When I set the table for breakfast, I hadn’t expected Daddy to come up behind me, yank up my skirt, rip down my panties, and bend me over the table before I could even realize what was happening. And then his dick rammed into my pussy.
And that hot, wonderful, wet thrill went through me despite Mother being in the next room. My daddy, Reverend Gary Powell himself, was in my pussy. His incestuous cock pumped in and out of my wet depths, making me shudder as my face pressed into the placemat.
“Mother’s in the other room,” I groaned, the table creaking as Daddy worked his dick in and out of my cunt. “This is so depraved.”
“You wanted to be treated like a whore,” he grunted, balls smacking into my clit, sending sparks of pleasure through me. “This is how whores are treated. They’re fucked.”
My eyes rolled in my head as pleasure surged through me. I was a sinful, slutty preacher’s daughter. As scared as I was of Mother catching us, I couldn’t deny how hot the cock reaming my cunt made me feel. Ripples of bliss shot through my body. I groaned through clenched teeth, not wanting to make too much noise.
But it was hard.
He was hard. My daddy’s cock was in me. I loved it.
My hips rotated, pressing my ass back into his thrusts. His strong hands gripped my hips. I glanced at him over my shoulder, savoring how strong he looked in his dress shirt, his dark tie dangling long and thick towards the cock reaming my cunt. His face was chiseled, his black hair short with sexy wings of gray sweeping from the temples. He was so authoritative. In control. He wanted to fuck my whorish, sinful cunt.
So he did.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I moaned, my gaze casting to the door, staring at it, listening to the hiss of bacon on the stove, the bustle of my straitlaced mother.
She would be apoplectic if she caught us.
“Fuck your naughty daughter,” I groaned anyways, savoring the thrill of illicit, incestuous sex. “Oh, yes. You’re such a wicked preacher for raising such a whore.”
“Controlled by the sinful hole wrapped about my cock,” he grunted, dick sluicing through my wet snatch. His voice had the baritone cadence of a sermon. “Yes, you are. A wanton harlot. Eve frolicking in the garden, defiling the world with sin. It springs from this very hole.”
“It does,” I panted, my juices dripping down my thighs. I was so wet. His cock felt amazing. He slid so deep in me, stretching my tight hole, sending shivers of bliss rippling through my body.
“Tempting men into fornication and illicit congress. It drove you to seduce your own father.”
“Uh-huh,” I groaned, shuddering. “Cum in me, Daddy. Hurry. Before Mother catches us.”
His hands squeezed my hips. This was a fast, hard fuck. No time for foreplay. No chance to take our time and enjoy each other. It was focused, direct. It was all about cumming. My nipples ached in my bra, rubbing against the material as they were pressed into the table. I rocked and bucked, the friction building the pleasure in my depths.
Daddy’s thrusts were so hard. He loved my pussy. I hoped it was the best cunt he had ever experienced. Wet and tight and young. So young. This was so wonderfully taboo. I loved my daddy’s cock in me. I couldn’t wait for the spurt of his cum in me. Hot and thick and salty. So wonderfully taboo and delicious.
And Mother was in the next room oblivious. She had no idea her upright, preacher husband was a fornicator. A dirty cheater. A man fucking their daughter. A tremble went through my body. The thought raced down my spine and into my nethers.
My back arched. I let out a low moan and came.
“Yes, you sinful harlot,” Daddy grunted as my pussy milked his cock.
My flesh writhed about his thrusting dick. He rammed it into me so hard and fast. The friction sent ripples of pleasure through my body. I groaned, stars dancing before my eyes as I savored how wonderful it felt.
Fucking. Wonderful, sinful fucking.
I was so glad I embraced it.
Mother’s humming increased. She was almost done with breakfast. My body heaved, the fear of being caught only increasing the bliss washing through my mind. A bold part of me hoped we were caught. To see the shock in Mother’s face when she realized I was a sexual being, that all her whispers of denying my urges, of avoiding even masturbation, would make me a good person and keep me from burning in the fires of Damnation.
She wanted to keep me from this bliss.
It would serve her right to catch us and see she failed. “Cum in me, Daddy.”
“Harlot!” He thrust into me and grunted.