[M] [F] [incest] [non-con] My daughter, the slut. (Part 2)

“Dad, what are you doing in here? It’s late”

I could have mumbled some kind of excuse. “I thought I heard a noise”, “I came in to check on you” or some such useless platitude. It would have been the safe course of action, the right thing to do. It would have saved everything, even my lost hopeless soul.

But I was a victim of my own lust, of my own depraved lust for my own daughter. I don’t even know when it started. But it had lasted too long. Or so I had decided. The secret masturbation sessions. The fantasies. The stolen photos. The vivid images of that day by the pool. When the mysterious boy tongue fucked her and then begged to put his bare dick inside of her. And she wanted it! She was just too scared to do it once more! She had done it before! All of it. It was too much. My lust had won. I don’t know when the fight started. But I know when it ended. It was at that point. When she asked “Dad, what are you doing in here?” and instead of retreating, I pushed forward.

“Dad is here to love you” I said. Or at least that’s what I think I said. I sat beside her on the bed. She looked at me. Confused. Puzzled. Of course she knew what I meant. But it couldn’t be, now could it? I couldn’t truly mean I was there to fuck my daughter. And yet I did.

I leaned forward, reached for her lips. Her mouth met mine. She retreated. She froze. She was panting. “What the fuck?” her eyes read, because her lips couldn’t even utter the words. She was beyond disbelief. It was like her whole world was crushing down on her. But I was a man lost to passion. Lost to desire. I didn’t care. I could not care. I could not stop. I would not stop.

I pushed my mouth against hers once more, this time my hand behind her neck, holding her close as I kissed her. She tried to squirm, to push away, to say something, anything.

“Why?” she asked meekly as I let go of her lips for just a brief moment. “Why?”
“I don’t know” I answered. And in a way, it’s true. I didn’t know then. I don’t know now. What was it? The loneliness? The betrayal? She looked like my wife? Did I want to stain everything on hers? Am I just a depraved old man? I don’t know, I truly don’t.
“I don’t know. But I want you. And I will have you. Tonight. I’m sorry”

I think I sounded strong, stern. Maybe the most stern and commanding I ever had. Rachel stopped resisting. She gave up. Somehow my words and actions had broken whatever resistance she could muster. She took her bra and her panties off. Threw them against the window. And defiantly, she prompted me. “Alright then. Make it quick, I guess”. And it was as if her emotions had turned off.

She laid on the bed, as naked as the day she was born, her legs spread, her body as available as it ever could. Her eyes closed. Did she hope I would stop? Did she think she’d discourage me? Or was it simply easier to let go of all emotions? To let it happen as if it wasn’t happening to her? As if her body was being taken, but her soul was elsewhere? Maybe in Saint Marie, where her mom could protect her. To a different life, one where her mom had never left, and her dad wasn’t about to fuck her.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t stop. I was hard. As a rock. I pushed myself on top of her. I kissed her lips. I kissed her neck. I nibbled on her ear lobe. She let out a soft moan. Just one. My hand founds her breasts. She was letting me do it all. Her body was participating. But somehow, somewhere, I could feel the disconnect. Even as my fingers titillated her nipples, pinched them, even as her chest heaved, as her cheeks flushed, as her hips started pushing, she was not there, she was not in it.

Her body was responding mechanically. It was pure biology that let me find her wet. As my cock thrust inside of her. I tried talking to her. I told her what was going to happen. “I’m going to fuck you. I am not going to pull out. I will cum inside of you. Every drop of my cum, it will go as deep inside of you as it can. I know you’re not on birth control. And I don’t care” I told her. She didn’t react. Or rather, her pussy twitched, I felt it around my hard shaft. But she didn’t say a word. Tears started streaming down her cheeks.

I kept pumping. She moaned. And cried. Her hips thrust against me. And she cried some more. It was a soft gentle slow cry. I don’t know what she was feeling. I know I was in heaven. I had stopped being her dad. I was just a man fucking a woman. A cave man fucking a cave woman. Even though the cave was our nice home in Marengo, Illinois. And even though the woman was my only daughter Rachel.

I fucked. And fucked. Her body was made for love. Her breasts heaved. Her cheeks were as red as cherries. She moaned. Her pussy squeezed me tight, milked my cock. The more I fucked her, the more I wanted her. It was useless to even think about stopping. I wouldn’t.

I felt it coming. I felt it just a few thrusts away. That sweet sweet rush of pleasure. I was close. I told her as much. Those were the only words she said. “Not tonight please”. She was ovulating. It was her most fertile. “Not tonight” she almost begged. This, the sex, she could forget, maybe even forgive, pretend it never happened. But a pregnancy. That would be too much. That would be undeniable. And yet, as much as she loathed the thought, I wanted nothing more. “Tonight” I said, and with one more deep hard thrust, I grunted, and I shot my load inside of her. I came inside my daughter. Unloaded every drop of my semen in her tight, fertile cunt.

I walked out the room. Left her alone. I could hear her cry as I closed the door behind me. In the morning, she was gone. She left a few words scribbled on a piece of paper. “I can’t stay. I won’t tell anyone. Don’t come looking. Please, get help. I will miss my dad. Rachel.”

I didn’t go looking. I let her be. She may come back one day. She may not. My wife, I lost to a cult. But my daughter, I lost to my own demons. This empty home is a constant reminder of both.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/d5szj4/m_f_incest_noncon_my_daughter_the_slut_part_2