Lori's Dad

I remember the first time my father showed more than fatherly interest in me. I'd been out way past curfew and what's more came home more than a little pissed, you know. I mean, I'd had a few beers, then a few more, then a couple of screwdrivers. I wasn't exactly falling down drunk, but I was kind of close.

Anyway, my old man had never been one of those who spared the rod and spoiled the child. He firmly believed in discipline, not just for us kids, but for my mom too. You know where in the vows it says love, honor, and obey? Well, my Dad took the "obey" part pretty literally, and my Mom soon learned who was in charge in their marriage.

Anyway, I was at an age where I never should have been spanked. I mean, none of my girlfriends ever got spanked, no matter what they did. But my father still believed in it. It didn't matter how old you were either. Even my mother got spanked if she did something wrong.

Anyway, I tried to sneak in through a basement window, but I guess I made too much noise. Hell, ever try to sneak into a basement window in the dark while you're drunk? It didn't help matters that I was wearing a long dress and high heels, nor that my blonde hair was very long and thick and fell almost all the way down to my ass.

I was lucky I didn't break my fucking neck coming through that window. I was still grabbing my knee and cursing from the fall when the light flicked on and my father came down the stairs. I tried to hide behind a trunk, but it didn't work.

"Lori," he glared, his big, beefy arms folded across his massive chest. "Did you forget your key?"

"Uhm, uh, yeah," I said, trying to think through the haziness of the alcohol.

"And you decided to come in this way so as not to wake anyone? How considerate of you."

I shrugged and tried not to sway.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh, uhm, no," I said.

"It's three hours after your curfew."

"Oh, Uhm, sorry. I uh, I, we ran out of gas."

"Do you think I'm an idiot!" he roared.

I stumbled back and almost fell and he stepped forward and grabbed me by the arm, then his scowl intensified.

"You've been drinking!" he snapped..

"No, uh, no really, I just, uh, someone spilled their drink on me," I gulped.

"You lying little bitch. You have the gall to stand here and lie repeatedly to me?"

He shook me hard enough to rattle my teeth, and that made it hard to see straight. If he hadn't had such a tight grip on my arm I would have fallen on my face.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Out," I said sullenly.

He shook me again and I gurgled dazedly.

"Where were you?"

"I was at a party," I whined.

"You know when your curfew is, and you know you're not allowed to drink!" he snapped.

"I can do what I fucking want," I said sullenly.

Boy, I must've been drunk to try saying that to my father.

"Take off your dress," he growled, shoving me back and folding his arms across his chest again.

Well, of course I tried whining and whimpering and trying to look pathetic. I promised never to do it again and said I was sorry, and all that shit, but it didn't work, it almost never did.

I had to undo the zipper in back of my dress, which was no easy task in the shape I was in. My father just watched balefully as I stumbled around trying to get at it and pull it down. I guess my motor coordination wasn't up to snuff that night.

Anyway, I got it down, and then pulled the dress off my arms and down. It wasn't until I shoved it below my hips that I belatedly remembered I'd intended to give my boyfriend Jerry a big surprise that night.

I'd fucked him before, see, but it was a quick and hurried thing in the back of his car. That had been only the second time I'd ever fucked a guy, and both occasions had been that kind of slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of thing.

Tonight, though, I'd gotten my girlfriend Sandra to let us use her parents' bedroom, them being away for the weekend. Unfortunately, stupid Jerry had gotten so fucking drunk at the party he'd puked all over the place, and his friends had had to drag him home.

But I'd prepared for the night with some really sexy gear, stuff I hid under my wardrobe so my mom wouldn't see it. Underneath the dress my thirty-eight breasts spilled out over the top of my lacy black lace bustier. My creamy flesh and big red nipples were clearly visible through the half cups anyway, almost as visible as the rest of me, through the black garter belt and stockings, and the little lacy black G-string, the front of which was shaped like a heart.

"What in the hell are you wearing?" my dad demanded.

"Uh, uhhhhh...."

I looked down at me in confusion and embarrassment.

"You fucking slut! What the hell have you been doing tonight?"

"Nothing!" I gulped.

"Where did you get this sluttish underwear?!"

"I, uh, I uh...uhhhhhh."

Boy was I ever in shit! I couldn't think of an answer my father might possibly accept. The only reason for wearing stuff like this was so a boy would see it and get horny, and my old man sure as fuck wasn't going to want to hear that.

So I just lowered my head in embarrassment and fear and said nothing. He stared at me for a long minute.

"Take it off," he said between clenched teeth.

I looked up and licked my lips a little anxiously. I started to move to the stairs but he jerked me back roughly.

"I said take it off right now," he hissed.

"But..."

"But what? You're ashamed of being seen naked in front of your father who made you? It's obvious you've no shame at showing your body to others you filthy little whore! No take those filthy things off!"

I stepped out of my high heels, then undid one of my stockings and slowly peeled it down. I was hoping he'd change his mind. I was already incredibly embarrassed, and the idea of being seen naked by him was more than I could bear.

I mean, no guy had ever seen me naked. Both times I'd been fucked it had been in the back of dark cars with half my clothes on. And though my Dad still spanked me he didn't insist on taking even my pants down, let alone my panties.

But now I had no choice. I was caught stone cold, wearing fuck clothes, and I was supposed to be this sweet little virgin.

I went slow, taking off the other stocking, slowly rolling them both down and putting them on a nearby table, then undoing the garter belt and undoing that, then slowly fiddling with the bustier, hoping he'd change his mind.

He didn't, though, and I finally had to open the bustier and take it off. My face blazed red as my full round breasts pushed out into the light, exposed to my own father's glaring eyes. I tried to cover them with one arm, but then had to peel the G-string down my legs, kind of squatting to do it.

Then I was naked, standing before him with my right arm across my breasts, and my left hand cupping my pussy. I stared down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes, ashamed of being seen like this by anyone, let alone him.

"Are you a virgin?" he demanded in a low, growling voice.

"Yes, daddy," I said without thinking.

He was silent for a moment, then he grabbed my arm and jerked me forward. I stumbled off-balance before grabbing the table in front of me. He shoved against the back of my neck and forced me to bend across the table, then pried my legs apart with his knee.

A moment later I felt his hand at my pussy. I gasped and tried to stand up, but his heavy hand pressed against the back of my head, holding me down.

"What are you doing?!" I cried.

His finger pierced my tight pussy entrance and slowly wriggled up inside me. I gasped and jerked my ass from side to side, trying to shake loose, but he held me easily as he jammed his finger deep into my little tunnel.

I was outraged, and mortified, and too stunned to know what to do about it.

"Where is it?" he snarled. "Where's your cherry?"

Oh shit.

"You whore!" he snarled, pulling his finger loose. A second later his hand cracked down on my bare bottom and I cried out in pain. I know a slap on the ass doesn't sound like much, but my God does it ever hurt! There was a sudden shocking blast of red hot pain, then a terrible lingering burning aftermath.

He gripped my thick hair, wrapping it around his fist as he jerked me upwards. Again I cried out as pain came from this other direction. He bent my head way back, forcing my back to arch as he snarled down at me.

"You lying slut! You have no hymen! Who did you give it to?! Who did you fuck!?"

"N...nobody!" I cried, trying to deny the obvious.

"Who was he?!" he demanded. "Or do you even know his name? How many have been between your legs, tramp!?"

"No one! No one!" I cried.

"You filthy little slut!" he snarled, shaking me by the hair.

I was trying desperately to pull his hands away from my hair, abandoning any attempt at modesty. My fingers gripped his wrist but couldn't budge it an inch. He was immensely strong, more than twice my weight, and eight inches taller than my five feet, three.

"Let go!" he snapped. "Put your hands down!"

It was the same kind of thing he said when he was spanking me and I was trying to put my hands back to protect my ass.

"Do what you're told!" he snapped.

Snivelling in pain and misery I let my hands drop to my sides, moaning weakly, still kind of dazed from the booze anyway. He eased up a little, though still kept my head back, and just held me like that for a long minute.

"I suppose I haven't been paying much attention," he said finally, his voice quieter. "You're not a little girl any more, you've grown up, grown up into a full fledged whore."

He said that in a normal, conversational tone, not sounding angry or anything, maybe just a little sad.

"It comes to all girls," he sighed. "They reach a certain age and they turn into whores. Their bodies start needing cocks, their tits need mouths to suck on them and hands to grope them. It's not your fault," he grunted. "It's the way God made you."

I blinked in surprise to hear this, wondering if I was so confused I wasn't quite hearing straight.

"I suppose you've been fingering your little pussy for years now," he said. "Yes, I should have noticed, the tight clothes, showing off your ass and tits, going with the boys..." He nodded his head in certainty. "If I'd seen you like this before I would have known, of course. This is a body made for nothing but fucking and breeding."

His hand kind of came up then and cupped my left breast in a kind of nonchalant grope, like he was squeezing a melon at the grocery store or something. He lifted it slightly, like he was weighing it, then took his hand away.

Then he let go of my hair and I staggered forward. He pushed me against the table again, bending me forward across it.

"Don't move or you'll only make it worse on yourself," he growled. I whimpered, his words very familiar. They were what he always said before I got spanked.

This time, though, he was taking his belt out of his pants. I rarely got the belt, though this time I wasn't surprised. I'd really done bad.

My face burned with embarrassment as I clenched my teeth and squeezed my hands into fists. I waited for the belt to land in an agony of indecision. I mean, I didn"t want to feel it, but on the other hand I felt horribly exposed bent over as I was, naked, completely naked! It'd been a couple of years since I'd gotten the belt, and all I remembered was it hurt terribly, but bending over with him behind me, maybe staring at my pussy, was making my skin crawl.

I hadn't remembered well enough. As the belt slashed down on my bare skin I screamed in pain and bolted upright, twisting around and trying to escape. He cursed and grabbed my arm, turning me around again and slamming me down against the table.

"Nooo! Please don't! I promise not to do it again!" I wailed.

"Too late for that," he growled, forcing me over the table.

The belt slashed down on my burning ass again, cutting into the soft flesh and pouring pain into my system. Again I screamed, my arms flailing helplessly as his hand gripped the back of my neck and kept me down.

The belt lashed down on my ass again, and again I tried to escape.

"You know the rules, Lori," he snarled.

The rules.

They were well known to all of us. When we were being spanked, or whipped, or having our hands caned, we had to stay still and take it. Every time we tried to jerk away from a blow we'd get two more in its place. He'd keep hitting until we stopped fighting and took it.

I sobbed and pressed my teary face against the table, clenching my fists tightly as he let go of my neck and stood back. I trembled and shook in anticipation. Then the belt hissed through the air. I had a brief, split-second to brace before it hit, then another brief split-second before the jagged pain ripped through me.

I cried out in pain, jerking violently, but didn't try to move away. I held still, gasping for breath, sobbing and moaning in pain as he raised the belt and lashed it down on my burning bottom again. Again I cried out, gut wrenching sobs escaping my quivering lips.

Again and again the belt slashed across my buttocks as I sobbed and moaned and the pain rolled over me in waves. My bottom was on fire. I felt the heat radiating off it as the belt continued to whip down. At least I wasn"t worried about being embarrassed any more!

But then the oddest thing happened. During my struggles with my father I'd sort of come around to the corner of the table. I mean, my left leg was pressed against the front, and my right leg was pressed against the side. My pussy was right on the corner.

Each time the belt struck my ass I jerked forward instinctively, and my pussy rubbed harshly across the corner. That hurt too, but the pain was minor compared to my burning ass.

Then, as he continued whipping my ass, it seemed, I don't know, like the waves of heat coming from my ass seemed to blur or dull the pain of the new blows. What had once been a sharp, biting agony was now little more than a fresh burst of heat. It still hurt, but not that much.

Not so much that it was driving me crazy anyway, and not so much as to completely block the feeling of my pussy grinding against the corner of the table. I started to become aware of that feeling, and in my half drunk, flustered state, I guess I seized on anything pleasurable - yes, pleasurable. I don't know why, but my pussy was warm and moist.

And as I mashed it against the corner of the table, against the soft fabric of the tablecloth, I felt the pleasure increase. I almost unconsciously began to grind myself down on it even when the blows weren't landing, and I for sure didn't consciously spread my legs wider apart.

It started to feel really good, though, and it blocked even more of the pain out. I guess I thought of this as a kind of rebellion, a way of fighting back without my father noticing. Unfortunately, he did notice.

The belt stopped, and there was a growl behind me. Then his hand shot in between my legs and cupped my pussy mound. He squeezed sharply, painfully, making me scream in surprise and dazed pain.

"You whore,' he sneered. "You filthy little fuck-piece. You dare to masturbate while I'm punishing you!? If you need it that bad, slut, I'll see you get it!"

I was too dazed to know what he meant by that, or to understand the sound of his zipper jerking down. I felt something soft against my quim, right against the center of my slit, and then felt it thrusting forward. I was warm and wet, but still almost a virgin, and very tight.

And my father was big, very big, and very thick. I grunted in pain as my sex lips were spread wider and wider, much wider than they'd ever been before. I groaned and jerked helplessly, still not trying to move or fight back, even though I wasn't being spanked again. I wasn't thinking clearly and was still thinking of this as a kind of punishment.

And though my father pretended it was I know now it was nothing of the sort. He'd always been a tit man, and I guess the sight of me naked like that had really changed his opinions of what I was and what I was good for, that and finding out I wasn't a virgin made me open territory, and he used the excuse to take advantage of that.

His big cock forced its way down my pussy tunnel, inch after inch sliding past my straining teenage pussy lips and bloating out the walls of my tight pussy as it slid higher into my belly. I groaned as I felt it going inside me, felt my pussy walls forced wide, getting all tight and taut.

I suddenly understood that it was a cock, that it was my father's cock, and that he was pushing it inside me. Still, in my bleary state it took long seconds before I got the picture, before I understood that my father was fucking me.

But then I still didn't know what to do about it. I knew he wasn't supposed to do that, but how could I protest anything after what I'd done? Curfew was bad enough in itself, but curfew and drunk was major, major stuff, and then being caught in the slinky lingerie, and him finding out I wasn't a virgin. Christ, I'd be lucky if he didn't kill me.

So I just clenched my teeth and clenched my fists and groaned as his big cock pushed higher and deeper inside my belly.

He gripped my sides, his hard fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips, and kind of shoved me forward a little. The sides of the table forced my legs wider, forcing them right off the floor. Being on the corner was no advantage now. He didn't even need to hold my legs apart, the table was doing that for him.

I was panting for breath, still sobbing and whimpering, but trying to catch my breath. In truth, I didn't mind the fucking that much if it ended the whipping. I still hadn't quite grasped the concept that my father was raping me, of course. All I knew was that it didn't hurt as badly.

And, well, my pussy was already kind of in the mood from the rubbing it'd gotten against the corner. His cock didn't feel good back there because it was so big and fat, but my body seemed to welcome it anyway.

My pussy got even hotter and wetter as his cock drove in. It kind of lurched forward, then jerked back, then lurched forward again, having a hard time against my tightness, but eventually he got it all inside me. I felt his cockhead against the very deepest part of my pussy, against where my cervix was.

And yet he kept pushing forward. I was confused by that, since he was already down to the bottom, but he kept jerking back and thrusting in hard, punching his cockhead against my cervix with a force that was starting to become painful.

Then something kind of gave inside my belly and his cock shot in even deeper. I gave a gurgling groan of pain as his balls jammed up tight against me and his hips crushed my pussy, but his hands gripped my hips and jerked me back against him, so I couldn't pull free.

He grunted in pleasure, and ground his pelvis around in a strange circular motion, twisting his big stick inside me. I shook and moaned, totally confused, just trying to cope with the pain and flurry of sensations coming from inside me.

"Tiiight," he sighed.

His hands jerked me against him again and again, then let go of my hips and slapped down on my hot red ass flesh, squeezing it as he jerked his cock backwards.

I was panting so hard I could hardly breath, hyperventilating, but then my father began to fuck me. He slid his cock smoothly back, then thrust forcefully inward, using the weight of his body to force his cock into a steady stroke despite my tightness.

It was a stroke I was to become familiar with over the years, long, hard, steady strokes that used the full length of his ten inch cock. For long minutes his cock sawed back and forth in my quivering belly as his hands gripped my ass or hips.

My pussy slowly began to adjust to the size of the big tube of male meat, and the pain eased, then vanished. I lay there and just flowed dizzily with what was happening, hoping no more pain would come to me.

But then my pussy started to steam up something fierce. I mean, it'd been in a state of simmer since I'd started grinding down on the table, but now it began to really bubble and boil. My half dazed mind started to get into the sexual mood too, and I started to actually enjoy what was happening.

I should have been utterly mortified and enraged, but I'd been through too much that night and was beyond caring about that kind of thing. All I cared about was that I didn't hurt, that instead I felt good. I grabbed onto that and ran with it for all I was worth.

My body began to thrum with sexual heat, and I felt my breasts swelling beneath me, puffing out against the table as my nipple hardened. I kind of rubbed my chest against the table clothe a little, and groaned at the pleasure that rushed through my chest.

My clit was buzzing and sizzling like a live electrical wire, and the pleasure rolled over me with a deep, all-encompassing lust that could not be argued with or denied. It didn't matter who it was, or what the circumstances. I was being fucked, and fucked good, and my body loved it.

Maybe, I thought, he was right, and this was what I was made for. Maybe my pretty face and blonde hair, my big, firm, round breasts and tight ass, maybe all that was because I was made for fucking. Made for fucking! The idea was startling, though if I hadn't been half-bombed and totally blown away by the events of the night I probably wouldn't have taken it seriously.

But right then and there I believed it. I believed it completely. Fucking was what I was made for, designed for, put here by God for. I was a fuck machine, and I was loving it. My father's big cock was thrusting into me again and again, his cockhead punching against my cervix with a sensation that was half pain half ecstasy.

I pushed myself up on my elbows and tried to turn my head around, wanting to see him fucking me. Instead he grabbed my long, thick hair again, twisting it around his hand and jerked my head back, forcing my back to arch. Then his right hand slid under my arm and groped my right breast, squeezing it hard.

His fingers dug into the warm, sensitive flesh and twisted at it, mashing and squeezing it as he continued to thrust his cock deep into my soft, slim belly. I grunted in pleasure. I stopped trying to grab his hand and brought my hands down on my breasts, squeezing, taking his hand in my right to press it harder against my swollen melon.

"Dirty whore!" he snarled. "Filthy fuck-pad!"

His thrust came harder and harder, then he let go of my hair, and I just caught myself before my face would have smashed into the table. He seized my thighs and lifted my legs, spreading them painfully wide apart, holding them up like he was pumping a bellows as he pounded his cock into me like a triphammer.

I grunted continuously as his heavy boned body smashed into my ass and thighs, and his fat cock speared deep into my belly, but the pain was a small thing compared to the swelling heat and pleasure that was growing higher and hotter inside me. I quivered in its grip, stunned by the intensity.

Then I came, came like I'd never come before, jerking and thrashing and shaking in ecstasy and bliss as the sex-fire seared me to the core of my being. I screamed in animalistic pleasure, my body bouncing on the table as my father rammed his cock into me with total abandon.

My breasts were pillowed out beneath me as I rubbed and rolled my chest over them, gurgling insanely as the pleasure swallowed me whole and flung me into a crackling white void that sapped all thought.

But deep in the midst of that massive, all-encompassing orgasmic explosion, I felt something for the first time, felt sperm pumping into my body. My father didn't use a rubber, like the two guys who'd fucked me, so for the first time in my life thick, creamy male semen poured through my burning pussy and splashed up into my womb.