*Ding.*
**IDRIS (♥):** *Cannot wait to get you home, Ila. My cock fucking aches…*
Ila’s face blossomed scarlet as her gaze shifted from her phone notification to the giant of a man standing next to her in the grocery aisle.
Idris was looking at a package of whole grain bread, paying not a single scrap of attention to her. Or to anyone else staring up at him as they walked past the aisle for that matter. The only thing that gave him away that he’d sent the text at all was his phone in his hand, his thumb poised over the screen. She could see the vague reflection of it in his glasses.
She swallowed, looked back down at her phone screen, and started to type. It was a short message, and when she was finished, she swiped to her notes app to check the shopping list.
*Fwip.*
**ILA:** *Dad, we’re in public…*
His phone buzzed in his hand and he made a noise in the back of his throat. He tossed the bread into the cart and touched her back, and the both of them started walking. She heard him typing behind and above her, and felt her skin getting hotter by the second.
Ding. Ila looked down again at her phone, and this time she squeaked before she could stop herself as two more text came through in rapid succession. He was really toeing the acceptable line they’d set for themselves in public, and right then she wasn’t sure if she cared or not.
**IDRIS (♥):** *Yes. That is why I am texting you instead of speaking.*
**IDRIS (♥):** *I got half-hard thinking of how pretty you were last night… bouncing on my prick. Whining my name every time I bottomed out in your sweet little cunt.*
**IDRIS (♥):** *Hmmh want that again, I think…*
She huffed, and now her hands shook. They had to be so careful–but despite her anxiety, she conceded that this was at least a smart way to flirt without drawing any attention. She swiped to her notes again. Thankfully, they were done shopping now, and as she went back to the chat with her father, her phone dinged. *Again.*
**IDRIS (♥):** *You begged to suck me off last night, and I did not let you…*
**IDRIS (♥):** *Do I have you suck my cock when we are home then, hm? I imagine you are wet at the thought. Your face is very red.*
**IDRIS (♥):** *You begged so beautifully for me to shove my cock down your throat, my heart. Will you beg for me now?*
As she read, she looked up and shot him a mean glare. He looked down his hooked nose at her, face impassive until a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. She didn’t linger long enough to make a face back.
Ila turned back to type, watching where they walked and savoring his hand on her shoulder. He guided her with a soft pressure and steered her towards the checkout lanes when her gaze drifted down to her phone. Idris’s fingers gripped at her shoulder, and she paused as someone wheeled their full cart in front of them, paying her no mind. Just one of the pros of having someone seven and a half feet tall to see for her.
As Ila typed, she felt a familiar ache between her thighs. A familiar ache that made her even more anxious to get back home with her father.
**ILA:** *Abii, we gotta pay for stuff…*
**ILA:** *Fuck, this is really hot and I’m already wet. Home first please? I can beg better at home…*
He hummed behind her, patted her shoulder, and helped her offload groceries through the empty self-checkout lane. He was acting perfectly normal, and Ila couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Flirting through texts didn’t seem so bad…
~
As soon as they got into the car with their bags, as soon as he got his keys in the ignition, Idris grabbed her slim, pale hand in his dark, gnarled one and set her palm on his half-hard prick. It twitched under her touch, now a visible outline pressed against his pant leg.
She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together. The ache flared, a heat pooling low in her belly. “*Baba…*”
Idris checked the rear-view mirror, then looked at her with a nonchalant expression etched into the lines of his face. “Hmm? I did not say you had to do anything. You were anxious in the store, now we are not in the store anymore…”
His voice was rougher than normal, his Arabic accent thick enough that she almost thought he was speaking his native tongue. She stroked him from base to tip and back again as he adjusted in his seat, feeling him pulse and grow harder under her touch.
Watching him as he let out a low groan of appreciation was her second favorite part of getting her old man hard. The first part was, well, feeling his cock stiffen to attention for her. It made her feel hot all over, made her consider sucking him off right there in the parking lot. Still, it was too risky. His leg shifted to one side and he melted for her when she found and cupped his balls through his jeans.
Ila huffed, trailed her hand back up, and thumbed the prominent ridge of his cockhead. He leaned back and flexed his hips toward her touch, his lower lip between his teeth. A soft sigh escaped through flared nostrils. Despite everything in her screaming to just go for it, Ila pulled away and shifted in her seat, positive she was even redder than she’d been before. She was definitely wetter than before, as she watched his dick twitch against his thigh hard enough to shift the fabric.
She cleared her throat in an attempt to rid it of its huskiness. It did not work. “Please focus on driving, dad. Home’s only five minutes away.”
He shot her a sidelong grin that wrinkled his crow’s feet, made the lines flanking his muzzle darker. He turned back to check behind as he pulled out of the parking spot to face the road. “Mmh. Yes, my love.”
~
Despite her protest, it felt like the longest five minutes of her life, and he seemed largely unaffected by waiting. It almost irked her—she was a wet, shaking mess, and he was acting like it was a normal Thursday afternoon.
When they pulled into the driveway, she grabbed the bags full of fresh produce and freezer food before he could, fished her keys from her pocket, and unlocked the door faster than she thought she’d be able to. She knew it betrayed her, she knew he was savoring just how desperate she was, but she didn’t care. He’d not let her suck his cock in weeks, and she was desperate. Her desperation was not up for debate, and she was beyond the point of caring enough to hide it.
By the time Idris ducked through the entryway, shut and locked the door with bags of pantry items in hand, Ila sat on the couch and stared up at him. She’d also discarded all of her clothes except her socks and her halter top, which gave him pause when he saw her. There had been boots, a jacket, and jeans on her not even two minutes ago.
Her lilac eyes searched his black ones, and all at once his demeanor shifted as he set his keys on the hook by the door, shrugged out of his leather jacket, and set the bags on the side of the couch. “The groceries are put away?” He looked down the length of his nose at her, threading one of his long, gnarled fingers through a belt loop.
“Yes Sir.” Her heart beat a little faster as she stared up at him. It was overcast and the light filtered in through the half-drawn curtain in a pleasing gray haze. It made her father look menacing, predatory, a long shadow whose head nearly brushed the ceiling stood in a half-light by the doorway.
He pursed his lips, then rubbed at his thick, bushy beard. “Hmm… it has been a while. Maybe you do not want to suck my dick as much now?”
He grinned at her, his expression mocking and a little cruel. He could do this for a month more if he wanted–and she did not lie when she called herself desperate. So desperate that it twisted up under skin, threaded through muscles that ached.
Ila huffed and clenched her thighs. She shook her head, not breaking eye contact even as he took another step closer, crowding into her space. She had to practically look at the ceiling to hold his gaze. He brushed the tips of his fingers over her high cheekbone, then pressed the pad of his thumb against her full lower lip.
Tears were actually stinging at the back of her eyes now, and if she wasn’t afraid of actually sobbing, she’d laugh at herself for it. She cleared her throat and spoke instead. “Please *abii*–please, please let me suck your cock. I’ll do anything.”
It was a quiet plea, a reverential plea that ended with a soft flick of her pink tongue against his thumb. She would do more than suck his cock, she’d fucking worship it and then some. And that was exactly what he wanted of her.
“*On your knees,*” he rumbled low in his throat, in Arabic.
Ila did so with an almost frantic energy, kneeling on the hardwood as he stepped over her and settled into the green, patterned cushions. He didn’t bother with his boots as they thumped on either side of her, his long, powerful legs stretched forward to avoid sitting at an awkward angle.
Again, he grabbed her hand in his and pressed it against his dick. He sighed through clenched teeth as she stroked repetitive circles over the head of him, gently rubbing back and forth over the prominent ridge. His hips bucked up against her touch after a few moments of this, and he groaned low in his chest as she stroked him from head, to base, then back again. She petted him as he got comfortable, reached forward, and grabbed a fistful of her white curls.
Ila gasped, and he shushed her, growling long and low in his throat. A physical demand for her attention to his vocal one. “Tease my fucking prick, *bintii*…”
Idris pet his fingers through her curls, then let her go when he figured she’d had enough. He rested that long, bony hand on his belt buckle. He tapped it with two fingers, and without missing a beat, Ila squeezed his shaft through his jeans and undid the buckle with one hand. It was a practiced and familiar move, and as he pushed the jeans down on his hips a little, his cock twitched and bobbed up higher in his looser-fitting boxers.
Ila knew what she wanted as he settled, and immediately went lower than his prick to cup his heavy sac again, now with less of a barrier. The fabric was between him and her palm, muting the sensation, but neither of them minded as she gently rolled and tugged on each of his balls. Her father groaned and rolled his hips forward, spreading his thighs a little wider and straightening out one leg.
“*F-fuck yes, right there,*” he said, gripping his thick cock in one veined, gnarled hand and squeezing. There was a damp spot at the tip, and Ila leaned forward to lick it. As she did, she felt his balls shift in her palms and tighten.
She huffed and kissed at his cockhead through the fabric, then kissed her way down the belly of his shaft. On her way down, she pressed her lips to two of his knobby knuckles, and then settled with her lips against one of his testicles. Ila looked up at Idris, one hand cupping his sac and the other on his thigh as she gently explored him with her lips through his boxers. He stared down at her, breathing hard through clenched, crooked teeth, his black eyes hooded and dangerous. She knew there was only but so much she could tease him, and she wanted to savor it before he rammed his cock into her mouth and used her as a hole to fuck.
She flicked her tongue over the fabric, and his cock twitched in his hand. He stroked through the thin material, shifted his weight, then said, “*Take me out of my boxers. Tease me skin to skin.*”
With a sense of urgency spurring her on, Ila obeyed and tugged down the waistband of his black boxers. He helped her, minimally, until his dark, veiny cock was free, followed by his heavy, low-hanging sac. She couldn’t help but give all of him a long, slow lick from the head of his cock down to the bottom of his balls where they rested on his boxers.
Idris snorted and gripped his cock in a fist. He half-sneered at her and tossed his silvery twists over one shoulder. She lapped and sucked gently at his balls, paying each enough attention to make him groan and twitch, stroking his cock in his fist from base to tip. His strokes were long and agonizingly slow; they brought with them precum beading on his prince Albert piercing until it dripped off onto his jeans.
“*Good girl,*” he said, his voice low and throaty. He let go of his dick to let it twitch in the still air, leaving Ila to pay sole attention to his balls as they got tighter with every passing stroke of her hot tongue.
“*You are too good at that Ila,*” he mumbled in Arabic, clenching and unclenching his hand, only to overhand his cock and stroke twice before letting go again. “*I am fucking close already, my life… Too fucking cute with your old man’s balls in your mouth.*” As he finished speaking, he tensed and groaned. Ila sucked one into her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, before letting go and doing the same to the other. Back and forth, until Idris held the base of his dick in his fist, gritting his teeth and growling.
She finally stopped, looked up at him from beneath white lashes, then sat up and gave him a long, slow sweep of her tongue over his pierced, twitching cockhead. Another generous stream of precum spilled from him, and she cupped his balls in her palm again.
He moaned, sudden and loud, and gripped a fistful of her white curls close to the root. He pressed his cockhead against her lips, murmuring *”Suck my fucking cock, now,”* with a reedy gasp. She took him in with a soft whimper, and his head lolled back against the back of the couch, a whimper escaping him in turn.
Ila tasted salt and skin and gagged on him in her haste. Her father’s cock throbbed so hard she was positive he was about to come. That was confirmed when his grip in her hair, somehow, became tighter, and his breath sped up. “*Oh my god, oh my f-fucking god—*”
She squeezed his balls in gentle fingers and took as much of his cock as she could into her mouth. He was tense, breathing hard and ragged with every low groan, and she marveled at his self control as he stayed on the edge. She mercilessly sucked him off as though it were the last time he’d ever grant her the privilege, but she knew he’d had enough when his fingers threaded through her hair even tighter and he pulled her off his twitching, no-doubt aching dick.
He held her far enough that she couldn’t touch him with her tongue, his free hand twisted up in his gray tank top and crumpling the fabric. In lieu of her tongue, she pet a single finger over one of the prominent, bulging veins along the side of his slick shaft. He snarled, his grip white-knuckled in her hair and his shirt, and the pain was worth it when she watched another generous stream of precum drip from his pierced cock slit.
“*God damn it,*” he said, pulling her down on his cock again. She went without complaint, her eyes rolling up to stare him down as he rocked his hips and fucked her mouth. His intake of breath was sharp when their eyes met, and his strokes became erratic as her fingers teased at his sac and the base of his dick.
“I am going to come down your fucking throat,” he said, words rough and barely comprehensible through his thick accent. “If you spill anything, I will not let you suck my cock for a fucking month.”
Ila’s lilac eyes went wide, and though she couldn’t nod, she stayed obedient and pliant between his thighs. She pushed her tongue up against the belly of his shaft with his every thrust forward, and when he mumbled, “Oh fuck” to himself, she braced. His prick pulsed against her tongue, flexed in her mouth, and he pressed her head down until he touched at the back of her throat. The first splash of hot cum made her whimper, shaking in his grip. She swallowed it, and tears stung at her eyes from the precarious predicament he’d placed her in. Again and again, he grit his teeth and moaned as more and more cum filled her mouth and slid down her throat.
She could barely breathe, and by the end of what had only been a few seconds that felt like hours, she pulled off of his twitching dick and coughed, spit and cum dripping from her lips and onto the floor.
“Fuck,” she snarled. Idris breathed hard above her, then laughed at her. It was a soft thing, an exhausted sound, and she glanced up to see him smiling at her with so much affection that her breath caught. She wasn’t expecting that.
“I was teasing *habibtii*,” he crooned. He leaned forward to pull his tank top off, then handed it to her to wipe her mouth.
She eyed him as she took the shirt, and he laughed again. “I promise, I was teasing. Give me a few minutes and, well…” He held his heavy, slick prick up with two fingers, cocking his head to the side with a lopsided grin. “You can suck your old man off again however you want.”
She smiled up at him then, setting his shirt down on his thigh and kneading her fingers against the lean muscle there. “Thank you, Sir.”
~
MORE LIKE THIS-> [Humbled Before Him](https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1112787)
GET TO KNOW ILA AND IDRIS-> [MoltenGoldArt.com](https://www.moltengoldart.com/)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/u2j0i7/on_her_knees_incest_fatherdaughter_age_gap_size