Serendipity 27: Family Vacation Pt. 02

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tagIncest/TabooSerendipity 27: Family Vacation Pt. 02

A NOTE TO THE READER: Please remember − this chapter is about a "dirty night" when "stranger" Ted picks up a teenaged girl (over 18) named Shane in a roadside bar and they go back to his motel room. This chapter does have its romantic moments, but if you're hoping for a tender, romantic, "honeymoon" evening between a father and his daughter, this chapter isn't it − you might want to wait on the next installment.
ON THE OTHER HAND, if you want to find out what a teenage barroom pickup and an older guy might do if they find themselves in a rural motel room for a night, …
I was sitting up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, listening to "barroom Shane" spin this yarn that was her back-story for being in the Pine Tree Inn — and now, in my room — tonight. I was having a trouble focusing. At the same time that I was getting lost in her fairytale about how her "dad" had been having sex with her — "raping her," as she described it — for years, I was also getting seriously distracted by what was on abundant display through the leg of her cutoffs. She noticed this, too, because she shifted her position a little, raising her leg a little farther up the chair arm — and giving me an even better view of her. I could now confirm that, as I'd suspected, there was no underwear beneath those obscenely tight cutoffs.
Looking at her bottle to see how much was left, she took a final slug of beer and put the bottle on the floor next to the chair, stood up, and without missing a beat, unsnapped the top button of her cutoffs and unzipped the zipper half-way.
She took the three steps over to the bed, kneeled, and crawled over 'til she was straddling me. She took the beer from my hand and set it on the bed stand, and without any preliminaries started unbuttoning my shirt, button by button, 'til she reached where my shirt was tucked into my jeans. She could have taken it slowly, tugging my shirt up out of my jeans to finish unbuttoning it. Instead, she took the more direct route and unbuckled my belt. Then, in a move that completely surprised me, she continued pulling my belt 'til it was completely out of my pants.
"This might come in handy later."
She finished working my shirt off my shoulders and tugged it down my back, and as I sat there, shirtless, she grasped the bottom of her worn-thin t-shirt and pulled it up and off, shaking her head to straighten her hair.
Now she was on top of me, straddling my bare chest, her naked breasts right in front of me. But instead of directing me to her nipples, she began playing with mine. First, a lick. Then another. She paused to remove a loose chest hair from her tongue. Then to the other nipple, licking, then sucking until it stood out, almost, but not quite as much, as hers. While she sucked — harder — on that nipple, she toyed with the other one, squeezing it between her thumb and forefinger, then harder — and then twisting and pulling it, hard, so that it truly hurt — but also sent a throb to my cock.
She must have played with my nipples for five minutes, alternately soothing, then abusing them. My mind wandered to whether this was something that she did with Eddie, or was it something she had saved to do with — to — me?
But with a final sharp pinch to one nipple and a last swirl-and-suck to the other, the program changed. She straightened up, placing her naked breast and small hard nipples right in front of my face. "I've missed you, Dad. I want you to suck and play with my titties. Will you do that, Daddy — will you use my titties?
Again, I was stunned to hear my daughter saying these things. But I couldn't argue — they were having their desired effect. As I felt my cock thicken even more inside my pants, I took each nipple between my thumbs and fingers and squeezed — first firmly, then hard. I felt Shane's hips twitch with the brutal squeeze.
Shane's breasts really hadn't developed into "breasts" yet — they were still cones, about the size of half-lemons, sticking out from her chest. The result was to make her look more like a girl than a woman, and the whole effect was incredibly exciting. And, yes, I wanted to abuse my young daughter's titties — "just like I was raping her."
I pretty much went wild on her chest, licking, biting, pinching, squeezing, twisting, with Shane's arms wrapped around my head, pulling my mouth to hers to lick and bite and exchange saliva, then pulling me back to her tits for more abuse. I think she had at least two orgasms while I was doing this.
Since Shane had shed her cutoffs before getting on the bed — and on me — she was completely naked, and this allowed me to run a hand down her back and squeeze her butt, and even slide a finger or two into the crease and tease her pussy (a little) and her asshole (even more). I managed to slip my middle finger maybe an inch or so inside her asshole, and I worked it around inside while she and I mouthed each other. She had yet another orgasm while I was finger-fucking her ass. I pulled my finger out and brought it up to our faces. I looked directly into her eyes, and I made a show out of putting my finger to my lips, then into my mouth, and slowly, lovingly sucking it clean.
A smile slowly appeared on Shane's lips. "So you like the taste of your little girl's asshole? Maybe we can arrange for more of that."
But then, apparently I had abused Shane's tits enough because she gently pushed herself back from me. While she was completely naked, I was still wearing my jeans, which she now pushed and tugged down, along with my undershorts which, of course, hung up on my now-fully-hard cock.
Shoving the last of my clothing to the floor, she bent down and, in a single move, took that entire cock all the way into her mouth, which also meant into her throat. I don't know how I compare with other men, but my experience with Georgia and with Jane has led me to believe that my cock might be on the larger side. But my daughter didn't hesitate a moment before taking all of me inside her mouth.
After satisfying herself — and me — that she could take me completely, she backed off and started licking and sucking around the head, and at the same time, beginning this kind of milking motion with her right hand.
I know I haven't talked much about blowjobs and cocksucking. The reason is that, for my sex life, at least, most of the cocksucking and blowjobs I've received have been for the purpose of arousing me, exciting me, and, usually, getting me ready for "something else." They haven't been for the purpose of getting me off. And that's why what Shane was doing to me now was so different. It was obvious that she was doing this with the intention of making me cum in her mouth.
Once she got this started, she took both of my hands and put them on the back of her head, and then she sort of pressed down, and I got the idea that I was supposed to force her head down onto my cock.
I pushed down a little, and apparently that was what I was supposed to do. But then Shane pressed on my hands even harder, and I could feel that I was forcing her head down so far that my cock was actually in her throat, and I felt and heard her as she gagged a little. But she continued to hold my hands in place on the back of her head while she bobbed up and down on my cock. From this, I finally got the idea: she wanted me to hold her head down while I fucked her mouth and throat. And I guess I was right, because she seemed to be pushing herself down even harder, so my cock was going even deeper into her throat. It actually looked like I was fucking her head.
"Oh, fuck, Shana — that is so good! I'm fucking your mouth — is that what you want? You want me to fuck your mouth?" Shane couldn't answer, of course, but she seemed to force herself down even harder onto my cock.
After a few minutes of doing this, she lifted her head off my cock and I could see the strands of mucus from her lips and mouth to my cock, probably from her gagging. I watched as she stuck three fingers into her mouth, licking them and lubricating them with her spit and the mucus. Then she put her arm under my thighs and lifted, forcing me to roll back a bit, elevating my hips — and exposing my asshole. And then I felt her fingers, her now-slippery, slimy fingers − first one, then a second, and, finally, all three of her fingers.
I've had my asshole fingered by Georgia and by Janey, and both have even fucked me there with multiple fingers. But now, what Shane was doing, reaming my asshole at the same time she was sucking my cock and doing that milking thing with her free hand, was more intense than anything I'd ever experienced before…
… and that did it. The stimulation in my asshole — the pain, the pressure, as she massaged my — my what? — all of it came together at once, and without thinking about anything, I pushed her head down on my cock as far as I could and bucked up with my hips — her fingers still firmly inside my asshole — and simply exploded into my daughter's sucking mouth and throat.
And I pumped, and I pumped, and I pumped. Remember, this was the first time I'd cum in almost two days, and with all the anticipation, and the foreplay in the bar, and all the teasing Shane had done here in the room, it felt like I'd never stop cumming.
I finally exhausted myself, and it was then I realized that my hands were still on Shana's head, and I was still pushing down on her so that all the while I was cumming, I must have been deep in her throat. I slowly raised my hands, and Shane lifted her head, until my cock was completely out of her mouth. I caught my breath, and she tried to recover hers after the near-choking she'd been enduring. She raised herself up and looked at me. Her lips were swollen from the abuse we'd both inflicted on them, and there was some white stuff on the corners. Apparently she'd swallowed all the rest.
"Best cum ever?"
And I thought about it. Better than with Candace? Better than Georgia? Better than the incredibly exciting sessions with Janey?
I managed to gasp out, "Yes." That said it all.
She gave me a knowing smile. "Don't forget who gave it to you." She moved her lips close to mine. I could smell my own semen on her face, in her breath. "Wanna share?"
I opened my lips, and I tasted the taste that was in her mouth, the remains of my "best cum ever."
And I thought: What is happening to me? And where's it all going — where am I going?
* * * * *
We shared a few more kisses. Strangely, I found myself getting used to the taste of — of me, at least so long as that taste was in Shana's mouth.
We laid down next to each other, holding hands, enjoying the mild breeze from the cottage's heating unit blowing across our bodies. Then Shane announced-asked, "I'm ready for another beer — you?" She went to the fridge and pulled out two more beers, expertly twisted the caps off both, and held one out to me.
She sat up on the bed next to me. "So, Ted … you married?"
Instead of giving her a straightforward answer, which is typically the way I answer questions, I decided to go a different way. I could have said, "Why do you want to know?", but under the circumstances, that would be just plain dumb. Instead, I replied, "Does it matter?"
She apparently liked that answer, because a little smile crept across her lips.
"It's just I noticed the impression of a ring on your finger, so I figured you're married and you slipped off the ring so it wouldn't be obvious — might improve your chances, back at the bar."
Okay. "Yeah, I'm married." I could have dragged it out, question by tedious question, but instead I said, simply — and truthfully — "To the most amazing woman in the world. I love her — we love each other — and God willing, we'll spend the rest of our lives together." And as soon as I said those words, I started to feel an intense wave of sadness rolled over me as I remember that Georgia is 30-some years older than I am. And I thought about a life without Georgia …
But my daughter, who I'm learning is far more insightful that I ever would have imagined, almost immediately sensed that something was going wrong, and putting two and two together, she quickly interrupted before I could go any farther down that path.
"So if you two are so great, how come you're taking a road trip by yourself and hitting on young girls in country bars?"
I had to think about this one, partly because it was a realistic question in light of our — our whatever. "We love each other, and she is maybe the sexiest woman I've ever known, and I think she feels the same way about me, so while sex is still great — better than great, really — but things have gotten kind of …predictable. So she encouraged me — actually, she ordered me − kind of with instructions that I should get out and learn something new." I thought for a moment. "I guess, that's where you come in."
"So you think a girl like me can teach you a thing or two?"
"I think you already have."
"But you're hoping I'll teach you some more, right?"
I just smiled. A hopeful smile, I thought.
"You got any kids?" I think Shane was very interested in how I would respond to this line of questioning. I opted for the truth, mostly.
"Yes, I've got an older daughter — she's with a boy — they've been soulmates since she was six and he was three — they're practically married. And a boy and a girl," I fudged the ages a little so it wouldn't seem too biographical to Shane.
"What're they like?"
"Well, my boy is good looking — not movie-star good looking, but nice looking — and he's probably the kindest person you'd ever meet."
"How about your girl?"
"She's … interesting." She didn't say anything, so I decided to go on. "She has an unusual way of looking at the world. She looks at things in a way … she sees things that other people look at but don't see. And she doesn't show it, but when you watch her for a while, you realize she's frighteningly smart."
Just to tease me a little, she asked, "What's she look like?"
I decided that I could tease a little, too. "Most of the time, she looks like a classic tomboy." I let her chew on that one for a while, but before she could work herself into being offended, I added, "… and other times, when you look at her from certain angles, she's striking." And I decided to leave it there.
Shana thought for a moment, took another pull on her beer, and with a wicked little smile, asked, "Do you think she and her brother ever fool around?"
I played along. "No … well, maybe they've played doctor once or twice, or maybe 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours,' but I don't think they're really interested in that kind of thing."
"You sure?" she asked, with raised eyebrows. She took another swig. "How about you — have you ever done anything with her?" hoping to provoke me into admitting something … something.
Still playing along, "If you'd asked me a year ago, the answer would have been 'No way!' But I have admit, in the past year I've found myself looking at her differently." I waited for her.
"Different how?" and I just knew the kind of response she was fishing for.
"I guess, I think it was one day, I noticed that her breasts were starting to develop …," I paused to watch her reaction, "OK — her titties. They're a lot like yours …," I decided to needle her a bit, "… but they're a little smaller." I could see that she really wanted to punch me, but she managed to stay in her role.
I hesitated, as if I'd just thought of something. "I'd never lay a hand on her. Or, at least, I didn't think I'd ever touch her. But lately, when my wife and I are having sex, I've found my thoughts wandering to her, and I'll see her face in front of me when I'm fucking my wife…," and I let my words kind of trail off.
Now it was her turn to prod me. "You just 'see her face' — that's all you do? You don't imagine what it would be like…?"
I decided to follow her lead. "OK — yes, I try to imagine what it'd feel like to be inside her, how tight she'd be, and if she was the kind of girl that got really wet, and if she'd get turned on by dirty language."
"It sounds like you want to rape your daughter."
"No! I'd never take her like that."
"You sure? Certainly sounds like those thoughts are getting real close. I'll bet she'd like it if you did."
"That's crazy!"
"Are ya' sure? Think — does she ever leave her door open when it's just you and her in the house alone? Or is she kinda noisy when she masturbates, and do you listen to her when she does, maybe to see if she's saying your name while she's using her fingers or something to fuck herself?"
And I realized — I do. It seems my younger daughter has a lot greater insight into her father's mind than he has into hers — or into his own, for that matter.
All the while we'd been talking, she'd been idly picking at the foil label on her beer bottle. She took another drink, then held the bottle away from her and studied it for a few seconds.
"This bottle remind you of anything?"
I wasn't sure what she was getting at. It was a Michelob bottle, that's all. But then it kind of dawned on me. Michelob was running some sort of promotion, and instead of the usual bottles, these were the old "anniversary" style from the late eighties and nineties. You know, the ones that were shaped kind of like bowling pins. Or like …
Turning sideways, she raised one knee, the one that was against the headboard, which left her almost bare pussy splayed wide open — and me looking directly at it. She looked at me, smiled, took one more drink of her beer, and then lowered her hand and began teasing her pussy with the bottle, sliding the lip up and down through the crease, rubbing it around her clit a few times. "Cold!", giggling, then sliding it up and down a few times before pushing it into her pussy, first just the head, but then an inch or two more.
Out and back, up to her clit for a few more circular strokes, then back down to push it inside of her. More this time, and once she had it about halfway in, she started levering it around, making it pretty obvious how the bottle was stretching her, and how much she was enjoying the invasion.
And I was watching. I couldn't take my eyes off her. My daughter — my roadhouse slut — I couldn't even tell who I was watching right now — was right in front of me, wanting to entertain this stranger-dad, jacking off with this fat glass dildo.
"Does it turn you on, Ted? 'Cause it's turning me on, you watching me while I'm doing myself. Do you think your daughter does this, shoving things inside of her pussy, maybe even pretending it's you?"
And I found myself thinking, God, I hope she does!
"C'mon, Ted, don't make me do this alone."
I didn't know what she meant, so I sat there, dumbly. She reached over and took my free hand and placed it on the bottle in her pussy and guided it around until I finally got the idea and began moving the bottle myself.
"Oh, Ted — this is so nasty — we're so nasty." Then she seemed to catch sight of the beer bottle in my other hand — the hand that I wasn't using to …"
"But I know something even nastier. Wanna hear it, Ted — wanna know what would be even nastier?"
I found I could only nod my head.
She took my beer out of my hand and set it on the bedside table.
"Whaddaya think, Ted, are you tired of drinking your beer outta that dumb old bottle? Wouldn't you like drinking your beer from a more … 'personalized' container?"
At first, I couldn't understand what she was talking about. But then she lay back on the bed and pulled her knees back — and tipped the beer bottle up, to the point where the beer had to be pouring inside of her — into her pussy. She stayed that way until the bottle was completely empty. Then she pulled it out, and with one hand held tight to her pussy, she ordered me to stretch out on the bed.

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