Loving Daughter
Copyright© 2026 by Ares Eros
Chapter 5
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A story about love and lust between a daughter and father. Mother also joins in later chapters.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Father Daughter Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism Fisting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts AI Generated
The hotel room was bathed in the amber glow of sunset when Mark pried his eyes open, Emily’s dead weight sprawled half across his chest. Her parted lips left a damp spot on his sternum; one hand still loosely curled around his softening cock even in sleep. He exhaled slowly, disentangling himself with care, though her fingers tightened reflexively—a possessive whine escaping her throat before she rolled into the warm hollow he left behind.
Coffee. He needed coffee.
The cheap machine gurgled to life in the cramped kitchenette, its mechanical groan loud enough to make him glance toward the bed. Emily didn’t stir, her naked back rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep, the sheet pooled at her waist. The bite marks stood out starkly on her shoulder—his handiwork. Mark scrubbed a hand down his face, the scent of brewing coffee failing to mask the musk of sex still clinging to his skin.
His phone buzzed on the counter. Karen. The screen lit up with her name alongside a selfie from last summer—her tits nearly spilling out of a bikini top, sand clinging to her thighs. He swiped answer before the third ring. “Hey.”
“Missed your voice,” Karen purred, the line crackling with what sounded like a cocktail shaker in the background. “Marjorie’s mom is getting a scan.” A deliberate pause. “I’m still at the hospital.”
Mark poured steaming coffee into a chipped mug, watching Emily’s hips shift under the sheets.
Mark leaned against the kitchenette counter, the phone hot against his ear as Karen’s voice dripped through the receiver like honey. “I’ve been thinking about your cock all afternoon,” she confessed, the words husky and deliberate. “How it stretches me open just right. How you grunt when I squeeze you.”
His grip tightened around the coffee mug. From the bed, Emily let out a soft, sleep-heavy sigh, her fingers curling into the pillow. “Karen—” he started, but she cut him off with a throaty laugh.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I can practically hear you getting hard. Are you? Touch yourself for me, baby. Let me hear it.”
Mark exhaled sharply through his nose, his free hand gripping the edge of the counter. “Not a good time,” he muttered, though his cock twitched traitorously at the challenge in her tone.
Mark’s fingers flexed around the phone. “Emily’s asleep,” he murmured, watching the rise and fall of her bare shoulders in the tangled sheets. His cock twitched at the memory of how those sheets had gripped them both hours earlier. “I’ll call you tonight.”
Karen’s sigh crackled through the receiver. “Make sure she takes that damn sleeping pill,” she said. “You know how she gets before exams—wide awake at 2 AM chewing her nails.” A pause, then lower: “I want you undistracted when we talk.”
Mark’s jaw tightened as Emily shifted in her sleep, her thigh slipping further apart. “Yeah,” he muttered, thumbing the call closed before Karen could elaborate. He set the phone down with a quiet click just as Emily stretched, her toes curling against the rumpled duvet.
“Daddy?” Her voice was sleep-rough, her lips pink and swollen from his earlier attention. She blinked up at him, sunlight gilding the sweat-damp strands of hair stuck to her forehead. “Who was—” A yawn cut her off mid-sentence, her arms stretching overhead in a way that made her tits sway enticingly.
Mark pushed off the counter, coffee mug in hand. “Karen. Reminding you about your quiz.” He handed her the cup, watching her nose wrinkle at the first bitter sip. “Said to take a sleeping pill.”
Emily rolled her eyes, her free hand already trailing down his bare stomach. “Like hell I will,” she murmured, her fingers skating past his navel toward his waistband. “I’ve got better ways to relax—”
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen flashing Lina. Mark caught her wrist before she could reach his prick. “Check that first,” he ordered, nodding toward the phone.
Emily huffed but obeyed, thumbing the screen open. Her lips pursed as she read aloud: “Mom’s insisting we take you two to dinner. Be ready in 30—she booked the restaurant downstairs.”
Mark groaned, rubbing his temples. “Christ. That woman is relentless.”
Emily tossed the phone aside and straddled him, her thighs squeezing his hips. “Plenty of time for a quickie,” she purred, grinding down against the hardening length beneath his boxers. “I’ll make it fast, Daddy. Just let me—”
Mark grabbed her hips, stilling her movements. “No,” he said firmly, though his cock throbbed in protest. “You heard Lina. Half an hour.” He nudged her off and stood, adjusting himself with a grimace. “And put on actual fucking underwear this time.”
Emily pouted, flopping back onto the bed in exaggerated defeat. “You’re no fun,” she whined, but her eyes sparkled with mischief as she rolled toward the edge of the mattress. “Fine. But I’m wearing the garter belt too.” She shot him a pointed look over her shoulder as she sauntered toward the bathroom.
The shower hissed to life behind the frosted glass as Mark rummaged through her suitcase, tossing a black dress onto the bed. The fabric slithered against the sheets—sleek, barely-there, with a plunging back that would leave nothing to the imagination.
Steam billowed from the bathroom when Emily emerged, a towel cinched loosely above her breasts. Water droplets clung to her collarbone, trailing down between the swells of her tits as she bent to rifle through her cosmetics bag. The towel slipped dangerously, revealing the curve of one perfect ass cheek before she nonchalantly hitched it back up.
Mark’s phone buzzed again—Karen. A single emoji: 🍆. He ignored it with a grunt just as Emily dropped her towel entirely, bending at the waist to step into sheer black stockings. The garter straps dangled against her thighs, swaying with each deliberate movement as she clipped them into place. “Like the view?” she teased, glancing at him over her shoulder.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Mark growled, snatching the dress from the bed.
Emily’s laugh was musical as she shimmied into the dress, letting the fabric slither over her hips without bothering with a bra. The plunging back exposed every vertebra down to the dimples above her ass. “Of course I am,” she murmured, turning so he could zip her up. Her breath hitched when his fingers lingered too long on the nape of her neck.
Mark’s teeth grazed her shoulder in warning. “You’ll behave.” It wasn’t a request.
Emily spun in his arms, her fingers toying with his belt buckle. “Or what?” Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “You’ll punish me?” The challenge in her eyes was pure sin.
A knock at the door shattered the moment. “Emily? It’s Lina!” came the sing-song voice, followed by a muffled giggle.
Mark’s grip tightened on her waist. “Saved by the fucking bell,” he muttered, swatting her ass hard enough to make her yelp. “Go.”
Emily sashayed toward the door, deliberately slowing her steps to let him watch the dress cling to every curve. She threw a smirk over her shoulder before yanking it open.
Lina’s gasp was audible. “Holy shit.” Her gaze raked Emily from throat to thigh, lingering on the garter straps peeking beneath the hem. Behind her, Mrs. Park’s lips parted—her fitted red dress straining over her ample chest as she leaned forward to inspect Emily’s outfit.
Mrs. Park recovered with a throaty laugh, her manicured hand brushing Emily’s bare back. “You look very pretty,” she purred, her accent thickening. Her eyes flicked to Mark, dark with promise. “Doesn’t she, Mr. Carter?”
Mark’s jaw flexed. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide his fists. “Yes, she’s very pretty,” he said flatly.
The restaurant’s dim lighting glowed amber against white linens, casting shadows that deepened the cleavage of all three women. Mark sipped his bourbon, tracking how Mrs. Park’s fingers lingered on the stem of her wineglass—mimicking the way Emily’s had wrapped around him hours earlier.
“So,” Mrs. Park murmured, swirling her cabernet. “Lina tells me you’re in imports, Mr. Carter.” Her stockinged foot grazed his ankle beneath the table. “How ... hands-on are you with your shipments?”
Mark smirked, swirling his bourbon before meeting Mrs. Park’s gaze. “Very hands-on,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I inspect every inch personally. Tight spaces ... require special attention.” His thumb traced the rim of his glass exactly where her lips had been moments before.
Lina choked on her champagne, her eyes darting between them with amused understanding. Emily’s fingers dug into Mark’s thigh beneath the table, her nails leaving crescent indents through the fabric of his slacks. “Daddy’s very thorough,” she purred, squeezing his hardening length through his pants. “Aren’t you?”
Mrs. Park’s laugh was throaty as she leaned forward, her cleavage threatening to spill from her red dress. “I do admire a man who takes his time with ... delicate cargo.” She licked a drop of wine from her lower lip, her foot sliding higher along Mark’s calf.
Emily’s hand moved with deliberate slowness, unbuttoning Mark’s fly with practiced ease. Her palm cupped him through his briefs, fingers tracing the rigid outline of his cock.
Mark’s fingers tightened around his bourbon glass as Mrs. Park’s foot traced higher up his calf beneath the table.
Lina smirked into her champagne flute, her gaze flicking between them like a spectator at a tennis match. “Mom,” she drawled, tapping her manicured fingers against the tablecloth, “you’re scandalising our guests.” There was no real reproach in her tone—only amusement.
Emily’s fingers curled around him through the thin cotton of his briefs, her thumb pressing deliberately against the leaking tip. “Don’t mind us,” she chirped to the table at large, her voice sugar-sweet even as her grip turned punishing. Her nails scraped the sensitive underside, drawing a barely stifled groan from Mark’s throat.
Mrs. Park’s laugh was a low, smoky thing as she leaned forward, her cleavage straining against the plunging neckline of her dress. Her stockinged foot slid higher, the pointed toe of her pump now pressing against Mark’s inner thigh.
Mark’s fingers tightened around his bourbon glass as Mrs. Park’s foot traced higher up his calf beneath the table. His free hand dropped to capture Emily’s wrist, stopping her teasing strokes just shy of his zipper. “Careful,” he murmured against the shell of her ear, voice rough with warning. “Or I’ll return the favour right here.” Emily’s breath hitched, her thighs pressing together instinctively at the threat.
“Quiz me again,” Lina groaned, flipping through her flashcards with a dramatic sigh. She held one up—mitochondria—then tossed it onto the table. “Ugh, we are going to lose.”
Emily stretched her arms overhead, the movement making her dress ride higher on her thighs. “Let’s bail,” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning in so her tits nearly brushed Lina’s arm. “We can study in my room. Bring the flashcards.”
Lina’s eyes flicked toward her mother, who was tracing the rim of her wineglass with a polished fingernail. “Mom—”
“Go,” Mrs. Park purred, waving them off without taking her eyes off Mark. “Mr. Carter and I will wait for you at the bar.” Her smile was all teeth. “Take your time.”
Emily hesitated, her fingers tightening around Mark’s wrist beneath the table. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, his other hand squeezing her knee in silent reassurance. “Don’t be long,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek that lingered just a second too long.
The moment the girls disappeared around the corner, Mrs. Park slid into Emily’s vacated chair. Her thigh pressed flush against Mark’s, the slit in her red dress falling open to reveal a glimpse of black lace garters. “Alone at last,” she murmured, her breath warm against his jaw as she leaned in. The scent of her perfume—something expensive and floral—mixed with the bourbon on her lips.
Mark swirled his bourbon, watching the ice clink against the glass as Mrs. Park’s fingers traced invisible patterns on the tablecloth. “What exactly do you do for your business?” he asked, his voice deliberately casual even as her thigh pressed harder against his beneath the table.
Her smile was slow, deliberate—a cat with cream on its whiskers. “I handle purchases,” she murmured, leaning in until her perfume wrapped around him like smoke. “My husband travels constantly. Leaves me to manage the ... finer details.” Her teeth grazed her lower lip. “Perhaps we should discuss how you could become our new supplier.” The word supplier dripped with implication, her knee nudging his crotch as she said it.
Mark downed the rest of his drink, the burn of the whiskey barely registering compared to the heat pooling in his gut. “I’d like that,” he rasped, setting the glass down with a thud. Her hand slid onto his forearm, nails digging in just enough to leave crescent indents in his skin.
Mrs. Park rose smoothly, her dress riding up to reveal a flash of toned thigh as she adjusted the hem. “My room has a private terrace,” she purred, gathering her clutch. “More ... discreet for negotiations.”
Mark followed her through the restaurant, watching the sway of her hips in that obscenely tight dress. The slit up the back gave him a glimpse of black lace garters with every step, the straps straining against the plump curve of her ass. He clenched his jaw, adjusting himself discreetly as they waited for the elevator.
The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected their every move—Mrs. Park’s fingers trailing along her own collarbone, Mark’s gaze locked on her reflection as he stepped closer. The air between them crackled with unspoken intent as the numbers climbed.
“You have a very persuasive way of doing business,” Mark murmured, crowding her against the railing. The scent of her arousal mingled with expensive perfume.
Mrs. Park turned with deliberate slowness, her back pressing into the cool metal as she tilted her head up. “And you,” she whispered, her palm flattening against his chest, “have a reputation for thorough inspections.” Her thumb brushed his nipple through his shirt, drawing a sharp inhale from him just as the elevator chimed.
Mark followed her down the hallway, memorizing the way her stilettos left faint marks on the plush carpet. Her keycard trembled slightly in her grip—the only betrayal of her composure. When the door clicked open, she stepped aside with a flourish. “After you, Mr. Supplier.”
The suite was all low lighting and expensive furnishings, but Mark barely registered the decor as Mrs. Park’s dress slit parted with her first step toward the minibar. “Scotch?” she offered over her shoulder, the curve of her ass flexing beneath the fabric. “Or would you prefer something ... harder?”
Mark didn’t answer. He was too busy watching the way her fingers lingered on the neck of the decanter—precisely where his throat had been in the elevator.
She turned then, two glasses in hand, her smile knowing. “A blowjob?” she asked abruptly, the crass word rolling off her tongue like honey.
Mark’s glass paused halfway to his lips.
Mrs. Park laughed, rich and throaty, setting the drinks aside with a careless clink. “No need to pretend anymore,” she murmured, stalking toward him with feline grace. “We both know exactly why we’re here.” Her fingers plucked at his belt before he could react, her nails scraping the outline of his cock through his trousers. “Shall we get to it?”
Mark exhaled sharply through his nose as she backed him toward the king-sized bed, her hands already working his belt with practiced efficiency. The moment his knees hit the mattress, she dropped to hers with a grace that spoke of experience. His zipper hissed open under her manicured fingers.
“Impressive,” she breathed, her thumbs hooking into his briefs to drag them down his thighs. His cock sprang free, already half-hard from her teasing—and her eyes darkened with genuine appreciation.
Before Mark could process that compliment, her mouth was on him—hot, wet, and devastatingly precise. Her tongue swirled around the head, collecting the bead of pre-cum with a hum of approval. She didn’t rush, didn’t tease—just took him deep in one smooth glide until his tip bumped the back of her throat. Her nose pressed into his pelvis with obscene intimacy.
Mark’s fingers tangled in the silk of her hair as she pulled back, her lips forming a tight seal around his shaft. The suction was relentless, her hollowed cheeks creating a vacuum that made his hips jerk. “Fuck—” he gritted out, watching through slitted eyes as she worked him with a rhythm that bordered on cruel.
Mrs. Park paused only to swirl her tongue along the throbbing vein underneath, her fingers cupping his balls with just enough pressure to make his thighs tense. “You taste like sin,” she murmured against his skin, her breath ghosting over wet flesh. “Your wife is a very lucky woman.”
Mark growled, yanking her head back by her hair. “Don’t—”. Rather than feeling guilty for cheating on his wife, he felt guilty for cheating on Emily.
She laughed, unfazed, and swallowed him whole again. This time, she added a twist of her wrist at the base, her other hand slipping beneath to stroke the sensitive skin behind his balls. The dual stimulation wrenched a groan from his chest, his abs flexing as she drove him relentlessly toward the edge.
When she pulled off with an obscene pop, her lipstick was smeared, her pupils blown. “Tell me,” She purred, tracing the swollen head of his cock with her thumb, “does your wife let you finish inside her mouth.
“Yes,” Mark growled, his fingers tightening in her hair as her mouth worked him with ruthless precision. “All the fucking time.” His hips jerked involuntarily as she hollowed her cheeks, the suction pulling a ragged moan from his chest. “Mrs. Park—”
She pulled off with a wet laugh, her thumb circling the swollen head of his cock. “Mai,” she corrected, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve got your cock in my mouth now. You can call me Mai.” Before he could respond, she took him deep again, her throat muscles fluttering around him as she swallowed him whole.
Mark’s back arched off the bed, his entire body strung tight as she drove him mercilessly toward the edge. Her nails dug into his thighs when he tried to thrust deeper, her control absolute even as his muscles trembled with restraint. The orgasm ripped through him with brutal force—her lips sealed tight around him as he pulsed down her throat.
Mai pulled back just as the last shudder wracked his body, catching his release in her palm with practiced ease. She held his gaze as she licked her lips, then slowly dragged her tongue across her spit-slick palm, collecting every drop before swallowing with a satisfied hum. “Delicious,” she murmured, wiping her hand on the sheets.
Mark didn’t give her time to gloat. In one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, his hands already working the zipper of her dress. The fabric pooled around her waist, revealing black lace that barely contained her heavy breasts. His mouth watered at the sight—her nipples already pebbled beneath the sheer fabric. “Fucking perfect,” he growled, yanking the cups down to free her tits.
Mai gasped as his mouth closed over one peaked nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before sucking hard. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he switched to the other, his free hand kneading the neglected breast with rough appreciation. “Such a greedy mouth,” she purred, arching into his touch.
Mark worked his way down her body, pausing to nip at the soft flesh of her stomach before hooking his fingers into her panties. The scent of her arousal hit him like a punch to the gut—musky and thick, unmistakably ready. He dragged the lace down her thighs, tossing them aside before spreading her legs wider.
Mai’s breath hitched when his tongue traced her slick folds, her hips jerking off the bed at the first slow, deliberate lick. “Oh fuck—” Her thighs trembled as he circled her clit, his fingers spreading her wider to lap at her entrance. The taste of her was intoxicating, her wetness coating his tongue as he drank her in.
“You’re dripping,” Mark growled against her skin, his stubble scraping her inner thigh. He slid two fingers inside without warning, crooking them to press against that sweet spot that made her back arch off the mattress. “That’s it—let me feel how much you want this.”
Mai’s moan was filthy, her hips rocking against his mouth as he sucked her clit in time with his thrusting fingers. “Yes, just like that—fuck!” Her nails scraped the sheets, her legs hooking over his shoulders to pull him deeper. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”