Whores Get More
Chapter 1: Daddy's Not-So-Little Girl

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fiction, Incest, Father, Daughter,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Daddy's Not-So-Little Girl - A father discovers his little girl's shocking secret.

My daughter had inherited more from her mother than just her looks. I loved them both desperately, making every effort to provide them with every possible luxury; unfortunately, it taught them to regard me as a limitless money pit. My wife knew all she had to do was grab my crotch, a sudden rush of blood to my groin guaranteed to overcome any objections I might have to her demands. For her part, my little girl discovered the power of whining "But dad-eeee, " until she got her own way. To support their outrageous spending habits, I had to devote myself more and more slavishly to my work, reducing the amount of time I had with the queen and princess of my heart. Their attitudes worsened, and my wife began an affair, culminating in a messy divorce where she carted off our home and half my bank balance. My daughter, not yet past the age of majority at that stage, was given over to her mother's custody, alimony awarded to support her for the two years until she turned eighteen.

Working like a Trojan to carry the burden my gold-digging wife had imposed on me, I had less and less time to spend with my daughter, now the unrivalled apple of my eye. As I was no longer able to provide the financial support she had grown used to, her demeanour grew surly. She eventually cut me out of her life entirely, snide and cutting remarks about my inability to be a quote-unquote 'real' father driving a wedge between us, her heart no doubt poisoned by her mother.

I had my revenge, of course- but not through anything I did directly. My wife's carefree ways with money she had not earned drove her deep into debt, forcing her to sell the house to narrowly avoid insolvency. The man she was with had been milking her dry, taking from her rather than providing the (in my old-fashioned estimation, at least) way he should. My ex-wife and daughter moved into a shabby, two-bedroom apartment downtown, their combined income barely enough to cover their costs of living. Meanwhile, my hard work attracted the notice of my superiors, earning me a promotion and a substantial pay increase. With some carefully managed investments and no longer supporting my daughter after she turned eighteen (of course, I was not invited to any party they had) I found myself in a stronger financial situation than I'd ever been before. For a change, my money was no longer leeched as fast or faster than I could make it.

I bought a small, Mediterranean-style villa in a trendy neighbourhood, intending to do it up and sell it at a tidy profit. At some point in the process, though, I had decided to turn it into my home, and the tidy little house became my castle. Unfortunately, between the emotional scarring my wife had left behind and the time constraints of my new executive position, I found dating to be next to impossible. As I result, I turned to mankind's other stand-by; pornography. Like all men, I had a "type," one my wife had been conscious to fulfil in her quest to lighten my wallet. I had a marked preference for petite, blonde women with wide hips and an ample bust; performers like Carolyn Monroe, Kala Prettyman, and Jasmine Tame quickly occupied gigabytes in my rapidly-filling hard drive. I particularly like Jasmine, her body (though perhaps less top-heavy) reminding me of my wife when we had met. To add to her allure, she was so young and so eager to be fucked, veritable sexual goddess. More than once, I contemplated the possibility of flying down to Cah-li-for-nyah- as Ahnahld pronounced it- and trying to book a session with the object of my affections.

One day, as I trawled through.tgp sites looking for a new starlet who could awaken my lusts the way Jasmine, whose updates were and remain lamentably slow could, I stumbled across a new performer. Her skin was pale, creamy, like wan moonlight. I could see blonde hair cascading down over dimpled shoulders, doing nothing to hide her impressive cleavage, hidden beneath her lacy bra. Her legs were splayed, giving me an excellent view of her femineity. Irritatingly, her face was cropped from the picture; given the amazing body she had, though, I figured she would have to be hiding a face like a barracuda to deflate the raging hard-on I was sporting.

I was wrong. Clicking the link, I began stroking myself. As the page loaded, the identity of my new favourite became clear- it was my little girl, Samantha. I had inadvertently discovered my daughter performing a bukkake scene, surrounded by dozens of men. She was pictured sucking at their hard members, opening her mouth to display their opalescent loads, and spitting their come into a clear glass bowl. The last picture in the series depicted my darling little heart drinking a truly inconceivable amount of ejaculate down, a steamy grin on her come-covered face.

Shocked, I moved the mouse pointer to the red 'X' at the top of the page. Something kept me from clicking it, though; I was entranced by the thought of my daughter, who had so callously treated me, being violated and demeaned. Scrolling down, I read the scene synopsis, learning her nom de guerre. My hands trembling, I headed over to AskJolene, typing it in. The results were staggering; Sam had made what appeared to be fifteen movies, ranging from shoots with BigTitsAtSchool to interracial porn. What stuck in my mind, though, was that bukkake scene, my little girl's face dripping with the semen of so many strangers. I hit my favourite torrent and RapidShare sites, eventually striking gold when I found a massive, 515 meg video of my dirty daughter.

It took forever to download, even over my broadband connection, so I amused myself by surfing for Samantha's glamour and solo pictures. One set that I particularly liked depicted her in a bathing suit she'd whined incessantly about wanting way back when she was sixteen, now too small to contain her full-grown breasts. Her hips and backside had flared since those days, too, stretching the bikini bottom tight and creating a camel-toe at the juncture of her legs.

Hearing the chime that signified the end of a download, I hurriedly opened the file. It was better than what I had concocted in my fevered imagination; Samantha was interviewed before the shoot, plunging a buzzing vibrator in and out of herself whilst she answered the camera operator's questions. I stared, entranced, as each withdrawal of the vibrator dragged my daughter's labia minora with it, stretching them out. It didn't take long for her to climax- or, I amended myself, to appear to climax. It was an eerie re-enactment of the way her mother came, her whole body tensing up before shuddering violently, a string of profanity erupting from her mouth. Slipping the dildo free of her dripping, gripping quim my daughter raised it to her lips, licking it free of her juices.

The screen faded to black, my daughter's smirk replaced by her kneeling amidst the cluster of men. The camera operator announced that there were twenty-five, and that after having sucked them all to completion, Samantha would drink their mixed fluids all at once. She performed like a seasoned professional, delivering a stellar blow-job to bring each man to orgasm, her smouldering eyes promising carnal delight whilst her fingers worked at her sex. Each time she came, there would be a smattering of applause from her enthralled audience. After each man had given her a load each, she grabbed one sporting a massive erection, deep-throating him. Catcalls and hollers went up, and the cameraman asked my daughter if she was up to another round. Her dainty mouth slipping from the man's glistening tool, she winked lewdly at the camera, saying "Oh, at least."

She continued working at the men until they were entirely spent, encouraging remarks spurring her on. Finally, the deep bowl almost filled, she set it down between her legs, masturbating herself again. As she came, her face a rictus of pleasure, she squirted her own clear ejaculate into the bowl. Swirling it to mix the contents, she dipped one finger into the mucosal mess, pulling out a strand of come that she sucked down greedily. Raising the bowl to her lips, she allowed thin dribbles to overflow at the corner of her mouth, creamy rivulets running down her cheeks and onto her chin, pooling on her heaving, flushed bosom.

The bowl emptied, she held it up to the camera, opening her mouth to prove she had swallowed it all down. There was another round of applause, and Sam lifted her arms triumphantly, the movement causing her breasts to spill out the top of the bra that had barely held my daughter's quivering mounds in place. The cameraman waited for the wolf whistles to die down, then commenced his post-orgy interview, asking my little girl how much she had enjoyed sucking down the come of twenty-five men. Raising one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows in a delicate arch, my daughter corrected him. "Twenty-six."

Ignoring the cameraman's "Huh?" she walked forwards on her knees, attacking him with vigour. Covering his surprise, he pointed the camera down at his groin. Sam unzipped him, freed his slightly tumescent cock, and skilfully bought him to life, using her hands, her mouth, and her long, pink tongue. Having witnessed my daughter taming more than two dozen men, her abilities were more than a match for his restraint, and with a low moan he came. At the last instant, Sam pulled her mouth off him, aiming it at her delicate face and allowing him to paint her with his orgasm.

It was too much. Mount Etna had nothing on me. I came, gushing like a broken fire hydrant, my illicit lust propelling ropes of semen on to the keyboard in front of me. Heedless of the mess, I continued stroking, imagining Samantha had sucked me off, allowed me to come all over her elfin features. Holding his rapidly-deflating prick and speaking into it as though it were a microphone, she mimicked a news reporter. "This is Andrea Rain, signing off. And remember," she said with a wink, creamy white fluid streaming down my daughter's face. "Whores get more."

Author's Note: Although this story is marked as "Complete," I am strongly considering expanding it to include more chapters. I hammered it out after an interaction I had yesterday with a fellow fan of the family genre, with her stories getting me quite hot and bothered. I also had a request in feedback from Suburban Succubus to work in a father/daughter plot, but I am not yet at the part of the story where that will occur. So, in honour of that delightful lady and the request I received, please accept this humble offering as a token of thanks for the positive feedback I have received for my other works, and as a promise of what I hope is to come. Oh, incidentally, I just made up the daughter's performer ID; if there really is an Andrea Rain, let me know about it so I can try again. Hope you enjoyed this short story.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fiction / Incest / Father / Daughter /