A mother's revelations of her secrets to her son.
I began to open my mouth to say something and he looked at me, through me, and then backhanded me. "You will not speak unless I tell you to, do you understand?"
Well of course I didn't but what was I supposed to do. I lay on the table as he stood over me. His robe was now gone, dropped in the corner of the kitchen. I looked up a little and he was staring at my thighs and stroking the shaft of his cock strongly - with such force and passion - I could feel his caresses, even though he was touching himself. The head of his penis began to engorge and become a deep purple crowned with glistening white drops of cum across the opening at the top.
He walked over to the cabinet on the side of the kitchen and took out a long carving knife. As soon as I saw the blade I began to struggle to get up, he was on top of me again within seconds cooing at me softly and saying that it would be fine, because daddy would show me how it felt to have a man and not some little boy. He went on saying that I should not want, that I would know true pleasure which only a true man could even begin to provide.
I began to tremble. The excitement overwhelmed me, was this really happening? Am I really lying on the kitchen table in the dark with my father cutting away my stockings and layers of my dress? He told me he did not want to hurt me, the knife was not to hurt but to remove the clothing in his way, and I realized that in his passion he could not unzip the dress from the back. Each move he made was almost akin to a prayer or artistic reflection.
I lay motionless on the table with my legs hanging over the chairs. He could see that I had calmed down, "good, good..." he said softly to himself. I began to hear the ripping on my dress and then I felt my father's cock, the largest penis I had ever seen at this point in my life, almost burning from the heat, pushing up against the lips of my vagina. He pulled the halves of my dress apart so that he could look at me as I lay there spread out on the table. He ran his fingers slowly through my legs and my pussy. He stopped at my pussy and began to moan himself as his fingers slid in without resistance.
As he pulled his hands from my pussy he licked them and sucked on them as though they were a cream to sweet to be wiped away and then ran them over my own lips. The musky odor of my own sex made my nipples and clit tremble with a shudder of pleasure, which I tasted when he finished.
He stopped very suddenly at this point and looking down at me, he smiled, "oh my baby girl" he said under his breath, "you are your mother all over again. "...If she could only see you..." he spread my legs as far as they could go and then held them open with his shoulders. He stood poised over my dripping pussy and slowly watched the effects it had on me. He asked me, "Chloe, do you have to go to the bathroom? Do you have to pee?" I did and when I said yes his eyes rolled back a little into his head. "Chloe, I am going to stand here and not let you move. I want you to pee for daddy, do you understand. "
"But Daddy! I will get it all over you I cried" he smiled and had a strange look of lust and fatherly patience on his face at the same time. "Do it muffin, do it for you daddy, you want to please your daddy don't you?"
I pushed down on my bladder and it was slow at first, since I was afraid, but then more powerful. I began to piss out in an arch onto his open chest while he held my legs open and watched with such burning passion in his eyes, I thought he might have become angry, that I had done something wrong, that he might hurt me.
Before I had even finished urinating I could feel him begin to enter me.