My Visit part 3
The Next Stage
If you have read the first two stories, you will know that I have gone from being a victim to taking control. This is a continuation of a daughter turning the tables on her controlling father.
As my sisters and I were growing up, my mother usually stood passively by as my father continually demonstrated the role of a woman was to be subservient to men. I somewhat resented my mother not standing up for us more. I’m not sure if she was disinterested or too weak. My older brother was treated as my father’s equal, superior in status even to our mother. Now that we were all adults, it had become tradition that we all meet at my parent’s house over Christmas. Considering how my father and I had parted after our “Visit 2” encounter, I was not sure what to expect this year.
As we arrived on December 21st, I walked into my parents feeling in control for the first time. As I greeted my parents with a hug, I made sure my 36C tits were pressed firmly into my father’s chest. My husband and I went to my old bedroom and unpacked. Later that day my younger sister and her husband arrived, followed by my older brother who had just been divorced. He barely made eye contact with me, unusual for the normal arrogant jerk he is. Passing in the hallway he muttered, “Nice to see you again.” And I responded quietly, “Yeah…and I even have clothes on this time.” Maybe he had been told by my father how that second encounter had ended because he didn’t respond.
While my mother was going about her wifely duties, plans were being made to go to Bush Gardens in two days. My husband was excited about the trip along with everyone but my father. He said he had been there twice and would rather stay home and watch football. No one was surprised. He had never been the most social adult in the family. That night his comment tweaked a nasty thought in my head. The only question was if I had the nerve to carry it out.
Early on the morning of the 23rd I “accidentally” turned my ankle getting out of bed, receiving sympathy from everyone when I told them I would have to bow out of the trip. My mother, ever clueless, thought it was nice I could spend time with my father. By 8 a.m. they were all on their way. I could already hear the football pregame show on the living room television as I hopped into the shower. I’ve always enjoyed soaping my big tits in the shower, but considering the situation it was even more stimulating to soap my already damp cunt…and couldn’t resist slipping a finger into a warm, tight place (one advantage of not having kids) to enhance the feeling. I even left the bathroom door slightly cracked but didn’t see or hear any traffic in the hallway. I put on a large calf length white cotton bathrobe after drying off, intentionally ignoring panties or a bra. With the waist sash pulled tight, there wasn’t much to see…but random movement could change that. It was time to venture out of my childhood bedroom.
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine, feeling the texture of the bathrobe stimulate my already hard nipples. Walking barefoot into the living room my father commented that my ankle looked fine, although he didn’t seem to look away from the TV. He was in his weekend casual attire…gym pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. I told him the warm water from the shower must have loosened up, extending my leg a little so the robe rose just above my knee. The commentators rambled on. I finished my wine, walked into the kitchen to pour another glass. When I returned to the sofa which angled toward my father’s recliner, I tucked one leg under me exposing a little more thigh on my extended leg. After reaching over the arm of the couch to retrieve magazines from the end table, I was aware that the top of the robe began to open a little from my stretching…but nothing too dramatic, yet.
Red wine has always been a bit of an aphrodisiac for me, so it seemed almost natural for me to ask, “Did you know John was fucking Vicki before he left for college?” He didn’t respond. “I’m going to keep on asking until you answer me…so…did you know?” Still looking at the television, he said “Of course I knew, but what my teenage children did or didn’t do back then was none of my business.”
“But your 19 year old son was fucking your 17 year old daughter for 6 months.”
“Vicki never complained.”
“Did mom know?”
“Of course.”
“So John could just do whatever he wanted? While we had to follow all of the rules, he had a blank check?”
“It’s different with boys. They have to learn how to be men before they step out into the world.”
“So he was allowed to practice on my older sister?” The wine and my father’s views on this subject were making my head swirl.
“I told you your mother knew his situation, and with a little coaxing from me we both agreed that John needed to learn the facts of life first hand. Vicki wasn’t his first Mrs. Know-it-all.”
After the shock passed, I stammered “You mean my brother was fucking my Mother to learn about sex! Are you fucking kidding me!?”
“She wasn’t much help. She mostly just lay there, but John got to learn what he needed to know.”
I always believed what happened between my father and I so many years back was our big family secret. How naive. And I find out how totally subservient my mother was to my father and maybe most anyone else. No wonder my brother was such an asshole; he was raised to be one. I put my empty glass on the end table and leaned my head back on the couch. I was somewhat shocked and a little disgusted, but also a little horny from the wine…and the image of my 17 or 18 year old brother kneeling between my mother’s spread legs fucking her, wondering if she moaned, wondering where he would cum. Making things even worse, my husband hadn’t fucked me in weeks, and the wine had effectively killed any inhibitions.
“So John fucked mom and Vicki back then. Of course years later you and John both fuck me, but is was more like rape. What a family.” Suddenly I became away how nonchalant my father was in talking about all of this. He was always controlling and aloof, but he was talking about sex acts involving his wife, son and two daughter’s without emotion. And it was making me extremely horny.
“So did my brother ever tell you who he enjoyed fucking more: mom, Vicki, or me?”
“You.”
“Well…I have to admit that once you, John and Don Sr. were half way through abusing me, I got into it. But I’m sure you know that.” My father continued watching the game, but I realized I was massaging my hard nipple over my bathrobe. I was horny, and for once it seemed only fair that I use my father to satisfy my needs. I opened my bathrobe about a foot, exposing my tits and the dark trimmed hair between my legs. He was doing his best to ignore me. I switched from teasing my nipple to lightly stroking the outer lips of my already wet cunt.
“So are you going to watch a football game or fuck your daughter? Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it last time.” My father was determined to remain the control freak he had always been, continuing to ignore me, but I wanted to be fucked.
“You know dear ol' dad, you being on the county board and being a deacon in the church…it wouldn’t be good if those cell phone pics I have of you with a hardon about to fuck your daughter found their way into the wrong emails. It wouldn’t do mom’s reputation any good either.” I had never seen my father looked shocked or startled until this moment. He looked directly over at me for the first time, seeing my right hand slowly moving between my legs and my left hand massaging my right nipple.
“You know you would destroy your own reputation also?” I smiled. Everything was going my way.
“My reputation? I’m the poor, innocent daughter abused by her own father and older brother. And the stories I would tell. Who do you think people would believe?” My father’s face was actually turning red out of either anger or embarrassment…or both.
“Are you really that big of a bitch Becky? God, you’re laying there like a slut.” He stood up looking at me in disbelief.”
“You treated me like a slut and took advantage of me…twice. Why shouldn’t I have a turn? Lose the pants dad; and do it now.”
“Bullshit! You wouldn’t dare” was his response; but the look on his face told a different story. He realized the slut he helped create was now in control of his future.
“Lose the pants and underwear and get over here. You have to the count of 5 before I get my cell phone.” He looked down at me and may have noticed my middle finger was now deep inside my very wet cunt. I was so horny there was no way I was not going to get fucked. Whether afraid of my threat or finally coming around, my father stepped out of his shorts. Still an impressive cock for someone of his age if a little softer than I thought it would be. Apparently he was a little stressed?
“Walk closer. I want a better look.” My father moved to the sofa, and I reached up and took hold of his warm hanging cock. I began to gently pull and fondle it with my left hand. I had always loved the feel of a flaccid cock grow in my hand or mouth as I demonstrated my talents. It didn’t take long for me to feel the result of my attention as he stood quietly.
“My goodness father…it’s getting bigger.” As his erection grew, I reached behind him with my left hand to pull him closer. I slowly licked the swollen head while continuing to finger my cunt with my right hand. Pulling him closer, I know had half of his hardening cock in my mouth…running my tongue along the underside. I heard a satisfying groan and an “Oh god.” He was hard enough now for me to continue my fun. “Lie on the floor and keep that thing hard.” My father wasn’t happy, but he knew better than to argue. As he lay back on the carpet and masturbated, I stood above him and removed my robe. It was quite a scene…my father lying on the living room carpet playing with his cock while looking straight up between my legs. I moved over him and slowly lowered myself on to his rigid cock and was so wet with anticipation that his full length slid easily into my tight, wet cunt. There was a certain satisfaction to hear him moan, but this was my turn to have fun. He tried to make a fucking motion with his hips, but I sat firmly on his cock to limit his movement.
“Not yet father…play with my tits. This is my party not yours.” My father’s large hands massaging and manipulating my 36 C’s, especially my hard nipples felt wonderful. I would occasionally slide my hips around just to reward him for doing such a good job. Finally I began to bounce and move on his rigid cock…then leaned forward so my tits hung in his face. He knew what I wanted. As his hands again squeezed my tits, he began to lick and suck on my nipples. That has always set me off…even back in high school. Now it was me moaning as I straightened up and began to seriously ride his dick. It was time to be even more inappropriate.
“Did mom ever do this for you dad?”
“No…..”
“Am I a better fuck than mom?” There was no response other than his increased breathing and his hips thrust up as I would start down.
“Am I a better fuck than mom? Tell me or I’ll stop!”
“Yes.”
“Say it…….”
“You are a better fuck than your mother.”
“So you’d rather fuck me than her…right?”
“Yes…I’d rather fuck you than her.”
I could tell how much it bothered him to say that, but it sounded sincere; and the look on his face seemed to confirm it. I was out of control now and just wanted to orgasm, my thighs burning as I continued to frantically hammer my soaked cunt down on my dad’s 8 inches…my head thrown back, mouth open with no sound coming out, my hands on his thighs as I arched my back. Finally I cried out:
“Come on dad…fuck your daughter! Cum in your little girl’s cunt!”
As I was about to cum my father groaned as if in agony, and I felt his warm sperm shoot up inside of me again and again. I ground my hips down and moved in a tight circle as I orgasmed, hearing a sound come out of me had never heard before. I collapsed on top of him, my big tits pressing into his chest, my head on his shoulder, and his cock still embedded in my dripping cunt. I could feel the leakage and knew the carpet would need cleaning. But I wasn’t done with him yet.
I straightened up and slowly moved up his body. He began to object when I was about to straddle his face, but in a stern voice I reminded him the consequences of disappointing me.
“Time for you to clean up our mess father. Take your time, and do a good job. We have all day until the family gets back.” He was not happy, and it was obvious that he had rarely, if ever, done this for my mother. He tried to free his arms to wipe his face, but I kept them pinned to his sides with a firm, “No!” and told him to use his tongue more. I began to move my cum soaked cunt over his face and loved his grunting protests. I was hoping to cum again, but he wasn’t skilled enough. Humiliating him, while getting off once, was a win though. As soon as I rose up he began to wipe his cum soaked face with his hands. I couldn’t resist: “By the way, Merry Christmas Dad!” God, seeing him like that was priceless.
We both showered in our separate bathrooms. He eventually returned to the living room in jeans and a sweatshirt. I spend the rest of the afternoon walking around the house in my long blue silk pajama bottoms, naked from the waist up. I would clean my house that way sometimes just for a thrill, but having my father as an audience was much better. And I had several hours more to enjoy myself. I wondered how he would respond when my mother returned in the late evening and asked him how things went?
