Daddy's THICK TABOO collection (20 books from Horny House Series)

by Adrian Amos

  Not that I have to work hard for my own slim physique either, but their bodies are pretty bangin'.

  They barely react when daddy pulls up to them, until they get a good look inside. Once they see me, they perk up, putting their coffees down and straightening themselves up. One even slides his hand against his forehead to brush away his messy hair.

  These are three good looking guys, so their responsiveness doesn't put me off. It doesn't make me self-conscious, either, in my skimpy shirt. Instead, it gives me a boost of confidence as I hop out of daddy's truck with a buoyant step.

  I feel almost flighty as their eyes look me up and down. They're not even sneaky about it, seemingly fixated on everything their mind can imagine of me. I feel a rush of power, coinciding with their gazes falling to my new bellybutton stud.

  I knew this thing had a good purpose!

  “Hey, Chuck,” they say, cordial to daddy even though they're on strike. Not cordial enough to take their eyes off me when they address him. “This must be your daughter.”

  The one talking reaches his hand out and I shake it, feeling the tough grip and callouses of his hand. “I'm Ben.”

  “I've heard about you, Ben” I know their names, so if this is Ben... I point to the blond in the back, guessing as to who he might be. “Jason?” When he nods, I look to the other. “And you must be Chris?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “I'm Bec.” The way their body language lifts is precious, a look of joy in them as I give off the impression that I've been thinking about them. It's enough to get them excited, at least. It's enough to make me smile, a fun, little flirtatious curl of my lips as I take pleasure in knowing how interested they are in me.

  I look at daddy and he isn't doing anything, which is strange. Daddy's pretty protective of me, and I never would have thought he'd let a bunch of guys leer and talk to me like the way his own employees are doing. It's not like him, that's for sure. I could easily imagine him flaring up and screaming at the top of his lungs for them to mind their own goddamn business.

  What exactly is he thinking?

  They even look to him for some sign of resistance, but daddy's busy looking at some transcripts from the bin near his construction trailer. He's close enough to hear us, but it's like he's pretending not to. And when they realize his attention is elsewhere, they push a little harder with me.

  “So, Bec, do you have a boyfriend?” Ben asks. He's clearly the most interested, and the most aggressive.

  “Why do you ask? I tease.

  “Oh, come on, a sweet little thing like you? How are you not dating some lucky guy?”

  “Hell yeah,” Jason echoes from behind.

  “Maybe I haven't found a good guy yet.”

  Ben's eyes travel down my breasts to my stud. “A girl like you doesn't look like she needs a good guy.” Ben turns his head, almost whispering, “You look like you need someone a little bad in you.”

  Chris chuckles behind him, “Or a couple bad things in a couple bad places.”

  My cheeks go red. No one's ever spoken to me like that. All my friends or the guys I went to college with never even pretended to act this way. Maybe because they're older, alpha men, they have all the confidence in the world to say whatever they want and feel like they're going to get away with it.

  It's incredibly hot.

  But it's incredibly nerve wracking as well. As much as I was confident before, it seems to take a nosedive when I'm confronted with an even stronger confidence—hell, more like arrogance.

  My words don't come as quickly as I'd like, betraying my jitters.

  “I do think of myself as a party girl.”

  Chris responds, “I bet you do. How do you like to party, exactly?”

  “Oh, you know, in all sorts of ways.” That sounds like the stupidest thing I've ever said. It doesn't sound sexy or seductive at all, just unsure of myself.

  Jason chuckles, “All sorts of ways?” He looks over at Chris, “I can think of a lot of different ways a party can go.”

  They all laugh, and I feel my stomach turn. I'm not scared of them at all, but that feeling in my stomach... I think it's a reaction what it'd feel like to get fucked by three guys at once. Somehow, through their crass words, they've gotten me to think about the nastiest thing on their minds.

  On all of our minds now.

  “Hey!” Daddy shouts.

  We all jump in our skins, turning to see a man who's finally decided to pay attention. “Ben, Chris, Jason. Let's go.” He points to the trailer. “Inside.”

  Even though they're supposed to be on strike and have no obligation to listen to him, they still do. They respect him enough to follow his orders, at least when they don't pertain directly to work.

  And when he's visibly and audibly flashing anger.

  “You too,” he says, his hand falling to my lower back and guiding me in. His touch tingles, probably because not a minute earlier flashes of fantasy were roiling my body.

  We all head up the couple of stairs that lead into the trailer. Daddy closes the door behind us as we shuffle into the surprisingly spacious room.

  It's daddy's office as manager of the project. It's got a large cheap metal desk on one side and a sort of living room on the other that functions like a lounge area for the guys on break. It's got an old, brown-leather couch and a TV that must be a decade old.

  Chris pipes in before daddy can say anything. “Hey, Chuck, it was nothing, come on. We were just having a little fun.

  I have to suppress a smirk at their anxiousness to clear the air. As much as it was fun to have them lavishing attention on me, it's just as fun to see them squirm when confronted by daddy. It's like bad boys getting their comeuppance.

  But daddy's not in an angry mood, not anymore, simply setting the papers down on his desk and leaning against it while folding his arms.

  “You really like talking to my daughter like that, huh?”

  When daddy calls me his daughter, I feel a sense of pride almost. I can't remember him ever calling me that. I'm pretty sure he only calls me by my name. Is he softening toward me?

  My interest in what he calls me blinds me to just how calm daddy is in the face of these lechers.

  Ben raises his hands as if he is going to say something, but instead lets out a resigned sigh.

  “There's no shame in it,” daddy says, “we're all men here.”

  That sounds odd, like he's not acknowledging I'm standing right here.

  “In fact, there's a reason why my daughter's here. I brought her along to help finish the job.”

  The guys look at each other confused, as confused as I was when daddy asked me to come. I still have no idea what I can even do to help.

  Chris asks, “You're going to finish the gas station with your daughter?”

  Daddy shakes his head, “No. She's got no experience and no work ethic. I'd probably be better off doing it myself than including her in on it.”

  A rush of fury hits me hard. “What the hell? Why did you bring me then?”

  “Because you're acting out, and you're being a good-for-nothing brat at the house. No job, no school, contributing nothing to our family's well being.”

  The insults hurt far more because I know deep down it's all true. You don't think it bothers me how little I do for my own living? Just like anyone who doesn't want to hear the truth, I scream, “Screw you!”

  “See?” He says, gesturing to me so the guys can understand the trouble I give him. “This is what I get for supporting her. She runs around town, drunk and high, and gets a piercing and a tattoo, the brands of a slut.”

  I fall silent, just like the men, who find the situation completely awkward. But my silence is from complete shock. Daddy's never spoken to me like this. I think he's finally snapped, and the more I talk, the more it hurts. My mind tells me to just shut my mouth.

  When he sees I'm not offering any more comebacks, he turns to his strikers. “Now, I need you guys on the job. I need you to drop your complaints
about back pay and get back to work.”

  Jason scoffs lightly in exasperation, but also cautious in upsetting daddy further, “Chuck, you know we can't. The amount of money—“

  Daddy puts his hand up, “I know, I know. They're robbing you, but you know them: They'd rather shut this site down than give in to your demands. If that happens, we're all out of a job. Right now, this is all I have, and I need it seen to the end.”

  Ben looks to raise a complaint, but daddy continues, “I'm not saying do it for free. I'll trade you.”

  “Trade us what? What could be worth all those hours of overtime? That's a helluva lot of money.”

  Daddy looks at me, his eyes betraying a sense of resignation, but also a hint of amusement. “You guys come back to the job, drop all your complaints and sign a letter saying you forgo all back pay, and I'll give you an hour with my daughter.”

  The pain in my throat when I swallow stings, having to cross the thick lump that's formed in my throat. “What?” I croak out.

  They look at each other. “Chuck, what are you saying exactly?”

  “I'm saying, I'll leave this trailer right now, lock the door, and for the next hour, it'll be just the three of you and her in here.”

  I'm stunned. Is my stepdad actually offering me to his employees? “Daddy...” I whisper, “why are you doing this?”

  He leans, whispering menacingly, “You wanted to help, so now you get to help.”

  He stands up. “Does that work for you? Will this put you back to work?”

  Daddy just bypasses me, making a trade as if I'm not even in the room.

  They look at each other, mumble something I can't hear, and nod their heads. “An hour, and we'll sign whatever you want.”

  Daddy nods and heads to the door. Just before he exits the trailer, he pulls Ben over to the side and whispers something to him. He's describing something. Ben gives him a look, and then daddy turns to me and says, “Now earn your keep.”

  It's a demand, but he says it like a statement of fact.

  And then the door locks behind him.

  The boys are uncertain, but slowly it dawns on them that their time is running out.

  I walk over to the door and test it, assuring myself I am actually locked in here.

  Would it be wrong to say I checked only because I wanted it to look like I wanted to leave? The second I realized daddy's plan, that fantasy I felt earlier started to course through my veins again. But a girl can't just accept it, can she? She has to at least look like she wants to fight it, or else people'll think she's a slut.

  It's a messed up game to play, but it seems all too appropriate.

  “You don't have to go,” Ben says, “we can have a lot of fun together.”

  I turn toward them and feel a shiver at his words. A pulse of excitement runs through me. Holy shit, I want them so bad!

  But I can't show that. I can't. It'd be so wrong. It doesn't matter, because I'm too nervous to show anything but nervousness.

  When I don't respond, Ben beckons me with his finger, quietly saying, “Come here.”

  Jason sits down on the arm of the couch as the three men observe me. I swallow, the impulse to do as I'm told taking over. I walk over to Ben, a man a good six inches taller than me, and feel immediately vulnerable. I instinctively reach across my body for my elbow, calming an anxious tremor running through my arm.

  Ben's large hand glides across the side of my stomach to round my back, where he pulls me into him. Up close to him, I can feel the tautness of his muscles, making my own feel like jelly.

  “Are you worried?”

  I shake my head, afraid my voice might betray me.

  His face closes in on me, and when I think his mouth is about to touch mine, he spins me around, guiding my back into his chest. Both of his hands slide along my stomach, meeting in the middle over my piercing. His touch is insane, a warm, comforting sensation against the previous shock of being traded.

  I melt. I melt into the sculpted body of the man holding me. No more the brash, party girl, I'm muted as my body submits to sensuous relief of his embrace.

  “You're doing a pretty cool thing saving your dad's job...”

  He goes on and on, working to convince me of how I'm doing the best thing for everyone involved. But all I care about is the massage of his fingertips over my skin, and the subsequent rush of blood to my pussy.

  I don't need to be convinced. I don't give a shit about daddy's job—or any of their jobs at that—I care about the freedom these men can give me. I care about what it's going to feel like being taken care of by three big men, and their three thick cocks.

  His words carry on, but I focus on the movement of his hands, the meticulous manipulation up my body. He's trying to talk me into submission, but his body is doing all I need to submit. He eventually slides over my tits, squeezing them tightly.

  When my body presses into his, he knows I'm ready, leaning down and suckling on my neck. I reach up and hook around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He kisses down my shoulder as his hands squeeze my body.

  I feel hands go to my shirt and realize it's all about to start. Chris's hands lift my shirt above my breasts, exposing me to the mouths of hungry beasts. Chris and Jason each take a nipple in their mouths, plumping my nubs with their agile tongues. I hang both arms around Ben's neck to give Chris and Jason room to work their magic. They suck on my nipples, alternating nibbles and tongue flicks.

  Their hands go to my legs and all three lift me into the air, carrying me backwards until Ben sits on the couch, placing me between his legs. He finishes removing my shirt over my head, giving my tits a good squeeze as their revealed.

  “Oh shit,” he growls into my ear. The primal tone of his voice creeps in on me, and I let out an affirming moan.

  “Do I turn you on?” I ask.

  “Hell yeah. Little sexy thing like you. I don't think any guy deserves this.”

  “Well, then feel lucky my daddy's letting you have some.”

  “Right now, your daddy ain't here. He gave you up. For the next hour, he doesn't exist, so you might as well call me daddy.”

  I smirk, squirming as his fingers circle my nipples. “You're such a pervert, daddy.” I never once thought that word was sexy until a guy tweaking my nipples held me in his lap and demanded I call him it. It'd probably make me wet if I wasn't already so.

  “Goddamn,” Jason says, “she's not even calling me daddy, but it's fucking hot anyway.”

  Chris chimes in, “That's okay. I'm fine if we're just a couple of uncles.”

  “Uncles?!” I giggle.

  Ben kisses my ear. “A good ol' family gangbang.”

  I can feel my juices welling in me as three sets of hands have their way with me. It's like a bunch of boys having found a new toy, one they've gotta touch to see if it's real. Fingertips brushing my skin from my nipples to my stomach to my jeans. The jeans are undone, pulled from me as my butt and legs lift in the air, my panties following right after—soaked like they've been dunked underwater—only for me to fall back down between Ben's legs. They take my legs and spread them, hanging them over Ben's legs and opening up my cunt for all to see.

  Things are moving so quick, their lust guiding their actions like animals. It's just hands moving over me, touching and caressing, but it feels like a complete loss of control. So much going on I couldn't stop it or control it if I wanted. I can't tell where one hand starts and another ends, I can't guide anyone's actions, I can't tell who's doing what or how it makes me feel.

  I'm entirely consumed by submission, and I have no ability to say or do anything to change it otherwise.

  A hand brushes up my inner thigh; one caresses my stomach; two gently tug at my nipples; and one splits my lower lips as another slides fingers through my slit. I'm so goddamn wet the sixth hand glides over slickness like it's running the intertubes at a water park.

  So much titillation, so much action, I moan from the overwhelming feeling of being fawned over.


  Ben whispers in my ear. “Are you ready to get fucked?”

  I nod.

  “Let's hear it, daughter.”

  “Yes, daddy, I'm ready to get fucked.”

  “How do you want it, babygirl?”

  “Everywhere, daddy.”

  “You want daddy and your uncles to fuck you together?”

  I nod vigorously, daddy's warm breath against my ear and all their hands groping me supercharging my libido. I don't just want to get fucked; I want to get ravished. If you have three dicks at your disposal, you have to use them all. “I want all of you.”

  Jason is impatient, the strain in his voice as rough as the strain on his cock. “Dudes, come on, I need to get my dick wet. That wet pussy smells so fucking good.”

  They drop me to my knees on the ground and all drop trou, revealing three thick, hard cocks, ready for close inspection. I wave them over, intent on getting in on all the marvelous meat.

  Standing in a semi-circle around me, I feast on the bounty in front of me. I jerk off two while sucking on the other. Their thick cocks have an amazing sponginess to them, molding in my hands as I stroke them, the softness of their foreskins being pulled back to the hardness of their shafts. I give them light squeezes, enjoying the tactile response of cock giving way to my pressure, as well as the boys squirming in my grip.

  The dick in my mouth is ambrosia, delicate skin pressing against my lips as the bulbous head guns it across my tongue, leaving a trail of salty residue behind. It's the taste of man with a hint of precum, dribbling into my mouth as I pleasure him with no hands.

  I pull off and lean over, spitting onto each of the cocks in my hands, lubing them up so I can speed up my strokes. I alternate between the dicks, stroking two cocks while sucking on the heads, furiously drawing out precum from each guy. I get the drops I want, letting them sit in my mouth and mingle, mixing the flavors of three alphas.

  I swallow, lazily hanging my tongue out as I look up at the three ecstatic faces.