavy liquid burden from her into his mouth. For filling her with the love she’d always wanted.
She sighed with dewy eyes and shook her head with a little smile; despite her anger she had no words of recrimination or reprimand. She leaned forward and kissed her daddy on the lips. Then she took his big hand in her fine, albeit puffy, one and led him into the kitchen.
“What-” he started.
“Ssh,” she hushed him quietly with a slow smile and a finger to her lips; she pointed to the ceiling, indicating that if this was the best they could do under the circumstances than she was taking it for all it was worth.
“Where it all began,” she said. She spoke softly, pressing as close as she could into him. Her belly and breasts reached him first, and both were round and warm and firm against his body. Janet found herself revelling in the unexpected intimacy the opportunity was providing, proving to herself and her father they could have their cake and eat it too.
She intended to have her father and eat him.
“We’ll just have to be quiet and careful,” Janet told him. Daddy was showing less reluctance in his body now, and his expression was more open too. She took both his hands and kissed each of his fingers in turn. He made to swaddle her heavy breasts in his palms, but she shook her head, and took some measure of pleasure in the pained flash in his eyes. “My turn,” she coquettishly said. She saw her father raise his eyebrows in surprise as she slowly, carefully, lowered herself to her knees.
“Janet!” her daddy exclaimed in concern.
“Daddy!” she replied teasingly. “I want,” she began to croon to him in a faux-expression of a soul-singer, too high to be accurate, too cute to not tug her daddy’s heartstrings. “I wa-ant tooo-” she undid the button on his trousers and continued humming in the back of her throat as she undid his zipper between her teeth. She heard her father try to stifle a moan, and felt his fingers waft through her hair like a soft breeze.
She finished her little croon – “Tha-a-ank yo-ou!” – as she deftly released her father’s semi-hard cock from its prison of pants and trousers. He sighed at the release and his cock jerked a little stiffer, his helmet poised toward her welcoming lips.
His mind was seconds behind, slow to catch up to the situation; how the fog of lust binds dreamers and blinds men to circumstance.
“Janet, your mother’s upstairs,” he quivered at the shoulders – and quivered again as the hands of his daughter grasped the entirety of his rotund shaft, appearing to straighten it out between her fingers to its full hard length.
“Let her listen if she wants,” Janet retorted, petulant and persuaded all the more to complete her desired mission of thanksgiving. “Maybe,” she laughed throatily and looked up at her daddy, deliberately pausing to moisten the sensitive tip and rubbing it against her full lower lip. “She’ll hear us in her dreams and imagine us fucking right beside her!”
Her father choked out a sputtered laugh that tapered into a soft groan as his daughter took the glistening head into her mouth. She sucked like her mouth was full gaziosmanpaÅŸa escort of sweets and her tongue roamed back and forth over the tip, coaxing out the first drips of precum.
Her head went forward at the same time her father thrust his hips forward, pushing the entirety of his hard shaft into her mouth.
“Janet,” he breathed. He tousled her hair before his hand, his fingers, sat gently on her jaw as if guiding her head with each thrust. He could feel the wet warm enclosure of her mouth tight around his cock, and shuddered in delight at her taking all of him in, down to the last inch. When he came – and he felt so tense, so throbbingly tight now – he knew his semen was going to shoot right down her throat; his delicious deep-throating darling wasn’t going to waste a splash of her daddy’s spunk to spillage.
Janet moaned around his thick length, enraptured to have her mouth impaled over and over with his powerful thrusts. She could feel that familiar tingling between her legs and knew she was getting wetter, could feel her clitoris twitching in want. She enjoyed the thought of her own self-denial, knowing her wetness was its own reward to suck her daddy’s penis.
Her daddy was gently grunting now with each thrust of his cock to the back of her throat, and Janet could feel the pre-orgasmic trembling along the shaft. Soon, very soon, all the thick spunk daddy’s hardness held would be ejaculated into her mouth, and she almost drooled around his cock at the thought of having so much of him inside her. His cock, his semen, the tangible evidence of his sheer delight at her. Her juices flowed from her ripe cunt and she could feel the moistness, the heat and the sweat between her panties.
Each convulsive jerk of her father’s penis grew stronger with each trip to the back of her throat, until she suddenly clenched hold of his hips, pushed her face forward and closed her eyes in bliss as daddy – unable to stop himself moaning her name out loud – came. A thick flood of her daddy’s sperm filled her mouth, gushed down her throat, and seemed to offer up wave after wave of gushing come.
She panted around his shuddering cock as her tongue lapped up every drop inside her mouth. She swallowed and swallowed, feeling like she was taking the essence of her daddy inside her. He was her nourishment, her fulfilment, her delight in having a mouth to please him with.
It was a dazzling ecstatic shock that deafened them both to their own grunts and cries, that took the sight of anywhere else away from them, that narrowed the whole world to a father’s hard thick cock riding back and forth in his beloved daughter’s mouth.
When the world seemed to once again prick their conscious it was with no sensation except the exhausting bliss of sensual endeavour. Everything else was a distraction of colour and visual noise, and for a while, at a softer gentler motion, Janet kept the whole of her daddy’s cock clamped inside her mouth, sucking still as if to make sure she had every last bead of come down her throat.
When she finally pulled away she kissed the tip of his penis, and upon looking up saw the glazed love-struck desire daddy’s eyes had each night since they’d began their sensual adventure. She knew without a doubt that he wanted her, could tell by lustful instinct that he wanted her bent over any way she could be so his cock could be taken into her glistening dripping cunt, and knew that the very next baby inside her would belong to her father. As if to cement her gleeful victory over her mother – Janet was her father’s rightful bride and lover afterall – she pushed herself to her feet and stroked her father’s bliss-slackened face. She kissed his cheek, heard the shallow heavy breathing as he slowly recovered from his glorious ejaculation, and whispered to him: “The next one is yours.”
Her father heaved a sigh as if the length of his cock was still deep inside her mouth. Then he nodded, and finally looked fully at her before kissing her deep on the lips, taking her tongue in his mouth, Janet taking her daddy’s tongue.
She was so wet it was a delicious agony. Her father’s cock still hung, semi-hard, between them, and they both longed for the day Janet would take that thick shaft between her legs, deep in her sweet juice-dripping cunt, ready to be filled up with load after load of her daddy’s sperm, ready to have his seed planted in her, to produce a baby that belonged to both of them.