I’m not out to make a distinction here. I enjoyed what I got and that’s enough.
Of course, unexpected circumstances occurred where I found myself entangled later. Yet five fabulous years of indiscreet wallowing in the mud can even make a pig like me feel bloated, full. You see, my intimate relationship with my daughter turned complicated: It involved others not even considered for our short, quiet escapades.
“Honey, will you drive Tia to school? I’m late for my appointment!” shrieked Rona, my wife of twelve years, already on her way to the garage, adding kindling to the tempest in my crotch.
Tia, my lovely sixteen year old eating breakfast with me, yelled also, mimicking her mom, my hand groping free under her skirt. “I’m late, Dad!” she shouted for the benefit of her mother and giggled loud, straddling me as soon as we heard the car zoomed out of the gate. My daughter is no longer a virgin from the start, and my cock, enlarging some more, glided its full length and mass inside her tight cunt, immersed in her oozing eagerness even before she sat with me and ate breakfast.
“I want you now, Dad…,” she whispered when she came down in her school uniform that morning, licking my ear, kissing me, lifting her skirt to flash her bare pussy in my face. My initial hesitation doused immediately when she grabbed my hand and inserted it deep between her soft, warm thighs, squeezing it.
“Hey, baby, what’s up…,” I muttered, with her sitting close to me, and checked in a hurry where Rona could be. “You’re so hot and wet like your cunt,” I whispered, and fingered her slow and deliberate, her eyes fluttering in ecstasy. She started to moan, “Dad…Oh, Daad…Ooohmm—” while she threw lewd kisses meant for my swelling cock, her body quivering in the heat of arousal.
Tia became my beloved pet as soon as her adolescence bloomed, which was quite early. She sprouted at thirteen already an alluring woman-child, a nymph cavorting with passionate innocent eyes, her full lips pouting, begging for a fuck. Yet I approached this delicate familial opportunity with extreme care and a father’s control, both through safe sex and moral accounting of my selfish behaviour: I kept Tia at arm’s distance but still made her contented…my fingers, lips, and tongue doing the enviable task from boobs to cunt, always at her service and demands.
Thus, I went about my chores as father and house husband, and managed to pursue my craft. I create ceramic wares, which I sell online. This kept me indoors—and since Tia is an only child—gave me more quiet time with my daughter than her mom.
Now don’t think I encouraged this, as any illicit affair in erotic stories and porn flicks is wont to happen and unfold. No, though my secret indulgences with my daughter were stoked by circumstances brought by some free time we enjoyed together in and outside the house. Rona’s business schedules kept her busy even till late nights, yet still allowed me to perform my obligations for her in bed.
But I believe even to this day that there were other unforeseen factors—call it coincidences or divine providence or preordainments that contributed, if not facilitated, my clandestine affair with my daughter—and therefore, was really meant to happen anyway.
For one, Tia was exposed early in sex and became enthralled with it. Aside from her school subject, she was also perusing most of the porn online sites, quite often in the guise of research and assignments. Her malicious giggle while browsing betrayed her actions, and would even share with me what she found.
“Dad, is it true size matters? They say here, it’s more pleasurable for a woman—”
“Size need not concern you yet, honey,” I said, calm and feigning indifference, my eyes stealing glances at Tia’s sleeveless tee and tight shorts, crouched on the floor in front of my worktable, quite sure she’s not wearing any undies at all. Her cleavage, even at thirteen, is well emphasized by the swells of her ample breasts, her long full legs so smooth that a fly would skid on it, if it landed.
Jeez, how many times did I notice the lips of her pussy bulging with those soft, luscious slices, all wet and succulent? “When it happens, you’ll understand why,” I continued, already sure of my assumptions, the buttons of her nipples protruding hard against her blouse while tell-tale wetness spreads in front of her shorts. My daughter, already aroused and opening her seductive exhibitionist trap.
It was something she indulged in later when she worked in a strip club far from school and home, unknown to me and Rona. She’d come home late filled with excuses, and because we know she’s a growing attractive teen, we assumed it is a boyfriend. Yet, she later confessed that she did it only to support the demands of her luxurious lifestyle at the time—keeping up with her rich and gregarious classmates.
“All of it was peer pressure, Dad…My eagerness to please them, to be with them—and be their equal,” Tia said, admitting her adventure after I asked her once where she learned the way she danced, so tempestuous and provocative. “I was hoping for their affection, their attention…They gave me false friendships, instead,” she continued, and calmed my concerns with a blow job. We were sitting on the couch in the living room when she showed me how she can dance, tempting me, grabbing my dick right after without hesitation when it forced its way out of my shorts.
She needed fun money at the time and swallowed everything whole, plunging into the lewdness required of the strip act, closing her eyes. It introduced her without qualm into the wanton joys of perverted exhibitionism, and found the unexpected thrills alluring, flattering, overwhelming her. She is a tall, slender adolescent at fourteen with a desirable body of a youth at eighteen—more than voluptuous to satisfy every lonely man’s sexual dreams. She got paid a lot with tips and fat commission, for the club is always full; the owner unmasking early the truth of her con and capitalized on it, seizing the chance.
But she was hesitant, anxious at first yet eager.
The rowdy customers included college boys and Tia was afraid the school would know, and we might find out too. Yet, after all her guilty examinations of intentions, the shedding of inhibitions and moralistic values, she felt delighted to try. “I was so excited to do it, Dad…aroused, in fact,” she said, already half-naked on the couch, my mouth busy sucking her luscious tits. “I-I got nervous during the interview—ooh, oooh, Dad!” she said, squirming, curling above me, pressing, rubbing her warm body on mine.
She came early one afternoon to apply, after spotting the gaudy WANT AD flyer stuck in the bulletin board along the corridor near the ladies’ room, a usual High School prank, as several of her classmates giggled and kidded themselves around.
The club was looking for “…pretty young thing, with good and sociable personality…eloquent, eager to prove herself as a winner, to be trained by professionals. Interests must include dancing, singing, or anything related to entertainment; good salary with commissions…” etc., etc.
The owner was looking for dancers, period. And she was not stupid not to know. It was a strip club called Golden Horn, with sauna, massage parlour, and billiards downstairs; the private stage shows, the dance hall, and the bar were upstairs.
But what attracted her to the ad was the location. It was a 30-minute commute from the school, and the place was not a hangout choice for her rich pals. The club was quite isolated, and together with some pool halls, game rooms, one Chinese restaurant, an old movie house showing adult films, a beer joint, and a mini mart with comic bookshelves at the back, it completed the menagerie of entertainment in the area for the local folks.
There were only a few houses and business offices within the vicinity, and perhaps, some rich kids, too, but that was all and nothing less. A perfect place for her to earn a little cash without anyone knowing it, while she gets herself educated, simultaneously.
But it doesn’t mean Tia is still a virgin.
I really don’t know how, nor did I ask my daughter, when or to whom she lost her virginity. But my creative dirty mind tells me Tia lost it by herself and not to any dude or lover from school. I know Tia masturbates, what with Rona lending her play tools to our daughter at the peak of her adolescence. I guessed she got carried away in her desire to pleasure herself. And the mother-daughter consultations did happen, also, as Tia did with me, though the questions between us were different, more physical and salacious, lascivious and frank.
So that in her earliest teen years, Tia displayed wantonness that borders already along the insatiable itch of a nympho to that of a rutting hyena…And rather than see any shit fuck my daughter, I obliged. I think and honestly feel I was doing my fatherly duty, instead of corrupting my only child.
Thus, she came confident and prepared to apply. She’s been enjoying her sex life—no boyfriend, no steady, yet with lots of dates that lasted only after her target of a dozen orgasms per guy were achieved, no matter how short or long the relationship. At the time, having fun and a healthy sex life was her priority, not promiscuous but safe…Still is, up to now.
She wore wide, dark sunglasses then, careful not to bump into someone she knew, and proceeded straight up to the third floor, to the office of the manager, or perhaps, owner of the club. There were no other applicants, and she was relieved to know that she had been a little early.
“Early bird swallows the Horn, Dad—ha-ha!” she said, stroking my cock still wet with my orgasm, preparing me for another round.
“Hey, sweetie pie—you’re just in time!” the man greeted her, after she knocked and pushed open the door where the loud MANAGER plastic sign was attached together with the want ad stuck on it—Hey! Hey! Want to play?—it says, while a photo of a cavorting striptease beckoned a finger to her pussy.
“Like this, Dad,” Tia said, palming her cunt, making the photo come alive, her nipples erect and her body undulating with each stroke, delighted to see my cock hardening and elongating once more.
“I was about to put a Don’t Disturb sign and make calls, you know—but what the heck!” the man said behind the wide glass-top table, smirking at her. “You’re here and you look cute—so, come in, come in! Don’t be shy!” and waved his hand at her as if swatting a fly.
“You cannot be in this business if you’re shy, sweetie pie,” the manager said, the foul smell of fruity alcohol, floral air freshener, and cheap cologne tumbled and reeked inside the room. The air conditioner barely hummed a cold sigh.
Though spacious, the room was littered with an assortment of male and female adult magazines, boxes of beer cans, discarded ladies’ dresses, various underwear, sexual paraphernalia—the kind seen on X-rated movies—fancy jewelleries, toys, give-aways, and lots of assorted whatever.
A mismatched sofa leans sadly near the table while the other perched on its opposite side, perhaps for visitors. Two telephones, an intercom, pencils and pens on a MacDonald’s promo mug, buttons, pushpins, IN AND OUT box, two vibrators (black and white), coins, opened letters, scattered bond papers, newspapers, nude glossies, box of paper clips, an antique computer with a yellowing CRT monitor, an old TV, dirty red curtains, two plastic folding chairs, and overflowing garbage bags tied tight and secured at the back, completed the jumble and clutter of the office. It seemed there was no one to clean up the place.
A red-brown carpet with an embroidered Golden Horn logo—a white, funny-looking goat against a black circle for background and encircled by the club’s name in gold fancy letters—graced the floor. The faded carpet looked like thick, braided woollen fibres ready to unravel any minute out of the curl.
The manager ambled in front of his table and sat on the edge, pushing a bit of the confusion with his butt. “Closed the door, please…,” he motioned to her, “Let’s see what you got.”
Tia entered and shut the door behind her. She was not born during the Holy War not to know what the man wants. Yet, she bided for time.
“How much?” she said, and took off her sunglasses.
Her pals in school say she is pretty, while the boys angling for a date think she is sexy. I really think Tia is beautiful, and her Mom felt she would be a Miss Universe someday. Her confidence about herself at that moment was above her head, and she heaved a seductive sigh with her breasts jiggling to great advantage.
“Hey—heeey! I don’t pay what I don’t see, sweetie,” the man said, folding his arms on his chest and eyeing her with a long, leering stare. “Tell you what…give me a hard-on, okay? And the job is yours,” he said, and hiked up his pants in front to emphasize the bulge of his cock.
“Go on…Do what you do in your bedroom,” he added, eyes gauging the appeal of her curves.
The manager or owner was about sixty; a burly, squat man with a shock of curly white hair and a large head too big for his height. If this is his business, if this is how he earns a living, he knows what he is talking about.
“That thought crossed my mind, Dad…I’m game, but I weighed my options,” Tia said, inserting my cock inside her cunt, riding it slow and easy, making me tremble despite the earlier blow job. It would be difficult to bargain for a price, true—any lecher and shrewd businessman knew that—if he doesn’t have an idea of what she has to offer. This is still business, and Tia is only a merchandise. “Then again, I felt nervous—what if he rejects me?” Tia said, changing position as I mounted her and began a rhythmic pounding of her pussy. I must admit our conversation added fuel to our stolen smouldering union, with me excited about the result of her job application and her, thrilled to tell it.
“Okay…,” she told the man, “But no touch,” and kicked off her stiletto shoes one at a time. She wore a short, deep green dress in spaghetti straps, with tiny floral patterns scattered at the hem. A low neckline allows a peek at her cleavage—no buttons in front or back, no bra, no panty, as her habit insists. The dress was light but not enough to be translucent, and she felt comfortable and sexy in it.
“May I?” she said, and gestured to sit on the sofa beside the table. But pulled it instead on its coaster wheels and dragged it in front of the man, even before he can nod or say yes. She positioned it about two meters from the table facing the man and sat down.
The man eyed her with a curious grin, sensing her sexual unease not common with dancers applying for the job. Veteran dancers no longer exhibit strong reactions towards the strip act. They are not numb or insensitive but treated everything as necessity, disrobing without hesitation and dancing on command…While fresh, new pussies shudder still in the thought, triggered by embarrassment at first yet doused with their extreme need for cash. “You’ve done this before, sweetie?” he said, aware of a growing quiver in her flesh, a mounting enthusiasm to display her allure, to prove she is capable, and thus, hide her real age. He knew he found a jackpot.
The sofa was a narrow, low bucket type with worn black leather cushion. It swished air as she sank with her full weight on it, and dropped her buttocks more than a foot from her knees, hiking up her dress and exposing her thighs…She sat half-slouched, allowing her legs locked at the knees to come apart.
As the man stared and waited, she leaned out arching her body backwards, her head touching the backrest. The roundness of her breasts popping halfway out of her dress at once—sweet luscious melons naked and aroused—provocative and tempting, aching to be squeezed, sucked, and mashed.
Bent in an almost horizontal arc on the sofa with both arms stretched on the armrest for support, she parted her legs wider, slow and deliberate. Then, on a tiptoe, allowed the hem of her dress to rise up some more exposing her inner thighs.
“Wow!” the man whispered and squirmed, as if his wife was there to hear. Eyes wide and rolling all over her, he fidgeted back and forth on his heels, agitated in an unabashed attempt to see more under her skirt.
“How much?” she said, and opened her legs wider still.
“Uurhmm…Uh, can we deal?” the man said, the bulge of his erection already obvious, hardening and elongating.
“How much do I get?” she said again, lifting her legs slow from the floor and bending them on the knees. She posted both feet apart on the edge of the sofa, while her hands mashed her breasts in a circular tease—her body, curving upwards in a languid, gentle swirl, pumping, fucking air.
“Ahh, let me think,” the man said, coming closer. He had just seen what every hot-blooded male wanted to see: the inner secrets of a young, pinkish cunt from behind the subtle wisps of pubic hair, the lips slightly opened becoming wet as she gets aroused. The man felt the wonderful rush of enlargement in his extending cock, uncontrolled…Excited to come across an adolescent in bad need of cash.
“Oooh, well, let’s see—I’ll give you, uh—5% commission of the ticket sales for the night…,” he said, evaluating his investments for her. “Plus, of course—uurhmm, your salary…70 a show, 3 times a night, 3 times a week. OK?” he continued, assured of his valuable find. The girl’s pussy becoming wet by this quick demonstration, what more when she’s on stage and dancing for every male who’s sure to get a hard on?
“Make it 10% and a hundred per show—I told him, Dad,” Tia said, getting up. She wants a doggy-fuck, and crouched on the couch low, offering her cunt from behind. “Twice a week, I added…I’m still a student. And please, no I.D., no papers to fill, no questions asked—oooh, Daad!!” she continued, and almost screamed. This is one of her favourite position, which we often did anywhere outdoors, adding to the excitement and adventure.
“I’ll do my own choreography and music, I told the manager. Also, provide costumes, which I’ll choose…ooh, and a dance instructor. No touch…Deal?” Tia said, more relaxed as she flowed with the rhythm of my cock pushing and pulling in and out from behind her.
She fixed herself and put back on her shoes—she had to be quick then, she told me, before she changes her mind and fucks the old man on the spot. “I felt terribly hot, aroused...Dad,” Tia muttered, as I reached in to mash her breasts. “The man’s eyes…He devoured my wet pussy…my body throbbing—ooh, ooh!—He made my skin crawl with pleasure, and—oohmm, with the thick swath of his cock bulging large and ominous, it was irresistible, Daddy—ooh, oooh, aah!!” Tia said, convulsing in orgasm as she turned around to face me, pumping hard upwards. “Just like yours, Daddy,” and squeezed my cock with her cunt, sending me to explode also together with her.
“Uh—okay, it’s a deal…Umm, when can you start?” the man, still reeling from her impromptu performance, traced his way back, groping with both hands for the chair behind his table. “And what do I call you?”
“Give me two weeks…,” she said, out of the door. “And call me Greek,” as she left in a hurry, giggling, careful to avoid bumping into other applicants who arrived on her way down.
“Greek?!” she heard the man uttered, confused.
