Bad Deal Ch. 02

Bad Deal Part Two

The Sole Witness to the Transformation

Hello and welcome to the second of my autobiographical accounts of the most exceptional and spectacular experience in my admittedly jaded, younger sex life - namely witnessing the paternal, incestuous affair obsessively sought by my longtime bi girlfriend. This narrative essentially picks up where the first left off, as these initial happenings were the most shocking and intense, at least to me, a rare spectator to something that usually never escapes a family's sphere of secrecy. These events of over ten years ago are reported as accurately as memory serves. Those in search of a tale of young, large-breasted women are forewarned, both female participants are petite and were over thirty at the time. There is sado-masochism and urine play, so please proceed according to your own tastes.

At The Beach House - Naked And On Our Knees

I didn't think I had ever seen someone want it so much. Catching my breath and trying to distract myself from the unsatisfied, simmering, inverted cauldron between my legs and the stinging, recently flogged warmth of my breasts and ass, I looked into her reddened, inflamed eyes. What possessed pathologically dominant Vanessa to find such joy in submitting to her father? Her original aspirations of having her Papa's stiffened penis at her beckon call - what she ultimately expected from all the men she bedded - had been squelched during their emotional phone conversations over the past couple weeks. Simply stated, if she wanted to be one of Tony's 'girlfriends', she would never be dominant, and there was no guarantee of any 'vanilla' fucking. His use of her mouth and genitals would be where and when he dictated and she would be treated as sweetly or as harshly as he desired, just like all the other 'skanks' - his term. Otherwise, Tony refused his daughter's pleas for sex. Vanessa and I were now part of his harem - an assortment of women ranging from frustrated, divorced soccer moms to extensively tattooed biker girls to nymphomaniac fifty-somethings.

After watching Vanessa being fucked hard - there is no loving description to be placed here - by her father for the last several minutes, it had become my belief that the most gratifying subject a dominant can have is another dominant - one with a weakness. One who does not masochistically desire to be face slapped and flogged with a belt as foreplay, but consents for some compromising reason. Vanessa's Achilles heel was her sick - I could never do it with my dad - obsession for sex with her father, at any cost, including her comfort, dignity and the satisfaction of her own sadistic cravings. She was not in charge, whipping and urinating on me or reaming out her ex-husband's rectum with a strap-on; she was now on the receiving end of her father's unpredictable wrath, an ironic twist, to say the least.

In the fully lit bedroom, my brunette lover's emerald eyes, the ones that had captivated me for years, were expelling tears of both pain and ecstasy. The gray, cosmetic-tinted droplets were not gently cascading down her tanned cheeks, however. They were being flung into the air by the motions of her head as she was slammed from behind violently in an animalistic, canine-style fuck on the thumping bed. Despite her Papa's physical and verbal abuse, her strained, gasping vocal responses were ones of phallic worship and gratitude.

I was kneeling on the floor, holding her forearms and facing her while she cowered on the sheets, trembling. Her breasts were once the primary weapon of her perverted, youthful campaign to tempt her Papa into this very act. Now they were being ignored, reduced to simply another part of her anatomy, just a pair of hanging female teats on a mating quadruped, jolting with the rhythmic shockwaves her body was enduring. Vanessa gripped my wrists with her manicured orange nails. They dug into my skin as grinning Tony - the same devious grin his daughter inherited - sweaty and cursing, a temperamental but caring father that had spoiled Vanessa all her life, now at her behest, was tightly gripping the flesh of her hips and fucking the hell out of her again. Despite Vanessa's physical distress, in between the vulgar dialogue and nearly constant drumbeat of her grunts, she smiled at me through her tears.

Earlier That Day

It had been a wonderful, sunny, hot afternoon. After lunch, we sat out on the beach as the rest of the world continued around us, unaware of the shocking, intimate secret the three of us held within. That first, explosive act of incest weeks ago maintained a real sense of permanence, like a second loss of virginity or a change in citizenship, and was now amplified by its agreed upon escalation. As Tony' cigar smoke wafted past us in the breeze, our conversation was minimal. Things were still awkward, despite my two companions' seemingly cavalier attitude toward their bizarre new relationship. As I reclined in the sun, my semi-conscious brain kept entertaining idiotic notions of television news reporters having discovered the scandalous arrangement, 'crimes against nature', as the legal code referred to them, and suddenly accosting us as a small crowd gathered.

"Tony? I'm Marsha Jones, Action News. Is it true that you had sex with your own daughter several weeks ago and plan to violate her, Vatican law, and state statutes again tonight and probably several times a year for the rest of your lives?"

"Yeah, Marsha, she wouldn't shut up about it, and even got her little friend ovah there to harass me, so decided I to let her have it, and how," Tony said, pounding his fist into his opposite palm. "I guess the houses, cars and trust fund weren't enough for my bubble butt princess, so I'm gonna bruise her slippery snatch again this weekend, and pummel her little friend's hole, too." He audibly pounded his fist once more.

"So Vanessa, did you enjoy the oral sex you performed just hours ago? Can you tell our viewers what it's like to have your father's erect penis in your mouth?"

"Oh Miss Jones, it was just heavenly! I've fantasized about it ever since I first heard what a 'blowjob' was from the older kids at school. It was worth waiting almost twenty years!" A giggling Vanessa said. My imagination had suddenly placed her back in a bare-midriff cheering uniform and pompoms, with her braces making a return appearance. She then did a panty-free toe touch jump for the cameraman, who had an instant boner in his pants.

The reporter - a real network journalist, but Marsha Jones was not her actual name - blonde and gorgeous in a red, short-skirted business suit, then turned her cleavage and microphone toward me.

"Claire, is it true that this is something you've wished for her since your girlfriend's first confessions to you that she wanted a good old fashioned fatherly fuck? Is it a fact that Tony blames Vanessa's mother's 'hillbilly' roots for this obsession?"

"Well, yes Marsha," I slid my out-of-style Ray-Bans onto the top of my head and spoke into the mike, " and her mom is from the mountains, so..."

I realized how stupid this inane imaginary scenario was. A yank on my arm from Vanessa suddenly jolted me back to reality.

"Wake up sleeping beauty! Let's jump in the ocean!"

We walked hand-in-hand - no one notices when two women do it - over the rough sand into the roaring, reflective green and white surf. Its waves were chilling and forbidding at first, but we sliced our way in and it gradually caressed us calmly as we stood in chest high water, briefly weightless as its swells passed through. It was here that my girlfriend, her stunning face glistening in the sun, related a summary of her discussions with her father, akin to a pact with the devil. She admitted to being happier than she had been in years, but never being quite so apprehensive in her life. The princess who could have practically anything was now getting it all, including the privilege of extracting the king's seed. Also creeping into her consciousness, was the doubt and fear most of us commoners experience when doing something we know we shouldn't be. I advised her it was called 'guilt', a somewhat foreign term for her. I could have warned Vanessa that fucking her father would eat away at her soul on some level, but she wouldn't have listened, she wanted it so much.

Eventually we made our way out of the comforting normalcy of the Atlantic. I had worn a family friendly, one-piece tropical patterned suit, due to my earlier misconception about the nature of the weekend. Despite compliments, I felt matronly compared to gorgeous Vanessa in her latest 'illegal' purple thong bikini, the top of which was fairly transparent when wet. Needless to say it showcased her nipples, conspicuous temptations that belonged on much larger breasts, we always joked. Several heads turned, all to survey my girlfriend, fore and aft, as she exited the water. She loved the attention, as usual, and it was hard to believe she was the mother of two.

I'm sure Tony enjoyed the view of the feminine results of his gene pool as well, but he had been involuntarily looking at his exhibitionist daughter's bare body for quite some time now, having found it impossible to keep her covered up at home years ago. I can only imagine his mental conflicts and blood pressure increase as a teenaged Vanessa paraded around the house braless and leaning forward frequently in a short, thin pajama tank top and panties, intentionally untrimmed pubic hair projecting from beneath the borders - at least that's what she claimed she had done - whenever her mother was away. Summers - I was witness to some of these - and his daughter's poolside experiments with wet, sticky, t-shirts, sleeves and sides hacked away, as substitutes for bikini tops must have been especially wrenching for her Papa.

An apartment of her own, a boyfriend, a shotgun wedding and the birth of her son, may have quickly rendered her incestuous urges for her father dormant. Also, another lover, kept secret at the time, may have directed Vanessa's focus elsewhere, to other forbidden pleasures. Back then Tony wasn't yet aware that his daughter was bisexual, and her ex-roommate, the somewhat strange but flirtatious girl Claire, had fallen hard for Vanessa. Despite her marital status, the two young women were routinely sneaking off, devouring and assaulting each other's pussies.

By the time the bisexual love had been revealed and I had moved in with her at newly-divorced Papa's giant house in our mid-twenties, poolside topless or naked sunbathing and even jet skiing on the small, secluded lake was commonplace, when her child was away with her ex, of course. Vanessa and I were sometimes joined in the sun by swim-trunked Tony - not wanting to tempt - and one of his girlfriends du jour. The visiting women were surprised, but usually became naked themselves and didn't take offense to the casual, 'European' attitude the family must have held toward female nudity - what other reason could there be for an adult daughter to be completely bare in front of her father for hours at a time?

Gradually Vanessa made the reluctant transition from wild orgy girl to soccer mom. However, as she neared thirty, she found that her incestuous obsession had resurfaced, the only forbidden vine from which she had not yet sampled the fruit. Emancipated by her second divorce from Marco, the princess was again free to pursue the king's treasures.

That Night at the Beach House

There is not much to say about a suspenseful, romantic evening here. It was a given that there would be some serious fucking before the sun rose again, and everyone knew it at the restaurant. Still, we all acted as our former selves - the people that existed when the incest was just a warped fantasy to Vanessa , and a burden, or maybe an unprofessed dark desire of her father's. I pretended I didn't see him orgasm into her throat before lunch, and I hadn't been at the fringes of the mattress, intently watching him angrily violate her that first time weeks ago. This dinner was just a normal meal with father, daughter, and daughter's best friend.

It was maybe three drinks after our arrival back at the house. My girlfriend and I basically pounced on her Papa after some dirty girl-girl dancing, tongue kissing, and body fondling as he watched from the sofa. I was wearing my same tube-top sundress, perked up with some of my girlfriend's jewelry, since I basically brought an abbreviated wardrobe more suitable for fast food than nice restaurants.

As he watched his daughter wriggle her tight sexy dress up and off over her shoulders, I knelt between his hairy calves. In quite the mood to hostess an erection, I unbuckled, unzipped and yanked on Tony's shorts and boxers until I could wet my lips and hungrily fellate his scrumptious, swollen tool for the first time. As I joyfully enveloped his wide shaft I caressed his furry nuts, grateful for the chance to help relieve him of a portion of the salty liquid seemingly weighting them down.

Meanwhile Vanessa had instantly abandoned her lacy yellow panties, hopped on the couch, straddled and stood above my slurping, pumping head. She faced away from her father as he grabbed her upper thighs with a slap. She bent forward, backed her rump into his nose and began to grind her fully shaved vulva around on his face. The stocky, muscular, hairy man was rock hard as he celebrated his first taste of his daughter's pussy. At several points he grasped her thighs or bra between the cups as a handle and halted her motion, seemingly trying to reach her fallopian tubes with his tongue as he noisily jammed it deep within. Vanessa's eyes met mine occasionally as I looked up at the end of an ascent of her father's dick and she gasped with pleasure from his efficient pelvic exploration; my lover never looked happier.

Despite my best, humming efforts at wringing and vacuuming Tony's erection with my hands, lips and tongue, after several minutes he grew impatient and extricated himself from beneath us, standing up. I immediately missed the sovereignty of his solid dick in my mouth. As I leaned back, the wagging crimson Cyclops glistened with my saliva in the room lights, teasing me several inches from my lips, and only a couple feet from my pussy, which had already begun its screaming at me.

Tony leaned down and slid a thumb and forefinger inside the front shirring of my dress and yanked harshly on one of my nipples and ordered my clothes off. He left my pale breast peeking out, as if it was a rejected item on a store shelf. "When did you get to be such a prude?" he said, not pleased that I was still dressed like a Sunday school teacher on vacation. He began sliding his belt off through the loops of his unfastened Bermuda shorts. "Front bedroom," he commanded - this was getting good.

I remained kneeling and tugged the dress upward, exposing my late summer, tan-lined body - fully naked opportunities in the sun were a rare luxury by now - rendering me in panties only. I had switched to plain gray cotton briefs, small in size but utilitarian, incorrectly thinking I would get the opportunity to remove them before they were seen.

"Sexy," Tony said sarcastically. His lower face wore the sheen of his daughter's juices amidst his heavy five o'clock shadow as he turned and walked away.

Watching his beautifully hair-covered ass but sulking like a scolded dog, I leaned on one hip and slipped the panties and my platform espadrilles off, realizing I had to 'up my game' with Tony - Vanessa or no Vanessa. This was no lonely young enlisted man I met on a plane or ex-boyfriend stopping by for a quickie. Tony had fucked - and would continue to - many women younger and much more beautiful than me. It was time to display a little attitude and get, well, nasty. I grabbed my nearby purse, checked my hair, touched up my makeup and reapplied my lipstick quickly. I held the ice-filled metal cocktail shaker alternately against my nipples, as they picked tonight to suddenly become shy.

I heard my girlfriend pissing out her martinis in the bathroom as I strutted confidently into the bedroom naked and there he stood, erect, holding the belt, wearing only his Izod shirt. I love a man with no pants on - naked, shirtless or trousers around the ankles can have other meanings. No pants to me means one general thing, that a man has imminent plans to use his cock.

Still, to his surprise, I resisted the siren call of his enticingly full and rugged, dancing member. Trying to increase my stock as it was, I childishly stuck my tongue out at him - there was no way he would have taken a seductive look seriously - then circled around and knelt behind him. I clutched his forested ass cheeks and parted them aggressively, then performed an oral act known more for its degrading nature than the pleasure it gives. Tony moaned, leaned forward and chuckled a little as I probed his salty orifice. His fingers entwined in and pulled on my hair once again, and soon my tongue was making a repeating circuit from his lower back to his hanging nuts. All the while his vulgar insults and my concurring admissions joined with the graceful orchestral music now drifting into the air from the house's sound system.

"Are you going to use to use that belt?" I managed to inquire sassily in between trips , my . "Or are you going to stand there..." I performed another lick, "...playing with it while I finger your ass?"

Tony pulled away and my left cheek instantly stung with a slap. It was a stronger reaction than I expected, but my comment, implying he liked things in his butt, was essentially an insult and got his attention. He was still nice and hard, I noticed as I looked up at his smoldering brown eyes, now facing me. "C'mon, I bet you like it. Just one finger?" I wiggled my middle digit in mid air, approaching his butt between his thighs. He smacked me again.

Face throbbing after the instigated second slap, I was commanded to shut up, arise and bend over the bed. Vanessa, now completely naked and laughing at my remarks, had returned at some point during the rim job, and was now reaching over and happily stroking her Papa's dick. The father-daughter team then endeavored to increase the dial on my vagina to broil as they conspired to lash my vulnerable ass. The breathtaking dozen or so strokes - I couldn't tell who was actually in command of the belt - followed my lover's trademark style, un-foretold in quantity, deliciously unannounced and random in both timing and intensity. I squirmed and whimpered with the creation of each stinging welt. Panting with my jaw unattractively held open, my body pulsing with endorphins, I tried to stand erect with my hands clasped behind my head when prompted for the inevitable next phase, the sacrifice of my geometrically pale breast flesh. However, Tony insisted on having me span the mattress side to side on my back, with my head hanging way off the edge. It was more extreme than even the venerable inverted blowjob position, but my tits did project outward in similar fashion to being suspended head down from my ankles. Up on the bed immediately above my hurting ass, I felt my vagina gush with anticipation of the momentary agony. Finally the nerve endings in my heaving breasts registered the burn of his lashes to my ribcage. I exclaimed more loudly when a nipple was seared by the arriving belt. To put it mildly, I was now ready to fuck anything - his dick, her fist, a zucchini, a bedpost - just give me something to stuff it with.

Without fanfare I was ordered up onto all fours, As I crawled into place on the bed, I pathetically begged for his cock. Thankfully this bull of a man wasted little time roughly grabbing my hips and plunging into my heated, welcoming wet cunt. I usually don't refer to it in such a manner, but that was the way I felt about it at such moments, a damned receptacle, wailing for attention. How could a body part be so needy? I gasped and moaned with compliments and pleasure while Tony's forcefully pumping, luscious girth - my first time with him - began to satiate me. I would have loved for Vanessa to crawl beneath my face for kisses or to spread her thighs, but my mouth was occupied, confirming his unflattering statements about my disreputable, two dollar-per-patron sexual history and lack of hygiene. None of it was true, but I would have admitted to anything to keep him pounding me. Sadly, it did not last long. Apparently it had been just a quick, five minute, cock-moistening opening bout for Tony's main event - fucking the hell out of his beautiful offspring.