Father

The voice was rough, familiar, too familiar. Your stomach twisted as the shower curtain rattled back, steam swirling between you and the naked, sagging figure of your father. His gut hung slack over his hips, the wiry gray hair on his chest damp with condensation. Your gaze flickered downward against your will, and there it was, pitifully small, half-hard as he leered at you through the steam.

"You look good enough to eat," he slurred, stepping closer, his thick fingers gripping the shower’s edge. The water pounded against your shoulders, but it couldn’t wash away the sticky dread crawling up your throat.

The shower stall filled with the sour reek of whiskey as he crowded in, his calloused hands grabbing your breasts roughly, too roughly,squeezing until you gasped. Water sluiced over his sagging belly as he pressed against you, his erection stubby and hot against your thigh.

"You been thinking about this?" he slurred, breath thick with liquor, fingers pinching your nipples hard enough to make your knees buckle. The tiles were cold against your back when he shoved you into them, his mouth sloppy and wet on your neck.

You could feel his teeth, too sharp, too eager, as he bit down, one hand sliding between your legs, probing where Jamie had wrecked you hours before. "

"Give your husband some love!"

Your fingers closed around him reflexively, the spongy heat of his cock twitching against your palm like a dying animal. You didn't really have any other choice, it disgusted you, but, what could you do? The sour stench of whiskey and sweat filled your nostrils as he groaned, his hips stuttering forward,then came the wet, pathetic spurts against your thigh, thin and watery, nothing like Jamie’s thick ropes hours before.

His breath hitched, a wheezy whimper escaping his slack lips as he sagged against you, spent. The water turned his release into milky rivulets snaking down your legs, but the shame burned hotter than the spray.

His whiskey-slick laugh vibrated against your collarbone as he pulled back, yellowed teeth bared in a grin. "Too damn good for me, ain'tcha?" The words slurred into your damp skin, his tongue dragging a wet stripe up your throat before you could twist away. His mouth crashed against yours, rotten fruit and stale beer flooding your senses as his tongue pushed past your clenched teeth. You gagged, the bristles of his unshaved chin scraping raw against your face while his fingers dug into your hips, kneading the soft flesh there like dough.

A wet pop echoed when he finally broke the kiss, strings of saliva snapping between your lips.

The whiskey-sour taste of his tongue was too much, too thick, too invasive, his breath like rotting meat shoved down your throat. Your stomach clenched violently, bile rising in a hot, acidic wave. You tried to turn your head, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into your jaw as he held you in place. Then it came, a wet, gagging heave, and suddenly your mouth was full of bitter, churning vomit. It spilled past your lips and into his, thick and burning, chunks of half-digested food mixing with saliva as it flooded his mouth.

His hands flew from your body like you'd burned him, whiskey-flushed face twisting in revulsion as he staggered back into the shower wall.

"Fucking bitch!" he roared, spit flying from his lips, his cock still dangling limp and wet between his thighs. The vomit dripped from his chin in thick, chunky strands, splattering against his hairy chest as he swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging,locked onto yours with a fury that made your knees shake.

The shower spray hit his shoulders, turning the puke into a foamy, yellow slick that ran down his sagging stomach.

His tongue flicked out instinctively, swiping at the bile coating his lips, then froze. A sickening recognition flashed in his bloodshot eyes. The bitterness wasn’t just stomach acid. Underneath the burn of vomit lingered something cloying, unmistakable. Salt. Iron. The thick, curdled aftertaste of another man’s cum.

His nostrils flared, veins bulging in his temples as his slack jaw trembled. "You" The word came out strangled, his spit-slick fingers curling into fists. "You slut." The accusation dripped with something darker than anger something hungry.

"Wh...at" you asked, scared,

"There was jizz in that!" he bellowed,

"How do you know what that tastes like?!" You whimper . He didn't reply to that, just screamed, and got out of the shower.

You, and your mother, were in big trouble...