You wake up to fingertips tracing your nipples in light, ticklish circles through the t-shirt you sleep in. At first you think you are doing it yourself, wouldn’t be the first time you wake up in the middle of the night to fondle yourself with barely any coherent thoughts in your head. But… no, you can feel your hands and the ones on your chest are not yours. They are too big, too rough. Besides, you start to notice how the mattress is dipped by a weight behind you, how there’s a warm, wet, heavy breath against your ear and a bulge resting on your ass.
If there was a moment of concern, instinctive fear of a stranger, an intruder, it dissipates like sea foam when you recognize the rhythm of that heavy breath, when the scent of familiar shampoo and familiar sweat fill your lungs, and instead, you allow yourself to be exasperated and annoyed.
“Dad…?” you murmur, lifting your head a little to glance over your shoulder at his dark silhouette, “What the hell?”
A deep, hoarse chuckle causes the broad chest against your back to rumble.
“Didn’t expect you to wake up, sweetie,” he hums, and kisses your hair, “I just needed something nice. You can go back to sleep…”
You suck in a sharp breath as he tugs at your nipple. How the fuck are you supposed to get any sleep like this?
“Like I could,” your hand finds his as it softly gropes your chest, and the contrast in size is stark, “Seriously, can we not do this now? I have an early morning.”
“You and me both, kiddo,” he leans close, and you can smell something in his breath, perhaps beer, and he nips at your ear, “C’mon, just calm down and let me have this. I’ll be done in a sec. Alright, sweetheart?”
“…Fine.”
“That’s my girl.”
You sigh, and try to relax. Fine, when he’s gentle, it does feel nice when he plays with your tits. You doubt you can fall asleep if he touches your nipples too much, little shocks of sensitivity too sharp to be ignored, but for now, this is alright. You close your eyes and nuzzle into your pillow, your body languid against his.
He tugs your pajama pants down, just below your ass. And your eyes snap open in the dark when you feel something definitely not covered in latex poking at you.
“What— Dad, where’s the condom?” you ask, and your father wraps his arms around you, a gentle embrace yet it’s just to keep you from squirming away as his cock nudges between your thighs.
“Shh, shhhh…”
“Dad, I’m serious, put it on…!”
“Relax, sweetheart. It’s not going to go in, so there’s no need for that,” he murmurs and kisses your ear as the back of his cock slides against you, hot and velvety smooth and bare and a helpless whimper escapes your throat.
You have never felt your father’s cock like that before. Never allowed yourself to. He’d pay for pills — probably — if you wanted them, but you don’t. You have told yourself and him that it would be too much of a hassle to get them, too much to remember every day, side effects, blah blah, but the real reason might just be that you have wanted him to wear condoms — you need that thin layer of latex between you, one layer of separation, as if that would somehow mean you weren’t letting your father fuck you on the regular. You have never allowed your cunt to learn what its maker really feels like.
But now…
“Oh, sweetheart…” your father groans in your ear, and you can barely breathe when his cock catches dangerously close to your hole for a second, just before it pushes against your clit and pops out from between your thighs.
“…Dad, we can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice fragile and tense and sounding anything but yours. You can feel him throb against your pussy, and it leaves you lightheaded. Focus, focus, this shouldn’t be happening!
“What if— I-I mean, there’s always a risk, if something gets in—” you say heavily. You’re feeling delirious.
“Nothing bad’s going to happen, sweetie,” he says, emphasizing every word in that infuriatingly condescending tone he has always used whenever you voiced your childish worries to him, “Just trust your old man.”
You don’t, but you can’t be quite sure who do you trust less: him, or yourself, when he starts to slowly fuck your thighs, and you feel how easily his cock slides against you when your own slick coats it, dripping down your thighs. You press your face into the pillow, biting back a moan when you feel yourself clench around nothing.
“Can I put it inside? Just for a minute, baby?”
“Wh- no! No, no no no, dad!” you whine, just as much to yourself as to him. The sickening shame you thought you had buried long ago rises like bile in your stomach when you realize just how badly you want to say “yes”. You have made peace with what you and your father do, you have told yourself that those things are okay. But you don’t want anything more, you can’t want anything more lest you fall into some dark, hungering pit—
The head of his cock catches onto your hole again, and this time, it starts to push up instead of past it. Your father barely needs to stretch you at all for him to sink into you, and you hear yourself moan, deep and earnest like a stupid animal.
“Whoops, it slipped,” he chuckles hoarsely, and grabs you, one hand on your hip and the other tenderly holding your throat, “Well, since it’s already in…”
“Dad…!” you cry out as he starts to fuck you, but you don’t even know why. For him to stop, maybe, to stop teaching you what your father’s bare cock feels like. You won’t be able to forget it anymore, and you know you won’t be able to say “no” to him anymore.
“You don’t mind, do you sweetie?”
