A Daughter's Duty

As your fingers wrapped around his appendage, you could feel the warmth emanating from it, and the gentle throbbing that seemed to pulse in time with your own racing heartbeat.

Your father's eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, seemed to bore into your soul, and you felt a wave of revulsion wash over you. But your hand, seemingly of its own accord, began to move, stroking the length of him with a tentative touch. The fabric of his underwear was soft and thin, and you could feel the ridges and veins beneath, like a topographic map of his arousal. Your father's moan grew louder, and he shifted his hips, ever so slightly, as if urging you on.

As your hand continued to move, a spark of arousal ignited within you, much to your horror. You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, and your breath caught in your throat as your body betrayed you. Your nipples hardened, and a dull ache began to throb between your legs, echoing the pulsing rhythm of your father's cock beneath your fingers. You tried to push the sensation away, to deny its existence, but it only seemed to intensify, making your skin prickle with goose bumps.

Your father's eyes never leaving yours, he slowly raised his own hand, his fingers extending to gently stroke your head. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of feelings swirling within you - love, disgust, and lust, all tangled together in a knot that threatened to consume you. You felt your resolve crumble, your mind screaming in protest as your body betrayed you.

With a sense of detachment, you watched as your own trembling hand reached up to grasp the waistband of his underwear.

You began to pull down your father's underwear, revealing his cock in all its hardened glory. It springs forth, standing at attention, heavy and pulsing with need. The sight of it, so close to your face, sends a wave of nausea and desire crashing over you. You tried to push your head and the feeling away, but your fathers stroking hand now grips your head, anchoring you.

You examined your dad's cock for the first time. You had not seen it when he took you last night. Your father's cock, now fully exposed, stood rigid and unyielding, its swollen head a deep, angry red. The shaft was thick and veiny, with a subtle curve that seemed to lean towards you, as if beckoning you closer. The skin was smooth and taut, pulled tight over the underlying flesh like a drumhead. A tiny droplet of clear fluid clung to the tip.

As your gaze lingered on the swollen head of your father's cock, your eyes involuntarily drifted downwards, taking in the sight of his balls. They were heavy and full, pulled tight against his body by the gentle tug of your hand on his underwear. The skin was smooth and slightly wrinkled, with a subtle sheen. A faint scent of sweat, sex and musk wafted up, mingling with the heavy air and making your stomach twist with a mix of revulsion and unwanted arousal. Your father's balls seemed to be straining against the confines of his skin, as if eager to be released from their tender prison.

Your hand involuntarily moved to grip the shaft. The sensation of your own hand squeezing the shaft of your father's cock was a surreal experience. The feeling of the warm, pulsing flesh beneath your fingers sent a wave of shame and disgust crashing over you.

As your hand continues to grasp the shaft of your father's cock, your free hand drifts down, seemingly of its own accord, and slips between your legs. The touch is hesitant at first, a gentle brush of fingers against the fabric of your underwear. But as your fingers make contact with the warm, damp skin beneath, a spark of electricity runs through your body, and your hand presses in, seeking more.

The veins on the shaft had now become more pronounced, standing out in stark relief against the swollen flesh. The head was a deeper shade of red, the droplet of fluid at the tip growing larger, as if begging to be tasted.

And then, without conscious thought, your mouth begins to water.