Follow him wherever he may lead

You hear a buzzing noise from inside the bathroom, and you are curious enough to get up, and wander in. Your parents have a very nice master bathroom, with a big, two-sink counter backed by a huge mirror, a whirlpool tub, and a large shower. As you walk in, you see him standing naked in front of the sinks, shaving his balls with electric clippers. You watch him do so, and feel an itch growing inside your pussy. You watch him as he finishes up, then wets a washcloth and runs it over his now smooth balls. He offers the clippers to you, but you shake your head, and in response, pull down your shorts, showing him that the reason for your refusal is that you're already smooth shaven. You pull off your shirt as well, showing him your tits. He groans, a wordless utterance that expresses his deep, animalistic desire for you perfectly. You decide to offer at least the pretense of being hard to get, and make a little "hmmph" noise, and turn your back on him. You have hardly turned all the way around when you

feel one hand on your shoulder and one on your hip, as he twists your body back until it is facing the mirror, and shoves you against the sink countertop. Your father places your elbows on the countertop as well, so that you are leaning all your weight on it. You look into the mirror and see your face, looking dazed and sex crazed and with your father's cum on your forehead. Above your face, you can see your father's face reflected in the mirror, staring downwards, his eyes drawn towards the creamy white triangle of untanned skin left by your bikini bottoms, and then following that angle to its intersection at your vulva. You feel him reach underneath you, and guide his cock into your dripping pussy. You are so wet that there is no friction preventing him from entering, but he has to take it slowly anyway, as there is still the **** of your tightness to be dealt with. He holds you down with one hand on your shoulder and pulls himself into you with his other hand on your hip as he slowly works his way

into you, gently, borrowing space rather than taking it. Your eyes, when open, can see his expression in the reflection, one primarily of lust, but also of tenderness, happiness, caution, and determination. When closed, all your senses are shut down, but for the sense of touch, as you feel his cock push in and out of you. The way your body meets up with the countertop, your clit rubs lightly against the edge as he fucks you, and you **** youself to open your eyes as you feel your self control slipping away. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, and he can see you churning inside, an insight that steadies him, his strokes controlled, as he rhythmically drives you off the edge. You bite your lip, and mentally hold your body in place, trying to still your vibrating muscles as you feel the orgasm cresting. You keep an image of youself in your mind, still and quiet by pools of water, as the orgasm builds around you, slowly claiming your extremities, then your limbs, as your father methodically and insistently

pushes you further. The shaking rises through your stomach, wrenching your gut, then through your chest, causing you to lose your breath. You hold your breath, and keep your eyes closed tight, stuggling to retain control as you feel the sensation rising up your neck, the rest of your body trembling and shaking violently, as if you are in an epileptic fit. You hold it back, resist it, for just a few second more, then it all lets loose, and open your eyes and gasp for air, as your mind is buffeted by the waves of the orgasm. Your eyes lose focus, and you are shaken like a tree in a thunderstorm, and release a loud, wet, guttural and wordless scream. Your father increases the pitch of his thrusting, and the storm intensifies, your eyes seeing colors but not shapes, alternately blinded by darkness and blinded by white light. You can feel every part of your body, your finger and toe tips tingling, but none of them feel like they are attached to you. You again are suffocating, inhaling deeply and quickly

through your wide open mouth whenever you can, but obligated to release it all in short, sharp, high pitched cries each time your father pushes back in to you. Your vagina is a molten center of pleasure in the middle of your body so hot, so intense as it pours forth pleasure through your clit, that the rest of your feels like it is melting underneath it. Your body praises your father as a lifegiver and as a furious tyrant, as he forces it to disintegrate. Your mind wanders, detached, barely hearing the staccato cries of rising pitch that you are emitting, feeling only the terrible and powerful thundering of your gut. If you are at once barely aware of anything anymore yet deeply controlled by this orgasm, then its final wave is at once oblivion and everything, everything pushed out of your body, sweat through your skin, one last uncontrolled ruddy cry through your vocal chords, your cunt growing dead to feeling just to protect itself for future sensation. The last push is a pleasure so strong and so

sharp but that it can not be interpreted by your body as anything but pain, a million voices crying out in your head for a momentary migraine that leaves you dull and listless, weakened and battered, dead to the world. Like a wave crashing into the shore, all is leveled in one confusing, muddied instant. Your father has mercy, and withholds himself, letting your body slowly find itself with a sharp tingling like the feeling of a limb fallen asleep. You struggle to open your eyes, to push some word out of your dry throat, to somehow beg him to continue, or to stop, but above all, to not just remain in you, throbbing, motionless, a **** of nature like a dark thunderhead or a pulsating desert sun, a threat so unimaginable in its power and dignity that the thought alone of it is enough to reduce you to nothing as you cower beneath it.