I guess before beginning my story, I should introduce myself. I’m Beth. That’s short for Elspeth. I’m not sure why any self-respecting parent would name a child Elspeth. It’s a fucking nightmare to grow up with. When you’re not being called Elizabeth, you’re most probably not being called anything, because Americans are so fucking stupid they can’t pronounce themselves out of a paper bag. So from a very young age I just settled for plain Beth.
My parents had many strange ideas. They believed in a family bed, that is, a big fucking futon that took up most of the floor of the bedroom. Yup! No bed. Just a big fucking mattress/futon on the floor, and from the minute I was born, that’s where I slept…between mom and dad. They were green before the word was coined. I was born on the couch at home. That is, another futon that was sort of rolled up a certain way to look like a couch in the living room. The midwife caught me as I popped out and everybody screamed and laughed and were elated that they had bucked the hospital system and had a healthy baby at home. Not that I remember a fucking thing, but growing up I had to endlessly look at pictures of the bloody event.
They also believed that everything we ever used could someday be reused or recycled, so nothing was ever thrown away and the whole house was piled high with junk in every corner. It was embarrassing as hell to have any of my friends over. Add to all the above that my parents were fucking nudists and would walk around the house butt naked most of the time. Jesus!
By some miracle I survived my childhood unharmed and probably a lot more liberal than most kids my age, not to mention more savvy about certain things. Don’t get me wrong…I was never abused or anything. As a matter of fact, by the time I was sixteen, I probably knew less about the mechanics of sex than most kids my age, largely due to the fact that my world had vastly changed in the intervening years.
As a young child, my parents, as liberal as they seemed, were very reserved in their sexual practices. In other words, as far as I was aware, they never had sex at all. It just wasn’t part of the liberal agenda they encouraged. Even they could draw the line somewhere. Of course, I knew the parts of the body and the differences between guys and girls. Hell, I’d seen enough of my dad’s hairy pecker and my mom’s bushy muff to last a lifetime. I just didn’t quite know their significance, except that guys could pee standing up…which always pissed me off! Pardon the pun.
One of my favorite holidays was always Halloween. I know I’m rambling, but bear with me; we got a lot to cover. Of course, in my town you could only trick-or-treat if you were twelve and under. Needless to say, my twelfth Halloween had to be super special. I might explain that when I was a kid I was tiny. Tiny! I was easily a head shorter than all my buddies. Even now I’m trying to reach five feet, but I fall about an inch and a half short of the mark. When I was twelve, all my friends were busting the five foot mark wide open, and I was barely touching four and a half. It was cute, but cute isn’t a nice word when you’re twelve and everybody thinks you’re eight.
I was also a Disney freak. Princesses, fairies, you name it. We were at the mall and I had fallen in love with a Tinker Bell costume that fit me to a T, even though it was meant to fit someone much younger. And shit! Did I look cute in it or what?! So my last Halloween I was going to be Tinker Bell, come hell or high water.
Watching Tinker Bell is an enlightening experience. What were the animators thinking? Every time she bends over with that fucking wand of hers, she flashes the whole fucking world. Yup, that’s right. She has the shortest fucking skirt in the entire world of animation, even shorter than Betty Boop’s! And she shamelessly exposes herself to everyone. The subliminal message is oozing. No wonder dads take their little girls to see Tinker Bell; subliminally they are either jerking off or fucking her, while their little girls are giggling like…well, like little girls.
Something else I noticed about Tinker Bell; she never seemed to be wearing underwear! I’d watch like an eagle to see something, but nope; no panties, no panty lines, only bare hips when the wind blew her skirt up.
A few months before, just before St. Patrick’s Day, my mom had bought a tiny little green thong that tied on the sides. It was her costume for a nudist party…and it was hot! I didn’t go to the party because there was a lot of drinking and stuff, but I knew something was fucked up when my parents got home half drunk and my dad was pissed. Not just a little I’m-a-little-pissed-but-I’ll-sleep-it-off pissed; but knock-down-the-walls-only-the-law-keeps-me-from-killing-you pissed. I was afraid. For weeks Dad slept on the couch, while Mom and I slept in the bedroom. Mom cried a lot. Dad just ignored us. But time eventually healed the wounds and they began to talk and Dad finally came back to bed.
Mom stuck the thong deep in a drawer and forgot about it.
I didn’t.
Anyway, it was Halloween. My parents, who didn’t care much for make-up (“I prefer what nature gave you,” Dad would tell Mom), had to give in and buy me a compact so I could do the Tinker Bell thing to the max. By the way, I didn’t tell you I have bushy blond hair, which is another reason I liked Tink. So there I was, made up, dressed up, and fit to be tied! This was going to be the Halloween to remember, that was for sure. I was dressed in a little green dress with a zigzag hem framing my young hips; with just enough boobs to hold the strapless top up…actually, it had straps but I cut them off to look more correct, not to mention some two-way tape to make sure it stayed up.
For my candy I used a little basket made out of vines. Everything had to be just right. I modeled the outfit before Mom and Dad, who were very impressed. Dad particularly admired what he saw, but something was bothering him.
“Uhm,” he said, looking at me carefully, “Honey, are you wearing any panties? I know we’re nudists in the home, but it doesn’t float well out on the streets.”
Very proudly, I lifted the short hip-tight skirt to reveal the tiny green thong.
I guess naiveté is something that is a part of my make up, but what happened next left me speechless.
“You kept it?!” Dad roared at Mom.
Mom sat there awestruck, looking at the green thong she thought was buried, hidden, and forgotten.
“Yes, but…” was Mom’s only response.
Honestly, Dad was stuck between ruining my Halloween completely or brow-beating Mom with an angry torrent of pent up emotions. He stood up, red-faced and trembling, and stormed from the room.
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to…” I stuttered, beginning to tremble myself.
“It’s ok, Beth, it wasn’t your fault,” she replied. Mom gave me a big hug and attempted a smile as she told me to have a good Halloween and enjoy myself trick-or-treating with the other kids in the neighborhood. I cautiously walked out the door onto the street, wondering if I had done something terribly wrong. As soon as my friends saw me, all they could do was like “Wow!” and “Cool!” me to death over the costume that I thought would be my crowning glory, but somehow had backfired, causing friction, the nature of which made me shudder, wondering what was going on back home.
All that aside, for an hour or so, I was the coup-de-grace of the Halloween scene. Everyone extended endless compliments wherever I went. The other kids wanted to be seen with me. It was the Halloween to remember. I often noticed, walking away from the houses, how the older men were eyeing me. I made sure to wiggle my butt in a playful manner, just like Tink! Everything was perfect. Except…
When I got home, things were very quiet in the house. The lights were out and the candy basket was still full. I don’t think Mom and Dad had handed any out. I went upstairs and took my costume off and went to bed. But Mom wasn’t there. I looked all over the house. She wasn’t anywhere. She was just gone. I’ve never seen her since.
So there I was, standing in the living room in a tiny green thong. I knew something awful had happened. I took it off and threw it in the trash. “What a fucking idiot I am!” I told myself out loud. Dad came up behind me and assured me it wasn’t my fault. We popped some popcorn and ate some candy and watched, of all things, a Tinker Bell movie.
*
Fast forward to now. Six years later. You wouldn’t recognize the place. Dad sort of went yuppie crazy after Mom left. First to go was all the STUFF that had been piling up for years. We started with a yard sale, and you wouldn’t believe how many people buy other people’s trash. We made a pretty penny, but we sold only a fraction of what we had, so Dad rented a flatbed truck and piled it all in and we took it all to the dump. The house fucking echoed with all the space we had.
Next to go was Mom’s stuff. That was a little hard on both of us, but neither of us knew where she had gone, and we couldn’t just dance around it like she was gonna walk through the door any minute. She had worked at home as a medical records keeper in the second bedroom. After six months we hired a smaller flatbed and hauled the entire room’s contents to the dump. We high-fived each other and said good riddance, but we were still trying to get used to it…living alone without her.
Next thing you know, we were shopping for a real bed. One with legs and mattress and box springs. Just like real people. Dad bought a shiny new four-poster, and I bought a cute little twin with a canopy top. I told Dad I felt like a princess when I went to bed at night…in my own room and everything!
The years passed. Dad rose in the community, becoming an activist for many improvements, speaking before the city council on occasion, and generally helping to make the world a better place. He never went to another nudist event. He didn’t seem to care about that aspect of his past life anymore.
I finished high school and went to a local community college. I didn’t want the drunken, frat party, college life. I liked home. I liked my dad. We had worked hard over the past few years to keep a clean house and provide meals for each other and fill in the empty hole in our lives which Mom had left.
I was now eighteen, with a couple of months of community college under my belt. Dad and I took turns making dinner, ordering take out Chinese or pizza twice a week and watching movies at night to pass the time. I’d curl up in his arms on the couch, which was actually a real couch…the fucking futons were a thing of the past, and everything always seemed so nice and cozy. Though our nudist past had also been left behind, we didn’t try that hard to cover up around each other, but it was simple innocent stuff, like walking to my room from the shower without a towel, or just wearing a sports bra and panties while watching TV. We had spent so much naked time growing up with each other; it never was a sexual thing anyway.
Then the day came. I had gone to the store after class to buy the goodies. When I came home with five bags of candy, my father said, “What all this? You know I’m on a diet.” I laughed and told him it was Halloween.
We turned on scary music and had a fun time watching all the kids coming up the sidewalk. Halloween is still my favorite holiday. After a while the endless line of trick-or-treaters died away and Dad and I sat down on the couch with some hot chocolate and began to talk about Halloweens past. We steered clear of one Halloween though. It always bothered me, but I respected his silence. I tested the waters just slightly.
“Dad,” I gently prodded, “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” he answered.
“Do you always have to answer a question with another question?” I asked, frustrated.
“Do I do that?
We both stopped, taking in the situation, and started giggling.
“I mean,” I continued, “What happened that night you took Mom out to the nudist party on St. Patrick’s Day?”
For a moment I thought I had gone too far. A cloud seemed to pass over us and the cold made me shiver. He sat up and looked at me. I guess he was trying to decide if it was any of my business, or maybe if I was old enough to be told what had happened. He let out a long sigh and just shook his head.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked me.
Not sure what I was getting myself into, I whispered, “Yes, Dad, I think I should know.”
“It isn’t pretty,” he continued, “And I don’t know how to tell it without using some very vulgar and mature language. But here goes. Sit back, Beth, and listen quietly.”
I braced myself for whatever was coming, and sat back.
“After you were born, your mom and I were very proud. We wanted to raise you with an open mind, free of the many social fetters that haunt our lives. But our own lives were changing as we got older and we didn’t tune in to the subtle changes at the same time. Our sex life had grown stale and uninteresting. For a while, after you were born, we fucked like rabbits on a regular basis, right there in bed, while you slept like an innocent baby. But as you grew, we decided to move the sex elsewhere…in the shower, in front of the bathroom mirror, but it became less and less thrilling. We eventually stopped having sex altogether.
“This went on for years until we settled into a pattern of sexless caring for each other, and for you. Then we got this invitation to attend a nudist party on St. Patrick’s Day. From the invitation we knew it was going to be a little wild, lots of drinking, which usually results in careless bouts of touching and feeling, among other things. Your mom wanted to go. We hadn’t been a part of the nudist community for a couple of years and it would be nice to see old friends again. She even went out and bought a…”
Here he stopped, wondering if he should continue.
“A little green thong,” I finished for him.
“Yes,” he said, “The little green thong. It was quite sexy and alluring. Sometimes when everybody is nude, a tiny piece of clothing can be very provocative. It’s funny how it works that way.”
He struggled to continue.
“Anyway, we had a bit to drink, and everybody was a little shit-faced, your mom more than most. The music was blaring and she started dancing, not just a little shaking and rattling, but slow and seductive, oozing suggestive body language with each subtle movement. It was pretty shameless really.”
He stopped and thought, as if seeing it all again. I looked at his eyes, which gazed into oblivion at the remembrance, and noticed his dick was hard, but I didn’t let him know I had noticed. In fact, I’m not sure he was aware of it.
“Suddenly, she noticed several of the guys were reaching out, trying to untie the hip-strings of the thong she was wearing. One fellow nearly nabbed it, but she slapped his hand and suddenly called out above the music, ‘Anyone who can take it off me, gets what’s inside!’ Then there was a sudden surge, as guys began to stumble and stagger all around her, laughing and making a great game of it.
“She ran out into the yard, followed by about seven or eight guys, myself included. The drink though, was getting to me, and soon I was heaving my guts out against the trunk of a tree. Meanwhile, the other guys were stumbling and staggering around my wife, trying unsuccessfully to untie the tiny thong and claim the prize. Finally, they formed a huddle and made a plan. They slowly circled around your mom and closed in, tackling her, and as a team, stripped her of the thong. Mind you, there was a lot of fondling in the process, and your mom seemed to enjoy it all immensely. But the problem came when they all claimed the prize, seeing that the only way they could strip it off her was as a team. Eight members of the team…eight claimants!
“Then I said, ‘Fun’s over. We gotta get home.’ But your mom wasn’t ready to go yet. ‘Let ’em claim the prize,’ she said, ‘It’s only fair.’
“So there I sat, totally dumbfounded and open-mouthed. My feeble efforts to stop the process were thwarted when a few of the guys, on your mom’s instruction, used the thong to tie my hands to the grill next to the picnic table. It was all fun and games. Everybody was laughing. Everybody was having a good time. Everybody, that is, but me.
“She began to do her little seductive dance again, except there was no thong to cover the pussy she was inviting the men to play with. Of course, being a nudist party, the proud octet who had de-thonged her were sporting naked hard-ons that were unassistedly sticking straight up in the moonlight, waiting to claim the prize being offered. Hands were reaching out to squeeze her tits and ass, while slowly she swayed up against the picnic table and laid back, drawing her knees up and exposing her moist spread, indicating with her index finger that she was ready for the first claimant to take his prize.
“What happened then was total abandon. There I was watching, as those, who I thought were friends, began to caress and fondle and eat my wife. They crowded around the table and she became the smorgasbord for their mouths, tongues and dicks. There was one guy French-kissing the shit out of her mouth, while another was sucking her left tit entirely into his mouth. The other tit was being nipple teased to a hard erection by another, and another was eating out her pussy, his face buried deep within her cunt which was flowing with creamy excitement. One guy was even excitedly licking between her toes like some ravenous mother fucker who’d not had a woman in years.
“She began to have an orgasm, screaming and squirming, not to mention squirting like a firehose all over the guy eating her out. I had never seen her do that. He just laughed and began to fuck her pussy fast and furious while the others urged him on, clapping and approving his performance and endurance. For all I hated what I was seeing, my cock was also throbbing. It was like watching the best group fuck video ever, except this was no professional porn star, it was my wife!
“She began to writhe and scream as she experienced orgasm after orgasm. The guys took turns violating her. After about the third fuck, she slid off the table and turned around to present that delicious ass of hers. The guys went ape-shit, pulling and tugging at each other to get at her. Some were dragged off of her before cumming and after about half an hour of constant and unremitting pounding, one guy with a huge schlong, grabbed a jar of mayonnaise from the cold cuts table, and slathered his prick with it; ramming it right up her fucking asshole. By this time I had untied the carelessly tied thong from my wrists, but I didn’t really care anymore. I couldn’t stop or reverse what was happening, and my dick was pounding with every pulse of blood pumping through my veins.”
He stopped for awhile, wondering whether this should all be dragged back up after having buried it deep within his memory for so long. I think Dad also realized his dick was hard as a fucking rock and was a little embarrassed. He averted his eyes from me.
“I’m sorry. I swore you would never know about what your mom did that night. I guess it still haunts me, sometimes in ways I’m ashamed to admit.”
I decided to take a chance with this and softly laid my hand on the bulge of his pants.
“It’s ok, Dad. I need to know this. I need to know everything. Life goes on, and I need to know what happened in the past if I’m to understand anything about the present. Besides, I’m learning to know you and Mom better and making sense of all that’s happened. It’s really ok.”
“I’m not totally guiltless in what happened, Beth,” Dad struggled to continue, “I was, after all, getting aroused by everything your mom was doing with those god damn mother fuckers! What I mean to say is, I was really no better than she was in the total equation.”
“Oh come on, Dad,” I retorted, “It was fucking eight to one. What could you do?”
“I could have objected more. I could have closed my eyes until it was all over. I could have beaten the shit out of at least one of those mother fuckers!”
“And they would have beaten the holy crap out of you! Don’t fucking punish yourself, Dad. You did what you did and nothing could have changed what happened.”
“Oh, but I did a lot more,” he said, “I became a participant.”
“What?” I replied.
“I’m afraid so,” Dad continued, “My cock was about stretched to the limit. One of the fellows extended a hand out to me and helped me up, but I was so drunk I stumbled and fell over, only to be picked up by three or four of them and laid on the table before your Mom, who started deepthroating my penis like she had never done before. As the huge dick behind her was pistoning in and out of her butthole, another guy had crawled under the table and was flicking, licking, and sucking her clitoris with his tongue. She was almost in a constant state of orgasm from all the feelings shaking and competing with each other throughout her quivering body. I suddenly exploded without warning while deep in her throat. She pulled back to reveal huge ropes of cum flying from my cock, splashing her face like creamy icing on a cake, coating her cheeks, her ears, her lips, her hair. I couldn’t stop. She wrapped her lips around my shaft and sucked and swallowed for all she was worth. Then the buttfucker behind her came equally as much, filling her ass with cum until it was dripping down her legs.
“The man who had just assholed her came around and thanked me, congratulating me for having such a fucking hot bitch for a wife. I was beginning to lose consciousness, but I held on long enough to see her stagger unsteadily from the bunghole fucking, her face covered with my sperm, to be picked up by another and fucked frontal in the air while she wrapped her legs around his butt. My dick returned to its former hardness as I saw him tonguing her mouth, oozing with my jizz. Another fucker took her from behind, sandwiching her between them. She didn’t complain, offering both holes to whoever wanted them. While she anchored herself on her front fucker, she offered her butt to several who took turns up her ass.
“Finally they laid her down in the grass and jerked off on her limp frame as I passed out. I could smell the sperm in the air, my dick still standing straight up with thoughts of orgiastic abandon.”
Dad had drifted off again in his thoughts. My hand was still resting on his bulge, which periodically jerked restlessly while he was reliving the scene he was relating. He made no motion to remove it, and I saw no reason to. I think he found it oddly comforting, helping him through his admission of the pent up guilt and anger he had kept confined for so long. I woke him from his reverie.
“What happened then, Dad?” I asked, with a quick, gentle squeeze on his penis.
“Well,” he said, suddenly seeming to wake up, “I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, the party had moved back into the house. I looked over at your mom and she too had passed out. The club owner’s golden retriever sidled up to her limp frame and began licking the cum off the back of her thighs and sniffing her private parts. I shooed him away and picked her up to carry her to the car, but she woke in a panic, saying she didn’t want to leave the thong behind. Though I told her to fuck the thong, she wouldn’t hear of it. She struggled out of my arms and tried to walk back to retrieve it, but she was unsteady after the pounding she had received. She was a mess, dried and caked sperm all over her face, hair, torso, ass, thighs. It was still oozing from her butt and cunt. I sat her down against the car and went to get the damned thong.
“On the way home I began to wake from my stupor, probably due to the fact that I had regurgitated a large part of the alcohol I had consumed earlier that evening. As I sobered, I grew angrier and angrier, not believing what a fucking whore I had married. And that god damn fucking whore was my daughter’s mother! I decided things couldn’t continue this way. Changes in our life had to occur. She finally began to come to as we neared home. I launched into a fucking mad tirade and told her everything I thought about her, and that I never wanted to see that god damn thong again. I jabbed the thong into her belly, only to cause a fresh ooze of sperm to come trickling out of her cunt. I guess you know the rest.”
Dad’s dick gave one last jerk before he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss.
“I’m sorry to be so graphic, but there was no nice way of telling you what happened. Forgive me.”
I shrugged. Mom had been gone so long. She had fucking abandoned her family without even a forwarding address. It really didn’t surprise me that she was a fucking whore. I just didn’t have any feelings one way or the other. All I knew is that she had treated Dad like shit. So much so, that he had never again even dated another woman. I hated her to be honest. And I loved Dad.
“I’m sorry I ruined your twelfth Halloween,” Dad continued with his apologies, but I put my fingers to his lips. They were soft and moist.
“Enough, Dad,” I interjected, “It was my fucking fault for wearing that damned thong! So hush.”
“You really were pretty damned cute in that outfit, you know,” he said. “Do you remember the video we watched that night?”
“How could I forget,” I laughed. “I must have watched it a bazillion times.”
Then I had an idea.
“Dad,” I ventured, “Let’s do it over. We still got the video,” I said, smiling sheepishly, “and I still have the costume.”
“I guess so,” Dad said, “if that’s really what you want, Beth.”
I stood up, bouncing with eager energy in my little sports bra and panties, and shook my finger at him.
“Don’t call me Beth,” I said. “Call me…TINK!”
I turned my back to him and did my little Tinker Bell butt wiggle and ran into my bedroom before he could scold me.
It took me a few minutes to find the old costume. It was buried beneath several layers of old clothes in the bottom of my closet, but it was none the worse for age, still a bright green, and cute as I remembered it. Needless to say, I had grown three and a half inches, which made a shitload of difference when it came to the hem, but when I looked in the mirror, I realized how much closer it was to the actual hem placement in the movies of Tinker Bell. I had to jimmy it around so that the tip of one of the zigzags just covered my twat. Yup! It was perfect! The two-way tape had lost its adhesive, but that really didn’t matter because my little B-cups filled out the upper garment just right. I was a plum ready to be plucked.
Next I put on some make-up, applying thin lines to my eyes to make them look bigger and give them that inviting flutter. Then I applied some ruby lipstick very carefully to give my lips a small little pucker, another vision of that plum ready to be plucked. I gave myself a nod of approval and went back into the living room. Dad had already started the video and it was sailing through some previews before the main attraction, but he lost all track of it when he laid his eyes on me.
“Shit!” was all that he could say. “I mean, Honey, you look…” groping for the right word.
“Cute?” I smiled, happy that I could catch him at a loss for words. I walked into the kitchen. I could feel his eyes on me all the way, but wasn’t going to embarrass him by noticing. I fixed some hot chocolate and we snuggled on the couch to enjoy the movie. I felt extremely happy and contented inside, like I could have lived that moment forever.
We laughed and talked as the movie played. I told him how I thought Tink was the ultimate cartoon slut. Dad looked at me like I was crazy, until I began to stop the action and point out things. Then the video came to the part where she was bending over in the middle of Pixie Hollow, fairies all around her. Of course, you could only see her from the front.
“But look, Dad. Look how short her dress is. Add to that the fact that she’s not wearing any fucking underwear. Half of Pixie Hollow is standing behind her. What do you think they see?”
He shrugged. I rolled my eyes.
“Look,” I continued, and stood up, “You’re one half of Pixie Hollow and I’m bending over, which looks pretty innocent.” Then, giggling, I turned around with my back to Dad, and bending over I said, “But now you’re the other half of the fucking population and what do you see!”
I waited for an answer, but was only met with silence. I slowly looked behind me at Dad, who was staring, his eyes transfixed on my hairy little blonde twat and tiny little pink asshole. I smiled but he didn’t even notice, so I gave my butt a little Tink wiggle. He looked for a moment into my eyes, his eyes spoke volumes.
I stood up straight, which really didn’t hide much, and I sat down next to him, my eyes just inches from his.
“Are you ok, Dad?” I spoke barely above a whisper, “Have I done anything wrong?”
“No, Tink, it’s me. These past six years, the only time I’ve thought of sex, I’ve thought of that night when your mom gave herself up to that gang of fucking animals who called themselves my friends. It’s the only scene I can envision in my head, and it replays again and again and again. I want it to just go away, but there’s nothing to replace it. If only I could hold the sight of you bending over in that outfit in my head, how wonderful that would be. Tink, Honey, you are beautiful, absolutely stunning!”
Maybe it was my naiveté again. Maybe it was that I really wanted to help Dad get over his nightmare past. But I had to seize the moment and do something bold and decisive. I swung myself over onto his lap, my eyes still inches from his. The seriousness of the moment was only interrupted by a little squeak I gave when I realized I was sitting on a huge throbbing cock; I just giggled and ignored it, not wanting to break eye contact.
“We’ll make a deal, Dad,” I steadied myself for the proposal I was about to make. “Whenever you’re bothered by unpleasant images, your Tink will come to the rescue,” I laughed, “or should I say, cum to the rescue.”
And there we sat, with me on his lap, perched happily atop his excited prick, both of us laughing with abandon on my eighteenth Halloween, with Tinker Bell exposing her private parts to all of Pixie Hollow on the TV screen. It was just too fucking classic.
Eventually, the laughter died away, and an introspective thoughtfulness ensued.
“Dad,” I softly interrupted the quiet of the night, “I love you.”
I hesitated for a few minutes. I didn’t want this moment to end. But it was now or never. I had been waiting months for this opportunity, and I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers. I bit my bottom lip, marshalling all the strength and nerve to say it.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Tink?” his smile was unnerving me.
“Dad, I want to make love to you.”
“We can’t do that, Beth…”
“It’s Tink! And give me one good reason why we can’t do it?”
“Well let me see,” Dad replied, “It might have something to do with the fact that I’m your father.”
This obviously wasn’t gonna be easy, but his argument was pretty fucking weak, and I knew it.
“What kind of reason is that? I asked for a ‘good’ reason, not some lame excuse. You yourself said that you wanted to raise me ‘…free of the many social fetters that haunt our lives.’ Well I’d say all this ‘incest’ crap is one of the biggest fucking fetters I can think of. Come on, Dad, don’t you love me?”
I couldn’t tell if I was getting through to him, but I couldn’t stop now.
“All my life, but especially the last six years, I’ve had a role model that I wouldn’t trade for the world. When I look at you, it’s like looking into a mirror of what I’d like to be. And through it all, you’ve never touched me improperly, abused me, or misled me, even though I’ve paraded myself since childhood before you with naked abandon. I always knew I was safe and secure wherever you were.”
I was doing everything I could to keep my emotions in check. So I took another route.
“Remember that guy I went out on a date with a couple of weeks ago…the one in my sociology class?”
“Yes, I remember,” Dad said, “What became of him?”
“We went to a movie, and on the way back he pulled the car aside in a parking lot. He was fucking crazy. He plopped his prick out, thinking that I’d be impressed and suck him dry. I just laughed and got out of the car and walked home. I mean, really! How many dicks did I see growing up? Jesus!”
Dad laughed like I hadn’t seen him laugh in years. I laughed too, but it was a different kind of laughter. It was the kind of laughter that comes from the heart of one who is so happy that the tears well up inside. I could have spent the rest of my life sitting on Dad’s prick, laughing as if the whole world should be jealous. A tear ran down my cheek…my father put his hand up to touch it.
I raised my hand and cupped his in mine. Time stopped and a silence descended upon us for a moment. I felt that love could never be so real. I took his hand and lowered it to my bottom and placed it on my butt cheek. Like a jolt of electricity, Dad’s penis jumped and actually moved me on top of it.
“I remember all the lessons you taught me as a child, Dad. You once told me that clothes covered what nature intended for us all to see. You said we must pay attention to the messages that nature sends our way. It all seemed like tree hugger stuff back then, but it makes sense now. What is nature telling us now? I’m sitting here with my naked age-of-consent ass on your throbbing cock, and the only thing between them is your flannel pajama bottoms.”
Our eyes were attached to each other like magnets. His other hand came up to cup the opposite ass cheek. Gently he squeezed them both, followed by the familiar reaction emanating from his groin. I could almost hear the moral gears grinding in his brain. This was not a simple decision…for either of us. But I knew it was what I wanted more than anything else in my life. I wanted to make up for Mom’s fucking abandonment. I wanted to make up for wearing that fucking thong that night. I wanted to make up for all those years of deprival and haunted dreams that Dad had to go through. I wanted what any lover wanted, a partner with whom I could share my thoughts and body in the most intimate ways. And I wanted this partner to be Dad.
“Are you sure you love me?” I inquired again.
“Of course I do, Honey. Why do you ask?” he answered.
“Well,” I hesitated, not wanting to be rejected, “because I don’t want you ever to think that I’m a fucking whore, like Mom.”
“I would never think that,” he replied.
With Dad tightening his grip on my bottom, I grabbed his head with my hands and laid a deep, tongue-plunging, lovers’ kiss on him that lasted for what seemed hours, exploring his mouth as only a lover could. His cock began to jerk and buck wildly as our tongues danced, wet and deep. What finally parted our lips were his hands, which wondered from my butt to the hem of the costume, drawing it up over my torso and over my head, leaving me stark naked, with his penis bucking like a rodeo bull beneath me.
I slowly slithered down his legs, where I situated myself on my knees before him, noticing that my pussy had left a wet spot on the flannel of his pajama bottoms where I had been sitting. The silence of the night was indescribable. The whole world had come to a standstill, and we were the center of the universe. Words were futile and meaningless. Time was ours to manipulate, as unhurriedly, I untied the string of his pajamas, sliding them down his legs, and tossing them behind me, never taking my eyes off his engorged penis.
I had always thought a man’s penis a funny little thing, hanging like it does, poking its little peckerhead out from a hairy bush. I’d seen so many as a child growing up. Men liked to parade them around in the many nudist camps we visited growing up, and although they professed to be liberal and free about nudity, I always think they got a vicarious thrill flopping them around in front of me as a little girl. I quickly learned to ignore them, assigning them no more importance than noses or big toes.
But now, perhaps for the first time, this cock held a different meaning, filling me with urges hitherto unexplored. It was primeval and totem-like; standing there before me, screaming in a language that a thousand words could not comprehend. I kissed the tip of it with my little puckered lipstick-enhanced mouth. It was beautiful. It was gorgeous. And it was, Oh My God! … so fucking big!
I took the top of it in my mouth, sucking my tongue around it to give my mind a tactile image of its monk’s hood shape, circling the tip of my tongue about its girth in playful twirling motions. Then slowly I began to orally take it deeper and deeper. Soon it was pushing against the back of my throat, which I slowly widened to take it even deeper, until the whole shaft was inside of me; my nose nestled firmly in his pubic hair, which was thick and bountiful. I held it there for a few long seconds, unable to breathe as it cut off my air passages, then finally withdrawing, leaving a stream of saliva thick and slippery.
I used the slipperiness to manipulate his cock with both my hands, then repeated the whole process again and once again. The third repetition brought on a deep and rumbling moan from Dad’s throat, and I realized that he was about to have an orgasm. I straightened up on my knees, so that his cock was level with my tits, just in time to be covered with copious amounts of cum, pumping with my fingers tight around his cock, to get every drop.
I knelt there, looking down at my handiwork. My boobs looked like two little cupcakes covered in vanilla cream. I swirled my finger around in the cream, like a child wishing to sneak a taste from a birthday cake, and stuck my finger in my mouth. It had a slight and salty sour taste. I could get used to it I was sure.
I looked up at Dad and was met by one of the tenderest smiles I had ever seen. He put his hands around my upper arms and drew me toward him and back onto his lap. There was now no flannel barrier between us, and his penis had become more flaccid and malleable. He lowered his face to get a closer look at my boobs. Like my newfound sensations reassessing his cock, I think he was also feeling new sensations in regards to my body. He lowered his face onto my tits, licking off the sperm and flicking my nipples with his tongue until they became so hard and tight as to almost hurt.
The waves of pleasure passing through my body were intense, and it seemed like there was a one way passage of arousal that connected my nipples directly to my pussy, causing the juices to flow. As he was sucking my tits, his prick was beginning to wake up and harden again, until I realized my cunny was slipping and sliding up and down my Dad’s tool. When he finally stopped, we gazed deeply into the irises of each others’ eyes. I could have drowned in Dad’s eyes just then. The moment had come. There was no turning back. It was now or never.
I reached down in front of me and encircled his pulsing penis with my little fingers, guiding the tip to the lips of my cunt. It was jerking and jumping and convulsing with arousal as it tickled my labia and clit.
And I slowly began to descend upon it, pushing downward to engulf its engorgement. The look in my eyes was sudden and painful and I stopped and winced as it entered my vagina. I drew in a sharp breath.
Dad’s eyes seemed to wake to what was happening.
“Oh my God, Beth,” he whispered, “You’re a virgin?”
I couldn’t speak through the pain. I just quickly nodded my head and looked down at the slight trickle of blood on Dad’s balls.
“Oh my God, Honey, I’m so sorry!”
I quickly raised my eyes back to his in a stare of disbelief, and madly began to shake my head back and forth as if to say he had nothing to be sorry for. Then I wrapped my arms tightly around him as my body slid down his shaft to the hilt. Tears began to gush from my eyes as I sobbed convulsively through an overpowering emotion of happiness. I could not possibly have lost my virginity to anyone but Dad, the most wonderful, wonderful man I knew. I held him tightly, never wanting to let him go.
The initial stab of pain and subsequent soreness began to dissipate as I worked through my happy sobs and began to undulate to the natural rhythms of our bodies joined in one. As I was possibly the happiest girl in the world at that moment, I couldn’t help but smile broadly as I raised and lowered myself up and down Dad’s hard pole. I must have looked a sight for sore eyes, with my face covered in tears, and makeup smeared everywhere. I began to laugh with greater and greater abandon as I recklessly increased the tempo of our lovemaking.
New as I was to this, I had not entered it uneducated. I had watched videos on the computer. I wanted to make sure I knew how to please a man, whether it had been my father first, or any other. And I knew that men wanted to fuck their women hard and fast, and that sitting on Dad’s lap on the couch wasn’t the most conducive position for such furious pounding fucking. So I kissed Dad and slowly slipped my cunt off the length of his shaft, which stood up like a fucking flagpole covered with my pussy juices. It was just so fucking gorgeous to look at.
Soon I was on all fours on the carpet in the middle of the room.
“Oh my God, Dad,” I whimpered like a helpless little sex kitten craving to be inseminated, “Fuck me, Dad. Fuck me from behind and pound me as hard and fast as you can. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”
I continued repeating my “fuck me” mantra, wiggling my ass invitingly, and watching Dad’s dick pulsate and jerk, contemplating its plunge into my dripping pussy, waiting for him to take me doggy-style.
Dad slipped from the couch and knelt behind me, his cock standing straight up, and guided it into my yearning cunt.
I ended my mantra with a prolonged scream as his granite-hard cock plunged into my pussy, “I’ll be your Tinker Bell whenever you want me, however you want, with whomever you want, forever and ever. Just fuck me! Fuck your Tink! Oh, Dad,” I screamed, “FUUUCK MEEEE!”
Dad gripped the cheeks of my ass until his hands left bruised imprints, and he pounded me from behind like a fucking jack hammer. I never knew it would feel so good. So mother fucking, Jesus-fucking-Christ, fantastic. I was yelling with each thrust, thrusting my bottom back every time he thrust forward. His balls, which were the kind that hung loosely down like a horse’s nads, were slapping against my engorged clitoris, echoing through the house like a crowd of voyeurs applauding their private show.
Finally, I could hold it in no longer, “Dad, oh God, Dad…I’m cumming!”
It seemed like a great force of nature tightened in on my tiny little wisp of a body and shook it in waves of uncontrolled ecstasy. I began to tremble and visibly shake as a great stream of water shot from my pussy and left a massive puddle on the living room floor. It was a mess, Dad’s legs soaked, kneeling in a lake of my cum-water. He kept pounding and I could barely support myself with all the violent shaking and trembling caused by my massive orgasm. I could barely talk as Dad began to approach his orgasm.
“D-don’t pull out, Dad. I want you to fill me with your seed!”
His explosion was even more fucking epic than mine. Girls talk about a warm sensation in their tummies when a man cums, but Dad’s was fucking powerful inside me…and HOT! There was so much of it, it literally squirted out the small spaces left between my pussy walls and his dick, streaming like a waterfall of creamy goo down the back of my thighs.
“Holy fucking shit, Dad!”
I lost control of my trembling, shaking frame and collapsed in a heap to the floor. I could hold myself up no longer. Dad collapsed on top of me, never leaving my pussy. Our breathing was convulsive and each breath was a struggle.
I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but our labored breathing finally subsided, and we slowly became aware of our surroundings and the havoc we had wreaked on the living room carpet. Luckily it was an area rug and we could have it cleaned. I began to giggle at the thought of my father taking it to the cleaner and explaining the stains all over it. Dad began to giggle too.
I rolled over in the puddle of cum-water, and sperm and sweat of our lovemaking, and kissed Dad. I was so happy. He didn’t seem unhappy, to say the least. We smiled and kissed again, and again, and again…
*
I always thought that no Halloween would ever compare to my twelfth spook-night. I was wrong.
Through my college education I lived at home with Dad. We made love as often and passionately as two people in love could ever want to. I held to my Tinker Bell promise that Halloween night. We made love every way one could imagine. Sometimes I would bring a girlfriend home from one of my classes and she would join in. Sometimes my Dad would bring a friend home and both would spend hours fucking me ten ways to Sunday. But our love was solid and strong, and he never called me, or thought of me as, a fucking whore .
And now to tell you what I’ve learned from all this.
I believe that any man who would fuck his, or any, child before the age of consent is a fucking bastard and should be locked up. I know that some reading this story will think…Eeeew! But I truly believe, as in my case, a daughter who is truly of age and loves her father and desires him in a sexual way, then she should tell him so, and as two adults they should make the decision to take the plunge or not. The only criteria to be considered is the depth of their love, not the relationship they bear to each other.
There! That’s my fucking two cents’ worth. I’m sure Tink would agree.
Added by Beth
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