Incest/Taboo Daughters Are for Fucking

When the title of this story popped into my head I figured I'd unconsciously plagiarized it. It seemed too obvious not to have been used before, but when I ran it through Literotica's story search function I didn't find it. If you, the readers, recognize it, please let me know.

I've been carrying iterations of this tale in my head for years. It's based on a fund-raiser I attended where the fifty-fifty booth was operated by a beautiful young woman whose looks, clothes, and make-up epitomized teen-aged innocence. Of course, a more sexual interpretation took root in my mind.

There are (or will be) two chapters. The daughters are Josephine Robertson and her best friend, Salma Gonzalez. Both lovely young women have a thing for their Daddy's. Josephine, of Scandinavian descent, is tall, thin, lithesome, nicknamed Jo, and the narrator of the first chapter. Salma, of Mexican ancestry, is dark, short, buxom and curvy, and narrates the second chapter.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.
​

* * * * *​

I was naked, standing before my full-length mahogany dressing mirror, using a curling iron to give my straight light-brown, almost blonde, hair some twists and curves, aiming for a sexier look than the one I'd worn earlier in the evening. Of course, almost any look would have been sexier, for I'd dressed the innocent, an eighteen year old girl with only the lightest touch of make-up, clear lip gloss, manicured nails covered with a clear color, hair long and straight, and wearing a maxi-dress that hung from my shoulders to my ankles. If you saw me in that dress you knew I was slim and attractive, it was the kind of dress only a slim attractive girl looked good in, but what lay beneath was left wholly to the imagination.

I'd been working at a fund-raiser sponsored by Daddy and some of his friends, including Mr. Gonzalez, the father of my best friend Salma. The money would be used for several local charities. Daddy and his friends were still there, shutting down, counting the proceeds, but I could tell it was the best year yet.

My job at the fund-raiser was to sell raffle tickets and this year I'd sold more than ever. Those men couldn't get enough of this beautiful, oh so innocent teen. They bought tickets and flirted with me, then bought more tickets. I'd respond as an innocent, giggling as if I didn't understand what they meant or wanted, supposing that they kept touching me and bumping into me (sometimes with their hard man-things, they were so naughty) by accident, accepting their compliments at face value.

Occasionally Salma, shorter, curvier, and bustier, would take over and I'd wander around, feeling men's eyes on me, making sure Daddy saw it all.

It was a role I loved playing for a lot of reasons, but for one reason most of all. Knowing all these men were lusting for his sweet daughter, fantasizing about her, set Daddy's libido afire. Daddy would come tonight, knowing men throughout the city were fucking balling their wives and girlfriends while imagining it was me, and fuck me til our bed shook and my bones rattled.

And there'd be other man, by themselves, jerking on their jerking on their man-things, spewing man-juice, imagining stripping me, laying me on their bed, entering my innocent tight teen-aged cunt, shredding my hymen, filling me with cum, and turning this wide-eyed child into a cock-hungry, their cock-hungry, whore.

But, of course, that could never happen. Daddy had already done it.

But tonight Daddy wouldn't come home to the innocent girl who'd sold raffle tickets. (Not that I didn't love playing the innocent, we played that game often.) No, he'd come home to the satyress he'd created. Caressing a stiff nipple, feeling it through my body, I walked to the bed I shared with Daddy, ran my hands on the lacy black silk bra and panties, garters and stocking lying there, imagined how I'd look in them with my five inch open-toed stiletto heels.

I put on my choker, then the lingerie, was painting my lips and nails a dark sexy red when my phone pinged. Daddy was bringing Mr. Gonzalez home for a drink.

I thought about Salma, his daughter. I knew most girls would kill for my body: 5 feet 11 inches, 121 toned pounds, dress size 2, 31-23-34, "A" breasts, but for a day or two it would fun to be built like my short, curvaceous, buxom Hispanic friend; it would be fun to give Daddy some variety.

I went to my closet, picked out the form-fitting dress I'd wear over my lingerie, returned to the mirror, put it on. My green eyes sparkled at the result.

When I heard the cars pull up I filled two sifters with the good brandy, placed them on a silver tray, met Daddy and Mr. Gonzalez at the door.

I admired Mr. Gonzalez. Not that his eyes didn't linger on me, all Daddy's friends' eyes did that, but his did for only the briefest second. Daddy's other friends would stare, make some comment, noting, at least obliquely, that the innocent girl of an hour ago was gone, that this girl oozed sex, but Mr. Gonzalez didn't.

Of course, he was used to having a hot teenaged daughter in the house.

I took their coats, hung them up, cuddled up next to Daddy, and listened as they recounted the evening. I'd been right; it was the most successful fund-raiser yet.
​

* * * * *​

The day after I turned eighteen, the morning after I gave Daddy my virginity, I told Salma. Daddy didn't tell me we needed to keep it a secret until that night, after we'd made love again, so that first time I hadn't disobeyed him, but I did when I kept telling Salma. A girl has to tell someone.

So the morning after the fund-raiser, hanging with Salma in her pool, she asked, "So tell me, what happened after my Daddy left last night?"

"Well, my Daddy told me I'd been a bad girl, cock-teasing men all long night just to sell raffle tickets. I told him he was right, I was a bad girl, I wanted to be good but I had all these nasty thoughts, that I liked it when men stared at me, liked it when they pressed their man-things to me, imagined sucking their cocks, letting them fuck me, I needed to be punished."

"What happened?"

"He told me to strip and I did, doing a little dance for him, then dropped to the rug, the big soft rug I like so much, stuck my butt in the air, said he should spank me, spank his naughty little girl. He did, it got me so fricking hot, then he fucked me; I came, over and over, lost track of how many times, and then he came and filling me with Daddy-cum."

"I'm so jealous. I want my Daddy to fuck me."

I glanced over Salma's shoulder, saw Mr. Gonzalez looking at us through a window. All morning we'd been prancing through his house in tiny bikinis that advertised our nubile firm flesh. It was nothing new; for the past months Salma and I'd been presenting ourselves to Mr. Gonzalez as sexual objects and the look in his eyes told me it was working. Still, I'd need Daddy's help to bring my plan to fruition. When I asked him I'd have to confess I was bad, that I'd told Salma. Maybe he would punish me!
​

* * * * *​

That night, my naked body nestled against Daddy's satiated form, I said, "I love it when you come in my ass Daddy."

"It's an amazing ass Pumpkin."

"I feel sorry for girls whose daddies don't fuck them, who waste their time chasing boys who don't love them half as much as their daddies and when they catch one, all they get is an inexperienced boy who doesn't know how to use his boy-thing."

"Well, there are few daughters are as wonderful as you Pumpkin."

"Thank you Daddy. Daddy, Salma and I were talking about Halloween, about the usual parties with the usual people; it sounded pretty boring. We were thinking it would be fun to dress up, go into the city, they close off the park for a party. But it might be dangerous, two innocent teenaged girls all alone. We were hoping you and Mr. Gonzalez could dress up, come look after us."

Daddy smiled and said, "You told Salma about us, didn't you?"

He knew! I stopped, not sure what to say, but I couldn't lie to Daddy.

"Yes Daddy, I was bad. I told her after our first night, I had to tell someone, I was so happy and she's my best friend and she knew how much I wanted you, but then I kept telling her, even after you said I shouldn't."

"Did you tell anyone else?"

"No Daddy."

"Has she?"

"She says no, and I believe her Daddy. She's my best friend forever, she knows lots of stuff about me and never tells anyone. I trust her."

"I do too Pumpkin."

"Still Daddy, I was bad, you should punish me."

"What if some day I punish you by not punishing you?"

"You'd never be that mean Daddy."

He laughed. "No Jo, I'd never be that mean."

"Salma understands, like we do, what daughters are for. She wants her daddy to love her the same way you love me. We've been trying to nudge him along."

He smiled at me with his wise face and I said, "You knew that, didn't you Daddy?"

"Yes Pumpkin. I've seen the way Salma looks at him, it's the way you look at me. I've also noticed how you two have been dressing around Carlos, how affectionate you are towards me when he's around, like you hope he'll get the idea."

"Yes Daddy, I was thinking if he saw us together he'd see what daughters are for."

"Why do you think I brought him home last night, it was a little push in the right direction. Please, tell me your plan."
​

* * * * *​

Daddy pulled some strings, secured two downtown hotel rooms on Halloween night. Now, in the room he shared with Mr. Gonzalez - we girls had our own - he watched his friend put on mirrored sunglasses, study himself in the mirror and then, apparently satisfied, take off the glasses and say, "Bob, are you sure about this?"

"Yes Carlos, I am. Our daughters are good girls, neither's given us any trouble. Most teenaged girls would lie, say they're at a party, then sneak down here knowing their parents would say no. Our daughters told us they wanted to try something new but didn't feel safe and asked us to join them. We should be happy they told us the truth, that they're wise enough to be worry about their safety, and that they trust us to look after them. Imagine all the girls wandering around right now whose parents don't know they're here."

"I see your point. Where are we supposed to meet them?"

"At the statue of Silent Sam at 5:00 sharp."
​

* * * * *​

They were made to order, five boys about our age, insecure, uncomfortable, trying to look tough, drawing strength from each other, the kind of boys you can depend on to say the wrong thing. I gave their leader a look. They headed our way.

The leader said, "Hey ladies, do you work for UPS? I thought I saw you checking out my package."

I'd been right; they were made to order.

I said, "No, we're waiting for our boyfriends."

Embarrassed, the leader racheted it up.

"I don't see no boyfriends and while I may not be the best looking guy here, I'm the only one talking to you."

Salma made a face and one of the guys, staring at her ample chest, said, "Y'now, we've been studying the presidents and I was thinking, your breasts remind me of Mount Rushmore - my face should be among them."

A third voice: "Yeah, you girls look like you've been naughty. Go to my room!"

There they had a point. One of my favorite games was for Daddy to dress as a cop and I a naughty school girl: patent leather Mary Janes, knee high white socks, red plaid pleated skirt, short sleeve white shirt (the kind that showed a couple inches of midriff, not the kind you tie right below your breasts), black glasses, ponytails. A top student with bad things on her mind.

And that was how Salma and I were dressed, although she showed more cleavage.

Daddy and Mr. Gonzalez arrived, right on time. I can always count on Daddy.

"Officers, these boys won't leave us alone, they're being crude"

Although as tall as our Daddy's, none were as wide shouldered, barrel-chested, strong, or as suddenly menacing as our Daddy's.

Daddy said, "You heard the ladies, why don't you boys move along."

There were five of them and they didn't like being called "boys."

Chin out, chest thrust forward, the leader said, "You're not even a real cop old man."

Daddy slipped his night stick out, twirled it effortlessly (as I said, we played this game often), and said, "No I'm not, but this is real, so why not leave these naughty girls to us."

The leader stepped forward.

So did Mr. Gonzalez.

The leader stopped.

I slid my arm onto Daddy's and said, "Officer, I'm feeling wicked, like I want to do bad things. Could you look after me, make sure I don't, or that I'm properly punished if I do."

The leader turned to his comrades, who were already backing away, and said, "Let's go, we can do better than this."
​

* * * * *​

We wandered the park, admired the inventive costumes, the sexy costumes, and cut quite a swath ourselves. Men stared, giving us an excuse to cling to our Daddy's. When a Latin band started playing Daddy asked me to dance. Salma soon convinced her Daddy to join us and while Daddy's a good dancer, I learned that Mr. Gonzalez had been a champion bachata dancer: the two of them set the place afire. When the band took a break I suggested something to eat and, our Daddys' hands in ours, we quickly found what I was looking for, a soft-serve ice cream stand.

"Officers, thank you for taking care of us. Can my friend and I buy you some ice cream?"

Daddy said, "Yes."

And before Mr. Gonzalez could respond Salma and I dashed off, our Daddys' eyes on our firm nubile naughty schoolgirl bodies.
​

* * * * *​

Watching us standing in line Mr. Gonzalez said, "Did you know they'd be wearing those outfits."

Daddy said, "Jo said they were wearing something out there, something sexy, but said she wanted it to be a surprise. It's all three. Aren't you glad we're here to keep any eye on them?"

"Yeah, but still, do you think it's a bit much."

"Even if we don't want to admit it they're not girls any more Carlos, they're women and, their sexuality is in full bloom. They're experimenting. If there mothers were here, they'd share it with them, but their mothers aren't here. So what would you prefer, they share it with us or those boys we just met? Our daughters are exceptionally beautiful and sweet, it's best to keep an eye on them, keep them close."

Mulling over what Daddy had said Mr. Gonzalez watched his daughter. His friend was right, Salma was beautiful and sweet and a woman, an adult with an adult's sexuality that would continue to grow and grow. He thought of her with a man, didn't like the thought at all. There was still an innocence to her. He didn't want to let it, or her, go.
​

* * * * *​

As we stood in line Salma said, "Is it working?"

I glanced over my shoulder. Mr. Gonzalez, not fully realizing it, was staring at his daughter. I looked at Daddy, who nodded his head in affirmation.

"Yeah, it's working. It's time to pick up our game."

We ordered four ice cream cones, one for each of us, licked up the sides of ours as we walked back to our Daddy's.
​

* * * * *​

The four of us sank deep into the roles we'd adopted. Clinging to our fathers, Salma and I told then how safe we naughty girls felt with such big strong men. I jangled my Daddy's handcuffs, asked if he'd lock me up. Salma followed suit and her Daddy, with a couple of beers in him, relaxed and played along. I openly played with the phallic symbol of Daddy's billy club; Salma did the same.

By the time we got back to the hotel I was dripping wet. Happily, Salma and I had a plan. She surveyed the hotel bar and said, "Officer, I've been a good girl, haven't I? Can I have a reward? Would you buy me a coke?"

Mr. Gonzalez said, "Well, they shouldn't let you in a bar little girl, you're only eighteen, but I think we can risk it. You two wanna join us?"

Daddy said, "Love to Carlos, but there are some things I need to attend to."

I said, "Thanks, but my feet are killing me, I'm going to soak them."

Mr. Gonzalez did not look unhappy about having his daughter all to himself.
​

* * * * *​

We only had time for a quickie, a hard fast fuck, but I love a hard fast fuck and so does Daddy. I was naked under my still damp sheet, Daddy's cum oozing from my pussy, when my beautiful best friend got back, crawled into bed with me, and said, "It was amazing, like the whole evening was amazing. We found a cozy booth in the back, just big enough for two, ordered our drinks; I cuddled in his arms and stroked his leg and he stroked my hair and we got out of our roles and I told him how much fun I'd had and thanked him and told him how safe he made me feel, that there was no other man like him, that around him I could be a girl and a woman. He said it was hard to accept that I was becoming a woman, but he knew I was and he'd adjust. And I could feel him against me and he was hard."

"Good, and right now Daddy is with him, helping him along."

"Y'now I love you Josephine, but I can't wait until, on nights like this, when I'm all hot and horny, that Daddy will be the one putting out the fire between my legs."

I said, "Until then, do you mind if I do?"

Smiling, Salma said, "I think you know the answer," and was soon screaming her way through orgasm after orgasm.
​

* * * * *​

Wearing a robe, newly showered, Daddy asked Mr. Gonzalez whether he and Salma had a good time.

"Sure did. Nothing against you and Josephine, but it was nice having Salma to myself for awhile. You're right, she, both our daughters, may still be our little girls, but they're also women. In that outfit, every guy in the place was checking her out."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, guys' eyes follow Josephine wherever we go. Our girls, our young woman, are making their own choices about their sexuality. We need to respect and support their decision."

Mr. Gonzalez looked to the side, processed what Daddy said, knew he was right. All night Salma had showed off her burgeoning sexuality and, to be honest with himself, he'd enjoyed being with her. There was nothing like a beautiful young woman to invigorate a man.

Mr. Gonzalez said, "Yeah, we do, don't we. Well, time for a shower."

Mr. Gonzalez stayed in there more than long enough to masturbate.
​

* * * * *​

If last night had been about presenting ourselves as sexual beings, today would be about our Daddy's seeing us as companions. We had late lunch reservations; there'd be no reason to hurry, no one waiting for our table, the perfect excuse to spend a lazy afternoon in amiable conversation like long-standing lovers.

Salma and I paid careful attention to our hair and make-up, wore loose fitting pastel dresses, the kind young women wear on casual dates with their beaus. We checked out of the hotel, slipped our hands into our Daddy's, walked to the restaurant. Our Daddy's pulled our chairs out for us; we sat and slid close to them.

Our Daddy's ordered Bloody Mary's for us, even though they shouldn't. We ate lunch, dessert, shared a bottle of champagne, laughed, talked. To the world we were happy contented couples.

It was the time for the next step.

"Daddy, one of the men at the fund-raiser said some of the money will be used for a Habitat for Humanity house."

"That's right Pumpkin."

"I think we should volunteer, make sure the money you and Mr. Gonzalez raised is going to good use," then activated my phone, checked it (as if I hadn't memorized the date and time), and said, "The Young Businessmen's Association is organizing a group for next weekend. There's an e-mail address for volunteers. It would be fun. Let's do it."

Salma covered her father's hand and said, "Yeah Daddy, it'd be fun to work together."
​

* * * * *​

A little bit of background: My mother had issues, mental issues. Daddy believed if he just loved her enough she'd get better, but she didn't. When I was twelve she abandoned us for a musician she'd met the week before.

Daddy kept it together, did his job, we never lacked for anything, but at night he'd sit in front of a television he neither saw nor heard.

I knew Daddy blamed himself for Mom; I knew he shouldn't. I took up the duties Mom had (or was supposed to have) done: ironed, cleaned, cooked, kept things running, but there was more than that. In spite of all the attention and love he showered on her, Mommy's leaving had left Daddy feeling small and puny so I fussed over him, sat with him, cuddled my body into his. At first, in his loneliness and depression, he barely noticed, but over time he took increasing pleasure in my attention.

Daddy had no interest in dating, but loved the theater, movies, music, dancing, so I'd ask him to take me out. I'd dress up and pretend to be his date and Daddy would joke about my pretending and I would laugh at his jokes but the truth was I liked being his date.

I started going to the gym so he would too and soon the fat that had been added to his body since Mommy left melted away and he was the strong powerful Daddy I remembered. I admired his muscles, his body, told him so.

Women noticed; I wanted to rip their eyes out. Where had they been when Daddy was low and sad, when I'd been there for him? But while he was polite, Daddy didn't really respond to their flirting - after all he had me to take care of him.

And as I grew into a woman I knew there was one more way I wanted to take care of Daddy, but first I needed him to think about me that way. I made sure to look my best, not dressing as a teen-aged tramp (although that's a game we now often play), but as a young woman, learning what looks he liked, learning to love stockings and heels. When the opportunity to show off my tight teen-aged body arose, at the beach or washing a car, I took advantage. I noticed him noticing.

For my eighteenth birthday I asked Daddy to take me to the city for dinner, dancing, and a night in a nice hotel. And that night I crawled into his bed and became his wife in every way that mattered.

I met Salma when I was fourteen; she and her Daddy moved to town after her parent's divorce. We were kindred spirits, instant best friends, and one day, after watching her and her Daddy together, I new she was just like me. I shared my secret with her and she confessed hers to me.

And so the day after Daddy and I became lovers, when I'd hurried to tell Salma, she asked me to help her seduce her Daddy.
​

* * * * *​

Waiting downstairs, Mr. Gonzalez said to Daddy, "Does this feel a bit like deja vu Bob?"

"What do you mean Carlos?"

"On Halloween night you and I were making sure the girls, who were looking they're naughtiest, were safe from all those teen-age punks. It's hot outside today, they'll be dressed for comfort and surrounded by a bunch of young guys who'll definitely notice our daughters, flirt with them, solicit phone numbers."

"I see your point, but on Halloween the girls, in those outfits and in that crowd, were pushing the edge of the envelope, we needed to stick close. We can do it again, scare the guys off, or stay away, give the girls rope, trust our sweet young ladies to do the right thing, after all these are the kind of guys they'll be dating."

Mr. Gonzalez didn't like the idea, but knew his friend was right. Salma and Josephine were not girls, but young women who'd never given him reason not to trust their judgment. They'd be the center of attention today, but their admirers would be adults - heck if he was twenty years younger he'd be one of them. Salma and Jo had the right to choose who they wanted to be with.
​

* * * * *​

Upstairs Salma and I checked the mirror: a little bit of mascara, some lip gloss, small practical earrings, hair in pony-tails, tee-shirts, sneakers, daisy dukes.

We turned around, our butts looked good. We headed downstairs.
​

* * * * *​

We introduced ourselves to the contractor overseeing the work, who was far more interested in his donuts than either the project or us, then joined the volunteers. They were what I was hoping for. On Halloween night we'd been ogled by teen-aged boys, now we'd be admired and pursued by a more mature crowd, a crowd that would mark us as adults.

Adopted by a framing crew full of nice looking young men, Salma and I put on safety goggles and hard hats and were soon nailing lumber in place. The guys were polite and sweet, but still guys; they showed off, chatted us up, told us we didn't look like high school girls. We were asked for phone numbers, which we declined to provide, given business cards. I don't want to make us sound too good. Wanting our Daddy's to see us as suitable partners for men, not boys, we flirted, batted our eyes, admired the guys' work (although the older guys our Daddy's worked with were far more productive).

And, of course, I had another motive. As I explained earlier, it turned Daddy on when I drew other guys' attention and I looked forward to returning home where he'd spank me and fuck me hard. I once asked Daddy why it turned him on and he said it was like I was his secret trophy and he liked it when other guys coveted his trophy even though they didn't know I was his trophy. It seemed silly to me, I would think my loving him so much, wanting him so much, was enough, but guys are funny that way and if it turned Daddy on and made him fuck me extra hard, I was happy to play

At the end of the day the head of the local Habitat chapter appeared, unloaded a cooler full of beer and drinks, thanked everyone, then thanked Daddy and Mr. Gonzalez for funding the day's work. And although Salma and I hadn't expected him to show (we later learned he'd driven by the site, saw our Daddy's, and, eager to make a good impression hurried to fill a cooler), we knew to take advantage. We slinked forward, wrapped our arms around our Daddy's, gave them a big kiss, told them how proud we were of them, how much we loved them, watched them bask in their beautiful daughters' attention before all these men.
​

* * * * *​

I have this theory; I think sexual energy gives off a vibe that flows through the ether, influencing all around. Today I'd test my theory.

Daddy and Mr. Gonzalez, sitting in big overstuffed chairs, were watching soccer on television when Salma and I, wearing dresses whose scooped front hinted at my cleavage and celebrated hers, wrapped our arms around them from behind, gave each a big kiss, said, "How's our men?"

Mr. Gonzalez said, "Better now that my Princess is here."

"I love you Daddy, more than anything. Jo and I were thinking of fixing a snack. Interested?"

"Of course."

We made guacamole - we make wicked good guacamole - filled two bowls, returned, slotted our bodies on the chairs next to our Daddy's, cuddled our bodies into theirs. I scooped up guacamole on a chip, ate half, fed Daddy the other half, catching the guacamole I smeared on his lip with my finger and licking it off.

Salma did the same and said, "How's the guacamole Daddy?"

"It's delicious Princess."

Mr. Robertson said, "Pumpkin, you and Salma have become quite the cooks."

I cuddled further into my father, stroked his erection through his pants, and said, "We like cooking for our Daddy's, we want to take care of them every way we can, don't we Salma?"

Snuggling into her father's body Salma said, "Sure do. Another chip Daddy?"

"Yes Princess."

While I ran two fingers up the length of Daddy's dick, Salma fed her father, leaving a dab of guacamole on his lips which she captured on a finger and held to his mouth. Without hesitation Mr. Gonzalez took the finger between his lips and cleaned off the guacamole. He wouldn't have done it six weeks ago; it would have been far too sexual, suggestive, intimate. The walls were crumbling; Mr. Gonzalez was becoming acclimated to a new way of seeing his daughter.

Daddy said, "Our girls will make some lucky guys good wives someday, won't they Carlos."

Salma said, "Mr. Robertson, you're being silly. The only men Jo and I will be good wives to are you and Daddy."

Daddy said, "Really, what do you think Pumpkin, is Salma right?"

Pushing my hand past his waistband, smearing pre-cum over the head of his dick, I said, "She is Daddy, where would Salma and I find men who love us as much as you do. We already have the handsomest sweetest sexiest men."
​

* * * * *​

The soccer match had ended and Daddy - I'd pulled his shirt from his pants to hide his erection - and I were walking Mr. Gonzalez and Salma to their car. When I hugged my friend, good-bye, she brought her mouth to my ear and whispered, "It's so hot when you play with your Daddy's dick when Daddy and I are here."

Glancing at Mr. Gonzalez, who'd also pulled out his shirt, I whispered, "Once your Daddy learns what daughters are for, maybe the four of us can have some fun together. I hear guys dig that."

Mr. Gonzales, opening the car door for his daughter, said, "What are you two whispering about?"

Salma said, "How we'd like to be on a desert island, just the four of us, together forever. Jo and I wouldn't have to share our men with anyone," and got in the car.

Daddy said, "Carlos, aren't we lucky to have two such beautiful young women who take such good care of us."

Salma said, "Mr. Robertson, that's what daughters are for, to take care of their daddies every way then can, aren't they Jo."

I slipped my hand into Daddy's, said, "Yes," kissed his cheek. When Salma and Mr. Gonzalez pulled onto the street I turned my body into Daddy, said, "I love you," kissed his mouth, reached for his penis - it was twitching in his pants - with one hand, undid the buttons on the straps of my dress with the other, stepped back. The fabric fell from my breasts. Daddy had seen me topless a million times, but each time it was like his eyes celebrated anew. I turned so he could undo the buttons of the back of my dress, let it slide down my body, stepped out of it, turned around, presenting Daddy with my naked form.

His eyes flowed down my body, stopped at the pubes I'd shaved that morning, then moved back up, from my shapely hips to my slender waist and tight toned stomach, my boobs, flushed and firm, thrusting out like two ripe oranges.

"You're so beautiful Pumpkin."

I stepped closer, said, "Thank you Daddy," felt a drop of juice slither down the face of my vagina, kissed him, undid the zipper of his pants, forced my hand inside, squeezed his thing.

"I'm so hot for you Daddy. Wanna do it right here?"

Our driveway was well hidden, but some neighbors' windows were still visible over the top of the tree line and Daddy, wiser than me, said, "I think we need to give the cover another year."

Saying, "You're the boss," I took his hand and led him into the house, up the stairs, my tight fit rump moving in seductive sensual union with every step. In the bedroom I planted my soft lips on his, wormed my tongue into his mouth, felt his hands on my naked breasts, his thumbs working my hard nipples. Then his tongue entered my mouth; I moaned as it entwined with mine. He spread his hands over my breasts, squeezed; I sighed into our joined mouths. He pressed my breasts together, sank his fingers into them.

My body on fire, I stepped back, looked at him. I wanted this man, I always had. I said, "Why don't you sit down," pushed him back onto the bed, said, "May I," and without waiting for a response knelt, ran my hands on the bulge in his pants, pulled his belt free, moved his trousers to his knees, saw a wet spot on his silk shorts at the tip of his erection, fingered his balls, ran my fingers along the shaft, loving every ridge and bump.

Daddy groaned, "Uuugh! O...oh, god Jo."

I hooked my fingers on the waistband of his boxers and peeled them down, letting out a quiet gasp as his thing, tall and proud, oozing pre-cum, came into view. I said, "Daddy, I adore your dick," pulled his trousers and underpants all the way off, left them on the floor, moved between his muscular thighs, wrapped my soft fingers around the base of his dick, stroked it; his swelling cock twitched and jerked.

"Daddy, you know daughters are for more than fucking; they're also for sucking."

Daddy smiled, nodded his head, and I rested my elbows on his thighs, moved closer, my eyes focused on the swollen oozing crown as pre-cum trickled down and over my fingers. I slipped my mouth over his twitching instrument, slid my face down half its length. Daddy groaned, "Oh yes," groaned again as I moved back and swirled my tongue on him, then I let him escape my mouth, pressed his dick to my cheek, loving its hard warmth, and licked the sides.

Daddy ran his fingers through my hair and said, "Oh my sweet daughter, suck it, god suck it, suck it hard."

I always do what Daddy says and I swallowed him, moved my mouth up and down, pressed my tongue to the underside, pulled down on the base of his shaft with my hand while dragging my lips up his full length, sucked for all I was I worth. Daddy's body was trembling. I reached for his balls, rolled them with my fingers.

I made loud obscene sucking noises; Daddy loved loud obscene sucking noises.

Looking up at Daddy, locking my eyes on his, I twisted my hand on his dick; Daddy loved that too.

I again moved off his dick, ran a fingernail on his perineum, pushed one inside my pussy, licked his scrotum, sucked a testicle into my mouth, felt it quiver on my tongue, then swallowed the other. When it started to pull back into his body I pushed it past my tightly compressed lips with my tongue, dragged the flat of my tongue on the shaft, kissed the head, took him back in my mouth, bobbed my head, went faster, sucked harder. Daddy said, "PUMPKIN, OH FUCK FUCK, YES, YES, YES, FUCK YES," covered my head with his hand, looked into my green eyes flashing in hungry delight, cried out, "Oh, oh, oh god, yes oh god YES," and his swollen balls released their heavy load. I locked my lips on his cock; a deluge of hot creamy spunk flooded my mouth, Daddy thrust upwards, forcing his cock to the opening of my throat, and hissed, "Oh yes, god yes yes, yes, yes," as he pumped a second load of thick gooey seed directly into my stomach.

I could, of course, swallow all Daddy's cum - I'd had enough practice - but I let some ooze from the sides of my mouth and slide down my chin while swallowing the rest of his massive load, then continued sucking him, trying to drain every drop of cum from his cock.

After all, he could make more.

Daddy stroked my cheek and, a wide happy smile on his face, said, "Jo, that was amazing, amazing," and letting him slip from my mouth with a loud slurp, I said, "Oh Daddy, I'm so happy" got on the bed and, on all fours and, y breasts swaying below me, crawled to the head of the bed where Daddy was waiting, said, "Daddy, you've turned me into such a slut, all I can think abut is fucking. I'm horny for you all the time, I need Daddy-cock, I need Daddy-cum, would you fuck me now?" and reached for his dick, marveled at its length and girth, felt it, unbelievably, already stirring back to life.

Daddy said, "Yes pumpkin, with a little help Daddy will be ready real soon."

I said, "My Daddy is such a stud," leaned over, placed my lips on his. Daddy slipped an arm around me, reached for my ass, fondled it; our kisses grew more and more passionate. I moved my chest into his, flattening my breasts on him, twisted my fingers on his stiffening cock, moaned, "Mmmmmm," into his mouth, kissed his neck, kissed and licked his broad chest and small nipples, moved back to his lips, kissed them with desperate hunger.

Daddy was fully erect; I needed him inside me. I slid on top of him, locked my lips to his, my tongue delved deep inside his mouth, devoured, explored, found every nook and cranny. I rotated my hips on his cock and when the head brushed my wet pussy lips I reached back, held it in place, and drove myself onto his tool, engulfing it in my tight wet cunt. Yanking my head up, I said, "Ooooh Daddy, f..f..fuck oh fuck me," and he cried out, "Yes, god Pumpkin, so good." I raised myself on my hands, looked into Daddy's perfect face, said, "Daddy, my cunt was made for your cock," then drew myself up to the sitting position.

Daddy grabbed my hips, raising me up until only his cock-head was inside me, then slammed me back down. Using my well-trained cunt muscles I gripped his cock, ground myself on him, threw my head back, my light brown hair a cascade behind me, and rode him, up and down, faster and faster, twerking my ass round and round.

"Daddy come inside me, drench my insides with your seed, fuck your little girl, FUCK HER, FUCK HER."

Daddy reached for my breasts, twisted my nipples, thrust into me, then, holding me by the waist, bought me forward and sucked a breast into his mouth. Humping into his dick I said, "Oh yes Daddy, yes, yes, bite them Daddy, bite them," arched my back, pushing my tittie into his mouth as he rolled my nipple between his teeth. I croaked out, "Eeennnyyyaaaahhhhhhh," yanked my breast from his mouth, fed him the other, groaned when he chewed on my nipple.

Clamping my hands on his head I pulled my breast from his mouth, rubbed them over his face, reached back for his balls, fondled and rolled them between my fingers.

Daddy's thrusts into me grew stronger, more erratic; his jaw locked. I said, "Daddy, fill me up, come inside me, please, please, your baby-girl needs your seed, if I don't get it I'll go insane."

"Yes Pumpkin, yes Pumpkin, right now, right now, right now..."

I squeezed my cunt muscles, his balls retreated inside him, Daddy cried, "Ugh, oh yes, yes, yes," and exploded, pouring thick steaming spunk into me, threw his arms around my waist, holding me in place as he pounded my soaking cunt, shot load after load of hot sperm inside me.

I grabbed the bed sheet, screwed it up in my hands, felt Daddy's cock twitch and jerk inside me.

And then it was here, an orgasm that blotted out the rest of my world. There was no Salma, no Mr. Gonzalez, no sky, no night, nothing but me and my cunt and tits and Daddy and his cock and my eyes were closed and my head rolled around and I squeezed and massaged my nipples. Daddy's hands were on my waist, holding me to him; I felt Daddy's cock pulsating inside me, filling me, completing me.

Daddy arched his back and I ground myself on him, blurted out, "Yes, oh god yes, yes, yes," shouted, "Oh Daddy, yes, I'm commmiiiiiinnnnnnggggg, I love you," and came again. Shimmering lights filled my brain and then another orgasm came and the pressure inside me let go and a lightning bolt was born in my cunt and I felt it in my fingers and toes and teeth and hair and there was nothing but pleasure and joy and I shook and shaked and jiddered and said, "Daddy, I love you, fuck me forever."

At some point I must have collapsed, for my sweaty body was atop Daddy and I was sucking in air and Daddy's skin was warm and the smell of him was wonderful and I thought about Salma. Right now what was she doing to help her Daddy understand what my Daddy already knew, that daughters are for fucking?​