It was hot, beastly hot, as the rented van motored down the lonely interstate under the intense glare of the early-afternoon sun.
Wave after wave of shimmering heat radiated off the highway in the distance and gave a surreal effect to what was going on inside the hot cab of the van.
My life changed irrevocably when I happened to glance over to the passenger seat and feasted my eyes on a sight I can never forget.
My daughter Merry, my not-so-innocent daughter, who had just been thrust back into my life after six years with her mother, was leaning back in the seat completely naked.
And she wasn’t just naked, she had her legs spread and the middle finger of her left hand was slowly running up and down between the juicy lips of her hairless pussy.
“Daddy, I’m hot,” she said in a sultry voice just loud enough to be heard over the engine of the van. “And I know you are too.”
Frankly, it was a vision I couldn’t look away from. She wasn’t quite what you would call gorgeous, but she was damn good-looking.
She was small and compact, with tits that were barely A-cups, light brown hair that was pulled into two loose pigtails, and a tight tanned body that was gleaming with sweat, both from the van and her arousal.
And it was a vision I was powerless to resist. Besides, she wasn’t really my daughter, at least not in the biological sense, and she was now 16, which in my eyes and in the eyes of most civilized nations and states meant that she was of legal age for sex.
So, now, here we were in a hot, sexually-charged atmosphere coming out of a candid conversation we’d been having about my sex life, which was practically non-existent, compared to hers, which had been shockingly active.
It goes without saying that my cock was rock hard and throbbing – and it was hanging loose, since I’d gone commando like I always did when I had to make a long drive. Especially true in a van full of Merry’s stuff that we’d gotten a lot cheaper at Rent-A-Wreck than we would have at U-Haul.
Problem was, you get what you pay for, and the van’s air conditioning hadn’t been up to the heat of Death Valley and the desert beyond.
Like I said, it was hot, and we had both dressed in as little as possible. I had my loose gym shorts, a tank top and my sneakers, and Merry had come out wearing a very short pair of cutoffs, a wife-beater t-shirt, her sandals, and, apparently, nothing else.
She slid across the bench seat and ran both hands over my cloth-covered dick. She flipped down my shorts, rolled them down my legs to the floor of the cab, leaving me as naked as she was, as I had pulled off my shirt some miles back.
Her hands were gently caressing my cock, one hand lightly jacking me, while the other cupped my balls.
“Ooooh, Daddy, you have a beautiful, big cock,” she cooed. “I don’t know why this wasn’t enough for Mom. It’s enough for me.”
With that, she put her head in my lap, slid the purple head of my cock past her hot pink lips and engulfed me, until she had three-quarters of my dick in her hot mouth. She did it so quickly and effortlessly that I actually gasped, then groaned as I enjoyed the best blowjob – the only blowjob – I had gotten in years.
Quickly, she worked her mouth back up my cock, then back down and took even more of me in her throat.
Several times she did this until my balls were ready to explode, when she popped her mouth off my cock, and breathlessly told me to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel. She would take care of my rampant problem.
As she said this, she was licking and kissing my cock, up one side and down the other, while her right hand held it up by the base. When she finished, she sucked me right back into her mouth. Twice more she brought me to the brink of orgasm and held me back.
The third time, I glanced down at my daughter, and she was laid out on the seat, on her side facing me, with her legs slightly spread and her left hand was working furiously in her frothy slit.
That did it. I fucked my hips up, driving my entire cock into Merry’s throat, and spewed the mightiest rusty cum load of my life. It was like I had passed from purgatory into the bright, shining light of a new day.
Merry gave kind of a choking sound, and I could feel some cum seeping out from around her lips, which were milking my cock dry of the white gold that I had come to know she craved. At that moment, a deep shudder ran through her body as she came hard on her hand.
She pulled her mouth off my cock and panted hard several times, then gave a sort of sheepish chuckle as she sat back up on the seat.
She pulled some loose strands of hair out of her eyes and looked at me with such longing and devotion that I knew I would do my best to take care of this girl for as long as she would let me.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and held her hot naked body next to mine while she idly fiddled with my cock, which was still semi-hard, despite the rip-roaring orgasm that I had just enjoyed.
“Oh, Daddy, your cum tastes sooooo sweet,” Merry purred, and my cock gave a lurch. I knew there were issues lying at the root of her behavior. Her mother, my ex-wife, had died a few weeks earlier in a car crash that was considered “suspicious” by the cops in Orange County, California, where she’d lived and where she’d died.
The man the two of them had been living with was also killed in the crash, which happened in the middle of the afternoon on a busy freeway on a day when Merry was at school.
Hell was just getting introduced to its new boss, because a more evil person than Donna Whitney would be hard to find.
We’d gone to high school together in a medium-sized city in Iowa, although she had moved in right before 10th grade, so she wasn’t a lifer there like I was.
She was Grade-A gorgeous, a slightly bigger version of Meredith, our daughter. Or, rather, her daughter from some schlub she must have met not long after we’d gotten married, that she passed off as mine.
I’d been blissfully ignorant until Merry turned 9, when I walked in on Donna and one of her boyfriends.
By then, we were not happy and were fighting a lot, but still I was unprepared for her reaction, as she breezily told me about her affairs, and that the daughter I doted on – and who worshipped her daddy – wasn’t actually mine.
It’s a long story, but the gist of it was that she and the guy she was screwing at the time took off for California, taking Meredith with her. But not before I had gotten a paternity test done and learned that Donna was right. Merry wasn’t mine.
Like I said, she was 9 when they left, and until a few days earlier, I hadn’t laid eyes on her since. Hell, I hadn’t been sure where they were until I got the call out of the blue.
Merry was quick on her feet when her mother died. At that time, she had not yet turned 16 and was headed for the tender mercies of the California foster care system when she told them about her father, back in Iowa, the father she’d never stopped hoping she’d find and return to.
I had learned that Donna had told Meredith about her parentage not long after they moved to California, trying to kill her love for me.
But that hadn’t stopped her from carrying a torch for her daddy, in her mind the only daddy she’d ever had, the one who had always been there for her, when her mom many times had not.
As it happened, I was living in Tennessee, in the south-central part of the state not too far from Chattanooga. I had fled Iowa, when I started to find out that over the course of our marriage, Donna had fucked just about all my friends – and my younger brother.
I’m a machinist and I can work about anywhere, so I got a good recommendation from my bosses in Iowa.
My father had died about a year before my marriage blew up, and I finally bought out my brother’s share of the family homestead – after I kicked his ass for fucking my wife – and sent him on the road, if he knew what was good for him.
We finally reconciled about a year ago, when I finally came to grips with what I’d known all along, deep in my heart. My brother, same as me, was weak in the flesh and we were both child’s play for an accomplished sexual sociopath like my ex-wife.
We were no longer close, like we had been, but at least we were talking to each other again.
I had gone off to Tennessee, found me a little fixer-upper out in the country, but close enough to town and my work to be convenient.
It was about a 3-acre lot, with woods all around it, plus I put up an 8-foot privacy fence, then put in an above-ground pool and built a deck around it, and that’s pretty much all I did for recreation, tend my little vegetable garden and swim in the pool afterwards.
For about 5½ years I lived a pretty damn reclusive life while I licked my wounds. Until that moment in the hot van, I had not had a sexual encounter with anyone or anything not connected to my arm since Donna left me for the last time.
Even though I had moved, however, I had given my old boss in Iowa my contact information in Tennessee, and I kept an old flip phone from that period.
Even though nobody ever called that number, I kept the account active and the phone charged in the dim hope that Meredith might try to contact me using the only number she probably had for me.
And that decision had paid off when that phone rang on a Thursday evening. I was so startled that for a moment I was frozen in stunned disbelief, but I quickly recovered and literally pounced on the phone, which sat among the knick-knacks in a decorative bowl in my kitchen.
.... There is more of this story ...