Daddy Fucks Her Raw
Daddy Fucks Her Raw
Midpoint
Daddy Fucks Her Raw
Harper Thrush
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Daddy Fucks Her Raw
Copyright 2012 Harper Thrush
Cover Image: mocker / 123RF Stock Photo
Smashwords Edition
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License Notes, Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for the recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. All characters who engage in sexual acts are 18 years of age or older.
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Daddy Fucks Her Raw
“Get in the car, Alison. Now.”
My teenage stepdaughter rolls her eyes and leans back in the hot tub, sighing as a gentle mist rises from the surface of the water. Her glistening cleavage bobs up, and I can see the outline of her semi-peaked nipples through the flimsy fabric of her bikini top. But I barely acknowledge the sudden rush of heat to my groin, because right now she is making me furious.
“I’m serious. We have to get a move on if we’re going to get off this mountain before the storm hits.”
“Bite me,” she scoffs.
Oh, I would, believe me…
“I’m your father, Alison, and I am telling you to get out of that Jacuzzi, towel off and get in the damn car.”
She levels her sharp green eyes at me. “You are not my fucking father.”
I groan inwardly. Smooth move, Richard. Way to catch flies with honey. “That’s right,” I growl. “I’m not a convicted felon who abandoned you and your mother when you were a little girl. So would you please just do what I say?”
Alison heaves an annoyed sigh and pokes her small foot out of the water, wiggling it absently as she inspects her manicure. Each of her delicate toenails is painted a truly shocking shade of pink. “Why should we cut our vacation short just because of a stupid storm? It was your idea to come up here, anyway, while Mom’s on her business trip.”
“If the weather report is accurate, we could be cut off for days without electricity.” I glance east, where clouds have already begun to gather over the snowy tops of the pine trees. The normally majestic landscape of the Rocky Mountains has taken on a decidedly dark and sinister cast… like a craggy-faced stranger in a noir film.
“So what? Mom and I have been snowed in here before. It’s no big deal. We have plenty of canned food and an emergency generator in the basement.”
“There’s no guarantee that old thing works.”
“There’s no guarantee we’re going to lose power at all!”
Alison smirks at me as she sinks low, soft lips playing with the lapping water. She soaks her blonde hair so that it hangs down her back in wet, curling tendrils when she finally rises from the hot tub, her perfect body shining and flushed with warmth.
The wind has already picked up. Snow is beginning to fall, clusters of fat flakes that seem somehow menacing. It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and it’ll be fully dark soon. I breathe deeply, steadying myself as my eyes rove over my stepdaughter’s slim torso. Beads of water roll down her belly, her hips…
The soft swell of her sex. Tiny goose bumps are rising on her inner thighs. Her bikini is so small, it just barely reveals the smooth, pink, shell-like curve of one of her outer pussy lips…
Now is not the time.
“Alison, get in the car. Please, I don’t want to have to miss work on Monday because we’re still trapped here.”
She flashes me a grin. “But I might want to miss school…”
The chill air doesn’t seem to bother her as she moves lithely over to her towel. Slowly and deliberately, she dries her shapely legs. I look away when she threads the piece of fuzzy fabric through her thighs.
“This is your last chance, Alison. Get in the car or…”
“Or what?” she jeers, cocking her hands on her hips. “You’ll make me? I’m eighteen, Richard. I’m a legal adult and I swear to god I’ll sue you for false imprisonment or abduction or something.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Somebody’s been watching too much Court TV.”
Alison wraps the towel around her wet hair and finally starts to shiver as she slips her feet into unseasonal flip-flops. “Well I don’t want to go,” she says. “I think it’s ridiculous you’re getting so worked up over a silly little storm. We only got here three hours ago and I want to relax.”
The snow and the wind are gathering force. I can hear the whistle of sudden gusts through the pines, weather beginning to beat at the face of the impassive mountain. It’ll be worse the lower we descend, since we’ll be driving straight into the storm; roads are already bound to be slippery. Maybe close to impassable. I don’t really have time to discuss this further with her.
“Okay, baby girl, you’re coming with me.”
Without further ado, I cross the patio and wrap my strong arms around her waist, hauling her damp, nearly naked body into mine as I carry her, kicking and screaming, to the Range Rover. The sheen of evaporating water makes her skin initially cold to the touch… but after a few moments, as I lug her to the driveway, I can feel the heat our bodies generate together. My hand slips down to cup her ass, lifting her higher as we sway against the strong wind.
She shrieks. “Richard!”
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an emergency weather bulletin. The National Weather Service has announced a severe thunderstorm warning…” I’d left the radio on in the car when I started it up.
Quickly, I let Alison slide to the ground. I keep a strong grip on her wrist as we listen to the bulletin.
“… mountain roads are icy and visibility is poor with the drifting snow. We strongly advise drivers to use extreme caution. Stay off the mountain roads if possible to make way for emergency vehicles.”
“Shit,” Alison whispers under her breath.
I realize I’m still holding her wrist. I drop it sheepishly and jog over to turn off the Range Rover. Alison wraps her towel tightly around her shoulders, shivering in earnest now as she waits for me.
“Let’s get inside and hunker down,” I sigh, guiding her up the flagstone path to the cabin. “You win, baby girl.”
She smiles as I rub circles into the small of her back.
*
The power quits at eight p.m. on the dot. Alison and I are curled up on the couch together watching a movie, our knees brushing together companionably, when zzt – darkness descends.
Alison squeals, and throws her arms around me. She’s warm from the heavy blanket; her sweet, cinnamon breath fans my face as she curls her bare toes into my denim-covered thigh and reaches for my hand. Our fingers intertwine, and my heart leaps. When she touches me, it feels like someone is pumping lightning into my blood.
“Richard?” she whispers. “What are we gonna do?”
I chuckle and draw her in closer, unobtrusively adjusting myself as I do… my cock is beginning to respond to the close physical proximity with my daughter. She’s unaware of any arousal on my part, though. Her breathing is shallow, her pulse racing.
“Scared of the storm?”
“I’m not a little
six-year-old girl anymore,” she retorts, voice cracking with anxiety.
“I know. You’re a fully emancipated legal adult who scoffs at the idea of getting worked up over something silly, like a major weather system.”
She groans, buries her head in my chest and gives me what I suppose amounts to an apology. “Duh. Legal adults can still be idiots, Dad.” I laugh at her muffled words.
“Come on, baby girl.” I slap her playfully on the butt and stand up in the pitch dark, stretching the kinks out of my legs. “Let’s try to find the basement and get that generator working. Otherwise we’ll be popsicles by morning.”
Alison makes a soft noise of distress, like a mewling kitten caught up a tree. Pretty adorable, actually. She slips her hand into mine and shadows me as I walk confidently into the kitchen. Luckily, the open layout of the cabin means there aren’t any door handles to awkwardly grope for in the dark.
Only drawer handles.
“Shit!” I hiss as I accidentally bang one into my knee. “Shit shit shit…” Alison helps me rummage for the flashlight, our fingers accidentally meeting once or twice as we feel around the random paperclips and pads of Post-It notes in the junk drawer.
“Got it!” she crows, flicking it on and simultaneously blinding me.
“Christ, Alison!”
“Sorry,” she shrugs. I can see her impish grin as she lowers the flashlight, cheerful now that we’ve got the situation under control.
Until we hear a report like a huge CRACK! from outside. Alison startles, a scream catching in her throat as she whips her beam over to the window. But the light bounces back. The opaque blackness of the storm waits outside the glass, gales of wind hurling snow and ice at our cozy little cabin.
“Richard?” she asks, her voice wavering. “What was that?”
“Tree branch, honey.” I put my hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her with my touch. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I mean…” she laughs, a high, nervous titter. “… it’s for sure not a bear, right?”
I rub her upper arm, squeezing her into my side as I murmur, “No bears out prowling around tonight. I guarantee it.”
Alison sighs with relief and relaxes into me. “Good. Let’s go to the basement, then.”
It only takes us a couple minutes to tramp down the stairs, a couple more for me to throw my hands up in despair over the clearly busted generator. “Piece of crap,” I spit, giving it a little kick for good measure. “Lifetime guarantee, my ass!”
Alison’s about to panic again. She clutches my arm, sending shivers of electricity down my spine. “Dad? Are we gonna freeze to death?”
“No, honey, of course not. The cabin’s pretty well insulated… But it’s sure as hell going to get uncomfortable.”
“Well?” she asks. “What can we do?”
I set my jaw as the weak beam of the flashlight flickers over my face. “Hand me some of that firewood over there… Yeah, it’s piled against the wall. We’re going to attempt to make a fire in the fireplace. And we’ll have to sleep on the floor in front of it.”
Alison grins at me, her face bright enough to light the entire basement. “Great idea!”
Not that I’ve ever made a fire before… It can’t be too hard, right?
We bustle about, gathering supplies. Bark crumbles down my shirt as I bring a couple loads of the pre-chopped firewood up to the living room and set a few logs on the grate. I remember to open the flue before I start flicking the little Bic lighter Alison found in the junk drawer. I’ve crumpled some scrap paper for kindling, doused it with brandy. It flames up brightly, dry logs glowing red in no time.
“Look at you, you big woodsman.”
I roll my eyes. “Get some pillows and blankets, honey, would you? Let’s set up camp…”
Before long, Alison has transformed the living room into a fair replica of a honeymoon suite. Candles, comfy pillows, a soft satin comforter spread out on the floor… All that’s missing are rose petals and champagne. And hey, we’ve got brandy.
“Want a sip?” I ask.
“Richard, I’m only eighteen.”
I shrug. “It’s an emergency. Besides, one tiny slug never hurt anybody.”
Alison laughs, gripping the bottle by the neck (Oh yeah, like I’m not going to have dirty thoughts about that…) and downs a mouthful of the fiery liquid. She gasps, coughing and thumping her chest.
“Phew!”
“Don’t tell your mother,” I warn, playfully reaching out and poking one of her dimples with my index finger, like I used to when she was a little girl. She swats my hand away, cheeks burning.
“I won’t.”
I take the brandy from her and pour about a shot’s worth into a ceramic mug. Sip it quietly as her giggles die down and we both stare into the fire. She scoots closer to me, wrapping the comforter around us both as we huddle against the cold elements, warm together on the floor of the small cabin.
Alison’s head is nodding; her pert, freckled nose brushes my chest as she drifts into a light slumber. I lean back against the large pile of pillows, trying not to disturb her. My jeans feel awfully constrictive, rough denim pressing down on the erection that I’ve been trying to ignore. I’m painfully aware of how thin the t-shirt is that Alison’s chosen to wear, how short and silky her boxers are. My hand twitches, fingers sweeping lightly over the soft fabric on her upper thigh. She moans in her sleep, snuggling closer… pushing her breasts up against me. Apparently, she doesn’t wear a bra to bed.
I wish to God she’d never grown up. This immoral, lustful obsession is taking hold and getting stronger by the day! I swear I’m trying my hardest to resist the illicit fantasies that are flooding my mind…
I sigh softly, trying to block out the enticing warmth of her body, the strawberry scent of her hair. But my arousal is beginning to throb. Blood is pulsing into my cock, making my shaft long and heavy in my jeans. Begging for attention.
When I’m sure she’s completely asleep, I allow my right hand to graze the bulge at my crotch. Even the softest, most fleeting friction feels so good. My breathing hitches, then grows deeper as I touch myself again. Harder this time, a firm stroke up and down.
I’m masturbating while holding my sleeping daughter in my arms. This is sick. It’s wrong!
I can feel the very air in my lungs vibrate as I continue to rub the front of my jeans. My fingertips start to burn on the coarse material, hardening my tool even more. God, I want to unzip so bad and just blow my load onto her leg while the rest of her supple, pliant body is entwined with my own. But I shake my head and groan softly with regret, put my hand up to her sweet face. Brush my thumb across her innocent cheek. Can’t do it. It would be a violation, a breach of trust.
Alison murmurs something in her sleep. I can’t quite tell, but it sounds very much like my name. That sends another stab of desire singing through my cock. I stifle a gasp.
She’d never know… She’d never find out, if I’m quiet enough…
Then, without quite fully deciding to, I move my hand back down to my jeans and start to dig into my fly for the zipper. I find it, and with trembling fingers, slowly pull it down. I bite my lip, trying not to breathe. No sudden movements, no sound other than the steady whistle of the wind…
She doesn’t wake up.
I allow myself to gently exhale with relief. Wait a few moments, just in case. I’ve gotta get off so fucking bad. All these months of denial, barely remembered wet dreams, constant frustration…
My strong hand finds my cock, a burning pole of heat. I free it from the cotton cage of my briefs, wrapping my fingers around my own meat as I softly begin to tug up and down. I can’t control the slight jostling motion, the roll of my hips as I start to moan with sensation. So good… Just a little more… It doesn’t take long for me to thrust my hand deep into the relaxed puddle of my jeans, working my tool quick and hard.
It’s not until I say her name that she finally wakes up. I don’t mean for it to happen, it just sl
ips out so naturally from between my lips.
“Alison…”
My voice heated, so full of yearning.
“Dad?” She blinks, confused. “What are you doing?”
I freeze, hand around my exposed cock. Hesitating for just a second before I scramble to cover myself.
“Were you…?”
My stomach is roiling, cheeks burning. Fuck, I haven’t felt this embarrassed in front of a girl since high school. And this is my own daughter!
“Honey, I can explain.”
I can’t, of course. My words are completely empty, and the way her eyes move up and down my body makes me want to disappear into thin air. Her blonde hair is tousled, oversized shirt hanging off one of her shoulders as she sits up.
“What,” she says, evenly. “Are you going to trot out that ‘men have needs’ crap? I get that enough from my boyfriend.”
I lick my lips, barely able to breathe. My heart is pounding in my chest, lightheaded… “We’re stranded,” I hear myself saying. “And I…”
“Richard, you were masturbating and saying my name.”
I don’t give her time to think. Just lean forward, shifting my body over hers as I bring our lips together. Then we’re kissing, sinking down into the sea of soft pillows, and it’s so much better than I could ever have imagined. The smell of her skin, the beat of her heart as it quickens to match my own… I take possession of her mouth, thrusting my tongue inside, exploring her wantonly. She struggles, confused, her small fists pounding my impassive chest like the wind against the mountain.
But I do not stop. I pin her to the floor, my hands gripping her head as I kiss her greedily. She tastes of brandy and cinnamon, warm comfort on a cold night. Her faint protests are an aphrodisiac, spurring me on. I know she wants this as much as I do. I can feel the heat simmering just under the surface of her lips. Her tongue sliding under mine, kissing me back.
She said my name, after all.
Daddy Fucks Her Raw Page 1
