I held my legs wide and closed my eyes. Despite all the cocks that I had sucked, I had never had one in my pussy. Daddy was about to correct that omission.

A few hours earlier: You may have guessed that even in school in that small town where I grew up, I was pretty decent looking. I'd done some modeling as a child and young teen and saw that as my future. I had plenty of boys sniffing around and I used to enjoy a nice hard core DVD. By the time I reached sixteen, my cherry had fallen to the tender and loving ministrations of a large cucumber. However, the closest I had ever gotten to real sex with a boy was fingers inside the bra and, with but the slightest of coaxing, a blow job for any boy who treated me politely. Man, did I love to swallow! As for getting off myself, I still wasn't ready to let any guy stick his cock inside me, or even his fingers inside my panties, hence the cucumbers and my sworn-to-secrecy fingers.

My parents were very trusting with me, for good reason. Whether I was alone or had company in my room, male or female, they would always knock before entering. They knew that my invitation to enter was always immediate, allowing no time to rearrange clothing or move apart, and that when they did come in, they always found me in a totally moral situation. Of course, even if I had been masturbating in bed, it wouldn't have taken but a second for me to get decent, so their presence at home never deterred me from that little pleasure.

So there I was, naked as the day I had been born, sucking on a cuke with two fingers tweaking my g-spot. Fortunately, I'm a quiet orgasmer (orgasmist?), not a screamer. Suddenly, my door burst open and Daddy fell into the room. Mom was behind him, standing over him actually, laughing.

"Sorry, Maria. This clumsy oaf tripped over the top step."

Then they both looked at me and the silent room became even more silent, deathly so. Two seconds felt like two hours as I sat motionless, a statue with a hard vegetable in her mouth and two fingers in her twat. Mom reached down to help Daddy get up, but both sets of eyes were on my naked body, every inch reddening with embarrassment. It was easy to read their minds, their wondering if their only child was still just a child. Mom spoke.

"Are you remembering, Maria, or just fantasizing?"

I understood the words but had no idea what she meant. She saw that, and rephrased.

"Are you still a virgin, Maria?"

I nodded, saying nothing.

"Just how far have you gone?" she followed up.

Well, there was no sense in playing games. I was caught en flagrante so to speak. I pulled the cucumber from my mouth and slid it back in, twice. Then she pointed down between my legs.

"Do you still have your hymen?"

I pulled the cucumber from my mouth and moved it down to my pussy, holding it there but without sticking it inside me. She nodded and looked over at Daddy. He nodded also. Mom sighed, a deeper sigh than I'd ever heard out of her.

"Daddy and I have been talking about your maturity, your sexual maturity, for a long time. I've given you the usual mother-daughter talk but we've been worried about how you would handle real life. I made a suggestion to Daddy. He didn't like it, or at least he said that he didn't. I can never tell with this horny old man. Anyway, would you like him to spend the night here with you?"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I still hadn't made a sound since Daddy had come stumbling through the door. I knew from my friends that many girls had fantasies about sex with their fathers, and I had become one of them. Yet I was still terrified at the thought of any cock inside me, much less the incestuous cock of my Daddy. On the other hand, they'd come into the room before I'd had a chance to cum and my pussy was still soaking wet.

I smiled. To me it seemed like a demure smile, yet the next day Mom told me that it had looked a bit whorish. She gave me a Mona Lisa smile and turned to Daddy, kissing him deeply. Their tongues were obviously intertwined. She turned then and walked to the door, closing my light on the way. Silhouetted by the light in the hallway, she turned her head toward Daddy.

"Save some for me, Michael. I'll see you in the morning."

"No Mom, stay," I suddenly yelled.

"Are you afraid?" she asked.

"Maybe," I replied. "Would it bother you?"

She laughed. "Your Daddy and I have been watching each other have sex with different people since before you were born. It's spiced up our sex lives. Just because we thought you were too young to know about it, or to join us, nevertheless, it's been a real turn on watching you grow into a little hottie. I'd love to watch you and Daddy together."

She took the cucumber from my hand and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room.

Much as I knew what was soon to happen, that ultimate feeling of Daddy's cock inside my wet vagina, and much as I had been looking forward to finally knowing the incest of which my friends spoke – some in fantasy and some in fond recollection - nevertheless I was scared to death. Not of the cock itself, for it likely was not as large as my favorite cucumbers, but for the imaginary Rubicon about to be crossed. I knew that it would be sinful, yet my religious beliefs were not strong. I knew that it would be illegal, but maybe that was part of the attraction. Still, what I mostly knew was that things would never be the same again, not with Mom and Daddy at home, not with my boyfriends and girlfriends at school and definitely not between my legs. Farewell, my lover, I whispered silently to that wonderful cucumber now resting in Mom's hand.

In the light from the hallway I could hear the rustle of Daddy's clothing as he stripped. I could see the shadow of his body as he bent forward to slip off his undershorts. Alas, I couldn't see his cock that clearly but I knew that my hand, my mouth, my pussy soon feel it, would thrill to it.

Wordlessly he lay on my bed, kicking off the covers. His arm stretched out, sliding under my head, encouraging me to roll my body against his. Holy shit, I thought as his hard member pressed against me, his cock is monstrous, so much bigger than those of the boys at school who had received the gift of my mouth and tongue. He could feel me tremble as I compared his cock to a cucumber, me finally realizing that I would not be the first woman to feel it dilating my vaginal walls and that all who had somehow had survived the event.

Daddy put his free hand over me and pulled me tightly. My nipples pressed against his chest, hardening at the touch. He kissed my forehead but did nothing else. My ass, my tits, my pussy were there for the taking, yet Daddy left them alone, waiting so it seemed for me to make the first move, the first incestuous touch. Which I finally did, my fingers reaching to brush against his manhood. He reacted by releasing my upper body, rolling me onto my back. His head bent, his lips touching my nipples in turn, first gently and then more firmly, even urgently, searching for the milk that my breasts would someday produce.

I gripped the tool that had created me. Slowly, politely, I pulled away from Daddy's mouth, allowing me to twist and turn to put my own mouth around his glorious appendage. My mouth engulfed him deeply, to the point where his crown hit the back of my throat. And as I had learned in various and sundry movie theaters, basements and the back seats of old rattletraps that were the best that the boys could afford – and oh yes, the occasional classroom or teachers' lounge - I began to suck away, frantically seeking the milky cream of manhood.

That was the moment that Daddy became my sweet and loving teacher, instructing me that there was a difference between a quickie blow job and expert fellatio. His hands lifted my head off of his cock, tilting it so that our eyes met. He explained without making me feel like an amateur or a whore.

"A little puff of air on my crown, Maria..." He paused as I carried out each step in the process. "Lick off the little drop of pre-cum ... run your tongue around the crown, sweetie ... now lick up and down my shaft ... lick my balls, baby ... now take them in your hand and play with them ... not so rough, Maria ... put those little guys in your mouth, baby ... suck 'em, honey ... OK, now back to where you began ... no, I mean take my cock in your mouth."

My pussy was soaking as we moved along, imagining how much fun it would have been doing this to every guy that I had blown. Did Mom do this to Daddy? Did she suck on his balls when they made love? I couldn't believe that my prim and proper mother ever sucked a cock in her life, yet I quickly realized that my parents, everyone's parents, grandparents, great grandparents, sucked and fucked long before we were born. And she did imply that they had done some swinging.

Prostitution is known as the oldest profession. Did ancient prostitutes suck cock, take it up the ass, do it doggy style, or did they just lay back in the missionary position? What was the price of a quickie in some foreign coin in some ancient hovel across the world a thousand or more years ago? Such are the thoughts going through the mind of a teenage slut as her father teaches her how to suck a cock.

"Take your time, baby. We've got all night here ... That's it, very slowly."

His hand gently rubbed the back of my head, his fingers loosely running through the strands. They moved to my face, stroking, caressing. His sigh was the signal of relaxation, of pleasure that he wanted to continue forever. This was all new to me. The boys at school – and the occasional teacher - uniformly pressed my head onto their cocks as I blew them, thrusting up into my face, obviously unable or unwilling to exercise any patience. To them the goal was to cum into my mouth with the least possible delay.

As instructed, I sucked slowly, pausing often to lick, puff, fondle. It was a pleasant leaning experience, far removed from the frantic face-fucking to which I had become accustomed. I did most of the work. Unlike my previous fellatees, Daddy made no effort to get his purple crown down my throat toward my stomach. However, it couldn't continue. I had come to love the throb of male ejaculation, the taste, the consistency of pent-up sperm cells bursting forth as creamy mouthwash. And so my sucking became more frantic.

"Stop," Daddy grunted, concern in his voice. "I don't want to cum in your mouth."

"Daddy, all the others love to do that. Why not you?"

"Sweetie, all your experience has been making a boy cum in your mouth." (He never guessed about teachers). "I'll bet that they just wanted to cum once and then zip up, right? Well, that's because when a boy cums, he has to wait a while to cum again. His penis shrivels up and it takes time to recover. So when I said that I didn't want to cum in your mouth, I meant, not yet."

Had I been with any other male, it would have been as if I were with an octopus, hands grabbing me all over and exploring my femininity. With Daddy, however, his next move was to lie down next to me, sliding one hand under my head and the other one over me. I thought that he was going to go to sleep but he pulled me close to him. My nipples pressed against his chest. He kissed me ever so softly, the gentle touch of one of the boys at school beginning a seduction ritual.

My tongue knew how to respond to a kiss. The slightest pressure against Daddy's lips told him to open his mouth. We Frenched with an ever-increasing frenzy, hot gasps of carbon dioxide on each other's faces. His hand moved to my ass, pulling my wet groin against him. I waited for his touch, the wandering fingers that had never been allowed to anyone else.

And finally his fingers entered me, invading – albeit by invitation – my vulva, my vagina, my pussy, my twat, my cunt, my whatever word that my beloved Daddy would choose to use. I gushed my welcome, his face reacting in a smile as his hand felt my wetness. His fingers curled upward, searching, searching for that hidden spot that would soak his hand even more.

For all of her restrained lectures, Mom had never told me about my g-spot. I assumed that she'd never guessed that I had been sucking my way through Middle School and High School. I'd had to learn about it in the gutter, which in this case was a slumber party at my friend Felicia's home. But Daddy certainly knew about it, and he kept working away until the moaning release of my first orgasm of the night. He smiled as my fluids spilt onto the bed. It was a proprietary smile, recognition that it was the first orgasm he had ever given me, yet his smile promised me many more.

Starting immediately!

Daddy's eyes glowed with lust as he bent his head toward my pussy. My legs spread wide, as if they had a mind of their own. I held my breath and closed my eyes yet my heart was pounding, a jackhammer on a recalcitrant sidewalk. My dreams, for the most part undreamt, were about to come true.

Contrary to political correctness, teenage girls do not learn about sex from their mothers, not the important parts anyway. We learn them from our friends at school, who go into details about things Moms would never talk about, using words that Moms would never utter in front of their daughters. I was about to become the beneficiary, for my first time ever, of Daddy's talented tongue teaching me the joys of being on the receiving end of cunnilingus.

None of the boys whose cum I had sucked from them had ever done that to me, for me. Likely they never even thought of it, ideas about sex leaving their brains the very moment that their first spurts of the creamy fluid of love and lust shot out and into the warmth of my mouth. Never had any of my friends at a sleepover party ever suggested it, despite all of our talks about boys, cocks and blowjobs. DVDs enlightened us more than any other source, yet girl on girl never fascinated me. Carrie and Felicia did admit to have eaten each other, twice, but neither had attempted to induce any of the others of us to join them, and in fact neither of them attracted me physically.

In truth, though I didn't know it at the time, I would one day come to enjoy the touch of a female tongue and the taste of her loins, but only on an occasional basis, reserving the bulk of my lust for the male of the species. I should have guessed that it would be soon.

Actually, the sight of Mom sitting there watching us, my super-tool cucumber in piston mode being driven inside and out of her wide open tunnel should have told me something.

But Daddy, Daddy, my beloved Daddy, was about to give me that greatest gift a tongue could deliver, that royal feeling of being pleasured by someone who might be enjoying it but who would get no relief until a later time. I was his Crown Princess and he my loyal serf, prostrating himself before me on his knees until I chose to give him the signal that he could rise to seek his own pleasure. Little did I know at the moment, Maria of the virginal vagina, what Daddy would tell me hours later in post-coital murmurings, just how much pleasure he – and most men – accrued from the lingual servicing of a woman's vulva.

I heard him inhale, adding the fourth sense in preparation for the fifth, taste, which his tongue would soon provide. Whether or not he feared the dreaded smell of dead fish didn't matter, for I knew, from previous tests of my fingers and cucumbers, that I have a sweet-smelling pussy. To avoid the feeling of insult, I told myself that it was a routine portion of the carpet-munching process. But even at that difficult angle, I could see a hint of a smile on Daddy's face, a compliment that I had passed the sniff test.

A tongue flicked out at my clit, barely touching it, like a prize fighter measuring the distance to his opponent. Yet Daddy and I were not opponents, we were partners in the practice of giving and receiving pleasure, that practice which sometimes has, in a slightly different configuration, the intent of procreation. But of course we hadn't yet gotten to that wonderful coupling.

His head bent lower, to touch me with his lips, to plant the softest of kisses perpendicular against my pink slit. And another, and another. My legs opened until they were as wide as those of a ballet dancer doing a split. Daddy put his hands under me, lifting me by the butt to bring my pubes harder against his mouth. His lips parted to allow his tongue to escape. He ran it up the length of my slit, making me think of a pussy cat washing a pussy.