I was about halfway to my first orgasm when I noticed my Dad, out of the corner of my eye, standing there watching me eat out my own pussy with a shocked look on his face. No, shocked isn’t the right word. The right word doesn’t exist… His expression was shock, awe, amazement, arousal, disbelief, all rolled into one. Being in a seriously sexual frame of mind, as I obviously was at the moment, I shamelessly checked my own Dad’s package and found his loose pajama’s outrageously tented. Wow, I thought for maybe the millionth time in my young life, Dad’s sure got a big one. I also felt a thrill of excitement run through me, causing me to shiver as my tongue lapped against my clit, at the knowledge that my Daddy’s cock was hard for me, something I secretly relished.

I considered stopping, but only for a fraction of an instant. The simple truth is I was just too far gone to stop by then, too far gone to even care. I was way too into the feeling of my tongue on my pussy, and in it, and the feeling of my pussy on my tongue, and the taste of myself, and the feeling of my soft ass in my hands, and my Daddy’s smoldering gaze on all of this, to stop. Besides, what was I going to do? Get all embarrassed? Cry? Try to pretend it never happened?

God, let me tell you, I love the taste of pussy, especially my own. I first tasted my own pussy flavor on my fingers when masturbating, and I just loved the taste and the aroma. I tried to lick myself a few times back then with no success, no matter how hard I tried. But then I learned on the internet that some dancers and yoga practitioners can do it, owing to their trained flexibility, and I asked my Mom & Dad to sign me up for dance classes, and Yoga classes, right away. Of course, they didn’t have any idea that I wanted to learn to do more than just dance, and exercise…

I actually got flexible enough to do it within the first year of classes, though I stuck with them because I’d learned to enjoy the activities in their own rights. I spent many a lonely teenage night lapping away, and shivering in contorted ecstasy, orgasming into my own face, nearly drowning in my own flood of cunt juice. Oh yes, being the licker and the lickee has it’s definite advantages. I know just where I want to be licked with every single lash of my tongue, just where, just how, just wow! I don’t even think about it, the want is met by the action before I can even realize it’s wanted, and the gratification is even better than instant. It leads to gushing, flooding, squirting orgasms of an intensity nothing else has ever given me, and I especially love to push myself (though after cumming I’m awfully sensitive) into three or four successive cums in a row. I just get so I cant get enough!

So, instead of stopping my outrageous act of self pleasure, I groaned into my own cunt, loving the feeling of the vibrations, and dug in hard. I closed my eyes because I just couldn’t keep them open. If I had kept watching Daddy he might have noticed and freaked, and I wanted him to think I didn’t know he was watching. It’d be less embarrassing later. But for right then I was thrilled he was watching, and a wild thought ran through my head, that I really hoped he’d jerk off while he watched, or at least that he’d do it later, after he watched, and think about me while he did. That thought was too much for me, and as I wildly attacked my clit with my tongue I quivered into shameless nirvana, cumming hard in my own face, my juices flash flooding as I joyously drank my own most intimate beverage.

I kept right on licking even though it reached the point where it felt so damn good it hurt! Unbeknownst to Dad, whose presence I could still feel watching me, I redirected my tongue strokes away from my most sensitive places, and slowed them a little, though even that was an agony of delight, suffering through my own bliss. Something about the first flood of pussy juice that always drives me wild, whether it’s my own or a girlfriend’s (yes, of course I didn’t stop at eating my own cunt out). I just love it, and so it’s no surprise that it spurs me on to renew my efforts on my, by then incredibly sensitive, little hard clitoris, and sensitive inner lips. Cumming after the first one takes almost no work at all, and sometimes I can come over and over and over, losing count, before I am winded, and exhausted with the effort, and shaking with the exertion of my sex, and my mouth.

I re-attacked my clit just as I sensed Daddy had moved closer. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly to guarantee he wouldn’t catch me looking at him, so he would stay and watch the show I was putting on for him, and not run away in shame or shock. God, it felt so fucking good to be licking myself with Daddy watching. I was giving myself pleasure, sure, but I was finally giving my sex to Daddy, pleasuring him, in the way all daughter’s secretly long to do for the one man in their lives who ever loves them unconditionally. Oh, if Daddy only knew, more than any other man in the world, even the handsomest, most romantic, richest, most powerful Prince or King, I was absolutely Daddy’s for the taking, any way, any time he wanted. And though I lived life deluding myself about that fact, (as I suspect all young women do) never had I been more aware of it, more a slave to it, than I was at that moment, as I felt my Father standing practically beside me, staring at my nude, contorted body, at my shiny, sopping wet, pink glistening sex, at my pretty face and my pink tongue shamelessly licking my most personal, secret place while he watched from an angle where he could see everything! God!

As I licked away, desperately now, I began to fantasize that he would touch me. Maybe he’d just be overcome, and reach out and touch me. Maybe he’d touch my thighs, or my ass, or run his hands through my hair… Maybe, and oh God I shivered at the thought, he’d be bold enough to just slide a finger into me! Then I felt the air moving close to me, almost by my nose, and though my sense of smell was overwhelmed by my own heady aroma, I thought I detected the unmistakable smell of male musk, or “dick sweat” as my girlfriends gigglingly called it. Jesus! My Dad was jerking off while he watched me! And not only that, I realized, it was inches from my face, and owing to my unusual position, inches from my pussy as well!

That was too much, and I launched into another orgasm, groaning “Oh Daddy” into my pussy, though it was too muffled by my sex to be understood (thank heaven).

Now I was really, really sensitive, and if he had not been there, I’d have stopped. I had to force myself to go on, though the muscles in my back ached and the tendon’s in my neck screamed for relief, and my poor tongue was stretched to it’s limit, and my little clit was on fire, I had to force myself to go on, for Daddy was still there, I sensed, pumping his cock just over my face and ass. And there was nothing I wanted more than for him to keep right on doing so.

I thought about suddenly opening my eyes, and leaning forward, and capturing Daddy’s cock in my mouth. If I did it quickly enough, how could he retreat? But truth be told I just didn’t have the nerve, no matter how strong the desire. Also, I was reaching a point where I almost never got, where the orgasms come like machine gun fire, and the adrenaline rush makes me giddy, and gives me the strength to make myself cum dozens and dozens of times before I have to collapse, and lay gasping, my heart pounding, my sex throbbing in time. The memory of it was enough to drive me on, and Daddy’s presence only added fuel to the fire, so I licked ruthlessly, feeling my body wind up like a puppet twisting on it’s strings, and knew that soon I’d be whirling, twirling helplessly out of control.

Oh, but how I wanted to see his cock, my own Daddy’s cock. Oh, I’d seen it before, peeking from the crack of a bath towel wrapped about him. But at those times his dewy, hairy, firm chest and abs, and that line of hair that went down… his powerful legs, all distractions from his limp worm. And I’d seen it flashed briefly as he turned away when I’d walked in on him in the bath. And of course I’d seen it outlined in his pants, and knew it was big. But now, now it was a rampant dragon, a serpent of ancient mythology, the staff of power, the inspiration for every phallic symbol ever devised, and I hungered to see it.

And I hungered to see his hand on it, if the truth be know. With all my conquests, and experiences, I’d never seen a man stroke himself in earnest. Oh, I’d seen lovers give theirs a half hearted handshake before putting it to me, but never had I seen a man gripping and stroking to replace a woman, and I longed to, because I knew it was happening literally before my eyes, though they were closed.

So, I slitted my eyes very carefully, peering out from between my lashes, hoping to God that they still looked all the way closed. And there it was, sweet Heaven! Before my eyes was a majestic monster of a cock. Not the biggest I’d seen, or had, which had been too big anyway, as it turned out, but bigger than I needed, and on seeing it I bubbled more juice onto my tongue.

My Dad was standing there over me, his pajama top open, his pajama pants pushed down below his heavy, hairy balls, hanging low, and his cock jutted out over my ass almost against my forehead. From my perspective, he looked like a stricken warrior, muscles tense, face squinched up in agony or ecstasy, trying to pull the shaft of a fatal arrow from his belly, and I almost laughed. But it was also the sexiest goddamn thing I’d ever seen in my life, so I came, hard, instead, my eyes squeezing shut as I did.

The tommy gun effect was on me, and I started going off like strafe bombs, with scant moments of lucidity between the madness of sexual release, the uniquely feminine experience of multiple orgasms. My thoughts were like this, “Oh God, here it comes…” gasp, quiver, shake, mind empty, “can’t… stop… cumming,” blank, spasming, tensing, “Oh God, what if,” sweet heaven, YES, oohh, ohhh… “what if Daddy,” MMMMM, OH GOD, huh, huh, huh, shaking, shaking, “Daddy cums” vibrating, tense like stone, flooding, moaning, “DADDY CUMS” Hmmmm, HUH, OH, OH, “ON ME!”

The realization that Daddy could hardly witness the show I was putting on for him without losing control himself crashed in on me like a suicide truck slamming into a bridge abutment, and I knew instantly that it would not only happen, but that there would be no way either of us could pretend it had not. How could I pretend I hadn’t noticed Daddy’s sperm splashing onto me? How could I pretend not to taste it mingling with my pussy juices, searing my flesh as it splashed hotly on my quim, on my ass, on my face? How could he expect me to?

Then, when the fear of the inevitable had dawned on me, I felt it swept aside by my earth shattering desire for it to happen, and to happen NOW! The idea of my Dad’s cum splashing down at me, raining down on me, the idea of it touching my sex, touching my pussy, the idea of it on my face, and on my lips, and tongue… oh GOD, the idea of tasting Daddy’s cum! The idea that some might somehow get deep inside me and make me a brother or sister…

And then, like an answered prayer, it happened, and I flinched feeling the first ropes of thick, white, fatherly seed splash against my cheek, and then down on my ass as Daddy unconsciously redirected it, and finally forceful blast after blast of it strike me full in the cunt. Of course I was still licking, though I would have to stop shortly, and so my tongue sought out the sweet nectar of paternal manhood, and savored it’s precious, rare flavor with every tastebud. Mixed in with my own feminine flood, it was the most delicious flavor I’d ever known!

I licked up every drop my desperately searching tongue could find, and for long moments Daddy replenished the supply with fresh spurts of his semen onto my soft, delicate flesh. And when the flow ebbed, and depleted, I searched for just a moment for more, groaned in frustration matched only by exhaustion, and collapsed back onto my bed, unfolding like a bad bit of origami.

My heart pounded like a kettle drum in my chest, and my lungs filled spasmodically, my head throbbing, muscles aching, my vagina throbbing like a man was squeezing it. The world spun, and I felt drunk, beaten, and very, very satisfied. When my breathing returned to normal, and I felt as though I would live, I at last opened my eyes, but Daddy was gone.

Had I imagined him there? I looked about for clues, but saw none. Then I felt something drying on the skin on my face, below my eye. I raised my hand, trembling, to my face, and wiped away some of what was there. I looked at it. It looked like cum. Tentatively, I tasted it. It was cum. I realized it was Daddy’s cum, and so ravenously I licked it off my fingers. I stood, naked, in the center of my room and realized the door was open. Dad had fled in a hurry, I thought as I closed the door.

The only question was, what do I do now?