Chapter 2 - Daddy's Little Girl
Emma Davidson bailed on her high school senior classes before lunch, muttering something about cramps to her history teacher, who just nodded, barely listening. Her stomach was fine—her body, though, was a fucking furnace, lit up from last night’s messed-up scene: her parents, Mark and Jenny, enjoying themselves in a filthy swap with Aunt Mandy and Uncle Bob. Mom’s lips wrapped around Uncle Bob’s cock, Mandy’s face buried in Jenny’s pussy, Dad pounding Mandy like it was his last day on earth—it had kept her up half the night, fingers working her clit while she whispered filthy plans with her brother, John. Today was go time. Dad was home, working. Mom was at her office. John was stuck at uni. Perfect.
With her heart hammering, Emma walked to her car—a new EV her family had recently leased—in the school parking lot and slipped into it. She sat in the car for some time, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down. She looked outside to double-check if there was anyone around, then, on impulse, reached under her sheer pink crop top and quickly unhooked her bra and tossed it into the backseat. She adjusted her rearview mirror to see her reflection and smiled, despite her nervousness—damn, she looked hot. Her nipples were hardening against the thin fabric, poking through, as she jiggled her boobs. Her denim shorts were obscenely short, barely covering her ass, the frayed edges tickling her thighs. But as she drove, her stomach twisted—not from cramps, but nerves. This could go so wrong—blow up the family, ruin everything. What if Dad freaked? What if Mom found out? She was too horny, too deep in, to back out now. The thought of his eyes on her, his hands… damn, she was soaked already.
As expected, the house was quiet except for Mark’s keyboard and mouse clicking from his office. Emma kicked off her sneakers and socks and slunk to the doorway of Mark's office. Mark was seated at his desk, his head moving between his laptop and his monitor. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing off those forearms—strong, hairy, the kind she used to think were just “dad arms” but now made her mouth dry. He looked so normal, so fucking dad-like. Except she knew better.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said, voice soft and a little shaky, leaning against the doorframe, hip popped so her top rode up, flashing her stomach.
Mark’s head jerked up, eyes zooming on her—those shorts, those nipples—before yanking his gaze back to his screen. But she’d already seen it—the way his pupils dilated, the way his throat worked.
“Hey, kiddo. Home early? You okay?” His voice was rough, trying to sound cool but failing.
“Migraine,” she lied, strolling closer, her heart pounding so fiercely she swore he could hear it, but swaying her hips to attract her dad’s attention. “They sent me home. It’s easing now. Is Mom out?”
“Yeah, she's at work today,” he replied, trying to look busy, staring at his screen, avoiding looking at Emma, but clearly being able to make out her silhouette on the side. She was still there. “Gotta finish these reports,” he mumbled to himself.
Emma slid behind his chair, hands dropping onto his shoulders, digging into the knots there. “You’re so tense, Dad. Always working.” She kneaded hard, thumbs pressing deep, her breath hot against his ear. Her tits grazed his back, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide her hard nipples, and he went rigid, his breath catching. She was nervous as hell—her hands shook a little—but the heat between her legs pushed her forward.
Mark said, “Emma, I’m good.” His voice was tight as he tried to shrug her off. “Really. Go… I dunno, watch TV or something.” He forced a laugh, and his eyes flicked to catch her reflection in the monitor before looking back to his laptop.
Emma saw that and smiled. Got you.
She pouted, lower lip sticking out, and then walked around to face him and straddle his lap, thighs clamping his, shorts riding up so high she felt exposed. “Don’t be like that, Daddy. You're so stressed,” she teased, hands on his shoulders. “Just wanna make you feel good. Let me help.” She rocked her hips, slow and deliberate, feeling his cock harden under her, pressing against her thigh through his sweats—he’d swapped his slacks for comfort, thank God.
“Emma, get off,” he said, panic in his voice, louder now. “This ain’t funny. I’m your dad.” His hands were involuntarily holding her hips, like he couldn't decide if he should shove her or pull her in closer.
She leaned in, lips brushing his earlobe, breath warm and teasing, her stomach now only with need. “I’m not playing, Dad. I feel you.” She ground down harder, his cock twitching, rock hard now, straining against his sweats. “Is this for me?” Her voice was all honey and sin, but her hands trembled—she knew this was a line they couldn’t uncross, a fucking disaster waiting. Too late. She was all in.
“Emma, stop,” he snapped, voice cracking, hands gripping her hips. His eyes betrayed him, darting to her tits, her bare stomach, then away, fighting himself. “This isn't... We can't...”
She ground her pussy against his trapped cock in his slacks, almost feeling his twitches. She cupped his face, forcing his chin up to look at her. "Why not?" she whispered.
"Because..." His protest died as she raked her nails down his chest and had her lips so close to his.
And then she dropped the bomb.
“I saw you last night, Daddy,” she whispered, sharp and low. “With Aunt Mandy."
Mark froze.
Emma smiled, rubbing him through his slacks. "John and I got home early. We saw you fucking Aunt Mandy, your cock deep in her pussy, her screaming your name. Mom sucking Uncle Bob, then kissing Aunt Mandy like they were in love, not just sisters. You get off on that, don’t you? Them being sisters, all tangled up in each other’s filth?”
Mark’s face went pale, eyes wide like she’d punched him and knocked the air out of him. “You... what? Oh God, Emma… You weren’t supposed to see that.” His voice was a wreck, his hands shaking. The look on his face—guilt, horror, shame, need—was intoxicating.
“Don’t be ashamed,” she purred, not letting up, rocking her hips, feeling his cock throb. “It was so fucking hot. I got wet watching you. Mom and Aunt Mandy, moaning like sluts—does that get you hard, Daddy? Knowing Mom fucks her own sister?” She wanted to see how much she could push him with the filthy, incestuous talk. But she had to do more than talk. She slid off his lap but didn’t step back. She, instead, hopped onto his desk, shoving his laptop and a coffee mug aside—the mug wobbled a little and nearly spilled. She shut his laptop, smirked, and spread her thighs just enough, her pussy damp through her shorts.
Mark's eyes were locked on her thighs. He could see her smooth thighs and make out her pussy line. “Emma, please,” he begged, his voice a whisper now. “This is wrong.”
She grabbed his stapler, clicking it, then tossed it. She knew she had him, all nerves gone. “You want your cock somewhere it shouldn’t be, Daddy?” She taunted, voice thick, tugging her top. “My mouth? My pussy? I’m ready for it.”
Mark’s breath hitched, cock straining as she yanked her top off, tits bouncing free, nipples hard and pink. She kicked off her shorts and panties, letting them drop, and sat fully on his desk, bare-assed on his keyboard, scattering more pens. “Look at me,” she said, spreading her thighs wider, her moist pussy right there, glistening. Her heart was racing—this could ruin everything, but damn, she was too horny to care and knew she had her father now.
He was frozen, mouth dry, cock throbbing, eyes eating her up—her curves, her smooth skin, her wet folds. “She’s my daughter,” his brain screamed, but his body didn’t care.
Emma grabbed his hands, pulling them to her tits. “Touch me,” she urged, voice shaking with want. He did, thumbs circling her stiffened peaks almost reflexively.
“Oh, yes,” he muttered, raw, guilt tearing him apart, but his hands moving anyway.
“Yes, Dad,” Emma gasped, arching into him, her pussy throbbing. She shifted back on his lap as his mouth found a nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking, and stubble scraping her skin. She moaned, hands in his hair, feeling like a goddamn queen—her dad, worshipping her, despite the risk.
Mark’s hands roamed, one gripping her ass, pulling her closer to him, the other kneading her tit. “God, Emma,” he groaned, voice thick with shame and hunger. He loved her—his little girl—but this was a fire he couldn’t put out, her taste, her warmth, consuming him.
She lifted his head to look him in his eyes, smiled at him reassuringly, and kissed him. Soft at first, just a brush of lips—then deeper, her tongue slipping in, tangling with his, a dirty, slow sword dance. For Emma, it was electric—his lips firm, commanding, stubble scratching, making her clit pulse. She felt loved and claimed, and so wrong it was perfect, heart pounding with power and fear. For Mark, it was a storm—"She’s my daughter," screamed his head again, but her mouth was sweet with lipstick, her tongue pulling him in. He loved her, always had, but this was sick, perfect, and unstoppable.
Emma slid off his lap, sinking to her knees, the chair squeaking as it rolled back. “Daddy needs a real break,” she murmured, yanking his sweats and boxers down, his cock springing free—thick, veined, heavier than John’s, and already leaking precum. “Holy fuck, Dad,” she breathed, fingers wrapping around him, stroking him once, then again. She brought her face close to it and smelled him—different than John. She licked the tip, tasting the salty precum, then took him in her mouth, lips stretching, throat relaxing, her nerves fading under raw need. Gawk gawk, the wet sounds filled the room as she bobbed, humming around him—hmm hmm, the sucking and the noise making him grunt with every stroke.
Mark groaned, hands in her hair, guiding her. “Baby, that’s too good,” he rasped, hips twitching as she sucked, tongue swirling. “My girl,” he mumbled, eyes full of worship and sin.
Emma moaned, one hand between her legs, fingers rubbing her slick and desperate clit. “You taste so good, Dad,” she slurred, mouth full, 'gawk gawk' echoing, as she sucked his shaft. She was high on it—her father’s cock, his grunts, 'ahh ahh,' the power of breaking him, even if it could destroy them. "No, it won't," she willed herself.
He tried to pull back, voice ragged. “Emma, I’m gonna—stop, baby.” But she gripped him, eyes pleading, sucking harder, hand cupping his balls, rolling them. Mark cursed, "Fuck, Emma, I'm gonna cum, baby." His hips bucked as he came, hot cum flooding her mouth in six or seven clean spurts. Emma swallowed greedily, some dribbling down her chin. She pulled off, licking it up, showing him her empty mouth.
“All gone, Daddy. It was yummy,” she purred, eyes gleaming.
She stood, pecking his lips, her taste persisting in his mouth. “Anytime you want more, Dad. I’m here.” She looked at him, naked and smiling. She allowed her hands to go from her neck over her breasts and to her pussy to emphasize the word more. She bent down slowly to give Mark a view of her pussy and ass. Grabbing her clothes, she sashayed off, with a little more swing in her hips, looked back once, gave an air kiss, and sauntered out.
It left Mark slumped, head in hands. What the fuck did I do? His heart pounded, every beat pronouncing the word guilty. His little girl, his Emma, and he’d let her… Jesus. He thought of Jenny, her laugh, and her trust. Tell her? No, fuck no. She’d get the swinging, but this? He’d talk to Emma first, sort this shit out. God help him, he wanted her again, her mouth, her body. He hated himself, his cock twitching even now.
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Back in her room, Emma flopped onto her bed, savoring the lingering taste of her father's cum as she licked her lips, trying to get any remaining drops. Damn, it was delicious—salty and forbidden. She was buzzing, heart still racing, high on what she’d done, but a nagging feeling of doubt remained. What if this fucks everything up? Her family, her life—gone. She’d crossed a line; she was invested now, with no going back.
Her hand slipped under her shorts, fingers grazing her wet pussy, still throbbing from the thrill. She rubbed slowly, circling her clit, remembering Mark’s groans, his veiny cock, his cum in her throat, the way he moaned, and the way he gave in. It felt so good, so powerful, but scary too. She stopped before she came, pulling her hand away, breathing heavily, and smelling her arousal. Not now. She needed to hold this edge, this fire.
She grabbed her phone to text John: Done. Sucked Dad off, swallowed every drop. Not sure, but I think he wants more. Your turn now.
Then she opened FaceTime, calling Abby, her cousin and best friend, Aunt Mandy’s youngest child, a senior in her school. Abby and Emma had grown up together—practically like sisters. going to the same school and the same gatherings. Now, both eighteen and on the verge of going to college, they had always been each other's sounding board.
Abby’s face popped up, smirking from her bedroom, hair in a messy bun. “Yo, whore, you good? That was some bust yesterday?”
Emma laughed, sprawled on her bed, her flushed cheeks and smeared lipstick visible on Abby’s screen. “Yes. We came late. Did you guys make out okay?”
Abby replied, “Yeah. Just about. We jumped from the windows and ran. Fuck, it was intense." They both laughed at it but were relieved there was no drama.
Emma's tone got serious as she lowered her voice, whispering, "Abs, I got something huge, but please don't lose your shit. Promise me.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed, catching Emma’s glow. "You're behaving… weird. Spill."
Emma bit her lip, images flashing—Mom’s back arched, Aunt Mandy’s mouth on her tits, Uncle Bob’s hands on Mom’s hips. “Last night, John and I got home early. Caught our parents fucking yours. Full-on orgy. My mom was eating your mom's pussy, Dad was fucking your mom, Uncle Bob pounded my Mom. They’re into incest, Abs. Sisters fucking sisters.”
Abby’s jaw dropped, eyes wide on the screen. “No fucking way. You’re full of shit.”
“I swear,” Emma said, voice low, leaning closer to her phone. “It was insane. Hot as hell." She felt her heart thunder now as she knew she had to tell Abby. She could trust her. "And...ummm...I...kinda fucked John after. Couldn’t stop myself.”
Abby’s face recoiled in shock and disgust. “What the fuck are you saying, Em? You fucked your brother? Are you serious? Em, that’s gross! Our parents? That’s… fucked up! So fucked up!” But her cheeks flushed, and Emma saw it—the curiosity.
“I know, Abs, I was freaked too,” Emma said, fingers twisting her bedsheet. “But it was so raw. Mom and Aunt Mandy, tongues deep, screaming like sluts. It got me so wet, and John… we went to our room and just went for it.” She paused, then hit hard. “Don’t act all pure. I know you have the hots for John. You've fingered yourself, imagining him fucking you.”
Abby’s face went red, eyes darting away. Then she laughed. “Fuck, Em, don’t remember everything I tell you. Yeah, he’s hot, okay? I’ve been into him forever. You know that. But I never acted because he's my cousin and it's incest and whatever. But this? Our parents? It’s wrong too.”
Leaning closer to the camera, she said, almost conspiratorially, “Know it's wrong, but… It’s kinda hot too, right? Like, fucked up, but hot.”
Emma grinned, seeing Abby’s flush on the screen. “Knew you’d get it, slut. Come over tomorrow after school. We’ll make it happen—you, me, John. Maybe our parents. I’m hooked on this shit, Abs.”
Abby bit her lip, hesitating, then laughed, shaky. “You’re fucking nuts. But… yeah, I’m in. You always come up with crazy shit.”
Making kissing lips, Emma gave an air kiss and said, "Always, girl, always! Seeya tomorrow in school."
—
Dinner was a goddamn pressure cooker—a dance in chaos. Emma sat across from Mark, her toes going under his slacks and her caressing his shins; her eyes glinted with mischief as she watched her dad squirm. He wouldn’t look at her, shoving mashed potatoes around his plate, his face red every time she spoke. “Pass the salt, Dad?” she asked, all sweet, licking her lips slowly, making him fumble the shaker, nearly knocking over his water.
Jenny caught it, frowning. “Mark, you okay? You’re acting weird.” She was wearing her light blue strappy tank top—the one that was casual but sexy, low-cut enough to show off her full breasts, with her small mole just above her cleavage clearly visible.
She looked good, effortless, but Mark just mumbled, “Fine, long day,” avoiding everyone’s eyes.
John wasn’t subtle, staring at Jenny’s tits, the way the tank hugged them, the mole drawing his eye like a target. “Looks good, Mom,” he said, voice too warm, meaning the food but eyeing her chest.
Emma caught it, kicking him under the table, whispering, “Eyes up, perv,” with a smirk.
John flushed but grinned back, whispering, “Can’t help it—she’s hot.”
Jenny smiled, oblivious to John’s gaze but noticing Mark’s tension. “You sure? You seem off.” She reached over, squeezing his hand, her tank slipping a bit, showing more cleavage.
Mark pulled away quickly, muttering, “Yeah, just tired,” his guilt flaring—Jenny’s touch felt wrong now, after Emma.
Emma chimed in, sugary. “Yeah, Dad, are you okay? Rough day? You look tense. Would you like a massage?” She gave him a sly wink, and Mark nearly spat out his water, coughing hard into his napkin.
Jenny looked at Mark, confused but concerned, her eyes lingering on him a second too long, like she...
