Antonio shares a shower with his pale vixen daughter Miranda

Steam and Shame: A Father's Pathetic Release

The Invitation

The bathroom was thick with lust and steam, the air heavy with the scent of lavender soap and something muskier, something primal.

"What the fuck am I doing... "

Water cascaded down Miranda’s naked body in rivulets, tracing the curves of her slender waist, the swell of her hips, the hypnotic jiggle of her bubble butt as she turned to face Antonio, the pale vixen's grey eyes gleaming with mischief beneath the spray.

"You look tense, Papà," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the drumming water. "Why don’t you join me?"

Antonio’s throat tightened. His fingers, already trembling, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He knew he shouldn’t. Knew this was wrong. But the sight of her—glistening, inviting, his—was too much to resist.

The shirt hit the floor. Then his pants. Then his boxers, tented obscenely by his half-hard cock.

Miranda’s lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, Papà," she cooed, her gaze dropping to his pathetic erection. "Is that all you’ve got for me?"

Antonio’s face burned.

She turned her back to him, bending slightly, her ass jiggling as she reached for the shampoo. "Wash my hair," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Antonio obeyed.

The Sinful Tease

His hands were clumsy with nerves as he worked the shampoo into her raven-black locks, his fingers massaging her scalp, his cock throbbing against the small of her back. Miranda purred, arching into his touch, her ass grinding against him with deliberate slowness.

"Mmm, that’s good," she sighed, her voice dripping with false innocence. "You’re almost as good as Stefano."

Antonio’s hands stilled.

Miranda laughed, twisting in his grasp to face him, her nipples pebbled from the heat, her body pressed against his. "What’s wrong? Don’t like hearing about how much better he fucks me?"

Antonio growled, his hands gripping her hips, his cock jumping against her stomach.

Miranda’s smirk widened. "Oh, Papà," she murmured, her fingers trailing down his chest, skimming over his belly, wrapping around his shaft. "You’re so easy."

She pumped him once, twice—

Antonio groaned, his hips jerking, his balls drawing up—

Then—

The bathroom door creaked open.

"Fuck..."

Steam and Submission: A Father's Ultimate Humiliation

The Close Call

The steam curled in thick, suffocating tendrils around their naked bodies as Maria's voice sliced through the humid air like a blade. "Antonio? Miranda?" Her tone carried the sharp edge of suspicion, honed by years of marital intuition.

Antonio's entire body locked up—every muscle tensed, every nerve ending screaming in panic. His cock, which had been throbbing insistently against Miranda's lower back, gave a traitorous twitch, as if even his own flesh delighted in this dangerous game.

Miranda, however, didn't miss a beat.

In one sinuous motion, she spun in his arms, pressing her back flush against his chest, her round, perfect ass grinding against his erection with deliberate, taunting pressure. Her hand snaked behind her, fingers curling around his shaft with practiced ease, guiding him between the plush cheeks of her rear.

"Just helping Papà rinse off!" she called out, her voice dripping with false cheer, the picture of innocence—even as the swollen head of Antonio's cock notched against her forbidden entrance.

Maria's silhouette darkened the doorway, her shadow stretching across the wet tiles. "You're both in here?"

Antonio's breath hitched. The middle-aged man's hips jerked forward of their own volition, his tip breaching her rosebud just slightly enough, the tight, clenching heat of her body sucking him in—

"H-Holy fuck!!"

"Mmm, yes," Miranda moaned, arching her back, the pale vixen's muscles fluttering around him, milking her sinful father instantly.

*Spurt...*

Antonio came with a choked, strangled gasp, his release pitifully weak—just a few thin spurts of seed painting the inside of her thighs before his cock withered in shameful defeat.

Miranda giggled, the sound light and cruel, as she pushed back against him, forcing him deeper for one blissful, terrible second—just long enough to feel her body claim him completely—before pulling away, his limp shaft sliding free with a wet, obscene pop.

"See, Mamma?" she said, turning to face Maria fully now, her body strategically blocking Antonio's ruined state. Water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away some of the evidence—but not all. Not the tremble in Antonio's legs, not the flush creeping up his neck, not the drip of his shame sliding down Miranda's thigh.

Maria's eyes narrowed, her gaze flickering between them. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before she finally huffed and turned away. "Hurry up. Dinner is getting cold."

The door clicked shut behind her.

The Degrading Finish

The moment Maria's footsteps faded, Miranda whirled on Antonio, her grey stormy eyes alight with vicious triumph.

"You pathetic dirty bastard," she murmured, her fingers trailing through the mess on her thigh, collecting his watery release on her fingertips. She held them up to the light, examining the translucent strands with mocking fascination. "You didn’t even last a second. Stefano would be disgusted."

Antonio swallowed hard, his throat dry, his spent cock twitching pathetically at her words.

Miranda grinned, pressing her sticky fingers to his lips. "Clean me up, daddy," she ordered, her voice a velvet whip. "And this time, try not to embarrass yourself."

Antonio obeyed, his tongue lapping at her skin, the taste of his own weakness bitter on his tongue.

Miranda moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, yanking him closer. "That’s it," she purred, grinding her hips against his face. "Lick everything up. You don’t deserve to waste a single drop."

Antonio groaned, his hands gripping her thighs, his nose buried in the intoxicating musk of her arousal—his daughter’s arousal, mixed with the remnants of his own pathetic release.

"Mmm, good boy," Miranda cooed, her voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe if you’re very good, I’ll let you try again."

She pulled away suddenly, leaving Antonio kneeling on the wet tiles, his face glistening, his cock stirring weakly once more.

"But let’s be honest, Papà," she said over her shoulder as she stepped out of the shower, her ass swaying tauntingly. "You’ll never be able to fuck me like Stefano does."

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.

Antonio was left alone—with his shame, his throbbing boner, and the unshakable knowledge that his daughter owned him completely.