David Crane: Family love

Her eyes still closed, she moved her head back and forth, drawing the collar of her lips up and down on the shaft. Yes, concrete was the word for it.

Debby opened one eye.

Then both eyes snapped open wide.

Where was she? What wondrous prick was this that came to her in her sleep?

She took a long, slow suck, as if to identify that cock by taste and texture. But hew could she identify it, since she had never before had a cock in her mouth?

Except – My God! – Daddy!

Debby remembered in a flash what she had done the night before. What had ever possessed her? She had taken a drink, and she had been ever so horny, but to risk being discovered doing that! How had she dared?

Then she thought: My God, is he awake?

She was afraid to move. She lay with her cheek on his belly and his great cock linking her lips to his balls, trembling with dread – yet still sucking softly away on the tasty hunk of cockmeat.

Her hair was the same color as her mother's. She knew that as long as her father could see her only from the back, he would probably believe her to be Margie. But how could she disengage without revealing her identity?

Nor did she want to disengage – not until she had finished giving him that blow job!

She sneaked a look up at his face. Reluctant to remove that savory prick from her mouth even for a moment, she turned her head down and sideways, hovering over his loins and pulling his prick straight up with her as she looked with one eye at her father.

Thank God! He was still sleeping.

Now she could escape safely and leave him to the mystery of why he had mistakenly supposed that his wife had come to him in the night.

But she still wanted to blow him.

She looked up again. Was he sound asleep? He seemed to be. His lips were slack, his breathing regular. If she worked quickly, she could probably milk his prick and still escape before he woke. Her mind darted wildly about, seeking flaws in her scheme. Well, there was one. If he thought he had a wet dream, would he not wonder where the congealing residue of that dream had gone? But Debby could solve that problem, if she wasn't too greedy. After she had had her fill of that drink-on-a-stick, she could let a little of that precious stuff dribble out onto his belly and balls. She had to remember, though – she knew how hard it would be not to swallow every drop.

Determined, now, the lewdlette began to suck steadily, her lips dragging demandingly up his prick as she worked to bring him quickly to a creamy conclusion.

She recalled sucking on his soft prick, the night before. It was infinitely better, now that it was hard and hot and held promise of coming. She used her tongue against the underside of the stalk, she hollowed in her cheeks around his knob, her lips compressed as they slid up and down. Giving head, she realized, was just the same as jerking off or eating cunt – a girl knew just how to go about it by instinct. But it was lots better than handjobs or cunt sucking, too, she thought. She never, in the future, wanted to go for too long a time without having a mouthful of prick.

A slight trickle of slippery spunk ran onto her tongue from his ballooning cockhead.

Ohhh! It drove the girl wild.

She began sucking with doubled concentration, ever so eager to have him fill her mouth with the full load of his cock and balls.

Just as Debby thought she had been dreaming, when she first awakened, so did Dan think the same. It puzzled him. Married to oversexed Margie, Dan had not experienced a wet dream in years – yet this dream definitely gave promise of being very wet, indeed.

His eyes were still closed. He was trying to figure out the elements that made up the dream. But the dream lacked a history. He could not recall dreaming of any particular woman, any place or time, even any sexual act. It had form without substance. He had never experienced a dream like that before and it troubled him. What caused the sensation? Had he – Good Lord! – been dreaming of deviate behavior, say? Was he dreaming that his cock was in a cunt, a mouth, an asshole?

Was he, in fact, dreaming at all?

Dan opened his eyes.

He saw that mane of auburn hair moving slowly up and down on his belly and he remembered, then, that his wife had returned. He remember that she had sat on his face and creamed in his mouth, sometime in the night.

Dan smiled happily.

He began to shift his hips, fucking up into her mouth with leisurely strokes, in no hurry whatsoever to end this lovely act – this return of pleasure that she was giving him, payment for his own mouthings in the night. He sighed softly. That auburn head, stiffened and, for a moment, the rhythm of the sucking was broken.

Dan reached down and placed his hand behind her head, urging her gently to continue.

"Ummmm, don't stop, Margie," he whispered. "I want to come in your mouth…"

And that was what she wanted, too.

Only it wasn't Margie…

Debby didn't know what to do.

As long as she kept her back to him, she was fairly safe, but she couldn't very well stay there forever. As soon as she had emptied his prick the terrible truth was going to become known. What excuse could she use? Was there such a thing as sleep-cocksucking? Could she perhaps suck him off with such tremendous fulfillment that he sank directly back into a stupor from the effort?

Delaying the horrible moment of discovery, she slowed the tempo, sucking lazily. That suited Dan, who liked a nice long blowjob rather than a quickly concluded one, and he altered his movements to hers, his loins sluggishly pushing his prick into her mouth.

He tilted his head and shoulders to the side.

Debby felt the movement and realized why he was shifting his position. He wanted to see what she was doing, to add a visual thrill to the sensation, to watch her lips pull up and down on his prick.

How could she block his vision, maintain her masquerade? She thought fast. There was only one way, she had to somehow blindfold him, bury his head. And the only thing she had with which to bury his head was – her crotch!

She swung her ass and hips around in a long arc, threw her knee across his head and lowered her cunt onto his eager upturned face.

Father and daughter, they began to sixty-nine.

Prolonging the act, Debby paused from time to time, letting his prick cool a bit before she resumed sucking on it – but she knew that she was merely prolonging the inevitable. Eventually he was going to come, and she wanted that, but after he came he was going to find out the truth. Debby was a very distraught young lady.

But as Dan's skillful tongue worked on her cunt, she began to feel so hot and so wonderful that some of her dread left her, chased away by rising lust.

The eventual discovery would be terribly embarrassing, to say the least, but since it was inevitable, she figured that she might as well enjoy the sucking as long as she could.

His cockhead was flowing steadily now, washing her tongue with soothing spunk in preliminary dosage. The lovely stuff ran around in her cheeks, hung from the roof of her mouth, seeped into her throat and ran, like fine brandy, down her gullet. It was the most delicious stuff she had ever tasted, better even than Sandy's cunt juice, and it was drugging the oversexed girl, causing her to forget the reality of the situation, the discovery soon to be made.

"Unghhh," she gasped, as his cockhead filled her throat as she swallowed all of it, then, "Ahhhh," as her lips pulled back up the fat stalk.

She wanted his cum so desperately that she forgot all about her position, her deception.

"Come," she whimpered. "Come in my mouth…"

But her voice, muffled on his prick, did not identify her to the horny man – he still thought that his daughter was his wife. It was, after all, just the sort of thing that Margie would have said – to Dan and to everyone else. As he thought about his wife saying that to other men, he got even hotter and began to plow into her throat.