Father's Shelter

by StarryHorizon

Copyright© 2019 by StarryHorizon

Incest Sex Story: Emily meets her father for the first time, but accidentally ends up drunk and naked in his bedroom.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Teenagers   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Father   Daughter   DomSub   Humiliation   Light Bond   Cream Pie   First   Masturbation   Pregnancy   .

“I’m telling you. Please just stay at home with me, Emily.”

I can still remember how it all began with my mother’s words. It feels like it happened so long ago.

As it so often happened in my life, I had to endure her nagging and guilt tripping. Whenever there was something I wanted or needed to do, she would try to shut it down. It was endearing as much as it was annoying. She was overprotective and unreasonable but didn’t care to admit it. I was old enough to take care of myself, and her motherly care sometimes felt more akin to having a babysitter, rather than an adult who supported you no matter what, you know?

For as long as I could remember, it had always been just me and her. I grew up without a father, you see, which was unheard of in the remote town I lived in. Everybody knew everyone, so there had been no way for her to hide the truth before everyone heard the rumors. The teasing from my classmates was endless and school was a nightmare. It was only recently that I had learned the reason why my dad ditched me before I was even born – he didn’t know I existed.

This was something I wasn’t told until very recently, at the start of this very December. My mother had gotten tipsy. Well, drunk – more so than usual – and she ended up spilling the whole truth about how she met my father back in her college days. Apparently it had started as a fling after they first encountered each other in a dance club. She was smitten, right away.

He wasn’t a student like she had been. He had a job in construction despite being the same age as her. So after just a month of dating, her parents had put a stop to their relationship. Nobody even knew she was pregnant until many months later when her water broke and she was sent straight to the delivery room to give birth to me.

In a perfect world, she would have reached out to him again.

But nope, little me was born and my mother left the city to raise me far away from my grandparents, away from my dad, away from everyone.

“I’m not staying,” I answered her defiantly. She had controlled my entire life and it had been full of flaws left and right. There was no way for me to make things worse even if I tried. It’s just like they say in those silly fortune cookies, sometimes the best path is the one right in front of you. After so many years of being told what was best for me, I might even end up taking pride in making a mistake. Good or bad, it would have been my choice.

“At least get your degree first, study, and pick a career! There will be plenty of time to travel in between. I just want you to pick the safe choice, all right? If you do this now, you will just regret it. I know you will. Trust me, Emily, please!” My mother was anxious, she breathed heavily and her gaze fixated on me. She blocked the exit with her body and held tightly onto both sides of the doorframe. She didn’t want me to leave the house. Unfortunately for her though, I had been waiting eighteen long years for this chance to get answers and to meet my dad. I just didn’t know it had been leading up to this moment.

“I’m sorry.” With those words, I grabbed my duffel bag and pushed my way past her with renewed determination. She still didn’t want to let me go, but she didn’t have a choice.

So there I was, on my way to the city. The train ride was rather uneventful. I found myself staring out the window with a hollow feeling, like parting ways with an old and trusted friend to seek out the unknown instead. Those thoughts were gnawing on the back of my mind like nothing else. This was a whole new territory for me, I had never been to the city nor had I ever been truly on my own. The only safety net I had were some small savings in my bank account. That wasn’t reassuring at all.

Another issue I thought about was the problem of actually finding my dad. I had a couple of old and faded pictures which gave me a rough idea what to look for. I didn’t have an address, but I did have his name – Carl Richter. The name of my father. It sounded European, which was another thing I was looking forward to ask him about. I also knew where he used to work twenty years ago, which I hoped would prove useful even after such a long time.

The train ride took a couple hours and I arrived in the late afternoon. The first thing I noticed upon stepping out of the train was the dirty cityscape and the foul air. I hadn’t seen much just yet, but my first impression was a negative one for sure. People were rushing past me, bumping into me, and completely minding their own business. For a small-town girl like myself, it was a culture shock.

Nonetheless, I knew I was on a tight schedule. I could get a hotel for the weekend but that would already deplete my savings by a lot. Man, talk about feeling nervous and rushed. So I set out to visit the place my father used to work at.

It was an old factory, for the assembly of heavy machinery. It gave me a better idea of what he might be like as a person. Most of the machines were old and outdated, but they still completed the job just fine. The air was thick with the smell of spilled oil, steel, and metals. I couldn’t imagine enduring this for more than a day, that was certain.

Of course, they ended up telling me that he was long gone after so many years had passed. But, they were able tell me exactly where he used to live. I quickly deposited my duffel bag in a safe locker. Until I actually needed access to fresh clothes it was pointless to bring it everywhere. The company told me that my dad lived near the city center so that was my next destination. The next bread crumb to chase after.

There was a crazy amount of commerce and residential areas. There were so many people all around me, wherever I looked. The city was alive. In my eyes, it felt like heaven – so many new things to explore. I briefly toyed with the thought of seeking out an arcade and getting a feel for those retro games I had fancied since my early childhood, but dismissed the thought. There would be plenty of time for that stuff after I finished the task at hand.

My fingers kept reaching back into my pockets to have another look at my dad’s pictures. With every person that walked past me I did this quick mental check – could this be him, what did he look like now? The person in the picture was a bulky but handsome guy in his early 20s, with a scruffy beard. I dare say he looked kinda cute back then. His hair was styled up, short and pitch black.

Would he even recognize me? I was just a petite girl and looked nothing like him. Just a little toned from the mandatory cardio lessons at school. Freckles were all over my cheeks, probably because I always forgot sunscreen. My curly hair reached way past my shoulders, and shimmered in the same light-brown color as my mother’s. In fact, I realized that the only thing I visibly had in common with my father was the color of our eyes – a bright blue, like the sky on a sunny day. But even that feature was concealed behind a pair of big dorky glasses. Years in front of the computer left me shortsighted, so the glasses weren’t by choice.

Anyhow, I soon found myself in front of the towering apartment complex he was supposed to live in. I snuck inside when one of the other inhabitants returned home, and after walking up the stairway, I gathered my courage and knocked on his door.

Silence followed.

I tried again, but no sign of activity. Perhaps he was shopping or simply at work somewhere, I figured.

With little else to do, I sat down by his doorstep and admired the pictures a little longer. It wouldn’t be long now, I thought. It would be a happy little family reunion. Maybe I could even convince him to meet mom again and to start dating. She must have seen something in him all those years ago, surely she would be willing to give it another try with him. He probably has a great personality if they had such good chemistry.

The waiting was getting me nowhere though. The sun was setting after hours of just sitting on my bum, so I got back up on my feet and decided to try my luck outside. Just as I was about to leave, one of the residents passed me in the stairway. After explaining the situation to her, the only tip she could offer was that he sometimes spent his evenings getting drunk, since she had occasionally seen him stumbling home. The odds of running into him by accident were astronomical, but it was worth a shot.

The nightlife was crazy. The streets were littered with drunk people of all ages and not all of them seemed normal and rational. Some guys I passed made flirty comments, and used pick-up lines that were so old that even I had heard them before. Gross. It was weird to see how lame some people acted when they desperately wanted to get laid. They weren’t gentlemen by any stretch of the imagination.

I vividly remember what happened after. There was this one bar, it was particularly loud, with audible laughter whenever the door swung open. Something was drawing me to it, some kind of feeling. I peeked through the stained glass windows into the rowdy bar, and could barely believe my own eyes at what I saw.

Carl Richter. My dad who had been missing all my life. He simply sat there on a barstool by the counter. He was significantly older than in the pictures but I recognized him all the same.

In an almost trance-like state I entered the bar, and my heart was beating fast enough to make me dizzy. It was unreal to finally be face-to-face with the person I missed my entire life.

“Hello,” I whispered, but it was completely overshadowed by the tunes of some old country song that came out of outdated, cheap speakers throughout the bar. He still hadn’t even noticed me. He hadn’t aged well. His beard was an uncombed mess, his shirt was stained, and he possessed an unattractive beer belly. Still, he was family.

It was time to take the initiative, I thought. So I sat down on the barstool right next to him and dreamily gazed at this man who had no idea who I was. I could barely wait to spill the secret and to see his reaction.

“Yeah? I’m not buying you a drink.”

Those were the first words I heard. His voice was deep and monotone, and he sounded irritated to boot. It probably wasn’t the first time tonight that a girl sat down by his side, asked him for a drink, and then left with her beverage without paying him any attention in return. But I had absolutely no intention of leaving. Heck, I had to tense every muscle in my body just to prevent myself from jumping into his arms and hugging him as tightly as humanly possible! He had the wrong idea, but he would soon learn the truth.

“No, no,” I tried to correct him immediately. “It’s not like that at all! You see, I’m here for y—” he cut off my sentence midway by holding his hand flat up.

“If it’s not like that, have a drink first. Show some commitment, then you can start your sales pitch,” he eyed me briefly before continuing. “That’s assuming you are even old enough to drink.”

It was around then that reality came back to hit me hard. I should have waited to meet him at his apartment. Things would have been so much easier and simpler.

The country music was still playing in the background, and the stale stench of old cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Crowds of old men were seated around the nearby tables, and tall jugs of beer were spread all around. After all, this was just a bar.

This wasn’t the right place for a first introduction.

Upon realizing my mistake, I decided to go with the flow. If this was the mood he was in, so be it. This would be my first opportunity to bond with him, father and daughter. It would make for one funny little surprise when I reveal the truth to him, I figured. Could have a drink, chat about random stuff, and learn what he was truly like.

“Yeah uhmm,” I mumbled to myself when the bartender came back around.

It was the first time I ever ordered a drink, how the heck was I supposed to know what would suit me.

“Do you have something sugary, but with alcohol?” I asked.

It was a miracle that he didn’t ID me as soon as those words left my mouth. In retrospect, I should have realized right then that this was a bar where young girls went in order to meet older men and the barkeeper turned a blind eye to it.

“Long Island Iced Tea, perhaps?”

“No, something with alcohol,” I corrected him since tea obviously wasn’t what I was after, at which point the bartender rolled his eyes at me and muttered something under his breath.

After a brief pause, he excused himself to prepare the drink. Whatever, iced tea would be perfect to calm my nerves. Something cold and soothing.

“I don’t recall having seen you around,” my father said to me.

His stare and sudden interest piqued my attention and I felt a sudden blush creeping across my cheeks. It was a startling realization that I had his undivided interest now.

“Yeah uh ... I’m not from around here. I’m visiting. It’s probably just temporary until my situation is less complicated. I don’t know how long I will stay, it depends on how things go.”

I sprinkled just enough information in there to see if he would figure it out himself. Maybe a part of him already recognized that I looked familiar.

“So you ran away from home?” he asked matter-of-factly, cutting straight to the chase, which took me aback for a moment.

His brutish fingers reached for the pitcher of beer on the counter, and he drank a few gulps without breaking his gaze for even a second. It made me nervous since he had me all figured out apparently, despite us having exchanged so very few words. He was good at guessing things.

The iced tea arrived just in time. My uneasy mood was written all over my face. This felt weird and unpleasant. It was the same kind of jittery feeling as when you forgot to study, fully believe that you flunked the test, and are about to get your results back. I reached for the glass and drank it down. There was absolutely no hesitation. I didn’t even know how dry my throat felt until the chilled liquid eased the discomfort. The taste was sweet as well, a mix of peach and lemon flavors.

“I didn’t really. Sort of, but not really,” I answered.

He sure seemed to be perceptive - at least in regards to how I ran away from home. It didn’t seem like he caught on yet that I was his daughter, not yet anyway. It was a fun little game of cat and mouse, and I felt amused by keeping this secret to myself for now. It would make the big reveal even more impactful once he figured out that he had met his long lost baby girl. It would be a special moment that I would eventually be able to share with everyone I knew, and they all would be happy for me.

“Ah-huh. Is that how you ended up here?” he asked while gesturing at my barstool. “You messed up and now you need a place to stay at for a while? What’s your name anyway?”

“It’s Emi...” I interrupt myself with a hacking cough, and the growing awareness that something was burning inside my stomach. Like a fool, I reached for that iced tea and drank what was left of it to try and ease the weird sensation in my belly.

“Go easy with that stuff, is this your first time drinking alcohol?”

As if things couldn’t get more embarrassing, I quickly realized I was making a fool of myself. It hadn’t even occurred to me that the iced tea was laced with booze, which had been totally overshadowed by the sweet taste! I cursed myself for being such an idiot.

I rapidly began to feel it hitting me like a bucket of bricks. He looked at me like the fool I was. The mistake was made and I could only hope it wouldn’t get too overwhelming.

My cheeks flushed red hot and the heat was radiating outwards in warm waves until my whole body felt tingly and numb. This wasn’t just a buzz. It was my first contact with strong alcohol and I had way overdone it.

“Wh-whoa!” I exclaimed.

Both of my hands reached for the counter and I deliberately held onto the smoothly polished wood, as if afraid the ground would swallow me whole if I were to let go.

“You’re a mess, girl. You’re lucky I’ve got a thing for damsels in distress,” he chuckled.

Those words stung after how much I tried to remain in control of it all.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” I slurred in reply.

Even through the dense fog of drunkenness, I understood this was my first time getting scolded by my own father. It was a moment of pride as much as it was one of regret.

“I guess you’ve had enough for tonight, I’ll take you home.”

His words put my mind at ease, home sounded like a great place right now. It sounded safe and secure. Even more so given how the situation continually grew worse. The ground seemed to be spinning in circles. My dad half-heartedly paid the bartender for both of our drinks and then helped me to stumble my way out of the bar.

“I’m Emily ... just Emily...” I mumbled as he wrapped my arm around his neck and helped me back to his place.

His apartment was in walking distance, fortunately. I don’t think I would’ve made it without help, considering my sense of balance wasn’t just gone, it was utterly broken. My weary head rested on his strong shoulder with every step, and he guided me to his apartment. Home. It felt so good when he unlocked that familiar door and we stepped inside.

“What do you need first?” he asked me. We stopped right after entering, it was a relatively small apartment and all rooms seemed to connect to the hallway. “Bathroom or bedroom? Do you want to freshen up before we get started?”

At this point I was completely drained and couldn’t think of anything but sleeping. Good sleep. Bed. I shook my head and he obliged. He led me to the bedroom and helped me to lie down, and what a relief it turned out to be. I was barely even aware of my surroundings anymore. The urge to inspect my father’s apartment was entirely overwhelmed by the need to close my eyes and to get some rest. My stomach was burning, my arms and legs didn’t obey me, I was a mess.

So you can imagine my surprise when I heard the noise of my belt buckle being undone, after which I felt my jeans being pulled right off my legs. I opened my eyes again, though it did take me a second to adjust to the brightly lit room.

“What are you doing?” I tried to reach for my pants to keep them for myself, but was just a tad too slow, they came off with ease.

His stare fixed on my crotch, and I looked down to see that my underwear was exposed. Obviously. The white cotton hugged my lower lips and presented a fine outline of their shape. Oh God I still remember how humiliating that felt. It was the first time that a man saw me in my underwear. There were a couple girls I had experimented with in my past, but never with a man.

“Don’t worry, we ain’t doing anything tonight that you don’t want to do, muffin,” he whispered.

After uttering those reassuring words, he paused and caressed my legs. He seemed to admire my smooth skin? He either had a thing for pale girls or for young ones. I fulfilled both criteria.

His intentions were still unclear to me at the time, probably because of that damned booze, or maybe I just didn’t think that the situation could escalate any further than it already had. After all, I knew he was my father - it didn’t occur to me that he didn’t know that. As far as he knew, I was simply a drunken girl who approached an old man in a bar, and then played hard to get once her pants were off.

But he moved closer and kissed the insides of my thigh. Just once, then twice, and then he gradually inched his way up. It felt nice and pleasant. I had never been treated with affection, so this was a very welcome experience. That warmth I felt seemed to amplify, particularly growing somewhere in my tummy. Desire. I couldn’t enjoy it blindly, no, a part of me knew that this situation was highly unusual and strange.

And then without a second thought, he brushed the crotch of my underwear aside and placed a kiss right atop the bald slit of my pussy. A shock coursed through me and I froze. I couldn’t tell if the alcohol was playing tricks on me or if this was really happening. In my dizzy state, I simply looked on, bewildered and confused. He was really about to go down on me. A rush of emotions mangled my thoughts. When was the last time I took a shower, what if I wasn’t clean enough? Wait, no. This shouldn’t happen at all, this was sexual. He was going too far!

I struggled to decide if this was the right time to be complacent. After all, my own dad was prepared to eat me out. He was about to find out what my pussy smelled like. Even what I tasted like.

At least the scent of my lady parts wasn’t something I needed to be ashamed of. That’s right, of all the girls I had been with, not a single one complained. I’d have to lie if that wasn’t a source of pride, you know, being complimented on your private bits, to have them compared to the sweet smell of peaches and such. But it was the wrong time to reminisce about past hook-ups.

When I failed to object to his advances, he proceeded with care and planted his mouth more firmly on my womanhood. I could feel his tongue, wet and warm, as it touched my clit and applied gentle pressure.


What a feeling! I released a tender sigh. His agile tongue seemed to be toying with me, drawing small circles and eliciting involuntary gasps from me. Every time I felt myself getting lost in the pleasure, he slowed down and teased a different spot. He was careful enough not to apply too much direct pressure either. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, and my pussy ached for more despite my mixed feelings. Everything down there felt warm and responsive, like it suddenly had a mind of its own.

Two of his thick fingers sought out the small entrance into my body.

His curious digits explored and caressed my labia for a moment before applying gentle pressure and easing their way into me. For the first time in my life, something was invading me, a sensation I had both dreaded and anticipated for so very long.

Even the girls I had been with never went this far. It had always been limited to rubbing the outside of our important bits. We would bring each other to climax and then still feel confident that we weren’t lesbians, because it wasn’t sexual unless some kind of penetration happened, right? Teenage logic.

It was around that moment when my stupor wasn’t enough to keep me docile any longer.

“Wa-wait! That’s a little too ... ohh!”

A moan escaped my dry lips upon feeling his fingers delving a little deeper and spreading me open. After an initial discomfort, I managed to accept this weird sensation and embrace it. There was pain and a certain awkwardness to it, but also a distinct pleasure. It was good. Too good in fact, since my dumb moment of bliss came to an abrupt stop when he pushed just a tad too deep and made contact with my hymen, that little treasure I’d been keeping safe and sound for a potential boyfriend.

I flinched, gasped, and inched backwards on those soft bed sheets. My hands were clutching the fabric tightly, it felt like something had stung me down there.

“A virgin, huh? Did you even have your first kiss yet?” His voice was sultry and heavy. He wasn’t fooling around.

“No,” I answered meekly.

My response was a brief one, I hadn’t even noticed my ragged breathing. And up to then I also hadn’t noticed that awkward, dull tingle inside my crotch. Was this what it’s like to be genuinely aroused? I wished it was possible to tell my vagina to calm down, it was the wrong place and the wrong time to have my judgment clouded.

My head felt heavy and my thoughts were simple. It may have been a side effect of the alcohol, or perhaps a sign of lust, I wasn’t sure.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded, but I hesitated.

This whole situation had gone out of control. I just wanted to meet my father for the first time, instead I ended up drunk on his bed while he misunderstood my intentions. He thought I ran away from home, or that I simply wanted to get laid ... maybe both. I couldn’t even blame him, this was a disaster and I didn’t have the courage to speak the truth any longer. Not after he had seen me like this, not after he had gotten a taste of me.

So I closed my eyes.

The bed springs squeaked and whined as his weight kept shifting. I wasn’t sure what he was doing since I kept my eyes shut, but it was something. It felt like maybe a minute passed, perhaps two.

“Are you ready to lose your first kiss?” I heard him ask.

Ugh, I didn’t like the phrasing of his question. As if he was about to steal something that belonged to me. But I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, I just wanted this night to proceed to wherever it was headed so I could approach it with a fresh, clear mind tomorrow.

“Give me a kiss,” I kept my eyes closed, but the lights were still turned on and I could sense he was close to my face.

So this was it then, my first kiss. I leaned forward just a little until I could feel my lips making contact with something, and then I puckered up and gave up my first kiss with a wet smack.

The shape was all wrong, though?

“That was incredibly hot,” I could hear his voice coming from above, rather than having it originate from in front of me. Upon opening my eyes I could immediately understand why his words originated from above instead of from in front of me – I was staring right at the smooth, purple head of his erection that I had just given my first kiss to.

It was a grotesque sight, his dick was all veiny and oversized, and with a bush of untamed pubic hair surrounding the base. It was a gross first introduction to the male genitals. At first glance, it was beyond my understanding why any woman would get excited by the image of a guy’s private parts. It lacked grace and appeal. Worse yet, this certainly wasn’t how I expected to lose my first kiss.

My father laughed down at me, as if to gloat with this masterpiece of a prank. He probably had intended to ease up the mood, but it backfired.

He was on his knees to get the angle just right, so that I could give up my first kiss to his penis. My dignity and pride evaporated into dust and ash. He also had stripped off his clothes – I was treated to the unsightly image of his out-of-shape appearance and hairy body. This wasn’t just a bad dream.

My heartbeat was quickening. If it were possible to die of embarrassment, I would’ve died right then.

“That wasn’t funny!” His attitude was so casual and playful. He truly had no idea who I was or how much this mattered to me.

“You gotta learn to stop taking yourself so serious, muffin. You’ll never be happy with a guy if you can’t take a joke or two.”

His strong hands reached down to grab a good hold of my hips, and he rolled me over onto my belly, breaking the tight grip I held onto the sheets. His fingers then slid down to grasp the waistband of my undies, and with a quick tug downwards, he removed them and tossed them out of reach. My face was pressed into one of the pillows while he did those things, and my nose picked up a distinct lavender scent. So it was freshly washed, at least.

Ironically I was still fully dressed from the waist up, including my shirt and now-wrinkled blouse. It gave me a false sense of modesty, considering my lower half was nude. This did however suit me just fine since I had absolutely no intention of looking him into the eyes after what he had just done to me. I was intoxicated, grumpy and hormonal and the only thing I wished for was the chance to sleep.

Just as I began to wonder how much further he was planning to take this evening, I felt him positioning himself on top of me. His pronounced belly pushed against my arched back, and my tipsy state was no longer enough to block the full weight of reality, as it dawned on me what he was about to do next.

I could have told him that I was his daughter, but that would have made me look like a sex-fiend or crazy person since he would have no reason to believe me after going this far. Alternatively I could have told him that I didn’t want to have intercourse, but he had made it pretty clear that this was a simple part of our arrangement. He would offer shelter, I would offer myself. Both options were terrible. It felt like playing along would be the only option with which I would have a chance to get to know him a little better.

My indecisiveness gave him plenty of time to get the job done.

He aligned the bulbous crown of his manhood with my naked slit, and gave it just an inquisitive little nudge forward to treat it to the smooth touch of my vulva. When he felt confident that he was at the right place, he began his deliberate push forward. He must have had a hundred one night stands, since he had enough practice to know exactly where my entrance was. A woman’s body was no mystery to him.

I could feel the lips of my pussy being opened and pushed aside, which at first mesmerized me with another moment of confusion. After all, I could see his hands planted on either side of my body so if it wasn’t a finger that he pushed into me, that must mean—ohh!

It rapidly dawned on my inexperienced self, just a tad too late to have a change of heart.

The bloated tip of his member insistently pushed inwards until the chubby folds of my pussy collapsed around the mushroom-shaped head. He was inside me! I was too late to act. We had become one. It would be almost romantic if it weren’t for the nagging thought that it was my own father who just penetrated me. Most of all though, I had been ready for a sharp pain which somehow didn’t happen. I expected the loss of my hymen to be more unpleasant.

“Now then, let me take care of that silly virginity for you.”

Hearing it spoken out loud was enough to coax me back into action. What did he mean with those words, he didn’t deflower me yet? But he was inside me. Maybe he wasn’t deep enough, and maybe it wasn’t too late to stop this after all.

“Hold on,” I squeaked in panic. “Just hold on for a minute,” I repeated.

My thoughts briefly became more coherent – if this were to actually happen, I would have to live with the knowledge that my own father took my first time. That it would have been my own dad who popped my cherry and conquered my vagina for the first time. I would never be able to rid myself of the disgusting thought that my pussy had been permanently claimed, and belonged to my dad.

The thought left me breathless for a second – and I could feel my vagina instinctively squeezing down on his shaft, as if to signal that my undamaged little pussy was ready for its first cock.

“Hold on, wait!” I groaned and twisted my body, it was a last attempt to avoid the imminent disaster.

“Trust me, you’re gonna have way more fun down there when that thing is out of the way. Quick and easy,” came his words, with a very dismissive reference to my hymen.

His mouth was so close to my ears that I could feel his warm breath. And then he lunged forward and sent the entirety of his erection into my petite body.

There was a brief second when I breathlessly, with wide open eyes, felt nothing except for his fat penis as it resided against the very back of my vagina. The lips of my pussy were wedged against his crotch, completely hiding his entire dick inside my womanhood. Our genitals were perfectly fused together, like two puzzle pieces that had become one.

But then the sharp, stinging pain followed which accompanied the loss of my virginity. Together with that came the tummy-aching feeling of having something thrust deep inside me. I didn’t even know it at the time, but that smooth crown had bottomed out inside me on that day and touched my cervix. Perhaps instinctively he had been in a rush to introduce himself to my baby-making bits. Even if he wasn’t aware himself, his cock sure as heck seemed to have known what it was most interested in.

“Ah ... ahnngh!” I exhaled sharply and couldn’t even think of getting fresh air. My hands clutched the blanket and I bit the pillow to suppress an even more indecent sound. I was in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening!

But it was.

An eternity passed before I grew more aware of my surroundings and what was going on. His hefty testicles were pressed up tight against my labia. Yeah all right, he was wedged deep into my body. I had messed up and given my own father the privilege of taking my first time. Good job, Emily. My drunken stupor was slowly fading and I was left with nothing but regret and shame as I lay there, face pressed into the pillow, and the weight of another person on my back.

“Are you ... is it over? Are you done?” My voice was trembling.

The pillow’s stupid lavender scent was still heavy in the air around me. I could feel my father’s hairy chest against my arched back, and hear his steady breathing. He was probably enjoying that warm, wet grip of my pussy. My own dad. Softly embraced by my freshly deflowered vag. “Are you done?” I weakly repeated myself with a voice that lacked any conviction or strength. It had been my fault that things escalated.

“Not yet, muffin. I’m trying real hard to make it a good time for you.”

Gently and slowly, he withdrew about halfway before pushing back into me, and his balls slapped against my labia. He repeated the motion and I was treated to the unfamiliar sound of proper intercourse. Flesh slapping against flesh, and little else to focus on.

As I lay there, I began to hope that he would finish sooner rather than later. His intention to make it good for me was nice and all, but absolutely the last thing on my mind. My thoughts were all over the place and my inner conflict almost made me want to throw up while he kept thrusting into me. The reality of the situation grew heavier on my consciousness and it was hard to stay aroused. I could feel myself drying up on the inside...

His pace sped up and my hands reached out to grasp the pillow more firmly, something to focus my discomfort on. Something told me that he wasn’t particularly concerned about making me feel good, it was more like he was only thinking of his own fun and pleasure. He was using my vagina, while the rest of my body ... didn’t even seem to matter all that much to him.

“We’re getting somewhere,” he whispered huskily into my ear.

I swear it felt like his cock grew another inch or two, in length and in girth.

It was too much for me, the discomfort from having my insides stretched into all directions was overbearing. The frustration grew and I couldn’t remain quiet.

“Ahnn! Fu—fuck!”

It left my mouth before I could even think of what I was saying. My only comfort was that the taboo of using swear words in my father’s presence paled in comparison to accepting him into my pussy. Over and over, I could feel his manhood so fucking deep inside my loins. He was completely overpowering me.

“Yeah that’s it, just let it all out. You’re a woman now, muffin.” His tease did little to encourage me, especially since I could feel myself rapidly getting sore from the constant friction. Either my pussy wasn’t ready to take in an adult-sized dick, or I simply wasn’t nearly wet enough to endure the constant pounding.

A sudden thrust sent his manhood right back against the end of my cunt, and I cried out with a bitter groan. Everything inside me felt stretched to the brim just to accommodate this slab of meat, I was lucky he was holding still.

I thought.

It was a long and soothing moment during which I thought he was simply going easy on me, that is, until I grew aware of an awkward slippery heat inside my loins. I could feel it just under my bellybutton, inside me, a wet heat that expanded outwards.

He grunted behind me, and then gave my pussy a couple more tentative thrusts before inching his hips backwards. The walls of my vag felt incredibly tender and sensitive, and I could feel his journey outwards until his appendage simply came free from my body’s grip with a wet pop. Everything inside me suddenly felt empty and ruined.

“That was amazing,” he breathed in pure satisfaction, and then he rolled over to the other side of the bed.

It had ended just as abruptly as it had begun. My insides were aching and I felt a wetness that definitely wasn’t a part of me – it was something he had left inside me. A reminder of what we did, and how far we went. It wasn’t something I could sugarcoat, my father had left me with a healthy creampie that now liquefied somewhere inside my tenderized privates.

I couldn’t even smell the lavender anymore. The room stunk of a pungent mixture of his sweat and my pussy.

So that was my first time, I thought to myself. Still tipsy, full of adrenaline, but also so incredibly exhausted. Curiosity was getting the better of my tired self, and I moved onto my back and reached down to carefully explore the aftermath. It took what little strength I had left but I needed to see it for myself.

While my father used a bunch of tissues to clean up the mess on his end, I stared down at my violated peach. The lips of my pussy were glaring back at me with an angry red color, and were swollen to at least twice their normal size. Puffy and spongy. An extremely pungent, vile scent wafted up and into my face, which caused me to cough in disgust. It was the smell of sperm.

I could feel the slippery heat of his semen leaking into every corner of my womanhood. He had his orgasm inside of my body. He really did. My own dad came inside of me.

Which was when I grew aware of the toll it had taken on me. All the alcohol, the exhaustion, the incredibly long day. This outcome had not been what I expected. If at all possible, I planned to at least sleep in a different room than him. But my muscles no longer obeyed. Just a few minutes of rest should do the trick and bring back my energy, surely. I remember closing my eyes for just a moment ... but that had been enough for sleep to claim me.

The dreams were weird. A heavy weight kept me pinned down and I remembered how for the entire duration of the dream, I was simply stuck on my back while the boulder made it difficult to breathe...

When I woke up early in the morning, it made a whole lot more sense.

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