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Spam

By: rikkitampa2014



The sensation of ejaculating in my daughter is the greatest experience I've ever had, in or out of bed. Sometimes, just before climaxing, I'll stop my motion just so I can fully feel the powerful, involuntary rhythms of my penis pumping between Jamie's loins the seed that conceived her some 24 years before. It's selfish, I know, but I lack the stamina to bring my daughter to orgasm anyway. As some comedian once joked about premature ejaculation, "that's the reason God created vibrators." Not that there are any batteries...

Jamie professes to enjoy it as well—the unaided pumping sensation. On her back or on her hands and knees she cries out: "Give it to me daddy! Shoot your hot load in me! SHOOT IT!"

Do I feel guilty in the immediate aftermath? Yes. However, less and less so the more times we make love. It may be entirely consensual and a warm and loving and intimate experience, but I'm still her father and she's still my daughter and it's still...incest. Should I wear a condom? I should, just in case. Jamie's on the pill, and has been for many years, but there's always that one percent chance. But the sensation of my bare cock in my daughter's sweet pussy!

"No," Jamie said that first time we were naked together (not counting in the shower). Jamie was lying on her back on the bed and I was kneeling half over her and half off to the side, reaching for a foil packet in the bedside drawer. Her left hand had reached up to stop my right arm.

"No?"

"I want to feel you inside me just like in the shower the other night. I want you to shoot your load in me."

"Is it safe?"

Jamie giggled. "Daddy, do you have any idea how long I've been sexually active?"

I shuddered to think. I was still reaching. "Can I use lube at least?"

"Yes daddy you can use lube," Jamie said with a roll of the eyes. "But don't kid yourself. I've had bigger."

"I'm sure you have."

"Much bigger." And with that Jamie gave my six-inch hard-on a playful stroke.

I'm wrong about one thing. I did give my daughter an orgasm once. It was when we were in the shower together and the reddish water was raining down and Jamie was bent over grasping her ankles. It was a position I'd fucked her mother in many times back in the day. Now my feet were spread outside Jamie's feet and I was banging away so hard I thought my head would explode. And then she screamed and I screamed and we both screamed for my cream (forgive the pun), and I wondered at that deflating moment what our neighbors in the apartment building must be thinking. He's over there alone with that slutty daughter of his isn't he?

Then a few days later we were leaning against the headboard on either side of the wetspot and Jamie, covered with tattoos and never one to be shy, was discussing my performance. Or rather my failings in bed.

"Is that why mom left you?"

"Why?"

"Because you didn't satisfy her in bed?"

"Do we have to go there?" I asked.

"I'm not accusing you. I'm just...curious."

After a pause I replied, reluctantly: "I guess so. That was part of it. Toward the end she would say things like, 'I haven't had an orgasm in 25 years.' Now that was hard to believe. Or she'd say, 'Something's got to change around here. Either I go outside our marriage for sex or I get a new husband.'"

"What did you say?"

"I grudgingly told her...I'd be OK with the first option long as she was discreet about it. Long as you didn't find out."

"Why did you care if I found out? It wasn't my business."

"You're our daughter!" I replied.

"I'm your daughter, daddy. Mom's dead."

"And that's a terrible thing."

"No it's not. She was a bitch."

"Yes it is."

"Daddy!" Jamie was looking over at me, sternly. "Are you one of those guys who loses all interest in his lover as soon he finishes cumming?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm, like, way over here and you're, like, way over there?" And with that my daughter leapt the wetspot and wiggled backwards (making a new wetspot, or wet streak on the sheet, in the process) until her back met my chest. "There. That's better."

"Yes," I said. And I reached up and held, and felt, my daughter's warm, full, firm tits. An exact replica of her mother's tits when she was Jamie's age. I kissed her tangle of dirty-blonde hair. I kissed her nape, her bare shoulder. "Darling..."

"See how nice this is?"

"We shouldn't fight. There's enough of that going on already."

"We weren't fighting. We were...discussing. Talking. Talk between lovers is good."

"We're father and daughter."

"That's good too. So mom...," getting back to the topic at hand, "that's when she started fucking Trey?"

"When?" Trey was an old friend of mine. Of ours. He was about ten years our junior. When Trey, who was divorced, wasn't dating anyone he, well, dated my wife. He became a fixture around our house at these times, and was not shy about showing his affection—his horniness anyway—toward Karla.

"When she started making these...threats. These marriage threats."

"Yes, I guess so. Not at first but then...gradually."

"Trey was a creep. You know how many times he came on to me? He was like twelve years older than me!"

"I'm 25."

"That's different. You're my dad. And why are you always sticking up for him?" head turning roughly, and accusatorially, against my chest.

"I'm not sticking up for him."

"Yes you are. You let him fuck mom right in front of you didn't you?"

I sighed. What could I say? "It was what your mother wanted. Another man in her life."

"Was he good in bed?"

"According to your mother he was. 'He makes me happy in bed,' she would say. I figured...it was a kind of sexual friendship between them. I figured if she was going to date other men it was better she do it with someone I knew and trusted, rather than-"

"You trusted that creep?"

"He was always open about what he was doing. I think maybe the first couple of times they did it behind my back. But...it wasn't such a big secret. I mean...when the three of us would go on a movie date and Trey would put his hand on her thigh. Or I'd drive us home and your mom would insist on sitting in the back with him and they'd hold each other and laugh and kiss and whatnot."

"'Whatnot.' I like that, daddy. My dad the cuckold chauffeur."

"I'm just saying. It is what it is."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why're you getting hard?"

"I'm not getting hard."

"Yes you are. I can feel it against my ass."

"No, I..."

"Did you used to get off on the idea—the reality—of mom fucking Trey?"

Had I been in a position to bow my head I would have bowed my head. In shame. "I don't know. Yes. I guess."

Surprisingly, laughingly, Jamie slapped my thigh. "Bad daddy! What a little sex pervert you are! I had no idea!" She paused. "I take that back: I did!"

"What do you mean?"

"Mom told me once, before she ran off, that the reason she was so...over you, was because she'd caught you dressing in her underwear."

"That's not true."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Then why would you tell me that?"

"I didn't. She did."

"OK, my bad, but why? Mom left all those clothes behind. There's, like, drawers' full. Do you ever dress up in her stuff?"

"No."

"Swear?" Jamie had, in an eager, athletic second, spun around. She was on her knees now, facing me. Her hands gripped my arms. Her pretty face brightly lit with excitement. "Tell me."

I squirmed. "OK. Maybe a few times..."

"I knew it!"

"Trey and your mom went out on a movie date...they probably went back to Trey's to fuck, I don't know. Anyway, I got drunk and fell asleep on the couch. I was...I'd put on one of your mother's bras and her panties and hose. And lipstick. They walked in on me before I could..."

"Oh, daddy!"

"That was the end. No more pretense. They completely disregarded me after that. I was, like, the asshole sissy husband. The crossdresser."

"You're not an asshole, daddy."

"From then on they not only openly dated, they fucked right in front of me. I don't mean...in front of me in front of me. Trey would come over, he was horny, they'd head straight upstairs and fuck in our bed. My bed. For an hour. I'd make margaritas..."

"Our bed now, daddy." Jamie leaned forward and kissed me. On the lips.

"Yes. Yes, darling."

"Do you love me, daddy?"

"Of course I love you, darling." And now I reached forward to feel my daughter's plump tits again. "You're the light of my life."

"I love you, daddy," Jamie said, leaning forward once again to kiss me, tenderly. "But that was about the time Trey got killed by a drone, right?"

"No," I replied, "this was way before that. "A few months after he started dating your mom he got called up for the draft. He was under the age limit. I hear they're raising it once again, by the way."

To which Jamie gripped my arms even harder, as I held her breasts. "They won't call you up, daddy."

"They might."

"Don't go!"

"Oh right! As if I'd have a choice..."

"You could hide here."

"And never leave the apartment?"

"We can't leave it anyway."

Jamie fell in my lap and rested her right cheek on my naked right thigh. I stroked her hair. This was getting, well, a little too operatic for my tastes. I said, matter of factly:

"Trey got called up. He was killed about two months later, I think. I don't know where, I don't how. An enemy drone? Details are sketchy. At any rate, it was over between him and my mother by then..."

Jamie raised her head. Her frown I should say. "Your...mother?"

"Your mother I meant to say," I added hastily. "Your mother. She'd met the colonel by then. Trey was gone, out of the picture. Trey met the colonel—your mother did I mean—fell in love, he was married, she was married...quite a scandal. The Air Force was embarrassed, shipped him 3,000 miles away to the west coast..."

"And then the base was destroyed in an enemy attack."

"Yes. Unfortunately. That's the rumor."

"Mom used to email me, like, weekly. Now I haven't heard from her in, like, months. Either she's dead or...the ultimate bitch."

"Don't say that, darling."

"Daddy? To be blunt? I don't give a shit anymore."

"Baby...?"

"Daddy? Know what? I've never sucked your beautiful cock before. I love sucking cock. We've fucked, what, twice now? I lied about the birth control. There is no birth control any longer. The pharmacies are out. I don't care anymore. Do you?"

No, I didn't at that moment. Gas was cheap, plentiful. There was always the oven.My head had rolled back and I had given in to the pleasure of my daughter's lips. Her mouth, her throat. I wondered if she could taste the dried sweetness, revivified by her saliva, of the cum I'd deposited in her vagina moments ago. She looked up. I wasn't yet hard, but I wasn't soft either.

"Darling?"

"Daddy, when can we go out again?" she asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart. As soon as the radiation all-clear is given. I don't know..."

"Oh, daddy...," going down on me again. Moments later I came in Jamie's mouth for the first time.

Months have passed. There is no news. My daughter is fucking a disabled war veteran two floors up from us (it's a miracle our building hasn't yet been destroyed). He pays her in black-market goods. He fucks her, I fuck her. There's blood in my semen. We're surviving on crackers, tins of Spam and tainted water from the faucet. Jamie's beautiful tits leak blood when I suck them. Her belly is swollen. I feel like a vampire.

Yesterday my beautiful daughter came to me holding a thick strand of dirty-blonde hair in her hand. Her eyes were filled with tears. "Daddy, my hair is falling out."

Anonymous: "The price of decadence is self-destruction. Enjoy the ride."