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Bad Deal

By: skip5236



The story started off innocently enough, or maybe not so innocently. My story is not complicated, I am a guy who craves servicing really well hung guys. Long, thick cocks...ones that hang and sway when flaccid and draw admiration when hard and proud. A local internet bulletin board makes it very easy to seek this kind of talent, posting an ad for mutual blowjobs generally will get a fair number of like minded guys to respond. However, there is one small catch...while I am very discriminating in what I want, very well endowed only need apply, I am not nearly so blessed. I fall way at the other end of the curve, a rather thin 4.5 inches. I am a tall, fit good looking guy...early 40's, but really short changed in the shorts so to speak. So, while I could post ad after ad and generally could hook up with the 6 inch and under crowd, the 8 plus inches I craved was not interested in little dicked guys.

My most recent ad drew a fair number of replies, and a few interested me with their claims of 7-8 inches. Of course I was a bit skeptical, my own ad claimed 6 inches. But one response was a real attention grabber..., 30 year old guy in gym shape with 10 inches looking for some mutual fun. I didn't believe the 10 inch claim, but even exaggeration left him with 8 inches, right? His reply did have an edge, he bluntly said he wasn't really in to little dicked guys, but a recent dry spell had him horny enough to lower his standards. He enclosed a pic, I double clicked...and OH MY GOD! The pic opened to a rock hard cock, a full fist wrapped around it and still more than half of his shaft bursting forward, crowned by an impossibly large magnificent cockhead. I was instantly uncomfortably constricted in my shorts, and literally short of breath. I took a moment to compose myself, staring helplessly at this huge tool, not even realizing I was rubbing the outside of my tented slacks. I fired off a reply, openly admiring his monster organ, anxious to set something up for that evening. 

Josh replied about 30 minutes later. He was free later, could use a blowjob. He couldn't promise he would reciprocate, if the chemistry was right he might, but offered a handjob at a minimum. He was willing to play safe. But there was a catch. Josh went off on a rant about guys who lie, how tired he is of guys who claim to have 7 inches that turn out to be five and half. He offered to meet, but told me to 'come clean now' if I wasn't every inch I claimed because 'if there is any doubt, I do measure, I really do. And guys who are even a quarter inch short get thrown out.' I gulped. His second email included another pic, his massive organ propped up by two fingers. Resting on top of his rigid shaft was a foot long ruler with only a shade over an inch extending beyond the bulbous head. I had to have this nearly eleven inch cock, but now would have to confess my bogus claims of average dick size. 

I sweated and stirred, terribly uncomfortable with my unrelenting hard on and wet spot on the front of my trousers, trying desperately to find a way to minimize my deception and get some of that huge cock. 

'Josh-

Hey, great, 7:00 works for me, looking forward to it. Great pic you sent. Oh, and about that measurement thing, ok, you busted me. Maybe I'm more like a little under 5 inches, about 4.5 or so. See you about 7.'

I hit send, hoping my light hearted approach would still get me in.

I checked my email constantly for the next two hours, and dejectedly concluded I had blown it and wasn't going to get a shot at this guy. Finally I heard a ding from my laptop in the next room, I raced to the screen and was overjoyed to see Josh's screen name. 

'skip-

Normally I wouldn't consider you, but I am out of options this late in the game. If you had been honest up front, I wouldn't have to settle for a guy with a little boy dick. Here are my terms, take them or leave them. I will wait 10 minutes, then I am going out. 

This is a completely one way deal, you blow me twice. I don't reciprocate, and you don't get yourself off. Period, you are not going to cum, and don't ask or whine about it. If you so much as touch your dick I will throw you out. 

You will strip at the door, I will be dressed other than pulling out my dick.

Be here at 7, directions when I get your answer.'

What were my options, I had to get some of this cock, and under the circumstances I couldn't argue with his terms. I emailed back thanking him profusely, praying I didn't miss him. He made me sweat for 30 minutes before the directions came back. 

Josh's place was a humble apartment building, a long stretch from the affluent sub division I lived in. My Beemer fit in to the space he directed me to, a space adjacent to his older Honda Civic. I found the door and knocked. I knocked a second time, could hear a distant television. Finally, as I was about to leave, the door opened. Josh was a tall, good looking guy, with a cold hard look to him. He gestured for me to come in, the door closed behind me. He pointed to the floor inside the door. 'Put your clothes in a pile there, all of them. Go to the back room and watch the television.' He walked away. I stripped as quickly as I could, I sensed that displeasing him was not a good idea. I hopped as I peeled off my socks, I was very embarrassed by nakedness, but scurried to the back room. On the television was some kind of straight porn, a hugely hung guy was getting an impressive blowjob from an equally endowed blonde bombshell type. I was captivated by the scene, and left alone standing in front of the huge screen had little else to do but watch. I had no idea where Josh went. As the blondes head bobbed and her balloon like tits bounced the guy with the gigantic dick moaned, but seemingly could last forever. I wouldn't give myself a chance of lasting past 30 seconds under similar circumstances. To my horror, I realized that my cock was also taking notice of the scene, and I was now standing naked and fully hard. So hard I desperately wanted to give myself a few strokes, and it took all of my self control to keep my hands off my throbbing erection. 

Just as I was about to give in and grab my aching cock, Josh came in and sat down on the leather couch. He continued to ignore me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room embarrassingly erect. Josh's jeans and t-shirt left me feeling exposed and humiliated, his insistence on ignoring me had me frustrated and puzzled. 

Finally he spoke, but still refused to look away from the television. 

'Here's your deal, no negotiation. You will do what I say, when I say it. You will not touch your tiny dick under any circumstances. Now, kneel on the floor here in front of me.'

I scrambled to my knees in front of Josh. He took my hand and placed it on his jeans, the outline of his huge hose was clear, when my hand my came in contact with it through his jeans I gasped, and my tiny cock jerked and leaked.

'You are going to do this bareback...you lost your condom privileges when you lied to me.'

I could feel his huge cock swelling through his jeans as he held my hand against it. He pulled my hand away, I audibly moaned with frustration. Josh unfastened his jeans and unzipped. He lifted the waistband of his briefs and glanced inside, he knew how desperately I wanted to see what the briefs contained. His right hand disappeared in to his briefs, and he tugged his floppy tool so it almost peaked out of his briefs, clearly outlining all of it under the white cotton. 'My god' I gasped, it was much larger than I imagined. My cock was nearly vertical, purple, and leaking steady pre cum. I desperately needed to stroke it, to touch it, anything at this point. Once Josh told me I was sucking him bareback I should have left, but he knew I was too far gone to say no. Little did I know our negotiation, if you can call it that, was not over.

'Are you in agreement with everything so far skip?'

'Yes Josh' I gasped, my voice husky with desperation.

Josh smiled slyly as my answer told him what he already knew, he could demand much more.

'Finally, this is not a one time deal. You are going to sign up for six sessions, same deal each time. I call you, you come here and strip, you suck me off, then you leave with no relief. As insurance on your agreement we are going to take a few pictures now that I might delete when you complete your contract.'

I looked horrified, but Josh pushed on.

'You have a choice right now, you can get up and get my camera off that table over there, or you can get up and dress and leave.'

I opened my mouth to protest, but Josh shot me a look, and began to zip up his pants. It was clear that speaking would end my chances of getting that 11 inch cock in my mouth. Josh knew what choice I would make, and enjoyed every moment of the collapse of my dignity as I walked to the other side of the room and retrieved the camera. As I walked back Josh stared at my hard as iron cock. 'That looks really uncomfortable. Bet you wish you could do something about it, huh little buddy. It must suck to have a little dick, huh?' I blushed crimson, and handed him the camera. 'Oh, can you get the ruler that's on the table too.' It didn't take a genius to know what the ruler was for...

Josh started out tamely enough...full frontal with no pretense of avoiding my face, side angle, back. He disappeared in to the next room for a few minutes, I didn't dare sneak a few strokes while he was out. 'Ok, those are downloaded, now for the fun shots.' Josh had me hold the ruler next to my dick, documenting my 4.25 inches with pic after pic as he laughed. Next he bent me over for close ups of my hanging balls and ass. I had no choice but to comply as he made me spread my ass cheeks, and look back between my legs at the camera. Now thoroughly degraded, Josh again disappeared to download. His now rigid shaft shown clearly through his jeans, tipping his hand of his intense enjoyment of this humiliation ritual. From the next room, presumably at his pc, he shouted 'Wow, these are great, you're really my bitch now.'

The reality of my situation put me in a fog, Josh's non-stop chatter about my completely compromised status drained all pleasure from what I arrived there to do. Josh laughed when he finally pulled out his semi rigid dick and taunted me through the first blowjob. I gagged at barely the halfway point, but fairly quickly coaxed a huge load out of him that I knew I had to swallow. 

'You better practice at home skip, none of these blowjobs count toward your debt until you can take all of me down your throat.' I couldn't imagine being able to quell a gag reflex well enough to take all of that monster. 'Hey, chicks do it, and they aren't as motivated as you are.'

I blew Josh one more time that night, and at his insistence begged for permission to jerk off, knowing it wouldn't be granted.  He continued to laugh as I had to dress around my rigid erection. 'You know that guys with average sized dicks don't have to take this kind of shit don't you...' As a final goodbye he reached between my legs and gave my balls a hard squeeze, then pushed me gasping out the door, knowing I would have to drive home with throbbing balls.

As I type this I continue to practice trying to deep throat a cucumber, after five sessions at Josh's apt I have yet to successfully deep throat him... 

Bad Deal



In a way, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Intense emotion, primitive, violent male and female lust, and the abandonment, no - more akin to the death, of a fundamental element of modern societal behavior. This was no desperate medieval measure to save the bloodline, no mistaken identities. This was raw, animalistic fucking, in possibly the most deviant manner possible between two consenting adults. Pain, bruises and whip marks fade. Urine and feces can be washed away. But nothing could change who the participants were. The distinction of having committed the act, even if only this once, would forever be theirs. 

It was also somewhat sinister, the way I helped create this contentious union of two glistening bodies in the orange early morning light. I would always carry some guilt. But when I had asked myself, honestly, why I did it, the answer was clear. 

My name, for the purposes of this essay, is Claire. I am bisexual and narcissistic. So is my girlfriend, although that's not the point. During my early thirties, the events referred to above occurred. This is ultimately not a tale of irresistible, youthful seduction or experimentation. It does begin, however, in my younger days, with my first real love. The story really begins there. 

Vanessa 

My first glimpses of 'Vanessa' were usually blocked by her entourage. Yes, she had an entourage as early as ninth grade. A cadre of boys, football players mostly, and other cheerleaders always seemed to be surrounding her in the small, private, Southern high school we attended. Her long, frizzy brown locks were frequently held off her perfect face by a large scarf, knotted at the top. After all, it was the era of Madonna and the Go-Gos. Her Italian-descended last name and looks were somewhat of a novelty in the largely blonde rural region in which we lived. She wasn't an obsession then, just another popular girl I hoped to emulate, having boys flock around me someday, a day that eventually arrived in an entirely different form. 

Vanessa, back then, didn't even know I existed. Shy and introverted at that time, I watched her and the popular crowd from the sidelines. My somewhat petite body and I gradually came to terms and I began to shed my shell, and went from being perceived as the weird girl, to the weird girl who at least tried to show a little belly and as much cleavage as she could muster from her modest breasts. I did get a shock one day in the hall, when, leaving class early for an appointment, I encountered a beautiful, solo Vanessa, who smiled and said 'Hi! Love your outfit!' as she passed by. For reasons that would be clear to me later, my heart leapt. 

Claire 

School and lazy summers droned on. I've been told every school has a somewhat outcast girl that dates a guy much older, and I eventually became her, dating a plumber's helper, then, after parading around in a bikini on a fishing trip soon after graduation, traded up to his boat-owning boss, who was thirty-one years old. A month later, scarcely eighteen, I forfeited college in distant cities, moved in with 'Jimmy', and was practically disowned by my mother. 

The next two or so domestic 'housewife' years at his new house with its in-ground pool were filled with frequent nakedness, sex, with Jimmy, and sometimes a few of his friends. It was quite the education. Deep throat, anal, roughness, slapping, spanking, I did it all, and he made videos to chronicle it. There may yet be copies, crude VHS transfers, out on the internet today, sadly now under the 'vintage' category. Drunk and on my knees in the back yard late one night, encircled by half a dozen men showering me with all the bodily fluids their beer-filled bladders could muster, I realized I had finally obtained an entourage of my own. Still, there was an emptiness, a detachment. I didn't love him. I eventually ended up skulking home to a vicious 'I told you so' from my mother. In the quiet solitude that followed, I admitted to myself that I was bi, but hadn't a clue what I could do about it. Internet chat rooms and the like were still several years in the future. 

Vanessa and Claire 

Soon I had begun working at a grocery store, stocking shelves. I was wearing an ugly brown visor and apron, knee deep in boxes of canned beans the moment my life changed forever. Vanessa, carrying a twelve pack of beer at nine thirty in the morning, saw me, squealed and came almost jogging down the aisle, taking my breath away as she hugged and kissed me on the cheek. I was shocked she even knew my name, much more so at the long, bubbly conversation we had. Apparently we were the only two who didn't go straight into college after high school. That kindled some kind of bond, like the two people at the gate who missed the same airline flight. At that time I had no idea that her beautiful long, wavy dark locks, brilliant emerald green eyes and, by contrast, scratchy voice and nasal laugh would become part of my existence, an opiate that I could never resist, even now. 

Our conversation took several directions, and Vanessa seemed pleased that I could keep up. Finally, she leaned toward me. I took in her wonderful aromas as she spoke in my ear. 

"Hey, can you take this to the back door and pass it to me so I don't have to pay for it?" she asked, referring to the twelve pack. I was surprised, since she was reputed to be a spoiled, rich 'Princess'. I had seen her at prom with a pair of diamond earrings bigger than my nipples. I was about to say yes, suddenly prepared to do anything for her, but it turned out she was only kidding. Having tried to look busy while we talked, I had randomly stacked cans on the shelves. It took me twenty minutes to reorganize the fucked up bean aisle after we parted. I had butterflies nearly constantly after seeing her - something had clicked. 

Two weeks later, Vanessa and I were roommates. Just a couple chicks at first. She was unaware of my obsessive girl crush, which continued as subtly as a roaring freight train. I had butterflies almost constantly and knew this was love. I began to fantasize about her treating me aggressively, forcing me into becoming her lesbian lover. Along with her stunning face and those captivating green eyes, her gymnast's body was tight and firm and I secretly enjoyed the view of her as she nonchalantly strutted naked around the apartment. I had spent hours - no, days at a time - naked around people when I was with Jimmy, but sequestered in the apartment I shared with Vanessa, the first time I felt her emerald eyes on my bare, wet, unsettled flesh as I emerged intentionally nude from our bathroom, made my vagina feel like it was going to melt right out of my pelvis and begin sliding down my thighs. This was love. 

Unfortunately, Vanessa got a boyfriend, 'Marco'. In no time I became resentful of my roommate and her new stud. Still, I would stand, ear against the wall, in our cheaply built apartment, feeling it rhythmically jolt as they noisily fucked. I would filter out the male grunts and mumbling and mentally catalog every giggle, groan and gasp Vanessa made, saving them for my fantasies. I would masturbate and cry myself to sleep, imagining those noises made with me, her kisses, the feel of her skin, wondering if the flesh surrounding her pink slit would taste any different than my own, a hunger a thousand ejaculating penises could never satisfy. 

After a couple weeks, Vanessa seemed to sense that I felt neglected and planned a mid-week girls' night of dinner and shopping. Marco showed up unannounced before we were able to leave and a big argument ensued. He left angered and Vanessa shoved me into the wall and threatened to punch me. My heart pounding like I had never felt it, I called her every possible insulting name I could think of. My purposeful escalation worked. Instantly Vanessa was on top of me on the living room floor, pounding my face and shoulders with both fists. I retaliated just enough to keep her coming at me, as I was nearly orgasmic from this intense, very personal attention from her. The line between sex and physical violence was always blurred to me, and remains so to this day. 

In the midst of the chaos a dialogue began as she admonished me against trying to fuck Marco, that there would be none of the orgy-like sharing 'I was used to'. My reply, one of the most honest moments in my life, slipped out before I had time to filter it. "I don't want to share, I only want YOU...to fuck me ..I.." 

That confession froze Vanessa in mid-punch. "What?" 

"I.." I continued to stutter, "I'm in love with you!" 

Vanessa's jaw fell open and she raised up from her straddling position. I began to sob uncontrollably. 

"You want us to fuck?" She asked as I rose to walk away. 

I couldn't bring myself to respond. My swollen eyes were filled with tears, and I could not look at her. I retreated to my room and cried myself to sleep. I had admitted to a lesbian attraction. I knew I would be asked to move out, and would probably never see her again afterward. I slept maybe two hours in total that night. The persistent alarm was especially cruel the next morning. Vanessa, who has never worked a day in her life, was allegedly taking a few classes at community college, and always slept in. 

In an instant, that day, a Friday, became the best day in my life. Pain, shame and fatigue were replaced with adrenalin and pure joy. There was a note taped to the bathroom mirror on yellow legal paper, accented with smiley faces and hearts. The ink is now stained in places by my tears of joy and I still have it, locked in my safe. I know its verbiage from memory, anyway. It began: 

'Claire Bear, 

YOU ARE SO AWESOME!! YES YES I WANT TO FUCK!!' 

The note went on to declare a disclaimer regarding skills since I would be her 'first', and to ask for secrecy, non-commitment, and an agreement that we would also keep dating men, which was fine with me. Anything to be with her. She told her boyfriend that we both had the stomach flu and to stay away for the weekend, giving us time alone. 

That day at work seemed like the longest eight hours ever. I arrived home and a freshly showered Vanessa came rushing over to me with a glass of wine. Trembling and tearful, we toasted and shared our first kiss, wet, sumptuous and unforgettable. 

Not fifteen minutes later I had barely dried off from my own shower when Vanessa, unable to wait for my return to the living room sofa, barged into my room topless and shoved me into the wall with a thud, knocking a framed poster down. I felt my pussy begin to roast as her solidified, somewhat excessive nipples accosted and bullied my already extended average ones. Mine gallantly fought back, poking the firm flesh of her small, gently mounded breasts until they succumbed beneath the rotating compression of her thumb and forefinger, her long nails stinging deliciously. Our slippery, ardent tongues probed our palates frantically and noisily, our moaning and hot breath escaped audibly and probably fogged the windows in the room, and maybe the entire apartment building. Lips and incisors assaulted those nipples next; minutes later on my unmade bed, our faces were ecstatically buried between each other's thighs. As her teeth lightly pinched my throbbing clit, I had my first taste of Vanessa's generous labia, coated with her vaginal liquor, a substance that instantly became my own personal heroin, and still is as I write this. 

Some of our fingers disappeared from sight soon after, and I craved my lover's arm up to her elbow inside me, her hand concussing my womb. Of course our youthful passages, despite our prior teenaged promiscuity, would then only comfortably accommodate a few fingers. However, in a couple years Vanessa's fist would become a regular visitor, her knuckles rhythmically battering my cervix. 

That first weekend with Vanessa was absolute heaven, as anything we tried was new and exciting. Orgasm after orgasm slammed across my body; the three-day count easily exceeded my age. Vanessa's face and body contorted as she loudly announced her climaxes as well. By Monday night we were exhausted, lying in the tub together, trying to regain some sense of day, night, and sobriety from both alcohol and lust. Reluctantly, we were also forced to cleanse one another's essence away as we prepared to return to the now mundane, hetero world. 

This tale should have a 'happily ever after' inserted here, but the bliss only lasted two months or so. I returned home one day to a sobbing Vanessa. It was the first time I had seen her really cry. She was pregnant. 

There is no need to detail the next decade or so. It's a tale of separation, frustration, and intermittent joyful epochs. Vanessa divorced Marco, then later remarried him and they had a second boy. She and I drifted together now and then, sometimes for as long as a year, living at her affluent parents' luxurious lakefront house out in the country. 

The disarray of my dichotomous life marched on. I saw Jimmy occasionally, most of the time resulting in a confusing jumble of naked bodies with a male friend or two of his and sometimes Vanessa and another girl as well. Everyone, except the men, fucked everyone. I formally dated a few other guys and even a couple women, but things just didn't spark and last. 

Tony 

I first met Tony as a friend's father. He was a successful businessman, some said a little too successful, legally speaking. His large house had a pool and so he saw me in a bikini frequently. I thought he was cute and I played my role as a cock tease well, adjusting my swimsuit, or letting its coverage lapse slightly at the tan line. He was married then, so that was the limit of my exhibition. The friend moved away, so it was quite a while before I saw him again. 

Years later, I was invited to his family beach house after he was suddenly single again. At first I thought it was coincidental, but was proven wrong. Nearly ten years older, his hair had begun to gray at the temples and he had mellowed somewhat, but still subtly pursued me as his daughter and her kids buzzed around us. Despite being just over thirty, I felt like a schoolgirl around him. His large, Mediterranean-descended brown eyes and expressive face, combined with a somewhat warped, Philadelphia-bred sense of humor attracted me. Of course he didn't mind my bisexuality a bit. 

For a normal woman in that situation, sure, the story may have ended here, with a second wife romance, but I'm not 'normal'. 

Once my friend's kids were gone, shipped back to her ex-husband, and there were just us three adults in the beach house, the mood changed. Completely. 

Tony and Claire 

It was after our classy seafood dinner for two and I held a whiskey on the rocks as I perched myself on the couch, on my knees sideways and facing him. I knew I had to choose the right moment to act. It was too early, I hadn't even teased his dick hard yet. Blessed with the time to tan a little, work out and a high metabolism, I believed at thirty, I still looked pretty good in the tight, short dress and jacket I had worn to dinner. Now sans jacket, the thin, clingy, sliver-gray halter dress was doing its job. I could feel the ocean breeze slip beneath the bodice under my arms, since the outer surfaces of my breasts where they joined my torso were left bare. In a braless dress, this was a better look for me than any attempt to show cleavage, and my nipples had been misbehaving most of the night as a bonus. 

I let the hem of the dress ride up, and my panties may have been visible when I occasionally parted my thighs for a few seconds, all part of my master plan. Soon we began to kiss. His tongue was overly cautious, but strong. I tried not to think of it between my legs, since I had a mission tonight. Tony, just over fifty and experienced at bedding women, was patient at first. Gradually his hands, fresh from their successful caresses and nipple-tugs under my dress, wandered up my thighs. I grabbed the bulge in his trousers and squeezed. It was the Rock of Gibraltar, nicely thick, in tubular form. 

Suddenly, despite my instinct to escalate things, I pulled up and took several steps away from the couch and looked into his eyes. 

"You really wanna fuck?" I asked, almost angrily. 

"That's a stupid question." Tony said, smiling. He didn't realize how serious I was. "Now get your ass back over here." 

"No." I shook my head slowly 

"No what?" he asked. "You want some kinda commitment or somethin'?" 

My heart pounded. I had to time myself. It had to be perfectly stated before he got angered and arose and dragged me into a bed, something he easily could have done. As if he read my mind he began to leave the sofa. 

"You have to fuck her first." There it was, I said it. "Then you get me, all you want." The 'her' was the third adult in the house, Vanessa, my girlfriend, my best friend. 

Tony sat back and just looked at me, as if he was surprised I knew about his daughter's perverted obsession. He was aware I was his daughter's lover on and off for nearly ten years, and yet he was surprised. Maybe he thought her urges had disappeared. 

"Yeah right," He said skeptically. 

"I'm serious Antonio," I looked into his eyes. "Only the three of us will ever know." 

I began my sales pitch. "Haven't you wondered? Her tits?" - they were fuller and somewhat bouncy now, having never really retreated after her pregnancies - "Those big nipples...That beautiful ass...imagine her mouth on your cock...and...that slick, hot pussy...no condom ...it's all delicious..." I rolled my eyes to emphasize my comments. I could talk nasty with the best of them, and went on to tease Tony about what a good fuck she was. His daughter had wanted him to fuck her since puberty, she told me. 

Since high school, Vanessa had flirted when alone with her father and flaunted herself undressed in front of him. She blatantly invited him into her bedroom on the first opportunity after her eighteenth birthday so he could give her 'the best present ever'. Angered that the Mustang convertible wasn't sufficient, Tony threatened to have her committed, but couldn't, since she was technically an adult then, and her mother would have been made aware of her daughter's incestuous craving and attempted adultery. Well played, Princess. But I think she has acceptance issues to say the least. An only child, she always talked about wishing she had brothers to fuck, and in her early twenties she did actually drive out and fuck a first cousin a few times while he was in college. They had played a little curious 'show and tell' years before, she reported. So here we were a dozen years later, with me assigned to get Tony's engine running in our bait-and-switch scheme, all a diabolical plan to get him to fuck his own daughter. 

His expression quickly turned angry. 

"What if I say no?" 

"We'll both leave right now. No pussy for you." I lifted the hem of my dress a few inches in the front and released it as a subtle reminder. "we're already packed." 

"What if I catch you and fuck you anyway?" 

"I don't think you would do that, but if you do, I'll..I'll call the cops and claim rape." 

"You'll never prove that." He laughed. "You're a Goddamn slut! I'll tell them about the homemade porn you used to brag about." 

"They'll still arrest you and it'll be a royal pain in the ass," I countered. 

At this point I was trembling, afraid he would call my bluff. A nice rough fuck would have suited me just fine right about then, but I had promised that boner to Vanessa. There was no way I would have ever called the police, but I had to close this deal for my lover, my best friend. 

"Why the hell are you doing this?" he asked, frustrated. 

"Because Vanessa wants it, and I love her more than anything...Don't you?" I replied. "None of us is getting any younger." 




Bad Deal



For a moment it seemed like he was considering it. The plan was that Vanessa missed our earlier dinner because she had a headache, and was supposedly asleep in her room. I was to text her yay or nay, and she would come downstairs in sexy lingerie for the big event, or, if not, we would leave quickly. 

We assumed Tony would simply sit there and wait, but that didn't happen. 

"You little bitch!" 

He flew off the couch and came toward me. The side of my face instantly burst in pain as he hit me with his open hand, knocking me onto the floor. One leg flew up in the air and my dress hiked up almost to my waist. The large-armed, barrell-chested man reached down and grabbed my g-string panties below my navel like a handle. They yielded easily and slid up my thighs and calves, stretching to their limit between my open legs. 

I expected him to descend, pin me down and forcefully inject his dick into me, peppering his efforts with more strikes to my face. But instead he twisted the stretchy panties into a rope and instantly it was around my neck. Standing over me but bent down, red faced, veins at his temples bulging, Tony was choking me. This was it, I was going to die. The look of rage in his eyes was truly frightening. My life flashed before my eyes. I know that's a cliché, but it really happened. Many of the images I saw are described above. 

After half a minute of painfully gasping for air, I was luckily released. Tony grabbed a nearly full Jack Daniels bottle by the neck and stomped up the stairs. I heard a door slam, then everything was quiet. I heard no noise, and surmised he didn't go into Vanessa's bedroom. As I caught my breath and unwrapped the panties from my windpipe, I felt horrible. I really liked Tony, and now I'm sure he felt completely hurt and betrayed. I went up to our bedroom, and instead of finding Vanessa dressed in lingerie, anticipating a night of incest, she was in a big chair asleep in an old t-shirt, lights on. An empty wine bottle lay at her feet. Maybe she was scared after all, or didn't think I would go through with it. The whole night was a dammed disaster. Wishing I had never agreed to the plan, I turned the TV off, left a single lamp on, slid out of my dress, fell onto the bed and slept. 

Tony and Vanessa 

A few hours later I awoke to a commotion, then heard my name. The sun was just rising. Apparently Tony had changed his mind. 

"Oh shit! Claire! Lube me!" The strained voice was Vanessa's. Next to the bed, she was being held by a choke hold from behind. Her t-shirt had been ripped open, and was now around her waist and one elbow. Her father, who was drunk, naked and carrying a booze bottle, began yelling into her ear. She was now held under hers arms, off the floor, her feet pedaling in the air. Her panties spun off a flailing ankle. 

"You're not my little princess! You're just another fucking whore like her!" His eyes were red and glassy from the whiskey. "You know what I do to stinking whores, don't you?" 

I panicked as I jumped out of bed and began unzipping the luggage. We always kept lube handy, mostly for my girlfriend's incursions into my rectum. Frantically I checked compartment after compartment. Finally I found the tube and squirted a big, clear puddle into my hand. 

Tony had released his daughter and shoved her into the nightstand, knocking over the lamp that singly lit the room. The bulb darkened, leaving the orange glow of the rising sun as the only illumination. 

Vanessa, horny and surprisingly not intimidated by his aggression, hopped onto the bed on her back and raised her legs about the time I splashed my palm onto her bare vulva. I fingered her quickly to get the lube inside before her father's infuriated cock arrived. She reached out and held my other, dry hand for a moment and squeezed it. A quick smile formed across her lips as tears of joy tumbled down her cheeks. Suddenly a hand on her jaw forced it to accept a mouthful of Jack Daniels, and she continued to cough down the whiskey as her father used her ankles as handles while he knee-walked between them. I then watched my girlfriend endure a slapping, yelling rampage. Vanessa's face flipped side to side as her father smacked her and called her a whore or cunt with each pass. Her breasts recoiled as they were assaulted also, exposed by the tattered shirt. Seeing Vanessa submissive was rare and sincere; she was usually the dominant one between the two of us, and didn't abide such abuse from any other men. 

"Get out you skank!" An order directed at me, accompanied by another strike to my jaw by Tony's large open hand. 

The painful slap sent me flying backwards. Off balance, I fell to the carpet. I arose to just over the precipice to see, in silhouette, my girlfriend reach out to him with both arms and dutifully spread her legs wide - at thirty-one she could still almost do a split. Tony lowered his hips and shoved his erect thickness inside his daughter with an angry grunt. The deed was done. There was no going back now, no matter what happened from here on out, he had violated the young woman he sired. The bed began to jolt as those now mating responded like animals, grunting, barking phrases - 'yes Papa, fuck me Papa', 'you little whore, you nasty cunt'. I could hear Vanessa sobbing with joy as their bodies quickly became glazed with perspiration. Their colliding flesh made a slapping cadence and the orange light of the sun gave their sinews a hellish glow, as if to emphasize the insidious, unsanctioned act, undertaken purely for unnatural pleasure. 

Mesmerized, I watched them writhe together, occasionally kissing deeply, then she would be slapped again seconds afterward. Vanessa's legs wrapped around her Papa as he fucked her harshly, sometimes biting and stretching the upright peaks of her solidified nipples. Vanessa had become blasé about sex with men in the last few years, but not at this moment. After enduring his onslaught for several minutes, I could tell by her groans an orgasm was forthcoming. It was a sensation, for her, that usually required more specific attention to her clitoris. 

Soon she was crying out to the morning sky and her torso was randomly rigid. The profane verbosity continued as her father kept fucking the hell out of her, working off fifteen years of her exhibitionism and flirtation. Vanessa, her beautiful, tearful face now more visible in the dim glow, erratically wailed as she climaxed several more times. Reaching the limit of his restraint and having quite successfully ravished his daughter, Tony, still cursing at her, withdrew his glossy, beautifully sculpted weapon. A reciprocating hand disrespectfully sprayed his seed - the same product that created Vanessa over thirty years ago - like a fountain all over her midsection. 

The most passionate, incredible fuck I had ever seen was over. 

Tony stood to walk out and grabbed the nearly empty Jack Daniels bottle, and threw it across the room, loudly shattering it and the framed family portrait he was aiming for. Moments later we heard his bedroom door slam. 

Meanwhile, the familial fluid, heretically extracted, was deceptively white and pure, like melting snow in her navel. Rivulets spanned her heaving, moist, taut stomach, everything sparkling in the higher sun. A fingertip interrupted the landscape and gathered a quantity for Vanessa to selfishly savor on her tongue, then another, and another. 

I crawled back into the bed, greeted by the not uncomfortable aromas of body sweat, vagina and spermatozoa. She spooned me from behind, sobbing softly, moistening my neck with her tears and my lower back with her Papa's cooled semen. We said nothing and drifted off to sleep. 

Tony left before we stirred at lunchtime the next day. He practically disappeared for the next couple months, and didn't return our calls. I'm sure it upset Vanessa, but she didn't let it show. 

- - - 

Near the end of the summer, I got an invitation from Vanessa, a cell phone-garbled voicemail, to meet her at the beach house once more. My response was a voicemail as well, so we didn't actually speak. Her father hadn't banned her from using the house; I think the property was in her name anyway. A sedate weekend with her kids at the beach seemed to be on the agenda. 

I arrived and parked in the driveway. I saw no other cars but they could have been in the garage to avoid the summer heat. I grabbed my bags and trudged up the stairs, letting myself into the foyer - I've had my own key for years. I called out but there was no answer. I could hear the television, and wandered in that direction after depositing my luggage in the guest bedroom that I slept alone in under the moniker 'Aunt Claire', when the kids are present. 

Suddenly I smelled cigar smoke. Either Vanessa took up cigars, brought a man who smoked them, or most likely it was her father, who loved his smelly Cohibas. They must have called a truce so he could see the kids. My stomach was instantly in knots. I intentionally hadn't given him much thought due to my guilt. Now I had to either work up an apology, or, on a better note, re-commit to spreading my legs for him until he tired of me, since that was part of the depraved deal I made. Not bad terms for me, really. I wanted him anyway, and if his delectably brutal encounter with Vanessa was any forecast of my future, I was all in. Either way, I knew that discussion would not be held while his grandchildren were in the house. 

I looked into the living room, and there he was, parked on the couch, facing away from me while a baseball game pulsed across the wall on the large TV. I assumed the rest of tribe was out on the beach. Smoke drifted through the bright, midday sun filtering into the room. My pulse raced. Upon entering, I realized Tony was not alone. A pair of bare, tanned shoulders, topped off by a backwards baseball hat and crossed by a purple bikini string, was moving up and down, twisting slightly at his waist level. He apparently brought some girl with him, and she was giving him a noisy, second-inning blowjob. Maybe I wouldn't be held to my end of the bargain after all, or maybe I would be joining them in bed. 

I was about to turn to leave, when the anonymous girl momentarily came up for air. 

"Hi Claire Bear!" Vanessa said with a wheeze and cough before lowering her face, eyeliner melting, and resumed her gulping cadence. 

Obviously my assumptions about this weekend were completely wrong. Tony and his daughter had reached an understanding, apparently one hell of an understanding. There was no cloak of darkness and likely not much numbness from alcohol yet at one-forty in the afternoon. I was shocked but pleased at the level of reconciliation. 

"Hey hey! There she is! Hiya kiddo! "her father said, smiling and motioning me closer. 

Vanessa, who had her brown mane up and beneath the hat for some reason, was on her knees, mouth pumping up and down furiously on Tony's stalwart cock. Her breasts had been unceremoniously yanked part of the way out of the bikini top; her excited nipples remained exposed and misaligned. 

Tony was donning only a white tennis shirt, with the cigar in his hand and a drink adjacent. His daughter's fingers were running through the prolific hair on his slightly rotund stomach, pushing the shirt out of place. Her other hand was busy fondling his hairy scrotum, wet, no doubt, with the overflow of mucus and saliva inherently produced during such a chaotic blowjob. Vanessa was flexing at the waist, grunting and gobbling him up like starving person attacking a burrito. I had seen her suck cock on dozens of occasions, and we had shared many a boner, but she never seemed to enjoy ingesting an erection so much. 

I leaned in to give Tony a quick kiss, bracing for the pungent cigar taste. He looked happy. As I stood next to him at the end of the couch, watching the unexpected show, he reached out and patted my ass, shrouded only by my sundress due to my miniscule panties. He left his hand parked on my cheek. It felt nice; I felt forgiven. 

His hand left my ass several cigar drags later, but for a good reason. The idea of being pardoned was reinforced by the sudden moans, tightness of his stomach and movement of his hips up and off the sofa cushion. With both hands, cigar still between his fingers, he held Vanessa's head stationary, impaled on his erupting dick. Her nose and lips were buried in his salt and pepper pubic hair. Tony closed his eyes tightly and grunted loudly several times, toes curling as he no doubt flooded her pharyngeal tissue with his fluid. He kept her head in place for several seconds after the reproductive expulsion; his daughter's smoke-ensconced face contorted to ensure every drop had been obtained. 

Her deviant hunger for her father's penis satisfied for the moment, Vanessa raised her face, framed with perspiration, black circled eyes wet, but smiling broadly. She slid up his torso, sandwiching his still-solid dick between them, and kissed him quickly on the mouth. At this angle I could see her tremulous ass cheeks surrounding the thong bikini. They were reddened, I imagined, by a diligent spanking from her father. I suddenly wanted my own share of the discipline, but it would have to wait. 

"Thank you, Papa." Her sparkling green eyes were big and seemingly filled with childlike wonder and adoration. "I missed you." 

"You're welcome, Princess," he replied, holding her disheveled face. "I missed you, too." 

The poignant moment came to an end when, as is common with the male mind, the next fundamental need besides sex overtook his thoughts. 

"Hey! Who's up for some lunch?" 

After lunch, some time on the beach, and dinner, the weekend continued as one might imagine. 

- 

Among the three of us in the 'secret club', there have been lots of reddened cheeks, handcuffs, leather belts, fucks, sweat, arguments, tears, and orgasms in the years since that summer, some I was a part of, some not. But none could have been as intensely beautiful as that first raw early morning when Vanessa finally got what she had always wanted, however twisted it may have been.



Bad Deal Ch. 02



The essential elements of this story are true, but the names have been changed to protect the not particularly innocent.

I had visited Josh's apartment five times, the pattern changed very little each time. I would arrive at this place; Josh would say nothing when he opened the door, it was understood what I was required to do. I would strip at the door, leaving my clothes in a pile, then walk to the 'playroom' as he called it. Always waiting for me in the playroom was his big screen TV with another selection of his seemingly endless porn collection playing. Josh knew my weakness, and the television always featured huge cocks, huge tits...and always had the desired effect. Josh would leave me back there for ten to fifteen minutes, by the time he finally joined me I would be embarrassingly erect. There is something incredibly humiliating about being naked with a throbbing hardon when the other person is fully dressed. It makes it pretty clear who is in charge. 

Josh had not relented on his hard ass stance, he once again told me that I still owed him six sessions and that number would not go down until I could deep throat every inch of him. He still refused my requests that he wear a condom, I didn't ask after the third session when he used the ruler to administer two very painful slaps to my hard dick, raising an ugly bruise the next day. I had no choice but to swallow two loads every visit, even the second one was remarkably large. He clearly enjoyed forcing me to submit to him, every visit included 'picture time' with Josh dreaming up new humiliating poses as I his flash ensured my compliance. And every session ended with a knee buckling squeeze of my balls. I pleaded with Josh to skip this step every time, hoping my performance in the playroom would earn some mercy. It had no effect, as Josh would steadily tighten his squeeze on my nuts he would lecture me about lying to him about my tiny cock as I would clutch his wrist and gasp for air.

Finally my training at home was paying off. I had begun practicing with a carrot, pushing it further in to my throat until my gag reflex forced me to stop. Finally I had managed to get the 11" mark to my lips and held it there, giving me hope that I could finally handle Josh's thicker tool. When Josh's next email arrived mid-day on Wednesday requesting that I be at his place at 7 I hoped I could finally get my first installment credited.

I arrived at Josh's apartment at 7 sharp, and as usual stripped at the door. Uncharacteristically Josh stood and watched. When I tossed the last of my clothes on the pile I stood and looked at Josh, not knowing what to do with him standing there. Josh was staring at my completely limp dick...'Wow, it's really small when it's soft'. I blushed despite myself, it was the first time he had seen me without at least a partial erection. 'Go get the ruler, and keep it limp' he ordered. I scurried off to the playroom, and returned with the ruler with some trepidation as the ruler at best was a humiliation tool, at worst was used for discipline. "Prop it up with one finger, I don't want to touch it' Josh directed, his tone having a thick hint of disdain. I couldn't help glancing at the clear outline of his cock in his jeans, and recalled the many times he had pointed out my 'flat front' to my own slacks. 'Two inches' Josh announced with a chuckle. 'Be honest, how many times has someone looked at that puny thing and said no thanks'. 'A couple of times' I mumbled in shame recalling both the women and men who had subjected me to the ultimate emasculation. Josh spared me further shame by pointing to play room, I walked back briskly. 

The television was on as usual, the usual fare. I tried desperately to keep from getting aroused, but it was hopeless. As usual Josh arrived about 10 minutes later and my four an a quarter inches were well north of horizontal with a small drip of precum formed on the tip. Josh pointed to the floor at his feet, and settled in to watch. I knelt and waited, transfixed by his straining crotch as the denim struggled to contain his flaccid hose. After a long wait, Josh unsnapped, zipped, and tugged out his huge cock. Even after all the sessions, I still draw a sharp breath when it first flops out on the front of his jeans. Josh signaled for me to start, and chuckled as my first touch of his shaft was accompanied by a sharp jerk in my own tiny cock, with a strong surge of precum. At this point Josh starts a steady dialog about my desperation for relief, taunting me about how I can only look at my drooling dick, how badly I must need to stroke it, how pathetic I am that I have to give up my own orgasm to suck another guys cock. He loves to make me tell him in detail about the discomfort both in session, and that lingers on well after. 

Josh is not only blessed with a freakishly large cock, but incredible stamina. As I used both hands to hoist his heavy, limp shaft he barely reacted. I immediately set to work with my tongue and my hands, caressing, licking, suckling his huge head. Very, very slowly his tool thickens, achingly gradually it straightens, painfully slowly the head fills and plumps to impossible proportions, then gets even larger. By now my knees ache on the hardwood floor. By the time Josh reaches full erection my whole body has a sheen of sweat. Josh loves to taunt me about how hard he makes me work just to get him hard, knowing full well he is still a long, hard working session away from orgasm. He loves to point out the state he puts me in...he is cool and comfortably relaxed, I am soaked in sweat and cramped with aching knees; he is barely turned on, I am panting and puddling precum on the hardwood floor beneath me. This amuses Josh to no end. He loves watching my drooling aching discolored cock, knowing my arousal is steadily breaking me down and tormenting me. He ridicules how hard I have to work to get him barely aroused, while I am in a panting frenzy with a puny cock that has NOT BEEN TOUCHED!

Finally, with Josh fully hard comes the moment of truth, and I realize at that moment I have no chance of success. Staring at his hard shaft, thicker than my practice carrot but maybe manageable, I realize I have not taken in to account the size of the huge head, which approaches the size of a small apple. I have no chance of opening my throat to accommodate that massive bulb that now rests on his stomach well above his navel. With both hands I grasp the base of his shaft, neither hand wraps fully around, and tip the head toward my mouth. I am forced up off of my knees to get up over the top, and stretch my mouth over his head. As I slide about six inches in my fears are confirmed, as his head corks my throat opening, and any attempt to proceed is futile. Josh realizes only now realizes that I had hoped to make the breakthrough today, and laughs at my pathetic attempt and complete failure. Clearly incapable, I sadly resort to what he has come to call a 'half cocked blowjob', referring to the portion of his shaft that stays out of reach. With a now established pattern of mouth, hand and tongue I induce Josh to unload his first cumload at the back of my throat. Aching and sore, I know the process starts over again in about 30 minutes, and is even slower and harder the second time.

Worst of all, I have not paid down my debt.



Bad Deal Ch. 02



Bad Deal Part Two

The Sole Witness to the Transformation

Hello and welcome to the second of my autobiographical accounts of the most exceptional and spectacular experience in my admittedly jaded, younger sex life - namely witnessing the paternal, incestuous affair obsessively sought by my longtime bi girlfriend. This narrative essentially picks up where the first left off, as these initial happenings were the most shocking and intense, at least to me, a rare spectator to something that usually never escapes a family's sphere of secrecy. These events of over ten years ago are reported as accurately as memory serves. Those in search of a tale of young, large-breasted women are forewarned, both female participants are petite and were over thirty at the time. There is sado-masochism and urine play, so please proceed according to your own tastes.

At The Beach House - Naked And On Our Knees

I didn't think I had ever seen someone want it so much. Catching my breath and trying to distract myself from the unsatisfied, simmering, inverted cauldron between my legs and the stinging, recently flogged warmth of my breasts and ass, I looked into her reddened, inflamed eyes. What possessed pathologically dominant Vanessa to find such joy in submitting to her father? Her original aspirations of having her Papa's stiffened penis at her beckon call - what she ultimately expected from all the men she bedded - had been squelched during their emotional phone conversations over the past couple weeks. Simply stated, if she wanted to be one of Tony's 'girlfriends', she would never be dominant, and there was no guarantee of any 'vanilla' fucking. His use of her mouth and genitals would be where and when he dictated and she would be treated as sweetly or as harshly as he desired, just like all the other 'skanks' - his term. Otherwise, Tony refused his daughter's pleas for sex. Vanessa and I were now part of his harem - an assortment of women ranging from frustrated, divorced soccer moms to extensively tattooed biker girls to nymphomaniac fifty-somethings.

After watching Vanessa being fucked hard - there is no loving description to be placed here - by her father for the last several minutes, it had become my belief that the most gratifying subject a dominant can have is another dominant - one with a weakness. One who does not masochistically desire to be face slapped and flogged with a belt as foreplay, but consents for some compromising reason. Vanessa's Achilles heel was her sick - I could never do it with my dad - obsession for sex with her father, at any cost, including her comfort, dignity and the satisfaction of her own sadistic cravings. She was not in charge, whipping and urinating on me or reaming out her ex-husband's rectum with a strap-on; she was now on the receiving end of her father's unpredictable wrath, an ironic twist, to say the least.

In the fully lit bedroom, my brunette lover's emerald eyes, the ones that had captivated me for years, were expelling tears of both pain and ecstasy. The gray, cosmetic-tinted droplets were not gently cascading down her tanned cheeks, however. They were being flung into the air by the motions of her head as she was slammed from behind violently in an animalistic, canine-style fuck on the thumping bed. Despite her Papa's physical and verbal abuse, her strained, gasping vocal responses were ones of phallic worship and gratitude.

I was kneeling on the floor, holding her forearms and facing her while she cowered on the sheets, trembling. Her breasts were once the primary weapon of her perverted, youthful campaign to tempt her Papa into this very act. Now they were being ignored, reduced to simply another part of her anatomy, just a pair of hanging female teats on a mating quadruped, jolting with the rhythmic shockwaves her body was enduring. Vanessa gripped my wrists with her manicured orange nails. They dug into my skin as grinning Tony - the same devious grin his daughter inherited - sweaty and cursing, a temperamental but caring father that had spoiled Vanessa all her life, now at her behest, was tightly gripping the flesh of her hips and fucking the hell out of her again. Despite Vanessa's physical distress, in between the vulgar dialogue and nearly constant drumbeat of her grunts, she smiled at me through her tears.

Earlier That Day

It had been a wonderful, sunny, hot afternoon. After lunch, we sat out on the beach as the rest of the world continued around us, unaware of the shocking, intimate secret the three of us held within. That first, explosive act of incest weeks ago maintained a real sense of permanence, like a second loss of virginity or a change in citizenship, and was now amplified by its agreed upon escalation. As Tony' cigar smoke wafted past us in the breeze, our conversation was minimal. Things were still awkward, despite my two companions' seemingly cavalier attitude toward their bizarre new relationship. As I reclined in the sun, my semi-conscious brain kept entertaining idiotic notions of television news reporters having discovered the scandalous arrangement, 'crimes against nature', as the legal code referred to them, and suddenly accosting us as a small crowd gathered.

"Tony? I'm Marsha Jones, Action News. Is it true that you had sex with your own daughter several weeks ago and plan to violate her, Vatican law, and state statutes again tonight and probably several times a year for the rest of your lives?"

"Yeah, Marsha, she wouldn't shut up about it, and even got her little friend ovah there to harass me, so decided I to let her have it, and how," Tony said, pounding his fist into his opposite palm. "I guess the houses, cars and trust fund weren't enough for my bubble butt princess, so I'm gonna bruise her slippery snatch again this weekend, and pummel her little friend's hole, too." He audibly pounded his fist once more.

"So Vanessa, did you enjoy the oral sex you performed just hours ago? Can you tell our viewers what it's like to have your father's erect penis in your mouth?"

"Oh Miss Jones, it was just heavenly! I've fantasized about it ever since I first heard what a 'blowjob' was from the older kids at school. It was worth waiting almost twenty years!" A giggling Vanessa said. My imagination had suddenly placed her back in a bare-midriff cheering uniform and pompoms, with her braces making a return appearance. She then did a panty-free toe touch jump for the cameraman, who had an instant boner in his pants.

The reporter - a real network journalist, but Marsha Jones was not her actual name - blonde and gorgeous in a red, short-skirted business suit, then turned her cleavage and microphone toward me.

"Claire, is it true that this is something you've wished for her since your girlfriend's first confessions to you that she wanted a good old fashioned fatherly fuck? Is it a fact that Tony blames Vanessa's mother's 'hillbilly' roots for this obsession?"

"Well, yes Marsha," I slid my out-of-style Ray-Bans onto the top of my head and spoke into the mike, " and her mom is from the mountains, so..."

I realized how stupid this inane imaginary scenario was. A yank on my arm from Vanessa suddenly jolted me back to reality.

"Wake up sleeping beauty! Let's jump in the ocean!"

We walked hand-in-hand - no one notices when two women do it - over the rough sand into the roaring, reflective green and white surf. Its waves were chilling and forbidding at first, but we sliced our way in and it gradually caressed us calmly as we stood in chest high water, briefly weightless as its swells passed through. It was here that my girlfriend, her stunning face glistening in the sun, related a summary of her discussions with her father, akin to a pact with the devil. She admitted to being happier than she had been in years, but never being quite so apprehensive in her life. The princess who could have practically anything was now getting it all, including the privilege of extracting the king's seed. Also creeping into her consciousness, was the doubt and fear most of us commoners experience when doing something we know we shouldn't be. I advised her it was called 'guilt', a somewhat foreign term for her. I could have warned Vanessa that fucking her father would eat away at her soul on some level, but she wouldn't have listened, she wanted it so much.

Eventually we made our way out of the comforting normalcy of the Atlantic. I had worn a family friendly, one-piece tropical patterned suit, due to my earlier misconception about the nature of the weekend. Despite compliments, I felt matronly compared to gorgeous Vanessa in her latest 'illegal' purple thong bikini, the top of which was fairly transparent when wet. Needless to say it showcased her nipples, conspicuous temptations that belonged on much larger breasts, we always joked. Several heads turned, all to survey my girlfriend, fore and aft, as she exited the water. She loved the attention, as usual, and it was hard to believe she was the mother of two.

I'm sure Tony enjoyed the view of the feminine results of his gene pool as well, but he had been involuntarily looking at his exhibitionist daughter's bare body for quite some time now, having found it impossible to keep her covered up at home years ago. I can only imagine his mental conflicts and blood pressure increase as a teenaged Vanessa paraded around the house braless and leaning forward frequently in a short, thin pajama tank top and panties, intentionally untrimmed pubic hair projecting from beneath the borders - at least that's what she claimed she had done - whenever her mother was away. Summers - I was witness to some of these - and his daughter's poolside experiments with wet, sticky, t-shirts, sleeves and sides hacked away, as substitutes for bikini tops must have been especially wrenching for her Papa.

An apartment of her own, a boyfriend, a shotgun wedding and the birth of her son, may have quickly rendered her incestuous urges for her father dormant. Also, another lover, kept secret at the time, may have directed Vanessa's focus elsewhere, to other forbidden pleasures. Back then Tony wasn't yet aware that his daughter was bisexual, and her ex-roommate, the somewhat strange but flirtatious girl Claire, had fallen hard for Vanessa. Despite her marital status, the two young women were routinely sneaking off, devouring and assaulting each other's pussies.

By the time the bisexual love had been revealed and I had moved in with her at newly-divorced Papa's giant house in our mid-twenties, poolside topless or naked sunbathing and even jet skiing on the small, secluded lake was commonplace, when her child was away with her ex, of course. Vanessa and I were sometimes joined in the sun by swim-trunked Tony - not wanting to tempt - and one of his girlfriends du jour. The visiting women were surprised, but usually became naked themselves and didn't take offense to the casual, 'European' attitude the family must have held toward female nudity - what other reason could there be for an adult daughter to be completely bare in front of her father for hours at a time?

Gradually Vanessa made the reluctant transition from wild orgy girl to soccer mom. However, as she neared thirty, she found that her incestuous obsession had resurfaced, the only forbidden vine from which she had not yet sampled the fruit. Emancipated by her second divorce from Marco, the princess was again free to pursue the king's treasures.

That Night at the Beach House

There is not much to say about a suspenseful, romantic evening here. It was a given that there would be some serious fucking before the sun rose again, and everyone knew it at the restaurant. Still, we all acted as our former selves - the people that existed when the incest was just a warped fantasy to Vanessa , and a burden, or maybe an unprofessed dark desire of her father's. I pretended I didn't see him orgasm into her throat before lunch, and I hadn't been at the fringes of the mattress, intently watching him angrily violate her that first time weeks ago. This dinner was just a normal meal with father, daughter, and daughter's best friend.

It was maybe three drinks after our arrival back at the house. My girlfriend and I basically pounced on her Papa after some dirty girl-girl dancing, tongue kissing, and body fondling as he watched from the sofa. I was wearing my same tube-top sundress, perked up with some of my girlfriend's jewelry, since I basically brought an abbreviated wardrobe more suitable for fast food than nice restaurants.

As he watched his daughter wriggle her tight sexy dress up and off over her shoulders, I knelt between his hairy calves. In quite the mood to hostess an erection, I unbuckled, unzipped and yanked on Tony's shorts and boxers until I could wet my lips and hungrily fellate his scrumptious, swollen tool for the first time. As I joyfully enveloped his wide shaft I caressed his furry nuts, grateful for the chance to help relieve him of a portion of the salty liquid seemingly weighting them down.

Meanwhile Vanessa had instantly abandoned her lacy yellow panties, hopped on the couch, straddled and stood above my slurping, pumping head. She faced away from her father as he grabbed her upper thighs with a slap. She bent forward, backed her rump into his nose and began to grind her fully shaved vulva around on his face. The stocky, muscular, hairy man was rock hard as he celebrated his first taste of his daughter's pussy. At several points he grasped her thighs or bra between the cups as a handle and halted her motion, seemingly trying to reach her fallopian tubes with his tongue as he noisily jammed it deep within. Vanessa's eyes met mine occasionally as I looked up at the end of an ascent of her father's dick and she gasped with pleasure from his efficient pelvic exploration; my lover never looked happier.

Despite my best, humming efforts at wringing and vacuuming Tony's erection with my hands, lips and tongue, after several minutes he grew impatient and extricated himself from beneath us, standing up. I immediately missed the sovereignty of his solid dick in my mouth. As I leaned back, the wagging crimson Cyclops glistened with my saliva in the room lights, teasing me several inches from my lips, and only a couple feet from my pussy, which had already begun its screaming at me.

Tony leaned down and slid a thumb and forefinger inside the front shirring of my dress and yanked harshly on one of my nipples and ordered my clothes off. He left my pale breast peeking out, as if it was a rejected item on a store shelf. "When did you get to be such a prude?" he said, not pleased that I was still dressed like a Sunday school teacher on vacation. He began sliding his belt off through the loops of his unfastened Bermuda shorts. "Front bedroom," he commanded - this was getting good.

I remained kneeling and tugged the dress upward, exposing my late summer, tan-lined body - fully naked opportunities in the sun were a rare luxury by now - rendering me in panties only. I had switched to plain gray cotton briefs, small in size but utilitarian, incorrectly thinking I would get the opportunity to remove them before they were seen.

"Sexy," Tony said sarcastically. His lower face wore the sheen of his daughter's juices amidst his heavy five o'clock shadow as he turned and walked away.

Watching his beautifully hair-covered ass but sulking like a scolded dog, I leaned on one hip and slipped the panties and my platform espadrilles off, realizing I had to 'up my game' with Tony - Vanessa or no Vanessa. This was no lonely young enlisted man I met on a plane or ex-boyfriend stopping by for a quickie. Tony had fucked - and would continue to - many women younger and much more beautiful than me. It was time to display a little attitude and get, well, nasty. I grabbed my nearby purse, checked my hair, touched up my makeup and reapplied my lipstick quickly. I held the ice-filled metal cocktail shaker alternately against my nipples, as they picked tonight to suddenly become shy.

I heard my girlfriend pissing out her martinis in the bathroom as I strutted confidently into the bedroom naked and there he stood, erect, holding the belt, wearing only his Izod shirt. I love a man with no pants on - naked, shirtless or trousers around the ankles can have other meanings. No pants to me means one general thing, that a man has imminent plans to use his cock.

Still, to his surprise, I resisted the siren call of his enticingly full and rugged, dancing member. Trying to increase my stock as it was, I childishly stuck my tongue out at him - there was no way he would have taken a seductive look seriously - then circled around and knelt behind him. I clutched his forested ass cheeks and parted them aggressively, then performed an oral act known more for its degrading nature than the pleasure it gives. Tony moaned, leaned forward and chuckled a little as I probed his salty orifice. His fingers entwined in and pulled on my hair once again, and soon my tongue was making a repeating circuit from his lower back to his hanging nuts. All the while his vulgar insults and my concurring admissions joined with the graceful orchestral music now drifting into the air from the house's sound system.

"Are you going to use to use that belt?" I managed to inquire sassily in between trips , my . "Or are you going to stand there..." I performed another lick, "...playing with it while I finger your ass?"

Tony pulled away and my left cheek instantly stung with a slap. It was a stronger reaction than I expected, but my comment, implying he liked things in his butt, was essentially an insult and got his attention. He was still nice and hard, I noticed as I looked up at his smoldering brown eyes, now facing me. "C'mon, I bet you like it. Just one finger?" I wiggled my middle digit in mid air, approaching his butt between his thighs. He smacked me again.

Face throbbing after the instigated second slap, I was commanded to shut up, arise and bend over the bed. Vanessa, now completely naked and laughing at my remarks, had returned at some point during the rim job, and was now reaching over and happily stroking her Papa's dick. The father-daughter team then endeavored to increase the dial on my vagina to broil as they conspired to lash my vulnerable ass. The breathtaking dozen or so strokes - I couldn't tell who was actually in command of the belt - followed my lover's trademark style, un-foretold in quantity, deliciously unannounced and random in both timing and intensity. I squirmed and whimpered with the creation of each stinging welt. Panting with my jaw unattractively held open, my body pulsing with endorphins, I tried to stand erect with my hands clasped behind my head when prompted for the inevitable next phase, the sacrifice of my geometrically pale breast flesh. However, Tony insisted on having me span the mattress side to side on my back, with my head hanging way off the edge. It was more extreme than even the venerable inverted blowjob position, but my tits did project outward in similar fashion to being suspended head down from my ankles. Up on the bed immediately above my hurting ass, I felt my vagina gush with anticipation of the momentary agony. Finally the nerve endings in my heaving breasts registered the burn of his lashes to my ribcage. I exclaimed more loudly when a nipple was seared by the arriving belt. To put it mildly, I was now ready to fuck anything - his dick, her fist, a zucchini, a bedpost - just give me something to stuff it with.

Without fanfare I was ordered up onto all fours, As I crawled into place on the bed, I pathetically begged for his cock. Thankfully this bull of a man wasted little time roughly grabbing my hips and plunging into my heated, welcoming wet cunt. I usually don't refer to it in such a manner, but that was the way I felt about it at such moments, a damned receptacle, wailing for attention. How could a body part be so needy? I gasped and moaned with compliments and pleasure while Tony's forcefully pumping, luscious girth - my first time with him - began to satiate me. I would have loved for Vanessa to crawl beneath my face for kisses or to spread her thighs, but my mouth was occupied, confirming his unflattering statements about my disreputable, two dollar-per-patron sexual history and lack of hygiene. None of it was true, but I would have admitted to anything to keep him pounding me. Sadly, it did not last long. Apparently it had been just a quick, five minute, cock-moistening opening bout for Tony's main event - fucking the hell out of his beautiful offspring.




Bad Deal Ch. 02



I was literally pushed out of the bed until I was on the carpet. Vanessa, toting the coiled belt per her father's instructions, took my place on the mattress. Our eyes met; my girlfriend looked pensive. Her hair had been lassoed into two high ponytails, youthfully reminiscent of her high school gymnastics era, ready for her father to fuck her a second time. She got on all fours as well, handing the belt to him, lowering her shoulders and raising her ass to receive her penance, for lack of a better term, to be carried out for over a decade's worth of crimes against modesty, decency and morality.

Her father, his roving semaphore sparkling with my pussy dew, retreated off the bed to guarantee a good swing at Vanessa's beautiful, waiting cheeks. With the black leather strap partially uncoiled, he began a quickly paced flogging of his daughter's buttocks, his countenance one of concentration.

My girlfriend - not predisposed to being spanked or flogged - cried out, winced, and flutter-kicked her feet, then rubbed them against each other in angst. Her face, despite her tan, turned a shade of red. I shuffled over to her on my knees and pried her hands from their tight grip on the sheets and held them. I took in the wonderful scent of her hair as she buried her jaw in the crook of my neck; her body jumped with each strike. Her Papa had removed his shirt to reveal the chevron-like pattern - a personal favorite- of dark hair covering his tanned chest and stomach. Of course I had seen it before, but now, the enhanced view with his protruding scarlet tool below, made the recent loss of his penile attention even more maddening.

Her father claimed she was receiving extra lashes for laughing at my earlier joke - I knew their collusion during my ass whipping was short lived. I didn't enjoy seeing her hurt, despite the pain, emotional as well as physical, she had caused me over the years. Vanessa, perspiring and sobbing when he declared he was done, thanked him through her sniffles for the flogging and vilely begged for him to fuck her.

Tony made his crying, horny princess beg for a minute or so, clearly stating her wishes using vulgar anatomical references, and identifying herself as his 'nasty slut daughter', and making her repeat both their names, including surnames. The bizarre ceremony was apparently intended to emphasize the familial nature of what was about to happen; it actually seemed to inflame her desire, as Vanessa's tone was nearly euphoric on the final repetition.

Finally her Papa hopped on the mattress and shoved his demanding organ into her with a grunt. After only a couple dozen powerful thrusts or so he suddenly retrieved the waiting belt from the sheet and lashed his daughter's bare back diagonally. Caught by surprise, Vanessa interrupted her heavy breathing and joyous guttural moans with an ear-piercing shriek. Her Papa didn't waiver as he kept up his angry cock's onslaught, as if he was trying to fuck and beat his daughter's twisted lust for him right out of her body, to cure her of a possession. The application of the belt wasn't frequent, but incendiary when it did occur. Her vocal responses to the exorcizing strikes ranged from soft groans to wailing, sobbing outcries, somewhat similar to the dramatic soprano aria that now emanated from the house's sound system. Still, Vanessa continued to take her father's pounding cock, every plump inch, as long as it was offered, along with the sadistic lashes.

After several more minutes of slamming into his tearful daughter's pussy, Tony suddenly halted his motion, but kept his dick implanted inside her. He reached out with his left hand, pulling Vanessa's sweaty, shimmering torso nearly vertical by a ponytail, making her tender, frontal flesh vulnerable .

No longer needing her arms for balance, she reached down and began frantically rubbing her clit, breathing loudly and erratically. My girlfriend then yelped repeatedly like a frightened puppy as her grunting father rapidly flogged her stomach, pelvis and helpless breasts. I watched with a combination of jealousy and pity as the strikes sailed across her body from armpit to thigh.

Within seconds, Vanessa's beautiful torso looked like a large Japanese alphabet character had been written across it in pale red ink. Tony harshly yanked and gyrated her nipples, then, in one of the most cruel gestures I had seen, he forced his daughter's hand away from her clitoral massage, and began belt strikes moderately between her thighs. Desperate cries and groans toward the ceiling from her contorted face ensued, but soon the dark-haired beauty, clutched from behind by her Papa's large, U.S. Navy eagle-tattooed forearm while her vagina likewise grasped his cock, screamed and convulsed from the longest orgasm I had ever seen her have, still to this day.

Vanessa sobbed loudly as she was released and fell forward, her trembling arms unable to hold her shoulders off the bed. Her finger did manage to find its way back to her clit. The faucet of tears and shuddering, groaning climaxes continued as Tony fucked her another ten minutes or so, then grunted loudly and with contempt as his fluid was unleashed, raining all over her lower back. The third incestuous encounter, a brutal 'belt fuck' as they came to be called, was over. Tony simply dismounted and left the room silently amid breathless praise and thanks from his tearful daughter.

With gathered fingers I began to garner the viscous prize Vanessa sought off her tanned back. There was no ovum to fertilize this night; her father's spermatozoa would have to be content surfing on our tongues and swimming about in our stomachs as we shared them during several long, deliberate kisses.

A Couple Hours Later

About three that morning, I was awakened in the dark by Tony yanking the sheet off me as I slept next to Vanessa - who, in pain, remorseful, and aided by a Percoset, had cried herself to sleep in my arms. He fondled my breast as the remnant of a warm, stale Martini was poured into my mouth and Tony - already hard, I could see in the dim light - was apparently enamored with wee hour, surprise fucks and not phased by his daughter asleep next to me - plunged his tongue into my mouth. Despite his gin and cigar breath, I was flattered. Still naked and still genitally sopping from the previous activity, I whispered "Yes! Please sir, thank you sir,' as I instinctively spread my thighs.

This essay is about primarily about Vanessa and her father, but I will say Tony and I meshed like two well-greased gears; even without the whole angry incest angle, the guy was a fifty-two year old sex machine. This time there was no belt, although I wouldn't have shied away from a little punishment of the insistent pussy that barely let me fall asleep. After a few exhilarating face slaps I settled in and clung to his stout neck shoulders as best I could for a nice, long, thigh-bruising missionary fuck. He was relentless, and his dick felt like a concrete post inside me. Our eyes met frequently and I had always been fond of him, and initiated lots of open, salivary kisses. At one point the king size mattress was nearly bouncing airborne off the box spring, and Vanessa stirred and kicked at us, yelling something undecipherable.

Tony solved the problem by pulling out and deftly scooping me up - I'm only a shade over one-twenty - and draping me face down over the back of an overstuffed, upholstered chair. As his onslaught resumed from the rear, I was allowed to rub myself to a few dizzying, juicy orgasms - the stains in the fabric were discovered later - as his strong hands harshly kneaded and pinched my still-stinging breasts and nipples. His solidified muscle skillfully tenderized my finally-happy vagina, and soon he precipitously splattered my derriere with his semen - both his women for the weekend had undergone a tubal ligation, but he took no chances.

My girlfriend's father praised me as 'a good little cheap slut' before pulling me by the scalp off the chair back and toward the room's sliding glass door. Once past the threshold I was released and pirouetted clumsily onto the breezy deck and sat, uncomfortably planting my freshly creamed but inflamed buttocks onto the worn wood at his command. Instinctively I opened my thighs and my jaw to receive his ad hoc parting gift, an acrid stream of gin-infused urine - Tony rejoiced that he had wanted to 'piss all over' me for years. Still, reveling in yet another submissive moment, I breathlessly thanked him for fucking me as his heated bodily waste began to make trails down my torso, its salinity accosting my palate and burning my welts and battered labia in the tepid night air.

The Next Morning

I awoke after nine, exquisitely sore, especially down below. The room was empty of Vanessa, and Tony slept elsewhere of course. It wasn't a surprise that those two didn't want to awake to face each other in bed, although that would eventually change.

It was another sunny beach worthy day, although I wasn't sure how the pinkish stripes peeking out from beneath my swimsuit would be interpreted by the viewing public. After my girlfriend's 'My God, my God, I can't believe I'm doing this' sobbing revelations before she slept last night, I doubted any more sex would occur this day. If the group even remained intact, we would probably all just get something to eat and head for home, I assumed. I could hear some quiet conversation downstairs, and better yet, smelled coffee.

Having previously showered after Tony's strenuous but wonderful surprise visit last night, I emptied my bladder, took some Tylenol and threw on a t-shirt - exactly half of the outfit I planned to wear on the three-hour drive home. Sloppy but comfortable shorts and tops were mandatory when tight elastic waistbands and bra straps were not welcome across my welted flesh. Those at the restaurant or gas station who would stare due to the destabilized breasts beneath my shirt, have at it - a glimpse of my occasional high school-era immodesty.

I walked out onto the gallery walkway, which, due to a vaulted ceiling, overlooks the house's great room and kitchen. There are huge windows, and something outside by the pool caught my eye. It was a wet black bikini draped over a wood railing, recently worn, dripping into the puddle beneath it. As usual, any lucky neighbors may have gotten an eye full of Vanessa as she dried off, wrapped the towel around her and then removed the bikini from beneath it, a precarious sequence not always followed by either of us.

A trail of reflective footprints led to the kitchen, where I saw my girlfriend on her back on the marble surface of the center island, lying naked on top of the aforementioned towel. Her long, dark wavy hair was simply stunning wet. Unkempt and wild, its sparkling, naturally curled lower fringes surrounded but yielded to her projecting nipples. Smiling, gasping Vanessa's tanned legs were raised and spread, knees bent. Once again I was wrong about her appetite for her father, despite the post-coital remorse.

The reason for such a juxtaposition was Tony, who had not gone swimming, but was still experiencing the pool to a degree. His boxers were bulging staunchly in the front as he was bent down and thirstily lapping the chlorinated water out of his daughter's pussy. She was sitting up enough that she had a hand in his slightly graying, thinning hair, caressing his scalp. I almost spoke aloud about their insatiability; holy shit, it was nine thirteen in the morning and they were at it again. There was a nearly full pot of coffee under the cabinet and half eaten bagels near my girlfriend's head. But I decided to back away, not wanting to interrupt their moment. Silently, I committed to caffeine withdrawal and laid down on the carpet on my stomach to watch the show undetected from between the balcony railing balusters. I would confess my voyeurism at another time, hoping now to enjoy the sheer magnificence of another one of their fucks. I would not be disappointed.

Over the next half hour, and to my surprise, I soon discovered something else about Tony - he wasn't all anger and leather belts. He was still in charge of his female, to be sure, and some insults, ass, breast and vulva slapping occurred. But, overall, at least initially, father and daughter had a long, ardent, gratifying, hot, tasty fuck. I can't think of any other words to describe the lingering deep kisses, the tight, grinding embraces, mutual looks of satisfaction and celebration, or the growing intensity of their rhythmic motions. Their synchronicity as they switched positions - they were creatively all over the great room furniture in any of a half dozen stances - seemed almost scripted. I had never seen Vanessa enjoy being fucked by a man so much. Their perspiring bodies - hers still bore the pink marks of his belt, lest she forget - were almost glowing in the sunlight. When they both faced the same direction, their similar facial features, culled from their Mediterranean ancestors, emphasized the forbidden, incestuous, absolute sinfulness of this enthusiastic mating. Their guttural, abstract vocal expressions grew more intense, and soon my girlfriend was wailing and gasping with a loud orgasm as her father twisted and stretched her nipples from behind, rubbing her clitoris. Her Papa then set to work on a test of his daughter's limits once more.

Tony hoisted up out-of-breath Vanessa's limp, sweaty body from his position behind and poured her - more or less - face down onto the sofa. He left the room but soon and returned. From my vantage point it was suddenly clear that some of the margarine from the kitchen island would not reach the intended bagels, or even see the light of day much longer as it coated his swaying cock.

Unaware of the purpose of their brief separation, my fatigued girlfriend tried to raise her hips to present her vanquished genitals once more to her chosen conqueror, but her efforts were reversed by a hand on her lower back. Her father's intent suddenly became clear.

"Papa! No!" A shocked Vanessa wailed in vain, as Tony's pelvis hovered over her beautiful but pink-striped ass cheeks.

Still pinning her to the sofa, I watched Tony's ass descend as he apparently began to press into her aperture, without so much as a verbal preamble or reconnoitering finger.

"I don't do this God damn it! Papa! Papa...please..." Her voice cracked as her tone rapidly shrank from demanding to pleading.

A loud female grunt and a scream worthy of a drive-in horror movie echoed off the ceiling as his thick, buttered cock descended into his squirming daughter's rectum. Vanessa's arms flailed, her eyes watered and face contorted as she began to sob loudly. She wasn't lying - Princess Vanessa didn't do anal anything, maybe an occasional finger of mine, and here she was with her father's fat, stiff dick rudely pushing her sphincter open, way past its comfort zone.

Tony moaned and cursed with a surprised note, probably at the level of resistance encircling his erection. He slowly, almost gently, lowered his hips further to meet her quaking cheeks as his daughter sobbed erratically, nearly hyperventilating, now tightly gripping the edges of the sofa's leather seat cushions. He didn't move right away, possibly from compassion or more likely cruelty, making her wait for the outbound stroke, a motion that would agonizingly drag the reluctantly yielding ring of muscles in the opposite direction. I was quite jealous at that moment, imagining his full weight on me with that baked potato dick - okay I'm exaggerating - of his in my ass.

"Please stop Papa! Please!"

"Shutup Vanessa Marie! Do I have to go get my belt?" He yelled paternally through gritted teeth into her ear. "Do I?"

"No."

"No what?"

"No sir."

"Are you a nasty whore?"

"Yes sir." She wiped the snot from her upper lip with her palm, and flung it onto the rug with only partial success.

"Are you also my little girl?"

"Yes Papa." her nose was clogged, altering her voice, as did her short breath and grunting reaction to what I believe was the first cock ever in her ass - she refused access to her ex, and once punched a guy in the mouth that had tried it back in our younger group fuck days. I'd wager she was saving her final frontier for Tony.

"What does that make you?" he quizzed, evidently referring to an earlier conversation.

"A slut daughter and the worst possible kind of whore."

"And what do I do to the worst, nastiest slut whores?"

"You fuh.." she stuttered, "fuck them in the ass."

"Aren't you gonna thank me for fucking you in the ass?"

It was very strange seeing her on the receiving end of such an exchange, as it was usually me making the admissions of nastiness and begging for abuse. Over the next several minutes, sniffling Vanessa indeed thanked her father multiple times for the rectal and biological discomfort she was experiencing.

Soon sweating like she had run several miles in the summer heat, Vanessa cursed, sobbed and occasionally shrieked - but kept thanking her father as he insulted and slowly buttfucked her. Gradually Tony shortened the timing of his cycle, almost to a 'normal' sex pace, and Vanessa began to groan loudly and erratically. Her fingers once again found her clitoris, and soon her cursing father was expelling his sperm into her colon. Tony remained on top of and inside her as Vanessa wailed with pleasure and agony, her torso stiffening intermittently beneath his. Gradually the room fell silent, except for the labored breath of their glistening, naked bodies. This was the first time Tony remained with her afterward.

I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind as he laid on top of his daughter. Did he feel blessed or damned, having created such a beautiful creature that obsessively craved his carnal attention?

He eventually hoisted himself up and away. It was my instinct to go and comfort her, but the timing would have exposed my voyeurism. To my surprise, Tony returned to the room after a toilet flush down the hall, deflated but victorious cock swinging, carrying a folded damp towel to soothe her rectum and absorb anything that might percolate out. He produced a glass of water and a couple pills and squatted down by her puffy, red face - she understandably hadn't altered her position on the couch yet.. She took the pills - assuredly painkillers as he gently dragged the towel between her marked butt cheeks. Welcome to the striped, sore ass club, your highness, I thought. Tony kissed her on the lips sweetly and stroked her face and hair as she sniffled. The stocky tough guy told her he loved her more than anything. A wide smile spread across her lips. It brought me to tears.

I went back to bed and surreptitiously masturbated. Who could resist after watching such a long, wonderful fuck?

That afternoon in the solitude of the drive home I realized that these two had been absolutely in love for years, so much so that it finally breeched the wall of accepted father-daughter morals and gushed into primal, animal lust. It was only a matter of time, an inevitability that they would fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck. And damn, did they ever.



Bad Deal Ch. 03



Let me start out by saying Skip is not special...he is convinced that he somehow bumbled in to his predicament, but honestly he followed a well designed path that yields the same result every time...a guy naked and on his knees, his dick is hard and drooling, and he is agreeing to everything and anything I tell him to get his mouth on my dick. Nothing about his experience was spontaneous, unintentional, or unique to him from my perspective.

First, about me...I am a regular guy, I am bi, and I do have a huge cock. It is about 10.5" hard; it reaches well past my navel and is so thick I can't get my hand around it, not even close. When I am with women I am a normal, very patient and passionate lover. The patient part is mandatory, with a dick like mine you have to take it real slow and easy. My only quirk when I am with a lady is I will admit I love being in a good position to see their reaction when my huge hose flops out of my pants...whether I am standing or they are kneeling, I like to see their look of awe and raw lust when they see it for the first time. But otherwise, what I want is good, straight, vanilla sex.

With guys it is a completely different story. The only thing that makes me hot, the only way I am interested in pulling it out for another guy, is when I can force him to completely, totally humiliate himself in hopes of sucking me off. Call it primitive and evil, but completely emasculating the other guy, forcing him to admit his inferiority and then pushing the envelope as far as I feel like is what makes me hot.

So back to Skip. Skip was an absolute prime target. His emails were completely transparent; he is a class A1 big dick hound. Every guy on the net exaggerates his dick size, and Skip's claim of six inches had me rounding down to five. When I spun my web, sent him the pictures, I knew by the tone of his emails that the hook was set real good. That's when the game starts, because I know that a guy sitting at a keyboard with a hard on staring at pictures of my cock is pretty helpless. When he admitted his deceit, as I force all of them to do, and conceded he was closer to four inches than six, something in me clicked and I decided to give him the full treatment.

Skip is a good looking guy. Tall, thin and athletic looking, kind of preppy, fortyish. He is looks like a successful guy. When he arrived at my place I had my game face on. Friendly enough in a cold, detached way. I don't want them to be afraid, but I want to keep them off balance and establish right away who is the boss. He arrived at the door having already signed away his orgasm. Unless I am feeling generous, I usually operate by a 7" rule. I tell every guy that he is signed up to suck me off twice, and I don't reciprocate. What I tell them next varies. If a guy is 7 inches or more I tell him he is free to jerk himself off, usually I insist they go to the bathroom to do it. The little dicked guys, guys under 7 inches, I am particularly cruel to...they know up front that the deal is completely one way. They service, they get really hot and desperate to cum, and they leave that way. While they all know that deal coming in the door, every guy thinks I will change my mind and let them jack off in a post orgasmic moment of weakness. So Skip and his 4 inches came in the door having agreed to leave frustrated.

Skip stood awkwardly at the door while I appraised him silently. I let the silence linger uncomfortably; I always catch them sneaking a peak at my crotch. Finally I direct them to strip right there at the door, clothes in a pile on the floor. I always stand and watch, this is the first step in their humiliation. A guy never feels as naked as he does when the other guy is fully dressed. About half of the guys are already semi-erect at this point, they always pretend not to notice. Skip fell in to the other group. As his clothes fell in to a self consciously neat pile it was obvious he wasn't looking forward to baring his dick. He turned his back as his Jockeys slid down, and finally turned to face me but wouldn't make eye contact. 

Skip has a nicely shaped dick. Nicely proportioned, straight, well formed head. However, it is the smallest dick of any guy I have put through this treatment. Completely flaccid, it appears to be about 2 inches. Part of me was fascinated in an anthropological kind of way, but my more primitive self was deeply affected. I almost felt an indignation, a need to truly punish this guy who so ardently pursues well hung guys, knowing full well that what he is offering in return is a very poor trade. Skip needed to learn a lesson. I directed Skip to the playroom to be fluffed.

Every guy spends about 10 minutes in my playroom waiting for me, mostly to reinforce who has the power. All of them are naked, and all of them are told to stand while they are waiting. I have a 60" television in the playroom, and I always have some very hot straight porn playing. Lots of huge cocks and big tits flopping around, and the result is always the same. After a good wait, I always walk in to the playroom fully dressed and find a guy standing awkwardly in the middle of the room now sporting a full erection. If it is humiliating to be naked in front of a fully dressed guy, standing in front of him with your dick hard is borderline painful for most guys. It really reinforces who holds the power in the situation.

Skip was in worse shape than most guys at this point. I walked in to the playroom, and it took all my self control to stifle a laugh. Like most guys, Skip was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. I had made him wait a little longer than most, and it clearly paid dividends. Skips cock was now stretched to its maximum length and breadth, painfully hard looking and twitching. It pointed well north of horizontal, and had an abundant glistening drop of pre cum. He had a slight flush to his pale skin, and his breathing was noticeably a bit heavy. I flopped on the sofa and asked him if he enjoyed the movie, pretending I hadn't noticed his rigid cock. His voice was hoarse and thick with need. Even fully engorged, his cock is startling for its small size. Eventually my curiosity couldn't be contained, he measures about 4.25 inches. 

It is at this point that, from my perspective, the fun really begins. I am sitting on the sofa wearing a pair of jeans that snugly highlight my thick cock, knowing that guys like Skip have radar lock on my package. I torment them just a little bit by continuing to ignore them in their uncomfortable state as I watch a little of the movie and allow my dick to plump up just a little. Now is when I go for the jugular...now is when I start reaping the benefits of putting a guy like Skip in such a desperate state that we both know he will do anything I demand to earn access to my cock. 

First I need to continue to reinforce how completely one sided this arrangement will be, and my rule that forbids him from touching his own cock is very powerful that way. Every guy reacts the same way as I coolly inform him that if I catch him touching his cock at any time I will shut this whole thing down right away. They all can't help but to glance down helplessly at their painfully rigid dicks, and in the same way an itch you cannot scratch is so maddening, realize a desperate need for even just a couple of strokes to help with their frustration. Skip was no different, but he actually let out a small but quite audible groan as a drip of precum strung downward and mumbled a commitment at my insistence that his dick was off limits.

This is when I diverged from my usual ritual, and decided to try something I had always fantasized about. Skip was clearly so aroused at this point that he could be abused to a degree that I had longed to try, and immediately decided this was that opportunity. I dropped the bomb on Skip...he was on his knees on my hard floor thinking that this submissive position clearly was the path to my dick. How wrong he was...I lectured him for his dishonesty about his size, forcing him to apologize repeatedly and dramatically described how angry I was that he was my only option for a blowjob when there were lots of hung guys out there. He flushed when I informed him he would be sucking me bareback, that his lack of honesty didn't deserve 'condom privileges'. His esteem badly battered, but his erection unrelenting, I went for it. I told Skip he would be signing up to service me not just this evening, but over six sessions, take it or leave it. To ensure his compliance, he was to retrieve my digital camera so we could get some photos of him in his aroused and submissive state. 

Skip clearly looked panicked. While he had resigned himself to pretty much take whatever humiliation he had to endure, handing over such powerful control which would endure beyond being used and abused this one evening frightened him. From his knees, his head only a foot from my denim clad crotch, he sputtered but continued to stare at my bulge. His hardon twitched and bounced helplessly, clearly enslaving his thinking. I slowly unsnapped my jeans and drew my zipper down. Skip's mouth hung open, he was literally panting and unbeknownst to him his hips were humping in a slow rhythm. I pulled up the waistband of my boxer briefs, reached in and hefted my thick cock up from my pant leg and left it lolling sideways covered in cotton. The outline extended to my hip and the girth stretched the briefs obscenely. Skip knew better than to attempt to touch what he so desperately craved, and let out a brief muted wail of frustration. I knew he was broken.

"Skip, the camera...or get dressed and leave." Skip climbed to his feet, it was clear that getting dressed was not an option. As he walked to the far side of the room his tiny cock swayed side to side, in his state I am sure even that swaying created debilitating need for relief. I made no attempt to make this easy for him, it was clear my chuckling was delight with the collapse of his dignity. He walked back, head down and handed the camera to me. I forced him to ask me to take the pictures, then made him retrieve a ruler so we could document his puny cock that now drooled steadily. 

The photos started out pretty straight forward...full frontal, side view with instructions that made it clear that his face was clearly in the picture. We put a ruler on his dick as I began forcing him to admit that a guy with a 6 inch dick would never have to tolerate this kind of degradation. His ass and hanging balls gave us a nice set to start my collection.

Skip did spend much of the evening on his knees on my hard floors. I didn't allow him to retain any dignity as performed for me, pleaded for my cock endlessly, and went through several more rounds of photos that are safely filed on my computer. Ultimately, he did get his reward, and did demonstrate very good oral skills as he brought me to two powerful orgasms. I cruelly held off my second orgasm for a very long time, enjoying his sweat soaked exhaustion, aching jaw and knees as he slobbered over my huge tool. Even in his depleted aching state his own cock never showed any mercy, and he begged pitifully for relief from his tiny erection. The collapse of his self esteem was so complete, his begging for the right to masturbate so humiliating, that I was nearly inspired to demand a third session on his knees... 



Bad Decision Maureen



There is no sex in this story. Maureen just made a stupid decision.

 The story of my friend Maureen

Maureen and her fiancé Ronald (Ron) were planning to be married during the labour day holiday. They had an appointment at the jeweller in two weeks to choose the rings.

That Saturday they were at her brother's for a patio party.

 Her story. As she told me. I wrote in the first person I find it easier to write that way.

We were at my brother's for a patio party. We were introduced to some people we did not know and met some old friends. One man in particular, Henry a friend of my brother was nice looking and seemed to know it. He was very social, especially with the women there, it seemed to me.

He at one point picked me to be the recipient of most of his attentions. This flirting by a nice looking man pleased my ego. He being a friend of my brother I did not want to create a scene but I kept politely sort of putting him down gently but to my regrets later not forcefully, making sure I was not alone with him but with other women or Ron as much as possible.

Ron had to go in the house to use the washroom, and got involved in a conversation with my brother who invited him to join some of the men for a game of pool in the basement. I later learned that he said he would come tell me and then go for a game.

Henry made a bead for me and ran a hand along the side of my face and down my breast. I took his hand away. I should have slapped his face hard instead.

"Henry I have a fiancé and am not interested, go after the single women, there are a few and two nice looking single sisters will be here soon."

"Maybe but you are the best looking woman here and a fiancé is not always around we could have some fun together sometimes. Just once is not a habit, you could give me your cell number I would call you I can tell you are interested." 

Saying that he rubbed his hand again on my breasts. I took it away and backed up two steps.

"The answer is a big no I am not interested! I was just polite to you because you are a friend of my brother and I don't want to create a scene. Now go elsewhere before I complain to my fiancé or brother."

I saw Ron coming out, he had seen Henry rub my breast He headed for us. I had seen Ron in a fight once when a couple punks at a bar did not take no for an answer when I refused to join them for a drink and dances I knew what his stint in the paratroopers taught him to do to idiots in a fight. I intercepted him before he got to us.

" Ron I am a big girl I can handle that don't do anything stupid."

"I can't let another man put his hands on my fiancée and do nothing. I am not a wimp Maureen."

"Don't create a scene Ron I told you I will handle him. He is a friend of Marc I don't want this to become a big thing. Besides he only had his hand on top of my clothes and I removed it."

"He still deserves a good man to man talk."

"No Ron it is not that bad and let me handle it in my own way what he did was not that bad after all."

"You don't seem upset by it, maybe you did not mind at all."

That got me pissed that he would think that I liked it. In retrospect I had removed his hand firmly but not fast, it may have looked like I was in no hurry to remove it. I started to actually push Ron towards the patio door and the house. He let me push and backed towards the door, he stepped inside.

"Now Ron cool it. If you can't act in a civilised manner in my brother's house leave."

I immediately regretted that, but as upset as I was I did not apologize. I should have gone in the house with him.

As soon as he was inside I turned back to go give a piece of my mind to this idiot Henry. 

On the way back to where Henry was one of the women said that I had been hard on my boyfriend but liked and admired the way I had gotten rid of him to leave the way clear for the new guy.

That pissed me even more that some people would interpret what had happened as my getting rid of my boyfriend instead of my trying to prevent a fight. In retrospect that remark should have woken me up. Unfortunately it did not.

I was really pissed by now. At Ron, for insisting until I virtually had to push him off the patio and back in the house instead of just letting me handle the situation in my own way. but a lot more pissed at this idiot and ay myself for not being forceful enough right away with this idiot. He had by this time went to the far end of the patio. I went to him he give me a smile.

"Thanks for getting rid of the interference, I knew you were interested Maureen."

I could not get over the gall of this guy I was speechless for a second but I recovered and really laid into him. My sister came out and asked what the problem was, I told her. She tore a strip out of him too, walked up one side of him and down the other and threatened to have my brother kick him out.

He apologized and promised to stay away from me, he did. Back in the house I asked for Ron. My sister- in- law said that my brother had asked him to join some of the men for a few games of pool in the basement. At least he had not left I was still a little pissed and upset after all this and decided to get a drink and help the sister-in- law with the preparations for the bbq.

I would guess it was close to three hours later when everything was ready, we called everyone to the patio. I was surprised that Ron was not there. I asked my brother who told me that he never showed for the pool games he thought he had stayed with me upstairs. One of the women looked at me.

"Is Ron the nice looking man with a blue sport car?"

"Yes, have you seen him?"

"A couple hours ago I was out front having a smoke he came out and got in his car when I asked why he was leaving, He told me his girlfriend had just told him to leave so she could have a free hand with her new boyfriend, she had just dumped him for someone new, such a nice looking man too. Are you the ex girlfriend?"

I felt my knees weakening I had to hang on the fence around the patio. This could not be happening. As soon as my legs could support me and move. I ran in the house to get my cell out of my purse. I could not get Ron, his cell was off I left a voice message telling him I was sorry and he misinterpreted the whole thing to please come back. I was still sitting on the bed trying to reach him when my cell rang, it was Ron. I picked up immediately.

"Maureen I got my stock out of your apartment and left the keys on the kitchen table, you can take your new boyfriend there, I won't be in the way."

 He cut the connection before I could say a word. I was devastated I could not get up from the bed. I reviewed everything. I had to admit that thing must have looked bad from Ron's point of view. He had seen me take Henry's hand away from my breast but I had done it slowly I did not want to draw attention, To Ron it must have looked like I was reluctant to do it, then as soon as I got him through the patio door and in the house. I had immediately turned around to go back towards Henry. He had no way of knowing that it was to give him shit and put him back in his place. I had told him to leave, but I meant the patio to cool off, not the house.

 I got my brother to drive me home to get my own car and drove to Ron's apartment, he was not there I went to the house he had bought and was renovating for us to move in after the wedding, no sign of him anywhere. I finally went back home and tried to reach him until late in the night I finally gave-up and tried to sleep The next morning I felt pretty bad, I had not slept well.

I got dressed and drove to Ron's apartment, his car was there I went to the door I had a key but I knocked, he opened and let me in.

"I am surprised to see you here Maureen, I thought you would be with your new boyfriend the complete week-end. Your property that you had here is packed and in those boxes next to the door . I was planning on dropping them at your place on my way to work."

"Ron there is no boyfriend I handled thing badly I realised but I was just trying to prevent you beating him up, I did not want you to beat him up and maybe ending up in jail. You did not have to leave"

"I had no choice you had just told me to leave, and you know that I don't start fights I have never hit anyone first, I will of course defend myself it attacked"

"I was not flirting with him I was just trying to get him to stop coming after me without causing a scene he is a good friend of my brother and a business partner I did not want to be the cause of friction between them."

"You sure did not seem in any hurry to remove his hand from your tits and in an awful hurry to go back to him the minute you got me through the patio door and on my way out."

"I was pissed at him and I went back to give him shit and put him back in his place Ron. I did not think you would leave the place, just the patio, after telling him off I went back in and was told that you were downstairs playing pool."

"You sure made sure I was no longer around to see you giving him shit if it was shit you wanted to give him. Telling me that you thought that I was in the basement playing pool is a good excuse for almost three hours before you tried to call me on my cell, you are hardly believable there, and why did you not come downstairs to talk to me, you would have found out I had left, maybe you knew and it suited you and this guy well."

" I did not go downstairs because I wanted to give both of us time to cool off, then I got busy helping out with the preparation of the salads hors-d'oeuvre and all and did not realised how much time had passed."

"Or maybe the flirting and planning to meet with your brother's friend was too interesting to think of your poor fiancée, I am glad I found out about that side of you now instead of later."

"What do you mean that side of me."

"The side that makes you fall for any nice looking guy that flirts with you and plays with your tits. and side with him against me."

"Ron that is not fair. I did not let him play with my tits I removed his hand and I did not side with him I just wanted to prevent a bad scene."

"If that was so please explain why you told me to leave . did not come in the house with me and went running back to him, this in front of friends of ours, You sure did not show that I was the most important of the two in front of them, they interpreted the scene the same way I did, like you wanted to get rid of me to have a free hand with him."

"I am sorry if I handled things badly and are you sure this the way they interpreted it?"

"I went for a drinks after leaving I met the two Barton sisters with their boyfriends and another couple that was there and all said they were sorry for me being dumped that way they were shocked at your behaviour, I was told that one woman there even congratulated you for the way in which you got rid of me to have a free road with the guy. You did not deny it to her and no one mentioned your giving him shit like you claim."

"Like I said Ron. I did not want to create a scene, I took him to the far end of the patio and I was not screaming, I felt like it but I was not, You can check with the sister. She came to us and tore a stripe of him too."

"The fact remains that you sided against me and did not consider me important enough to check were I was for three hours. While you went back to him almost running, the second you got rid of me. We are finished I will not marry a woman that has so little respect for me."

"Please Ron you cannot dump me and cancel our marriage over this."

"No Maureen I am not dumping you and cancelling the marriage, you made your choice yesthurday, you chose your brother's friend and business partner over me. That was your choice not mine, you dumped me, kicked me out of your brother's house and ran back to the guy that was flirting with you and caressing your breasts."

I still could not believe that thing had gotten that bad I was crying hard by that time Ron had tears in his eyes too.

" Ron that is not the choice I made, I just handled the situation badly I am sorry. No one is more important to my than you."

"Then can you explain why you did not stay with me instead of running back to him, it had to be more than to give him shit. You could just as easily have stayed with me and tell him off in front of me if this was your real reason to run back to him."

"Please that was my only reason. I only realised later that it was a mistake not to stay with you in the house. We have to get over this it is not reason enough to break-up." 

" You don't understand Maureen, by the way you acted you destroyed the thrust I had in you. From now on I could never be sure what you are doing when I am not there. Worse than that if we were at a function together I could never be sure that if a nice looking man decided to flirt with you. You would not again find a way to get rid of me. Under the pretence that I might create a scene that would embarrass you. Then run back to whomever was flirting with you as soon as you are sure I am gone to enjoy the flirting. You have killed my thrust in you and I could not live with a woman I cannot thrust."

I was crying so much I could not say a word, that was so unfair, I had just handled a minor problem badly was all I had done. 

"I have to leave for work. I will put the boxes of your stock in your car."

At home I cried for two days straight . My sister could not believe how badly I had handled everything when I told her the whole story. She promised to talk to Ron, to at least tell him that I really went back to give Henry hell and that she had also.

This was three months ago and Ron still won't talk to me. I sent him email almost every day telling him how much I love him and miss him and how sorry I am. I have not been on even a dinner date since then . Mutual friends tell me that he has not been out with a women either.

Yesthurday I got a short mail back from Ron it said 

"Hope you are well."

Maybe there is still hope.