John cleans Eve up with his tongue

Rachel came as close as she’d ever been to feeling sorry for the bastard. Not that she’d admit it, not for a second. If anything, the image of John’s seed spattered over his own… well, seed, made her want to push harder, press him deeper into the muck until he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She watched the FaceTime feed as John shuddered beside his daughter’s bed, cock dripping, cum already cooling in shiny splotches across the soft arch of Eve’s ass.

She leaned into her phone’s microphone, her voice slow. “You’re not finished. Clean it up. All of it. With tongue.”

He made a sound so pathetic she nearly laughed, but still he obeyed. Rachel watched as he dropped to his knees, the phone held in one hand, the other shaking as it hovered over the sleeping girl’s hips. For a moment, John hesitated, then he pressed his mouth to the mess, licking a long, trembling stripe over the creamy spatter that streaked his daughter’s backside.
It was the sound that got her. His tongue, wet and ****, slurping up his own cum, tasting his own daughter… and loving every inch of it.

Somewhere in the background, Eve shifted in her sleep, rolling so her ass bulged up against the tight cotton of her underwear. The shift was barely perceptible, maybe just a sigh or twitch in a dream, but it was enough to send John panicking as he hovered over her, tongue poised at the seam of her panties. But Even calmed again, and John pushed forward, cleaning the stain from his daughter’s panties, his tongue separated from her skin by only that thin, sheer lavender fabric.

Rachel pressed her own hand down, fingers finding her clit, circling as she watched the man debase himself. Each lap of his tongue across Eve’s unresisting flesh brought John further under Rachel’s control, especially as she secretly recorded the whole thing on her iPhone. He licked up the salty splooge from the cheeks and thighs and even, finally, the tiny, delicate lips peeking through Eve’s panties. He pressed his face against her, breathing in the scent of his daughter, guilty yet aroused as can be. Rachel could tell by the way he shook. He was terrified. But he’d never been more alive.

John didn’t stop. He didn’t even need encouragement anymore. He licked until nothing remained but a faint sheen, and even then he kept licking, as if terrified of what would happen if he left even a drop of evidence behind.

Rachel pressed harder against her cunt, chasing the edge. She pictured the moment Eve might wake, the slow, confused flutter of those lashes, the way her mouth would fall open in a gasp, or maybe a moan. Would she cry out? Would she simply accept it, let her father finish cleaning her out? The fantasy was so perverse, so complete, that Rachel nearly lost her grip on the phone as her own orgasm built to a crescendo.

She let herself cum to the sound of John’s tongue working, the helpless, rutting noises he made as he fucked himself even further into depravity. Rachel squeezed her eyes tight as she spasmed, letting the pleasure spill out and overtake her. When she finished, she brought the phone up to her lips and whispered, “Good boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For a moment, the camera lingered on John’s shaking hands as he backed away from his daughter, Eve’s ass even cleaner than when he’d entered her room. Then, stirring on the bed.
Eve’s voice. “Daddy?”

Rachel ended the call before John could respond. She wanted him to choose what happened next. His choice. Completely.