Taboo in Paris
Copyright© 2025 by Kinjite
Chapter 4: Bonds and Boundaries
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 4: Bonds and Boundaries - When Emily's Paris school trip hotel overbooks, she's forced to share her father's bed. The city of romance becomes her ruin—his breath scorching her neck, her sighs dissolving as he teaches her body to crave corruption. Night after night, they tangle in forbidden intimacy, sweat-slick and shuddering, his reckless hunger destroying every boundary. And when her best friend Kim stumbles upon their secret? Some sins weren't meant to be suffered alone.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Consensual Fiction Incest Father Daughter Cream Pie First Oral Sex Pregnancy AI Generated
Morning light painted the room in pale gold, revealing the night’s transgressions in stark relief. I woke to Dad’s chest pressed against my back, his half-hard cock still seated inside me. A sticky ache throbbed between my thighs as I shifted, drawing a soft groan from us both.
His arm tightened around my waist as he hardened fully inside me. The air hung thick with sex—musky and intimate, clinging to our tangled sheets.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sleep roughened his voice as his fingers traced my hipbone, then dipped lower in teasing arcs—not touching where I burned, but skating close enough to make my breath hitch.
“I need to—”
“Need this first.” His thrust punctuated the words, my body betraying me with immediate slickness.
I bit back a moan as his hand slid between my legs, finding my clit with unerring precision, those callused fingertips circling just shy of cruel before dragging downward to smear my wetness back along his cock. “Dad, we shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t feel this good?” His chuckle vibrated against my spine. His fingers knew exactly where to press, how to twist pleasure from me even when I fought it—until my back bowed, until the no in my throat became a choked-off cry.
When he came, it was with my name growled against my shoulder, his release flooding me just as thoroughly as last night. His slow withdrawal left me empty and sticky, but his parting glance promised this was far from over.
“Stay put.” He gave himself a slow stroke as he headed for the shower, his gaze pinning me to the bed long after he turned away.
The squeak of the shower faucet startled me from my daze. I lay motionless on the ruined sheets, the smell of sex clinging thick to my skin, when Dad emerged with a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets still glistened along his collarbone as he dressed with quick, efficient movements.
“Need to set up for the tour,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar roughness from our earlier activities, though his eyes were alert now. He paused to tuck a damp strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. “Be downstairs in twenty minutes, sweetheart.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the cooling stickiness between my thighs. I had just managed to wrap myself in the hotel bathrobe - the terrycloth rough against my oversensitive skin - when Kim’s unmistakable knock came: three quick raps in her signature rhythm.
“Emily? You decent?”
My hands trembled as I tightened the robe’s belt. The fabric barely concealed the mess beneath - I could already feel fresh wetness trickling down my inner thigh. “Just a minute!” I called, my voice cracking.
I opened the door just enough to peek out, but Kim pushed past me immediately, her usual morning energy dying the second the room’s scent hit her.
“What the hell is that sme—” Her words cut off as her gaze dropped to where the robe had fallen open, revealing the pearly streaks glistening on my thighs. Her face went pale.
Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the bathroom. The fluorescent lights were merciless, revealing every humiliating detail. My pussy looked ravaged - the inner lips swollen and protruding obscenely, the entrance still slightly gaping and flushed an angry red. Thick, milky strands oozed down my trembling thighs in continuous rivulets, each pulse of my body producing fresh evidence of what we’d done.
Kim made a sound like she’d been punched. “Oh God. Oh Jesus Christ.” Her hands flew to her mouth as another viscous glob plopped onto the tile with a wet slap. For a moment, she just stood there shaking, her eyes locked on the mess between my legs. Then, moving like she was in a trance, she grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pressed it into my hands.
“Here,” she whispered, her voice strangled. “You need to ... we have to...” But her words failed when another thick drop escaped me, her gaze helplessly tracking its fall.
I watched in the mirror as her face cycled through shock, disgust, and something terrifyingly close to fascination. When she finally met my eyes in the reflection, I saw the moment she understood - really understood - what those streaks and that smell and that ruined flesh meant. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she reached for a clean towel, her hands unsteady but determined.
“Let’s ... let’s get you cleaned up,” she managed, her voice barely audible. But even as she said it, her eyes kept being drawn back to the obscene proof still leaking from my body, her horror and morbid curiosity warring in her expression. Some images, I knew, would never leave her - just like these stains would never truly wash away.
The morning air carried the scent of fresh bread as we navigated Parisian streets toward the Louvre. The group buzzed with excitement—Maya and Dave playfully shoving each other, Liam snapping photos, Theo debating art history with Susan—but I moved through it all like a ghost. Every step reminded me of the dull ache between my thighs.
Kim matched my pace, her fingers twisting her bag strap. After three aborted attempts at conversation, she finally blurted: “Emily, hang back a sec? Girl talk.”
The others barely glanced over as we slowed. Kim waited until we’d fallen several paces behind before hissing, “When did you get on the pill?”
The question hit like ice water. “I’m not,” I admitted, watching her face pale.
Her knuckles whitened around her strap. “He didn’t even...?” Her eyes darted to my father guiding the group ahead, then back to my abdomen. “Jesus Christ, Emily. You could be—”
“I know.” My whisper cracked. Another trickle of wetness made me stiffen.
Kim caught the flinch. Her voice dropped even lower. “When’s your next period?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “Two weeks ago.”
The blood drained from her face. “You’re ovulating right now and he—” She cut herself off with a sharp breath, her glare burning into Dad’s oblivious back.
We entered the Louvre’s grand hall, the marble floors echoing with tourist chatter. Dad launched into his docent routine, pointing out Baroque techniques in a Caravaggio, but Kim’s grip on my elbow never loosened.
At the Mona Lisa, Caleb sidled up to Kim. “You okay? You’ve been—”
“Fine.” She didn’t even look at him, her focus locked on steadying me as another warm ooze escaped. Liam hovered nearby, his camera forgotten when I bit back a whimper.
By The Raft of the Medusa, the dam broke—a fresh stain blooming across my shorts. Kim’s hoodie was around my waist before I could react.
“Breathe,” she murmured, shielding me as Maya giggled at Dave’s joke. But her fingers trembled against my back, and when Dad cheerfully explained the painting’s symbolism, Kim’s jaw clenched so tight I heard her teeth grind.
Moonlight bathed the quiet street as we left the bistro, the group’s chatter fading behind us. Kim suddenly pulled me aside near a glowing storefront, her fingers tight around my wrist. “We’re getting you a new room tonight,” she whispered, her breath fogging in the cool air.
Without waiting for a response, she marched us straight back into the hotel lobby, her sneakers squeaking on the polished marble. The receptionist glanced up as we approached, her manicured nails pausing over the keyboard.
“Hi!” Kim’s voice dripped false cheer as she leaned on the counter. “We were wondering if we could switch my friend’s room to one with two beds?”
The woman smiled politely. “Let me check availability.” Her brow furrowed as she scanned the screen. “I’m sorry, but this reservation was specifically requested as a single queen bed. Made March 3rd under Mr. Carter’s name.”
Kim’s fingers dug into my wrist. “March 3rd?” Her voice cracked slightly. “But that’s...” She turned to me, all pretense gone. “Stanley dropped out February 20th. This was booked after.”
The receptionist, oblivious, continued cheerfully: “We actually have several twin rooms available right now. Ten, in fact. Would you like me to—”
“He lied.” Kim’s whisper was venomous. Her eyes burned into mine. “It wasn’t a last-minute necessity. He chose this.”
I stared at the reservation screen’s glow reflecting on the counter. The date glared back at me in crisp digital typeface: 03/03. Two weeks after the only other male chaperone withdrew. Deliberate. Premeditated.
“And the payment method?” Kim’s voice startled me. She’d turned back to the clerk, her smile strained. “Was that charged to the school account or...?”
“Oh no,” the clerk said brightly. “Mr. Carter paid the upgrade fee personally. He was very specific about needing—”
Kim’s sharp inhale cut her off. My stomach lurched as the pieces clicked: The extra cost. The special request. The timing.
Behind us, elevator doors pinged. Dad’s voice carried across the lobby. “Emily? Everything alright?”
Kim whirled, her body blocking me from view as the receptionist called out, “Oh, Mr. Carter! These young ladies were just asking about changing—”
“I’ll handle this, Marguerite.” His hand closed around my shoulder, the grip just shy of painful. “Jet lag must have made my daughter forget our room number.”
Kim’s hand shot out to stop the closing elevator doors. “Actually, Emily’s staying with me tonight. Girl’s night, right Em?” Her voice was all false cheer, but her eyes screamed a warning.
The doors tried to close again. Dad’s foot blocked them effortlessly. “How thoughtful,” he said, too evenly. “But we have an early start tomorrow.”
The silent battle raged in the space between heartbeats—Kim’s protective fury versus Dad’s quiet menace. When the elevator alarm began beeping, it was Kim who broke first, her hand falling away.
“Tomorrow then,” she promised me through clenched teeth as the doors slid shut. The elevator’s hum filled the silence as we ascended. Dad’s reflection in the polished doors watched me watching him, his expression now stripped of its performative warmth. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the rail—the same tempo he’d used last night counting my breaths afterward.
“Kimberly always was ... observant,” he said at last. The way he said her full name made my stomach twist. “Pity that quality doesn’t extend to recognizing lost causes.” His hand settled on my back, guiding me out at our floor with pressure that looked paternal to any watching cameras. “Go socialize. We wouldn’t want...” His thumb pressed once, hard, between my shoulder blades. “ ... rumors.”
We were in Liam’s room, where a few of the girls and boys from the group had gathered. Liam had set up his laptop, showcasing the photos and videos he’d taken throughout the day—shots of the Louvre’s iconic glass pyramid, candid moments in the Tuileries Garden, and even a stunning close-up of the Mona Lisa.
“Check this out,” Liam said, his voice tinged with pride. He clicked on a video of the group goofing off in front of the pyramid, the room erupting in laughter as everyone relived the moment.
I stood to the side, Kim hovering close yet distant, her arms crossed over her chest. Her thumbnail worried at her cuticle until a bead of blood appeared. I felt her eyes on me occasionally, but she said nothing. My mind wandered, and despite everything, I found myself comparing Liam to my father.
Liam, with his average height and slim build, was the opposite of my father in almost every way. His clothes hung loosely, his demeanor unassuming, and I caught myself glancing down at the way his sweatpants fit. The contrast was stark. My father was ... imposing, overwhelming in both size and presence. Liam, though sweet, seemed almost small in comparison, and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I quickly looked away.
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