Chapter 17
Cathy fought to keep from losing consciousness. He was in her!
Her own father was in her and plunging deeper!
The tears she shed were tears of pure joy. In all her darkest dreams she had never dared hope that such a wish would come true. Yet her body had taken fire from her father's hard driving prick; it was his that was inside her now, no other's, and she let the tears of gratitude flow from her eyes. Her arms around his back held him close and when he kissed her she wanted to tell him who she was.
But not yet.
She wanted to enjoy him to the fullest, first. This was the culmination of many erotic dreams she had had about her father. She could look back to those lonely nights in her bed when she had known her father was down the hall making love to her mother and she had lain there in the dark, masturbating, and wishing that her father would open her door, stride across the room and get under the covers with her. It had been only a dream, a continuous one since she had attained puberty, but now the dream was coming true.
Every stab of his cock brought her to the verge of hysteria. But she controlled her rampant emotions, using her energy, instead, to move her hips and skewer herself on his lance. It seemed to her that he was tearing her open, ripping her flesh with the force of his thrusts. Every time he jabbed his swollen cudgel past her lips, he brought fire and pleasure to her vulva. Each time the head of his cock twanged her clit she gasped and dug her fingers into his back. She pushed upward with her juicy slit and the inner lips of her pussy clamped hard around his cock. She didn't want to miss a moment of him, an inch of his pleasure-bringing prick. Even though she felt she was being torn apart by the hugeness of his instrument, she wanted it so. She wanted him to split her in two with the vigor of his lovemaking.
And she wanted to scream out to him that she was his daughter! It would have made sex with him all the more enjoyable if he knew. Not that the secretiveness now didn't add to her enjoyment. It did, but she couldn't help thinking how good it would be if her father would love her carnally all the time, come to her bed in the night with his swollen member ready to fill her cunt with passion and electricity.
Pete noticed the difference in fucking Cathy, but he thought that it was only because he had made such an impression on Olive that afternoon that she had become more passionate. It seemed to him that he was entering a virgin and the thought gave him pleasure many times greater than the afternoon. Even in the pitch dark of the cabin, though, he thought he noticed a remarkable resemblance to his own daughter. But he thought that it was just wishful thinking all over again. And he succumbed to that again. He thought of his daughter Cathy and the resemblance became even more marked.
But he was too busy enjoying himself to pursue the matter to its logical conclusion: that the resemblance could mean that he was, in fact, fucking his own daughter. It was too far-fetched, though, too far out in the realm of impossibility for him to consider. It was Olive he was balling and that was that.
He was conscious of the tightness of her young pussy. And her passion made it clamp on to him so that the sensation was drastically heightened. Each time his wet penis slid deep into her he could feel the contraction of her muscles. He paced himself, withdrew when necessary, so that he didn't spill all of his seed into her the first time he plunged home. Her pussy seemed to suck him inside itself; it was almost as if all he had to do was put the head of it near the entrance and her mobile cunt would do the rest. Her viable organ was a pleasure to fuck, like settling in an easy chair after a hard day with a pipe and a drink.
Cathy kept her peace while her father plowed her fertile field. Every stroke of his cock brought her to the edge of faintness. She could feel her own pussy pulling his organ inside it, grasping, sucking, tightening down on him. It was almost as though it had a mind of its own. When he plunged his cock especially deep, she could feel her cunt expand despite its smallness and tightness. It seemed to her that his organ must be touching every square inch of flesh inside her soaked cunt. Every throbbing slither of his prick brought electric lights and colored stabs of sensation to her pussy. In the dark she could see bright rainbows and golden auroras whenever he shoved his hot cock to its limit. Her pussy seemed to throb and pulse with his presence as though he had plugged her in to some mysterious power source. She began rubbing her hands up and down her father's back, wanting to scream out that she loved him, that she was his daughter who had wanted him for so long.
Her hips began to buck upward with the coital rhythm set up by Pete's plunging prick. She found an abandon in lovemaking that made it all seem dream-like. She felt that she was moving her body in super-slow motion and that his cock was at least two feet long. Her father was putting it in so slow and so deep. The two of them had found their own meter and were rising and falling with each other like lovers riding a gentle ocean swell. She could feel her pussy oozing hot fluids with every stroke of his giant piston. She rocked with her hips, but she also began clamping and un-clamping her legs, ever so slightly, but enough to make her pussy even more alive.
The effect on Pete was ecstatic. Her red-tunneled cunt seemed to be like a hand clasping and unclasping over his prick. Every squeeze of that hot little pie brought him to the brink of orgasm, to the edge of rocket explosion. The rhythm they had set up was self-protecting, however. Each time he would feel like it might be over for them, he would reach the top of a swell, crest it outside in the cooling air and when his passion had partially subsided, he'd plunge down into the pulsing squeezing depths of her pussy again.
"Olive, dearest," he whispered, "this is the best ever. The best I've ever had."
"Mmmmm," Cathy murmured.
"You're really caught up in it, aren't you?" he asked, wondering why she didn't speak.
"Unh huh," Cathy gasped.
Her heart was pounding with the exquisite thrill of his words. He had told her that she was the best. The best! Better even than her mother! She had never expected anything like this! Not that she was competing, she told herself, but she was younger. She was prettier. And her father had said that this was the best he had ever had. She wanted to shout out in the dark of the cabin that she was his daughter. She wanted to scream, "Fuck me, fuck me, daddy!" and then hold his cock inside her until it spilled over with fresh hot seed.
She successfully stifled her wild impulses, however, and kept up the new rhythmic fuck-time they had found. But it nearly broke "her heart that she couldn't tell her father how much she loved him, right now, as he lay on her soft body stroking her cunt with his huge swollen cock.
Pete was too caught up with his own good feelings to realize that he was mounting his own daughter. He had felt this way while balling Olive anyway and the last image he had was of Olive's face. Otherwise he might have understood that this was not Olive beneath him, but Cathy, his daughter.
He found his thoughts intermingling. Part of them concerned Cathy, part concerned Olive. He tried to envision the young pussy he was pronging. He exulted in the way it held his cock firmly, yet seemed to be enlarging as if to pull him deeper into its warming depths.
Once or twice, his cock brought a stab of pain to Cathy's pussy. Rather than resent it, however, she enjoyed it. She almost gave a cry of pain once when he rammed forward to jab painfully against the blunt, solid end of her cervix. She flung her legs wide to alleviate the hurt, her toes curling and digging into the mattress.
Pete's hands slipped down under the rounded melons of her buttocks, raising them while at the same time he strained his cock into her with all the power of his hips and thighs that he could muster.
Cathy moaned incoherently with the delicious pleasure this brought to her. She wound her warm and smooth young legs around his hips as he thrust ever deeper into her cunt. The smooth, velvet folds of her soaked vagina held him, squeezing tightly around his rigid shaft, until she could feel every inch of tight skin on his stiff and pulsing prick. She surrendered totally to the lure of flesh, their separate organs now fused into a single instrument of madness and pleasure. She reveled in the titanic feelings of lust her father brought to her loins. She screwed her grinding buttocks up tight against his pelvis until she could feel the tantalizing tightness of his balls pressed hard into the wet, widestretched crevice just below her throbbing vagina. The soft, hair-covered skin danced teasingly against the sensitive outer rings of her tiny naked anus, sending hot shivers of lusty delight pouring through her butterfly-fluttering nerve ends.
She no longer cared what she said or did. Her father's cock inside her was too much. It released passions in her that she didn't know she possessed. She didn't care about tomorrow or the next day or the next year. Only now was important. Only now was real. Now was her father skewering her eager body on his cunt-greased lance, pounding it into her as she bucked like a madwoman beneath him.
She gave herself up to the driving sex of her father without serious thought of any consequences here, now or ever. There was nothing else in the entire universe for Cathy except this: the pure electricity of her father's cock driving into her love tunnel; the sheer ecstasy of his cock prodding her cunt to a flaring eagerness. It seemed to her that her red hole opened up and became a cauldron of lust made only to receive that fatness and hardness that was his bucking cock. There was nothing for her but that deep dark hole of flesh and lust, of belly smacking against belly, crotch grinding against crotch, organ meeting organ.
And finally, she could contain her silence no longer. So intense was her passion that she couldn't help herself, couldn't stay the explosion that had been fomenting beneath the surface of her lusty expression of body.
"Oh, my God, fuck me hard, daddy, fuck me hard, give it to meeee!" she shrieked.
Orgasm began to overtake her and her body became something animal and possessed. She was no longer rational or human as she twisted and contorted her body, spreading her legs wide apart and then pulling them up to her shoulders, bending them at the knees, spurring him on like some wild centaur with the heels of her feet digging into his tense and driving buttocks.
"Give me all your fuck, daddy!" she screamed into the silence of the cabin darkness.
Then the flashes of light, the bright rainbows, the exploding Roman candles, the cascading aurora borealis's as the shudder of orgasm electrified her body and paralyzed her brain.
The glory of it all was that her father increased his pumping and held her tightly in his arms as his own orgasm turned him into a dancing marionette.
"Oh, Cathy, Jesus, is it you?"
"Yes, oh yes, daddy," she moaned, "it's me."
"I can't believe it," he gasped, holding her tightly to him.
His sperm splashed against the walls of her cervix and he felt the contractions of his daughter's pussy.
"Give it all to me," Cathy whispered into her father's ear.
Pete closed his eyes and shot the last of his milk into her. He didn't trust himself to speak for a long moment.
Then he opened his eyes slowly and reached for the bunk lamp switch. He clicked it on and the dim light lit up the features of his daughter, Cathy.
Pete gulped. The air seemed to leave his lungs of its own volition. "Oh, Christ," he muttered finally.
Cathy began to weep.
"Don't cry," he husked. "You'll just make it more complicated."
She looked up at him, her eyes large and wet, like a hurt spaniel's.
"Are you mad, daddy?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Pete shuddered. "Stunned would be a better word," he said. "This is hardly real. It's-it's like something out of a dream."
"I-I couldn't help myself," she said.
"But-then you know about Olive," he offered.
"Yes."
"And you did this?"
"Yes," she said in a soft, almost inaudible, voice. "Why?"
"Because-because I wanted you," she said, breaking into sobs again.
Pete lay beside her and held her in his arms. She was his daughter, not his lover, once again.
"Damn-I have to think," he said, more to himself than to her.
Cathy was silent, her heart pounding like a muffled savage drum.
It was quiet in the cabin for a long while. Finally, Pete reached up and turned out the lamp, plunging the cabin into darkness again.
"Well, we can't tell anyone about this," he said, after what seemed like an eternity to Cathy.
"No. I know," she said.
"Especially not your mother."
"No. Especially not her."
"Jesus!"
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Was-was it good to you."
"Goddamn, Cathy. Why did you have to ask me that? Goddamn."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Yes. Yes it was good. The best I ever had."
He took her in his arms again. Tears of relief flooded down Cathy's cheeks as she felt his warm chest enclosing her in the womb of the bunk.
Then she felt his mouth on her breasts. They hardened like roasted kernels of corn. Her pussy twitched like an animal's sniffing out nourishment.
His hand found her matted hairs, his come drying in them like paste. His finger went gently inside her eager cunt.
She reached down and found his limp cock, took it, and began to massage it tenderly.
"I want you again, Cathy," he breathed. "One more time."
"Oh, thank you, daddy," she sighed, squeezing his stiffening organ in her hand.
It grew hard very quickly. She was afraid to ask him if this would be the last time they made love together. She didn't want it to end, ever.
In a moment, his organ was a rigid stalk once more, its hole seeping pre-coital fluid. She tried to pull it over to her pussy to replace his hand.
Pete mounted his daughter and she guided his cock to the font where her sex bubbled like a magic spring. He penetrated her very slowly, enjoying every exquisite second of the coupling. He felt his daughter's body shudder as he touched the tiny bud of her clitoris, heard her gasp as he sank his shaft clear to the scrotum.
"Oh, daddy," she breathed. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."
Pete had to fight hard to keep from shooting his wad into her right then.
She rocked with her legs going up and down and their fucking began again, the sweeter this time because both of them knew what they were doing to each other. Pete said over and over to himself that it was the best sex he had ever had.
Cathy held her father close to her and kept his cock buried in her pussy as deep as it would go.
They never knew what time the storm ceased to exist. They had their own dreams coming to life, filling their minds with iridescent colors and gilded shooting stars.