Sins of the Father

(WARNING!: This work of fiction contains non-consensual, inter-family intercourse)

******

"Dad? Are you home?"

Charles started out of a sound sleep, glancing around the room. He'd fallen asleep in his recliner while watching an old black and white western on TV. What had it been called? Shane, yeah, that was the name of it. Lousy film, but there hadn't been anything better on at the time.

The sound of the front door closing caused him to wake up a bit more. The clink of keys on the table in the entryway told him who was there.

"Dad?" came the query again.

Charles started to respond, but it came out a croak. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Yeah, Mandy, I'm in here," he called, starting to rise from his chair. The chair groaned under his weight. He wasn't a giant of a man, but he was certainly no lightweight, measuring six feet three inches, and weighing just at 250 lbs. He wasn't what one would call perfectly fit, but he did take care of himself (though he still fell victim to the curse of "love handles"). Of course, at his age, perfectly fit was a hard thing to achieve, even with all the physical labor he did in construction.

"Did you get off work early?" Amanda ("Mandy") asked from the other room.

"Yeah, got rained out on the new project. Probably won't be able to get started on it for a couple of days now."

"Oh, that's too bad," she offered, her voice fading a little as she walked into the kitchen. Charles could hear her setting down some paper sacks. "I brought you some Chinese food. I didn't know if you'd eaten yet."

Finally standing up, he followed the sound of her voice and the smell of the food. "Honey, you didn't have to do that." But as he entered the kitchen to the sight of her unpacking all the cartons, he added, "But I'm glad you did." His words were suddenly accompanied by the growling of his stomach, which caused Amanda to chuckle and smile. She handed him a pair of chopsticks. "How's Sarah?" he asked, bringing up the inevitable question of her mother.

They had separated just over a year before, with a divorce in the works. "Irreconcilable differences," they'd told their daughter. Since then, Charles hadn't bothered even trying to date, he just buried himself in work as much as he could.

Amanda sighed. "She's good. I've . . . I've moved in with her."

THAT caught his attention. "Really? Why?"

She bit her lower lip for a second, making her the spitting image of her mother. Short, dark red hair (natural), slightly curly, bright green eyes, a faint splash of freckles across her nose. And she had her mother's stature, as well. Where Charles was very tall, Amanda stood at five feet two inches. She'd always been small for her age. Even now, at the age of 20, she could still pass for 16.

She stopped biting her lip and answered. "I ran into a little money trouble. My rent went up, but my paycheck didn't."

"Honey, you know you could have asked me to lend you some money."

She was already shaking her head. "Dad, I'm not going to take handouts. When you say lend, that's what you always mean. And before you say it," she added, forestalling him, "I'm paying Mom rent, I'm not leeching off of her."

Charles held up his hands in surrender, still holding the chopsticks. "Alright, it's none of my business. But if you need anything, all you have to do is ask. I love you, honey, you know that." He had always been very careful with his own money, only spending what he needed to be comfortable and putting the rest into a savings account. Sarah had known about his extra money, but amazingly enough, she hadn't demanded any of it in the divorce. She hadn't wanted anything she couldn't earn for herself. It didn't matter to her that his savings now amounted to well over $100,000, not including the value of the house and all his belongings.

"I know you do, Dad," she said. "I just wanna try to get by on my own as much as I can."

It wasn't the words she said that made him proud of her, but the fact that he knew she meant it. Just like her mother, stubborn and independent, all in a good way.

He decided to let it go at that and changed the subject. "Hey, did you know that Pacific Rim is supposed to be on tonight?" He checked his watch. "In about ten minutes, in fact."

"Really?" she asked, interested. "I love that movie! Best sci-fi flick I've seen in a long time. It is to sci-fi what Shane was to westerns."

"Ugh!" Charles grunted. "Hate that movie . . . But do you feel like staying to watch Pacific Rim?"

She lightly slugged his arm for his slight against one of her favorite films, but then she picked up as many of the food cartons as she could carry in one arm. "Try and stop me," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He chuckled to himself as he gathered the remaining cartons. In many ways, she was still that little girl he used to carry on his shoulder.

As they sat down and watched the film, it started to rain outside, a little at first, but slowly growing. During one of the commercial breaks, an ad for some pop star's new album came on, showing a dozen or so scantily-clad women dancing about provocatively. This, of course, prompted Amanda into a short tirade about how "women like that just make it harder for ALL women to get any REAL respect".

That was actually another point that Charles was proud of in his daughter. Without any sort of prodding on the part of her parents, she'd decided that she was going to wait for marriage. As she told it, "I can't think of a better way to tell my future husband that I love and respect him." Yes, Amanda was certainly one in a million.

At any rate, her rant was short-lived, as the commercial break ended and the film resumed. With only five minutes left in the film, Amanda found herself yawning heavily. Outside, it continued to rain in spite of (or perhaps because of) the warm temperatures.

"I really don't want to drive back in this," Amanda muttered in between yawns. "It's a two-hour drive back to Mom's."

"Your old bedroom still has your bed in it," Charles offered. "I haven't changed anything since you moved out. You can stay here for the night, then drive back in the morning."

Amanda looked out the window at her little blue VW Beetle, considering her options. "Yeah, I think I just might do that." Another yawn threatened to dislocate her jaw. "Besides, it's late and I'm too tired anyway."

"Oh," Charles warned apologetically, "the air conditioner isn't working in there. It quit a couple of weeks ago and I just haven't had the need to have it fixed."

"That's fine," she assured him. "I can always crack open a window if it gets too stuffy. Assuming the rain stops . . ." She walked over to where he sat and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "Good night, Dad. Don't worry about the cartons, I'll clean those up before I leave in the morning."

He watched her walk down the hall before he started channel-surfing, turning down the volume so he wouldn't keep her awake. Flicking from channel to channel, everything he saw was boring. He paused a moment on MTV, watching a music video with girls wearing even less than the commercial from earlier. He would have kept watching, but the music wasn't his style. Finally, he flicked the remote and found a channel that he didn't even know he got. As he watched, some woman was getting herself pumped hard by a man that was hung like a horse. Both of them were huffing and moaning, and it wasn't long before Charles felt his manhood stir in his pants.

It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. Well before the separation, his ex-wife had ceased to show him affections. Glancing toward the hallway to make sure Amanda was in her room, Charles quietly unzipped his pants and freed himself. He wasn't quite as big as the "actor" on the screen, but his own cock wasn't exactly small. As he stroked it in rhythm to the show on screen, it hardened and grew to its full eleven inches, measuring almost three inches thick.

The show played on as he pleasured himself, thinking of how long it had been since he'd last felt the touch of a woman. If only he had a woman here and now . . .

Then a dark, animalistic part of his mind ventured, "But I DO have a woman here . . ." He immediately shook his head to chase away the idea. No, Amanda was his daughter. That would just be wrong. Besides, she was saving herself for marriage. But . . . There was nothing stopping him from pleasuring himself to the THOUGHT of being with her. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining that the voices of the people on the TV. were Amanda and himself. It felt so good . . .

Then the power suddenly went out.

Charles opened his eyes to partial darkness and swore under his breath. Well, at least the rain had stopped and the moonlight was coming in through the windows. He closed his eyes again and tried to picture the scene without the TV. No luck.

But Amanda is just in the other room, the animal voice whispered to him. I can go in there and look at her while I finish.

At that point, Charles needed to finish. This was the most sex he'd had in ages and he couldn't stop now. He stood up from his chair and carefully made his way to the door of Amanda's room, peeking in to make sure she was asleep. Of course, she was. Just like her mother, fast to get to sleep, almost impossible to wake up. Charles moved into the room, one hand still wrapped around his hard cock.

The light of the moon played through the window, shining softly on his sleeping daughter. In the warmth of the room, she had kicked of her sheets and lay there in her night gown. Of course, it wasn't really a night gown. It was just button-up shirt that was far too large for her. Charles walked to the side of the bed, looking at her, still stroking himself. Yeah, that felt good.

But you can't see anything good, the animal in him complained.

And Charles, knowing that he shouldn't, listened. Releasing his cock, he reached down and slowly began to unbutton her shirt, pausing every time she stirred even the slightest. One by one, he got all the buttons loose and gently pulled the shirt open. In the moonlight, the flesh of her small breasts almost shone, with perfect little nipples standing up. With the warmth of the room, she had a thin sheen of sweat on her skin. The was even a thin trail of sweat on her chest, nestled in the valley between her perfect little breasts. His eyes moved down her body, across her flat stomach and down to where her legs were closed.

Oh, but I've come this far, the animal prodded, I have to see what her pussy looks like.

Charles didn't argue with himself. Carefully hooking his hands under her knees, he spread her legs apart. And if he had been stiff before, rigid was the only word to describe his cock when he saw her perfect, little pussy. He set to stroking himself again. Oh, yeah, that felt good.

I should touch it, the animal urged, I should touch the tip of my cock against it, just to know how she feels.

At that, Charles did hesitate. This was his daughter! What was he thinking?! But, it was only just touching it. And she would never know . . .

Carefully easing himself onto the bed between her legs, he lowered himself down and lightly touched the tip against her flesh. Ooooohhhh, the warmth, however faint, felt better. Now he was throbbing. Using the head of his cock, he began to caress her, teasing her pussy lips, even touching her clit. Oh, it felt incredible. He rubbed it against her clit for several minutes, eliciting a soft moan from her. He paused, afraid she would wake, but she showed no signs that she would. He started caressed her clit again. Another minute or two and he realized that there was moisture on her pussy. And it wasn't from him. Even in her sleep, she was getting wet from his attentions.

She moaned again, smiling, but never opening her eyes. He stopped, waiting until he though it was safe to go on. Then he felt her hips move, unconsciously rubbing herself against him. Her slick pussy lips beckoned him.

It could feel even better than this, the animal urged him, I could just put the tip in, play with her a little. Then I could just take it out, jerk off and go to bed.

By now, Charles was beyond arguing with the voice. With a thumb and an index finger, he pulled apart the wet lips of her pussy and gently pushed in. At first, he didn't think it would fit at all, but he just pushed a little harder until he felt it start to slide in. She was so incredibly tight. With half of the tip in, he felt so good, so alive. He pushed a little further, a little further . . . And then he felt the sudden give as the entire head of his cock slipped inside, nestled snugly in her vagina. Oh, God, he felt like he could explode right then.

She moaned even more, this time quite loudly, gyrating her hips slightly in her sleep. It felt like her pussy was sucking his cock into her.

Hear that? the animal pondered. Feel how her pussy moves, pulling at me? Yeah, she wants it. She wants ME. I wonder how deep I can go before I have to stop?

Between the voice in his head and Amanda's unconscious movements, Charles felt the need to comply. Bit by bit, his pushed himself deeper into his own daughter. With just an inch further, he felt her hymen pressing against his cock.

Then all of a sudden, Amanda stirred, opening her eyes to see her father kneeling between her legs in the moonlight,

"Mm. Dad?" she said sleepily. "What's going on?" She noticed the burning, throbbing sensation between her legs, and looked down to see her father's thick cock stuffed into her petit pussy. In an instant, she was awake, her eyes wide with shock. "Dad, what are you do-hmmmhhmmph!"

She was cut off by her father's hand clamping down over her mouth, while the other hand grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed. Her free hand struggled in vain to pull his hand from her mouth.

Then he began to move his hips slightly, making short strokes in and out, pressing against her hymen each time.

"Honey, I'm sorry," he told her. Now he wanted to stop, but he just didn't have any control anymore. "I'm so sorry." He pressed his cock tightly against her hymen, the drew it back slowly, ominously. She must have realized what he was about to do, because she began to shake her head violently, her terrified green eyes begging him not to do it.

"I'm so sorry."

Then he thrust himself into her hard, tearing away her virginity and slamming in until there just wasn't anymore room for his cock. Her entire vagina suddenly tensed from the sudden pain, and the sensation was wonderful. Amanda's eyes suddenly grew as wide as they possibly could and she emitted a muffled scream against her father's hand.

Without even waiting for her tiny pussy to grow accustomed to his size, he drew back and thrust again, filling her with as much of himself as he could. She screamed again, to no more affect than before. She was tight on him, even more than her mother had been when they'd first made love all those years ago. But he wasn't making love to his daughter. Every logical part of his brain knew that this was rape, plain and simple. He abandoned himself into the lust, stabbing into her over and over, undoubtedly bruising her pussy with his sexual attacks.

After few minutes, Amanda's screams had softened into sobs and tears trailed from her eyes. She was no longer fighting him, she was just crying for it to be over, her body shaking as much from her sobs as from his savage thrusts. Her father continued his assault, all the while muttering hoarsely, "I'm sorry, honey, I'm sorry."

When he finally slowed for a moment, he took his hand away from her mouth. She didn't scream, she just wept.

"Please, Dad, stop!" she begged him softly between sobs. "Please, don't do this!"

"I wish I could, honey," he told her. "I just can't stop."

He slowed even further and even almost regained his control. But then he felt her pussy moving, grinding against him. Part of him wished that it meant she wanted it, but the his logic told him that it was only her body reacting. There was no way that she wanted her father to rape her. Even so, it made his cock as rigid as it had ever been and he began to pump it into her once more, despite her pleas and protests.

Finally he felt something hot flood around his cock, and her pussy clenched hard around him, squeezing him, trying to milk him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he had just forced his own daughter to cum on his cock. The sudden heat and incredible tightness pushed his control even further away and he began to thrust wildly, feeling an old familiar tingle along his length.

Amanda must have somehow understood what his sudden speed meant, because she started again to shake her head, begging him.

"No, Dad, please! Don't do it! No, no, no, no, please don't, please don't . . ." She kept repeating it over and over, but the pleas seemed only to spur him on.

Deep down, he wanted to stop. He wanted to pull out. Really, he did. But he just couldn't help himself.

With a primal roar, Charles felt his cock explode inside his daughter, ejaculating glob after huge glob of his seed into her womb.

She must have felt it filling her up, as she cried even more and kept repeating, "No, no, no, no, no, no . . ."

Charles pumped into her for another minute or so, letting her pussy milk the rest of his cum from him. When he finally felt his cock grow soft inside her, he eased himself down beside her, holding her leg so that his spent cock never left her battered vagina.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he told her again, brushing some of her sweat-soaked hair from her face. "I wish I could have stopped. I wish I hadn't even started."

But she wasn't hearing him at all. She just stared at him with tear-filled eyes, asking him, "Why? Why did you do this? What did I do wrong?" She kept asking it, never listening for an answer, too shocked to do anything else.

All he could do was apologize, tell her that it wasn't her fault, and hold her close. After a while, she finally cried herself to sleep. When he was sure that she was sound asleep, Charles disentangled himself from her and left her room, heading shamefully to his own bed. It took him two hours to finally fall asleep.

******

When Charles awoke the next morning, the clock showed it to be well past nine. At first, he thought he'd overslept, that he would be late for work, then he remembered the rain. They wouldn't need him on the project until tomorrow at the earliest. As he rolled over and stood up from the bed, he suddenly recalled the night before and what he had done.

With his self-loathing at an all-time high, he made his way to Amanda's old room to check on her, but she wasn't there. The bed wasn't made, and there was blood on the sheets where he'd violated her.

Calling her name, he checked the rest of the house. He noticed the food cartons had been cleaned up and thrown in the trash, and her keys weren't on the table in the entryway. He looked out the window and saw that her car was gone. She'd already left.

He swore.

Picking up the phone, he dialed her cell. It rang until it went to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me, Mandy! Leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Mandy, it's Dad. I . . . honey, we need to talk about . . . about what happened last night. When you get this, give me a call, alright?"

Throughout the day, he left four more messages along the same lines, but she never called back. The next day, he tried again; five calls and no response. But what did he expect, after what he'd done? The day after that, he had to go back to work, but he called her on each break, leaving messages. He did the same thing for over a week. Then he just left one message per day. Another week passed and he finally stopped calling. Part of him said he should drive to her mother's house and check on her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.