Almost two full buckets of fresh cum from Daddy's balls. Too bad her stomach is too full; otherwise Emma would dunk her head in and start slurping. Taking it to the bathroom and pouring it over herself is one idea. Though soon another idea comes to mind and she takes up her phone and starts searching for "hyperspermia cooking".
To her surprise, there the first couple of results aren't just some cooking recipes on some sketchy websites, but actual professional looking sites dedicated to cooking with cum.
cumcooking.com
cumdiet.com
So many recipes. So many pictures of food filled creamy, white cum that just make her mouth water. Her stomach also aches at the mere thought of having to take even more.
After much scrolling, she decides to try a "Creampie" that is quite highly rated by the reviews.
Five stars. "A real treat! I never knew my daddy's cum could be even creamier."
Five stars. "Like fresh cum, only sweeter and wrapped in a lovely crust."
Four stars. "A bit complicated and it took a couple of tries. But once I got it down it's a perfect Sunday snack."
Emma reads through the recipe a few times. Not exactly a mix everything in one bowl and then into the oven simple, but neither something where she has to juggle multiple things at the same time.
She prepares the ingredients: flour, sugar, cum, and few other things. But before properly starting, she gets an idea. She strips naked, throws the clothes haphazardly on the stairs because she can't be bothered to go to her room right now, and puts on an apron. Now she looks like a slutty housewife in a porn movie. How naughty!
As she starts baking she hopes Daddy will walk in on her. Though he's a no show. He seems to just keep sitting in the living room watching tv. Did cumming so much so quickly really drain his energy this much? Maybe he could use a refill. Gotta keep him fed so he can keep pumping delicious cum into her.
Emma makes a quick and easy sandwich and goes to serve it on a plate alongside a glass of milk. At first he doesn't notice her. He only stares at the tv with dull eyes. Though as soon as she puts the plate and glass down on the coffee table in front of him, his eyes instantly snap over to stare at her – every bit of her. Even his massive cock that is drooping down from exhaustion twitches a little.
He doesn't say anything. Neither does Emma. She only gives him a nice smile and then turns to leave, giving her ass and hips extra sway with each step. He's staring at her. She knows it. And that makes her smile turn into a grin as she walks away.
The baking goes relatively smoothly. Sure, she manages to make a bit of a mess of the kitchen with stains of flour and cum here and there, but the actual creampie comes together rather nicely. Once the pie is in the oven, she starts the timer and breathes a sigh of relief.
In that same instance a pair of large hands grab her hips and pulls her backwards, pushing a big, hard cock in between her ass cheeks that then slide up along her back, leaving a trail of warm pre-cum along her spine. As the length of the shaft presses into her back, his large and heavy balls press into her ass.
"Hello, Daddy," she says with a giggle.
"I see you're baking a pie."
"Hmm," she mumbles and bends forward, placing her hands on the edge of the stove. "A creampie. Wanna help me bake another one?"
"I was just thinking the same thing," he says and pulls back his hips, dragging his big, hard, warm shaft between her cheeks. But before his cock falls down so the tip can access her pussy, he pushes forward, stroking her back again with his cock. "But I'm not sure."
"Daddy…" she pleads.
"Are you gonna be a good daughter?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"And what does a good daughter do?"
"Let's her Daddy fuck her with big, fat cock that made her and fill her little incest hungry womb with the cum that gave her life."
His cock twitches with lust and an extra thick glob of pre-cum comes out to smear her back. In turn she giggles and stands up on her toes to push her ass harder against the underside of his cock.
"Isn't that what a good daughter is; a homegrown cumdump?"
Both start grinding the underside of his cock against her ass. His hands hold her so firmly. He'll fuck her so hard, no doubt about it. The anticipation has her leaking down her inner thighs.
"Come on, Daddy. Put that dick in me. You made me for this. Please, Daddy. I need to be filled by you. By your cock. By your cum. Please, Daddy."
Even standing on her toes, Daddy has to bend his knees to get a good angle to enter her. Slowly he slides inside, stretching her. The familiar bulge appears on her stomach and grows. She bites her lower lip and her hands try to grip the edge of the stove even harder.
"Daddy…" she lets out in a mix between a moan and a gasp as his cock kisses her cervix so tightly.
"Hush, girl. Daddy isn't all in yet."
Gently but firmly he stretches her insides till his entire cock is sheathed inside her. As soon as he is, he straightens up his legs, making her feet lose contact with the floor and instead dangle in the air.
"Fuck me, Daddy," she says in a soft and quiet tone, almost a whisper. "Fuck me hard."
He slowly pulls back till she's a little more than halfway off his cock and it feels like gravity might pull her off completely if not for his strong hands holding her hips so firmly in place. Then he slams her all the way back down on his cock. Her ass hits his crotch and his big, heavy, cum filled balls slaps into her thighs. Another mixture of a gasp and moan escape her lips.
As he builds up a hard and steady rhythm of fucking her little pussy like she's some portable sex toy, her arms lose their strength and soon she rests her head on the stove. The heat from below and inside her is almost too much. It's like she's gonna melt.
"You like being Daddy's little incest slut?" he says in a darker tone she'd never heard him use before.
"Yes, Daddy…" she moans.
"You wanna be filled with cum and knocked up with your own little sibling?"
"Yes… Yes… I wanna be a perfect little incest slut. Wrapped all around the cock that made me. Filled by the same cum that gave me life. Pregnant with my own little sister."
She forces her arms to push her up so she can turn around just enough to look over her shoulder at him. He looks so intense. His eyes are ablaze with passion.
"Give it to me, Daddy. Breed your little teenage daughter. Fill my baby oven with your thick baby batter. Let's make an inbred little baby. Together."
The speed quickens. He's fucking her faster than he's ever had before. Her insides ache against the new levels of roughness they have to endure, but she doesn't care; this is what she wants.
"I'm gonna make you my little daughter housewife."
"Yes! Yes, Daddy! Knock me up and make me stay at home! I don't care about school. I don't care about having a career. Just give me cum, love, and babies. Lots of it!"
"To think my daughter would grow up to be such a dirty little girl."
"Well I was made by your cum. I guess being horny for incest is genetical." She giggles.
"Then I bet any daughter I make with you is gonna be quite the incest freak."
"First you gotta make one. Come on, Daddy. You made me for this. Cum in me. Fill my womb."
"Then beg."
"Must I?"
"Yes."
"Oh fuck…" This is turning her on way more than she wants to admit. To think she'd be so turned on by Daddy dominating her. "Please cum in me, Daddy. I'm your teenage daughter. I need your cum in me. It made me. It gave me life. I was made for this. My body was made for your cum. That's why I love it. That's why I can't get enough of it. I love your cum. I want your cum to become a part of me again. I want to live on it. I want to bathe in it. I want share my body with an inbred baby made from it. So please, Daddy… Fill me with your thick, hot incest cum."
"Really want to become a mommy of your own little sister?"
"Yes… I want to be a mommy of my own sister… Please bathe my ovaries in your cum. Impregnate the flesh you made. Please… Your cum belongs in me. I'm your daughter. I was made by your cum. Fill me with it."
He now fucks her so hard she feels like a ragdoll with how her legs dangle and sway. So much force she can't stop him even if she wanted to – which she doesn't. She loves this. She loves feeling so small and vulnerable in his grasp and on his cock. And she especially loves that she can provoke such passion and lust.
"Come on, Daddy," she says, feeling him getting closer to the edge and wanting to push him over it. "Make me a little teen mommy of my own little inbred sister. Fill your little cumslut daughter. I'm your homegrown cumdump. Use me! Fill me! Just..."
He rams in and holds his cock fully sheathed inside her right as the tip of his cock erupts in a hard burst of cum. It's so much she even feels the force of his cum shooting into her womb. More quickly flows forth to fill her. So much… Her stomach swells and feels like it's melting from the inside.
"Daddy…" she groans and reaches a hard orgasm from being filled up so much by such lovely, warm cum.
Her legs hang feebly above the ground and her hips are still held firmly in place. It's strangely nice. It's like she has no power over where she is. Daddy is in control now. And he wants her all the way onto his cock and full of incest cum.
Her body screams yes at being full of his cum. In her mind she sees her ovaries sending out an egg to bathe in his potent seed. The egg is surrounded, gangbanged in a sense, till one little swimmer penetrates it. The egg made by his cum, now rejoined with it in a loving embrace. This is what she was made for: inbreeding. There's no doubt in her mind.
After a short while she manages to push a weak arm down and around her swollen belly to rub her clit. The orgasm aren't as powerful, but they're soft and pleasant. They come and go almost like how those stupid sinus curves in school go up and down.
Who needs school now? She got Daddy and his lovely, thick incest cum.
The timer rings to signal that the pie is ready. Emma groans, not wanting to stop being filled by Daddy's cock and cum.
"Daddy… Put me down. Please," she says wearily.
He slowly pulls out and puts her down to the ground, yet still hold her till she can stand on her own feet. Cum starts leaking out of her gaping pussy. Such a waste. It should remain inside her and warm her up some more.
A lovely smell fills her nose as she opens the oven. Though the hot air hitting her almost feels like she's to get a heatstroke. Well that's one major downside of fucking next to an oven.
Once the pie is out and left the cool, she takes off the oven mitts and sits down on the floor in exhaustion. The floor is comfortably cold to her ass. Though thick cum keep slowly leaking out of her. She quickly puts her hand over her pussy to stem the leaking, though it mostly just gets her fingers covered in sticky cum.
"Open up, girl," Daddy says.
Emma looks up to see him holding his cock right above her head. A thick glob of cum hangs from the tip and he's about to squeeze out what remains in his shaft. Without even thinking she tilts her head back and opens wide, sticking out her tongue. Daddy then squeezes his cock from base to tip. The white glob grows till it's too heavy to cling to his cock and falls down onto her tongue.
So thick and yummy. She chews the cum almost like a chewing gum just to savor the taste for a moment before swallowing.
"Thanks, Daddy," she says and grabs his cock with her free hand to bring the tip down for a kiss, as well as to lap up the last bit of cum.
"Now be sure to clean up the mess on the floor when you're done."
"Hmm," she mumbles, her mouth busy with making out with his cock. He tastes so good. Not to mention how his cock keep throbbing and twitching against her lips. There really is no hiding his lust for her. When she finally breaks off the kiss, she rubs the cock against her cheek to keep feeling his warmth. "Thank you, Daddy."
He pets her gently on the head but doesn't say anything.
Emma keeps cuddling his fat cock against her face for a little while till she remembers the pie. She gives the cock a goodbye kiss on the side with a giggle. "I think the pie is cool enough now."
"Well I ain't gonna try it," he says with a humorous smile.
"I know. More for me!"
She gets up and gets a slice to put on a plate. Not wanting to spread the cum leaking down her legs too much she ends up sitting down on the floor in front of the oven again, where now a sticky puddle has formed.
The pie is delicious. It's almost like fresh cum straight from the cock, but sweeter and with the added texture from the pie crusts to keep it from getting too samey. Does it taste better than cum straight from Daddy's cock? Yeah, somewhat. Though that doesn't mean she will stop drinking incest cum straight from the source as that is something much more than a culinary experience.
Still, baking and cooking with cum is something she sees herself doing a lot more of in the future.
———x———
Emma has to be very careful with the razor. Shaving Daddy's balls would be tricky – even with having watched a few tutorials on how to do it – and one tiny slipup will likely be enough to put him off the idea for the foreseeable future. But she wants his crotch to be smooth and cuddly. Those lovely balls aren't gonna kiss themselves and she's not gonna kiss them with all that hair in the way.
Daddy meanwhile just sits on the toilet seat, balls over the edge, and holding his fat cock to his stomach while also uncomfortably looking up into the roof. Guess having something sharp near his balls isn't as fun as her lips. She can't really blame him. She's only ever trimmed her pussy and never dared a close shave there either.
The front of the balls is relatively easy. The sides and underside are however somewhat tricky. Though she can't get to the backside before Daddy's phone rings. She huffs in disappointment, but pulls back so he can go and answer whoever it is that so rudely interrupts her work of removing the last obstacle between her lips and a fun make out session with the wellspring that gave her life.
After a moment Daddy returns to the toilet seat, constantly saying "Hmm" and "Yeah" and "I see".
Emma looks up at him, wondering when she'll be able to continue.
After a couple of minutes he puts his hand on the phone and turns to her. "It's school. They want your confirmation about dropping out." He then hands her the phone.
"Hi Emma," says a female voice Emma vaguely recognizes as belonging to the principal. "I just want you to confirm that you're dropping out?"
"Yeah. I feel I'm kinda done with school."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Well… Something big came up and I… just felt I needed to take time off from school to deal with it."
"Oh. So you'll be returning some day?"
"I don't think so. I mean this big co… -mplicated thing will probably take up a lot time. Besides, I think it's a good opportunity for me to experience the world outside of school. And I think it's an opportunity I should really milk for all its worth."
"And what is this big, complicated thing?"
"It's a… family business matter. Gonna help my dad with some stuff. Help take some pressure off him."
"I see. Well I wish you good luck in that case."
"Thanks! Bye!" Emma then clicks off the phone soon as the principal has said her goodbye. "Now where were we?" she says as hands back the phone and starts inspecting the balls again.
"Did you really have to make those innuendos?" he says and puts the phone aside.
"What? I couldn't help it. I kinda wish I could just be open and tell her I'm dropping out because I'm gonna be a fulltime cumdump for my Daddy to deal with his hyperspermia. I'd love to see the look on her face if she heard me say that." Emma chuckles.
He lowers his fat cock to rest atop her head. It's throbbing and growing quite warm and hard. "Or that you plan to be a teen mom of your own little inbred sisters."
Emma turns her face up to bask in the warmth of his cock. "Hmm. That too." She plants a little kiss on the underside.
Such a lovely cock. Why should she care about school and having a career when she can spend her days coddling this massive, warm, life bringing, cream dispensing cock? Daddy makes more than enough for a big family.
What would more money give her? She can't buy the loving depravity of sucking her Daddy's cock and drinking his yummy cum. Only sitting on her knees between his legs can give her that.
Independence? For what? Her addiction to Daddy's cum feels so good. Why give that up? It's not like it'll ruin her health. Quite the opposite in fact. Hyperspermia makes his cum so much more nourishing than normal cum. She could replace much of her diet with just cum – which she already has.
Speaking of addiction, the craving is growing inside her. Her stomach isn't hungry, but she feels the need to taste and swallow his cum. Having his sexy, masculine cock scent fill her nostrils only makes it worse. But she still has to finish shaving him.
She bites her lips and forces herself to return to his balls. Those wonderful, big balls heavy with so much creamy, delicious cum that must be aching to be released – to be pumped into the cute teen daughter grown from the same seed.
Her mouth opens slightly and she tries not to drool. She needs to focus. Shave the balls first. Then drain them.
Daddy needs to hold up his balls alongside his cock for her to reach and shave the backside of the large sack. The last few hairs are especially bothersome and she can't take more than a few at a time. Eventually though, his magnificent balls are finally free of hair.
Emma celebrates by planting a long and passionate kiss on each ball – much better without the hair in the way. Now her lips can feel the heavy balls churn with cum; lovely, tasty, thick, sticky cum. His balls deserve the love. They made her. They make the cum that nourishes her and that soon will breed her. They give her so much life.
After making out with his balls for a little while, her kisses move up along the underside of the fat shaft. Daddy is already so hard. He must really long to lighten his balls and dump so much cum into her stomach. Despite not saying a word, his cock speaks loudly. There's no denying what the thick glob of cum already hanging from the tip means.
She licks up the glob of cum and let it linger on her tongue as she starts sucking on the head for more. A trickle of cum flows into her mouth. Once her cheeks start bulging, she swallows. A shiver of pleasure washes over her as the thick, sticky cum glides down her throat and into her stomach, filling her with a pleasurable warmth that just makes her tingle all over for how taboo this is.
Both her hands grasp the sides of the massive shaft and pump it. By now she's gotten quite skilled at milking his cock. She knows just the right techniques to make him cum fast. Or make him edge. When his balls are extra full, edging him makes him pump out a small stream of cum for her to indulge in. But she has no plans to make him edge now. Her stomach yearns for the incestuous cum she came from.
With her lips glued to the head, she slobbers vigorously over the tip with her wet tongue. Lewd, muffled moans fill the bathroom. It won't be long now. Daddy loves how his little daughter worships his cock and won't hold back from rewarding her with creamy cum. Then just a little dirty talk to speed things along.
"Cum for me, Daddy," she says between kisses. "Cum in your little, teenage daughter's cum hungry mouth. I'm your little homegrown cumdump. Fill me. Fill me with your incest cum."
"Grope my balls, my little incest cumdump."
She cups each ball with her hands – they feel so tense. She fondles them as she sucks on the cock.
Daddy puts a hand on her head and holds her firmly in place right as he shoots a hard jet of cum right into the back of her mouth. Not necessary, but she kinda likes how he won't let her escape. Daddy really wants her to take all his cum and she is more than happy to give him what he wants.
So much cum flows forth. She really has to chug non-stop to get it all down her throat. But even as her head starts getting a little dizzy from the lack of air, she doesn't stop swallowing. She can't. She won't. It feels too good when the sticky, hot substance slides down her throat into her belly. As Daddy finishes cumming in her mouth, she orgasms. She hasn't even touched her clit.
"Hmm. Daddy," she moans into his cock as she sucks out the last drops of yummy incest cum. Once there's no more cum in or on his cock, she wraps her arms around the fat shaft as it slowly softens and snuggles her face into its underside.
This is where she belongs. This is her career. She's Daddy's professional ball drainer, cumdump, and cock snuggler. Her payment is delicious incest cum – the best payment a depraved daughter could ask for.
———x———
Paris, the city of love and romance. What better place to spend a weekend full of Daddy's lovely cum? But first she needs to get filled.
As soon as they get through the gate on the airport they find a little bathroom to lock themselves inside. It's a bit small and their bodies already press up against each other for just trying to fit together on the tiny floor space. Not That Emma minds feeling Daddy's fat bulge press against her back.
Emma bends over the toilet and lifts up her skirt to reveal she's not wearing any panties. Her pussy is already wet. Daddy unzips his pants and his already large and hard cock springs forth, smacking down between her ass cheeks. Then his pants drop and his big, heavy balls rub up against her round ass.
"Ready to be a mommy?" he says and grabs her hips and starts teasing her by sliding his hard, hot cock back and forth between her cheeks.
"Hmm," she mumbles and bites her lip.
"Ready to be impregnated by your Daddy?"
"Hmm." It's a struggle to not just start begging him to fuck her. But she loves the teasing so much!
"Want a little inbred sister-daughter in your tummy?"
"Fuck… Yes, Daddy."
"Then beg girl. Beg Daddy for it. Tell me what you want."
"I… I want… No. I need you to fuck me with that massive bitch-breaking cock that made me. I need my womb filled with the cum that gave me life. My eggs need to be bathed in your cum. They long to be reunited with your seed. I want to be pregnant with your grandchildren. I want my every child to be yours as well. I want to be a sister-mom to every one of them."
"You want to be filled with cum?"
"Yes… Fill my womb, Daddy. Fill me till I look pregnant. Use me. I'm your cumdump. Don't let your balls ache. Use me to drain them. Fuck me. Pump me full. I was made by your cum. It belongs in me."
He pulls back his cock till it falls down from her ass and brushes briefly against her inner thighs, then puts the tip against her soft, little pussy that is dripping and aching for him to enter her. But for a short moment he does not. Instead he rubs the tip up and down to tease her.
"Daddy… Please… Just enter me," she mewls.
He chuckles. "Dirty… little… girl." Finally he stops teasing and slowly pushes his massive, hot, throbbing cock into her, stretching her needy pussy wide around the fat shaft. "You really belong on Daddy's cock," he whispers as his cock slides deeper. "My flesh and blood, born from my cum. Now all grown up with cute, sexy, little, teenage body. Perfectly fit for my cock. And perfectly addicted to being filled with thick, warm incest cum."
Emma's mouth hangs slightly open. She wants to mumble words of agreement, but having her insides reshuffled by his fat cock makes it a little hard. Instead she focuses on her breathing, which grows heavier the deeper he gets.
When his entire cock is sheathed snuggly inside her and his crotch and balls press against her rear, he straightens his legs till her toes no longer touch the ground. Her weak arms barely manage to hold onto the toilet reservoir for support. Though as his large, strong hands grasp her wrists and pull them back, she no longer needs to worry about that. Held up by his hands and cock alone. She can't help but feel like a toy for him to fuck. And she wants him to fuck her like one – with no inhibitions or second thoughts. Just use her. Fuck her. Fill her. She was born for this after all. Why else would it feel so good?
In this position he can't start slowly. He quickly pulls back his hips and rams back into her so hard she bounces forward a little, allowing him to pull back again. When he thrusts into her, he pulls her arms. The impact knocks the air out of her. Her moans become mixed with gasps till she learns to inhale right after she's rammed forward. After that it becomes easier.
Each time he slams into her – each time his cock gives her womb a forceful kiss – is like a passionate declaration of love and lust. With every thrust, his words echo in her mind. I love you! You belong on my cock! I want to cum in you! Let's breed a family!
Time loses meaning. There is only her and Daddy. She's wrapped around the cock that made her; joined together in taboo love and pleasure.
All she wants is to milk him. His balls have been left without relief for so many hours. They must ache so much. He fucks her so hard. She can feel him slowly building up to a great release. Soon he'll get to pump all that lovely cum into her – where it belongs.
When the intensity increases so much it starts to feel he might rip her arms off, she knows he's close. His heavy balls slap and bounce against her thighs. Her ass and insides are beaten so hard that she can't help but to wonder if she'll get bruised.
"Cum in me, Daddy... Fill me. Fill me! Fill your dirty, little incest cumdump. Fill my little teenage womb. Make me a dirty, little incest mommy of my own little inbred siblings. Please, Daddy. Knock me up. Breed your grandchildren with me. Breed me. Breed me! Breed your teenage daughter! I need it. I…"
He rams his cock all the way in and shoots forth such a hard jet of cum straight into her womb. With it she feels her own orgasm building up. With each pulse of his cock pumping more cum into her, she is pushed closer to the edge. So much cum and no sign of him running dry. Her stomach grows heavier and larger. She cums. Her pussy clenches down on his cock even tighter, milking him even harder. As more cum flows into her, another orgasm washes over her. Then a third. By the time he's done pumping her full of lovely, thick, hot incest cum, she's left on the edge of a fourth.
"All full and knocked up. Like a good daughter should be," he says and tilts her a little upwards.
Something about his words or his cock shifting around every so slightly inside her is enough to push her over the edge into another wonderful orgasm – like a nice dessert to finish off the main course with.
After a moment he bends his knees till her feet touches the floor. "Ready?"
"Give me a second," she pants and pulls a hand free to support herself on the toilet reservoir for a short moment before pulling her other hand free. When he's recovered enough of her breath and energy, she digs into her purse for the special plug that looks kinda like weird dildo. She hands it to him. "Here. You do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes. Just push it in as soon as you pull out."
"Alright," he says and takes the plug.
With one hand on her hip and the other holding the plug pressed between her ass cheeks, he pulls out. She always feels so empty when his cock leaves her. But this time, as soon as his warm shaft pulls out, her hole is filled by hard silicone. He pushes it in perhaps a little too slowly, but at least fast enough to ensure minimal spill.
Once the whole thing is safely tucked inside her pussy and the tip plugs her cervix, she tries to stand up straight, but finds her legs a little unsteady. Luckily, Daddy quickly comes in to support her.
Looking down on her now swollen belly she looks around four to five months pregnant. Good thing she picked a blouse made to accommodate pregnancy. "Fuck… Daddy…"
"What did you expect? I haven't cummed since yesterday."
She gently caresses her belly, already picturing a little sister growing in there. "It's perfect."
They fix themselves up and sneak out of the bathroom. It's rather hard to walk normally with such a big belly, especially in high heels. Too bad she left her normal shoes at home. At least she can rely on Daddy for support by holding his arm like little too clingy girlfriend.
A few people look at her as they walk. Their eyes especially go to her large, round belly. But no one can possibly suspect the truth. They probably think she's at most some young gold digger or some such that managed to trap a well off man by getting pregnant. It would never cross their wildest imaginations that she's his underage daughter bloated full of incest cum.
But the people would not be wrong in thinking pregnancy is her goal. With all that cum inside her she really hopes her body submits to being bred; releasing an egg to be surrounded and gangbanged by his little swimmers till one of them penetrates into it, creating the start of a cute, inbred little sister-daughter.
Daddy has to carry all their luggage and is the one to hail a cab. He helps her step inside. After a while, they finally arrive at the hotel; a nice four star one with a great view of the city. Emma kinda zones out as Daddy talks to the receptionist. Her mind wanders around dirty ideas on how to worship his cock and drain those wonderful, cream filled balls of his again once they're in their room. Then she hears a few words that make her snap back to reality: "Here's the key to the wedding suite. Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
Wedding suite? Mr. and Mrs.? She tries her best to look off to the side as if bored so as to hide the excitement building up inside her. Daddy is gonna get the best blowjob for this. Lots of sloppy, passionate kisses all over his balls and cock. If she could, she would get down on her knees and suck his cock right here in the lobby. Too bad she has to wait. But that gives her more time to think on how to get him to pump all that delicious cum into her.
As they step into the elevator alone, more dirty ideas come into mind. What if she were to suck him off in here? That would be so hot! But the damn elevator goes too fast. They'd likely not be able to get his cock out before the doors open.
With few other options, she puts her hand on his crotch and starts to slowly and sexily rub his cock through his pants. It grows bigger and harder against her touch.
"Hungry already?" he asks with a little, mischievous smile.
"Always hungry, Daddy. But it's also my duty as your little 'wife' to keep your balls drained. Don't you agree? I mean, cum shouldn't be left in your balls. It only makes them ache. Better just pump it all into me."
"Hmm. You're-"
The doors open up to show another couple, both looking around thirty, standing there and waiting to step into the elevator. Emma quickly retracts her hand and pretends that nothing is going on. The other pair does as well. Luckily, this is the floor.
Once the elevator doors close and Emma and Daddy are alone again, she turns to him. "You were saying?"
"In our room," he replies and starts carrying their bags down the corridor.
She pouts a little behind his back but follows him to their suite. Once inside, he quickly dumps the bags by the bed before locking the door behind her.
"As I was saying," he begins as moves in behind her, his hands swiftly coming in around and grasping her large breasts, gently but firmly squeezing them.
Emma moans a little and her body starts growing even hotter as he fondles her tits. "Hmm?"
"You're the perfect daughter. Cute. Sexy. Small. Tight. Yet so elastic." His right hand slides down to rub her swollen belly. He then gives it a little playful smack.
She gasps as cum sloshes around inside her in such a way it feels strangely good, akin to when she first got filled. If done properly and enough, she could probably cum from smacking her stomach alone. That would be so fun.
"And young and breedable," she says and reaches behind her back to feel up the bulge on his crotch. His cock is already hard and pushing out against its prison of cloth and she gives it some slow and sensual strokes. "With an addiction to Daddy's creamy incest cum."
"How hungry are you girl?"
"Hmm. Very."
Daddy suddenly picks her up – eliciting a small excited squeal from her – and carries her bridal style to the bed. She bites her lip. For the first time she doesn't know if she wants to get fucked or fed. Her stomach aches for cum, but being carried like she is his little daughter-wife about to have their marriage consummated also made her pussy and womb want another hard filling.
When they reach the bed he places her down on her back with her head near the edge and then takes up position with his fat cock and balls dangling right above her. He bends his knees a little and lowers his massive ballsack down to smother her face. The scent, the weight, the subtle churning of cum – it's all so intoxicating. How is she supposed to not kiss those cum filled balls? How is she supposed to not slowly slide her tongue against them and feel how they ache for release? This can't be wrong. It smells too good. Tastes too good. Feels too good.
While her mouth plays with the balls, she tries to wrap her tits around his fat cock. But even her big tits aren't large enough to be able to fully wrap around his girthy rod. Still large enough to give him a little titjob. The warm throbbing feels so nice between her breasts.
A drop of pre-cum lands on her lower chest. While playing with his balls is fun, that's enough teasing. Now it's time to drain them. Her stomach aches to be filled at least as much as his balls ache to be empty.
She crawls over and grabs a couple of pillows to place under her knees as she takes up position besides the bed. It takes a second for Daddy to realize what she's doing, but by the time she's comfortably down on the floor, Daddy has his legs on both sides of her and his fat, hard, throbbing cock resting atop her head.
His scent fills her nose. It's so thick and masculine and sexy. Every thought vanishes from her head as if pushed out, just so her brain can instead be filled with the sensation of his cock and his cum. So naturally she inhales deep. Soon there's nothing filling her head but the desire to worship this godly cock and drain his divine balls of all that delicious cum.
She plants a light kiss on the bulging underside. Then another kiss. And another. Slowly she works her playful kisses up along the hot, twitching shaft till she reaches the tip, where a glob of tasty pre-cum has formed. She licks it up but does not swallow. Instead she lets it coat her tongue as she starts passionately making out with Daddy's cock.
To think most other couples would make out with their lips. She could do that too. But why should she? Daddy's cock is tastier. It twitches and throbs with raw delight and lust at the touch of her lips and tongue. The heat it radiates is the flame of unfiltered passion.
This is love. This is romance. Not some young woman kissing the lips of a man she has no blood relations with. No, true, real, passionate love is a daughter kissing the cock that made her, thirsting for the incestuous cum that gave her life.
She gently grasps the middle of the cock to hold the fat shaft in place as her mouth makes love with his cock. Her lips and tongue press against the head of his cock as she slobber all over it.
When the throbbing grows more intense, she briefly removes her lips from the warm shaft and instead rubs her cheek against it as she looks up at Daddy with big puppy eyes. "Wanna cum in my mouth, Daddy?"
"Wouldn't wanna cum anywhere but in you, girl," he replies and gently caresses her cheek.
She presses her cheek against his hand and gives the side of the cock a kiss. "Because I'm your cumdump?"
"Yes. Because you're my sexy daughter; a homegrown little cumdump."
"Hmm. I was made by your cum for your cum, Daddy. It belongs in me." She wraps her lips around the tip again. "Now cum in me, Daddy," she manages to say between sucking and kissing the cockhead. "Cum in my mouth. I'm hungry. Cum in your little teenage daughter's mouth. Fill me, Daddy!"
The throbbing gets more intense. Soon now. He's on the edge, she can feel it. Just a little more.
As her tongue presses against the hole, cum shoots forth with such force it pushes her tongue down and strikes the back of her mouth so hard she flinches a little. The second surge isn't as powerful, instead only coating her tongue in delicious, white goo.
Without hesitation she swallow the near mouthful of cum the first two spurts gave her. As the warm, thick, slimy cum slides down her little throat and into her stomach, a tiny orgasm washes over her. She wants to reach down and rub herself to a stronger one, but the pulsating cock demands both her hands to keep it steadily aimed into her mouth.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
He just keeps cumming and Emma pumps the shaft with her hands to help the cream keep flowing. Not until she's about to run out of breath does she take a break from sucking and swallow. At that she also retract her lips, letting her tongue press against the tip beneath the hole, using it as a bridge for the cum to slide on into her mouth.
She wanna put on a nice show. Daddy is gonna get to see his cum fill up her mouth to the brim. Though Daddy doesn't stop cumming when his cum reaches her lips. Instead the cum overflows down her chin and cheeks, dripping down onto her perky tits.
When he stop cumming, she slides the tip down, scraping off the last bit of cum at the tip with her tongue, and shows him how much fat, gooey cum she now has in her mouth. She then closes her mouth and swallows. A few drops escape her mouth as she does. Not that she cares. The sheer amount that slides down into her stomach is enough to give her another mini-orgasm.
"Fuck… Daddy…" she moans and takes the opportunity to reach a hand down, around the cum filled belly, and rub her clit.
"Want some help with that?" he says jokingly and playfully smacks his cock against her cheek.
"Yes…" she says and looks up at him with needy eyes. "Keep slapping your cock against my face and tell me what a good cumdump daughter I am."
"Dirty, dirty, little girl." He slides his cock across her face and slaps the warm shaft against her other cheek. "You really know how to drain your Daddy's balls. Now you're all filled up. You love being full of Daddy's thick, hot, creamy incest cum, don't you? You were born from that cum. You were born from my cock. And now you've grown up to be a natural little cocksucker and cumdump for Daddy."
She moans. She's so close. "Yes, Daddy… I was born for this…"
"Look at your belly. It's so full with cum. You may look pregnant, but the truth is that just shows how much I pump my thick incest cum into you. You're my little walking, talking, free use cumdump daughter. I don't need a bucket anymore. I got your cute, little, cum hungry mouth. Always ready to slobber all over the fat cock that fucked you into existence. The cock that will knock you up with your own little inbred sister-daughter." He lifts his cock and starts to slap it down on the middle of her face. "You're my little cumdump. And I'm always gonna drain my balls into you."
When the orgasm hits, it hits her like a train. She can't even moan. All that escapes her lips is a mewl almost like she's about to cry. "Fuck… Daddy… Yes! I'm always gonna be your little cumdump daughter. Use me… always… to drain your aching balls. Dump your delicious cum in my mouth… whenever you want. I'll always… be hungry… for the cum… that gave me life…" The second orgasm hits just as hard.
Exhausted, she falls forward only for Daddy to catch her. "Got a little too carried away there," he says with a chuckle.
"Perhaps," she pants.
"Want to rest before we continue?"
"If you want."
"Careful. Or I might just fuck you till you pass out."
"Then do it, Daddy. Just fuck me. I was made for your cock. I was made to filled with your cum."
"Alright then."
He picks her up and lies her on her back on the bed. Standing above her head, he smacks down his cock atop her lips. Like a good cumslut daughter she kisses and licks the lovely, fat shaft while he slowly slides it back and forth. Once his cock is hard again, he shifts her around till he stands between her legs. He lines up the cock with her pussy. When the plug is pulled out, he quickly thrusts in to plug her in its stead.
All that cum inside her belly sloshes around and makes her belly bounce like her tits as he fucks her. She's too exhausted to really indulge in it. The sensation is muffled, yet oddly pleasant. All that cum in her must be clouding her brain. It feels so funny. Is this what being drunk feels like? This must mean she's cum-drunk. What a strange yet lovely feeling.
As Daddy keeps fucking her, she lets her mind fall into a thick, gooey bath of metaphorical Daddy's cum. Nothing else matters. All that matters is that she is fucked and filled.
More cum. She must have more cum in her.
———x———
The heat of Barcelona's afternoon sun pressed down on the cobblestone streets, baking the city in a lazy, sensual haze. Emma clung to her father's arm, her steps unsteady and awkward in the strappy high heels she'd foolishly packed. Each wobble sent a deep, liquid slosh through her distended abdomen, a reminder of the morning's enthusiastic 'celebration' in their hotel suite. Her simple sundress, a pale yellow thing she'd thought would be breezy and cute, was stretched taut over the dramatic swell of her belly. The fabric strained against the sheer volume of him inside her, a rounded, heavy bulge that pushed against the dress's seams and left nothing to the imagination. She looked, as her new husband had gleefully pointed out, nine months pregnant with twins.
Every passerby on the narrow street near the Gothic Quarter stared. Their eyes—curious, judgmental, occasionally leering—skimmed over her clinging form, lingering on the impossible curve of her stomach. An old woman selling flowers made the sign of the cross, her lips moving in silent prayer. A group of young men whistled, one calling out something in rapid Catalan that she didn't understand but whose tone was unmistakably crude. A hot flush, part shame and part a darker, more thrilling pride, crept up her neck. She was a spectacle, a walking sin, and she was his.
"How much longer, Daddy?" she whimpered, her voice small and strained. The weight was immense, a warm, sloshing anchor pulling her toward the ground. Her lower back ached fiercely, and a fine sheen of sweat coated her skin, making the thin dress cling even more.
His arm, solid and sure beneath her grip, tightened. "Not far now," he said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble that vibrated through her. He didn't seem to mind the stares; if anything, he walked with a prouder stride, his chest out, a possessive glint in his eye as he surveyed the world looking at his prize.
This surprise better be worth it, she thought, though the thought was tinged with a giddy affection. Sure, it had been a wildly fun idea to have him fill her up even more after their initial morning romp, to see just how much she could hold. The sight of her body swelling under his relentless, deep injections had been hypnotic, a perverse art project. But now, navigating the real world with a belly full of her father's cum was… challenging. Her thighs chafed with every step. The pressure on her bladder was a constant, urgent whisper. Yet, coiled within the discomfort was a thick thread of heat. The public humiliation, the secret knowledge of what truly bloated her, the way his seed moved inside her with every motion—it was depraved and perfect. Maybe they should do this more often at home. It was good practice, wasn't it? For when she'd carry his real children. The thought sent a fresh, slick pulse between her legs.
Daddy stopped suddenly, turning them toward an unassuming, ancient-looking church tucked between taller buildings. Its stone facade was worn smooth by centuries, the wooden door dark and studded with iron. "Here we are."
Emma blinked, staring at the modest structure. "Is this it?" Disappointment, faint but real, prickled at her. This dusty old chapel? She'd imagined something more… grand for a surprise. A fancy restaurant, maybe a boat tour. Not this. "What's so important about this place anyway?" she asked, trying to keep the whine from her voice.
A slow, playful smile spread across his face. He turned to her, his hands coming to rest on the massive curve of her belly, feeling the liquid weight of himself within her. "Don't you want to get married?"
The words didn't compute at first. They bounced around her heat-addled brain. Then, they slammed into her consciousness with the force of a physical blow. Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. The noisy street faded into a dull buzz. Married. He couldn't mean… But the look in his eyes—a mix of love, mischief, and absolute serious intent—told her he did.
"I do! I do! I do!" The words burst from her, a frantic, joyous chant. She forgot the weight in her belly, the aching feet, the staring strangers. She lunged for him, but her balance was shot. Instead of a hug, she stumbled forward, her hands finding his belt, her face pressing against the growing hardness in his trousers. Without a second thought, driven by pure, elated instinct, she fumbled with the button and zipper, pulling his cock free right there on the street, in the shadow of the old church. She showered the swollen, purple head with frantic, sloppy kisses, her tongue lapping at the bead of pre-cum that already glistened there. "Yes, Daddy, yes, please, marry me!"
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound of pure satisfaction, and gently tugged her back to her feet, tucking himself away with a practiced ease. "Inside, little one. Let's make it official."
The interior of the church was cool, dark, and smelled of old wood, incense, and dust. A single, elderly priest with a kind, wrinkled face and tired eyes greeted them in halting English. His gaze lingered on Emma's pronounced belly with a soft sigh of understanding. "Ah, to save the child from sin," he murmured, more to himself than to them, nodding approvingly. The irony was so thick and delicious Emma had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. The "child" he was saving was currently a bellyful of paternal spunk.
The ceremony was a blur of Latin phrases, the scent of myrrh, and the cool touch of the gold band he slid onto her finger. She focused on the hard line of his body beside her, the secret, filthy truth of their union making her throb. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, Daddy—no, her husband now—turned and kissed her, not a chaste peck, but a deep, claiming, tongue-filled kiss that had the old priest clearing his throat and looking away. Emma melted into it, her full belly pressed against his hips.
Back in their hotel room, the world had narrowed to the space between the rumpled sheets. The late afternoon sun streamed through the balcony shutters, painting stripes of gold across their naked, sweat-slicked bodies. The only clothing they wore were the simple, matching gold bands on their left hands. Emma kept staring at hers, twisting it, watching it catch the light. Father and daughter: married. The concept was a dizzying, intoxicating whirlpool. She was his little daughter-wife. The priest, the church, the ring—it was all a beautiful, blasphemous joke, a secret layer of legitimacy painted over their core truth.
Her legs were utterly spent from their walk, a pleasant, heavy numbness. It didn't matter. She was exactly where she belonged: on her knees on the plush carpet, between her husband's spread thighs, his magnificent cock standing proud and thick against her flushed cheek. She nuzzled it, breathing in his musky, familiar scent, the scent of home and creation and sin.
"If you're gonna keep kissing my cock like that," he mused, his voice lazy and thick with arousal, his fingers threading through her hair, "I might end up painting your face white again."
Emma giggled, the sound vibrating against his shaft. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes wide and adoring. "I don't think I'd mind that. My belly is already sooo full." She brought a hand to the dramatic swell of her stomach, palming the taut, warm skin. She could feel the liquid weight shift, a slow, internal tide. It was a grotesque parody of pregnancy, and it thrilled her to her core. "Fuck… It feels like I'm pregnant with twins."
"Except cum doesn't kick around," he said, his thumb stroking her lower lip.
"No," she agreed, a sly smile playing on her lips. "It sloshes around."
He chuckled, a dark, warm sound, and gave her belly a light, playful kick from the side. The impact sent a deep, rolling wave through the fluid inside her. The sensation was bizarre—a profound internal disturbance that was both uncomfortable and intensely, weirdly pleasurable. It was a direct, physical manipulation of the proof of his ownership.
Emma groaned, her head falling forward against his thigh. "Daddy…"
"You'd rather I dump the cum in a bowl for you to drink from?" he asked, his tone conversational, as if discussing breakfast options.
She lifted her head, her expression one of mock thoughtfulness. "Not a bad idea. Efficient. But I think…" She leaned forward, her tongue extending to give his cockhead a long, slow, sloppy lick from root to tip, collecting the salty pre-cum that had welled there. She finished with a soft, passionate kiss directly on the slit. "…I prefer it fresh from the tap."
"Then where are we gonna dump all that cum sloshing around in your belly?" Another soft kick. Another internal slosh. A little moan, unbidden, escaped her lips.
"I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice husky. "Would be a shame to waste it." She looked down at her bloated form, a strange maternal pride swelling in her chest alongside the literal swelling. "Kinda wish my body could just… absorb it. All of it. Use it. Turn it into a baby. Our baby."
His hand left her hair and came to rest beside hers on her stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the curve. "I'm sure there's the start of one in there already."
A warm, liquid happiness flooded her, more potent than the semen inside her. "Hmm. And I'm sure my egg loved getting gangbanged by the sperm that made me." The crude, biological truth of her own conception made her giggle again, the absurdity and the rightness of it all crashing together. She resumed her worship, taking him deep into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the crown.
"To think," he sighed, his hips giving a slight, involuntary thrust, "I would get such a depraved daughter."
She pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva and pre-cum connecting her lips to his glistening head. "Well," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence, "I am made by your depraved cum after all."
"A cum bucket made from cum." He chuckled, the vibration traveling through his body and into the cock in her hand.
"Hmm," she mumbled, diving back down, sealing her lips around him in a deep, sucking kiss. She poured all her love, her gratitude, her filthy devotion into the act. When she came up for air, her lips were slick and swollen. "And this little cum bucket needs some fresh, warm, thick, sticky, creamy cum dumped in her mouth. And on her face." Her eyes locked with his, bold and demanding.
"And how much cum does my little daughter-wife want?" The question was a growl.
"All of it, Daddy."
"Then maybe you should start begging."
A pout formed on her lips, but her eyes sparkled. "You're so mean, Daddy." She shifted her tone, pitching her voice higher, into the cutesy, little-girl register she knew drove him wild. "Don't you want to cum in your little, teenage daughter-wife?" Without waiting for an answer, she swallowed him down again, this time with renewed fervor. Her head bobbed with a desperate rhythm, her hand pumping the base of his shaft, her other hand still massaging her cum-filled belly. "Cum on me, Daddy," she begged around his girth, the words garbled but passionate. "I was made for this. I was made by your cum for your cum. I'm your homegrown little wife. Your daughter-wife. Shower my face with your delicious, hot incest cream."
She felt the change in him immediately. The muscles in his thighs tensed. His cock began to throb violently against her tongue, the veins standing out like ropes. A guttural groan ripped from his throat. "Almost there."
"Tell me," she gasped, pulling back just enough to let the head rest on her tongue, "tell me what a good little daughter-wife I am." Then she took him deep again, letting her mouth do the talking—sucking, licking, worshiping with a frantic, hungry devotion.
"You're… Fuck…" He groaned, his head thrown back, his fingers tightening painfully in her hair. He fought for control, his chest heaving. "You're the best daughter a dad could ever ask for. Cute. Lovable. Willing to do anything for me. A girl I can love both as daughter, wife, and the object of my deepest and most depraved desires." His eyes met hers, blazing with a possessive fire. "There's no girl I'd rather cum in than you."
She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she loved him, to beg for it, but the words were stolen. His body arched, a powerful shudder wracking his frame. The first spurt hit the back of her throat—hot, thick, and abundant. The taste exploded on her tongue, saltier and more potent than ever, sweetened by the profound joy of their new, forbidden bond. She swallowed greedily, the warm fluid sliding down to join the vast reservoir already within her. Another pulse, another mouthful. Her stomach, already stretched to its limit, protested with a faint, gurgling cramp, but she ignored it, consumed by the need to consume him.
After two, three deep swallows, she pulled her mouth away, guiding the weeping, pulsing head upward. The next explosive jet hit her squarely between the eyes, a hot, sticky slap that blurred her vision. She cried out, a sound of pure ecstasy, as the next painted her cheeks, her chin, her lips. It was a deluge, a warm, creamy baptism. The sensation was overwhelming: the delicious, familiar taste; the intense, almost scalding warmth on her skin; the slimy, viscous texture as it clung to her eyelashes and dripped from her nose; the way each gulp sent a deep, satisfying pulse of pleasure through her swollen belly.
He kept coming, the torrent seeming endless, painting her face into a glistening, white mask. Ropes of it landed on her collarbone, her breasts, sliding in thick rivulets down her skin. Every drop was a mark of possession, a physical claim more binding than any ring. She was his canvas, his vessel, his creation. By the time his orgasm subsided, leaving him spent and breathing heavily, she was coated. Dizzy, drowsy, riding a strange, sustained high, she knelt before him, a mess of love and seed, her bloated belly a testament to their union.
He looked down at her, his expression one of awe and satiated lust. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, his voice rough.
Emma smiled, her cum-plastered face cracking the drying mask. "My wonderful husband," she whispered back, and leaned forward to gently, lovingly, clean his softening cock with her tongue.
Part 2: Honeymoon Explorations
The following days in Barcelona melted into a sun-drenched, sex-saturated haze. Their "honeymoon" was less about sightseeing and more about exploring the new dimensions of their married dynamic. The ring on her finger was a constant, thrilling weight, a secret signal that transformed every touch, every glance.
They took walks, but never again with her quite so dramatically filled. The memory of that public spectacle was a shared, cherished secret, but the practical difficulties had been… significant. Instead, he would fill her just enough—a deep, claiming load in the morning before they left their suite—so she carried a pleasant, warm fullness within her as they wandered La Rambla or explored the Picasso Museum. She'd walk with a slight, tell-tale waddle, her hand often resting on her lower abdomen, a secret smile playing on her lips as she imagined his seed sloshing inside her, a hidden part of him with her amidst the crowds.
One afternoon, they found a secluded corner in the gardens of Montjuïc Castle. The view of the city sprawling to the sea was breathtaking, but Emma's attention was elsewhere. Pushed up against an ancient sun-warmed stone wall, her sundress hiked around her waist, her father-husband took her from behind. His hand was clamped over her mouth to stifle her cries as he pounded into her with a slow, relentless rhythm. Below them, tourists milled about, completely unaware of the raw, incestuous coupling happening just above. The risk of discovery, the cool stone against her cheek, the hot sun on her back, and the intense, deep friction of him inside her combined into a potent cocktail. She came silently, violently, her body convulsing around him, her juices mixing with his earlier deposit. He followed shortly after, grunting his release into her neck, filling her once more, adding to the warm pool already within her.
Later, as they sat at a tiny tapas bar, sipping sangria, his foot crept under the table and between her thighs. She gasped, nearly spilling her drink, as he rubbed her through her thin cotton panties, already damp from their earlier activities and his slowly leaking cum. He did it casually, his face a mask of polite interest as he asked the waiter about the patatas bravas, while his toes worked her sensitive flesh with practiced precision. She had to bite her lip hard to keep from moaning, her knuckles white around her glass. She came again, quietly, under the table, amidst the clatter of dishes and the buzz of conversation, her husband's foot the only witness to her shuddering climax.
The hotel room became their debauched kingdom. They rarely ordered room service, living on fruit, cheese, and the occasional stolen pastry, their hunger for each other far outweighing any other need. He would lay her on the balcony in the moonlight, her legs over his shoulders, and eat her out until she screamed into the Barcelona night, her cries swallowed by the city's hum. He taught her new ways to take him deep, new angles that made her see stars. She learned to suck him with a devotional fervor that left him shaking.
One evening, after a particularly lengthy session that left her throat sore and her pussy gloriously used, they lay tangled in the sweaty sheets. Her head was on his chest, her finger tracing idle patterns in his sweat.
"Do you think," she began, her voice hoarse, "people can tell? When they look at us?"
"Tell what?" he asked, his hand stroking her hair.
"That we're… like this. Father and daughter. That I'm… yours in every way."
He was silent for a moment. "Some might suspect. The way I look at you isn't how a man usually looks at his wife. It's… hungrier. More possessive. The way you look at me… there's a worship there that goes beyond a bride." He tilted her chin up. "But they'll never know for sure. They'll never know the truth of it. That's our power. Our secret."
She loved that. The secret. The shared world that existed just for them, behind the closed door of their hotel room, behind the gold bands on their fingers.
On their last night, he had a final surprise. He blindfolded her with a silk scarf from her own suitcase and led her, naked, out of their room. She heard the ding of an elevator, felt the cool air of a hallway, then the sound of a keycard. A door opened, and he guided her forward. The sound of their footsteps changed from carpet to tile. The air grew humid and smelled strongly of chlorine.
He removed the blindfold. They were in the hotel's rooftop infinity pool, reserved for private events. It was past midnight; the space was empty, lit only by the underwater lights and the sprawl of Barcelona's city lights beyond the glass barrier. The water was a dark, shimmering blue.
"A midnight swim," he said, his voice echoing in the empty space.
But it wasn't just a swim. He led her into the warm water. He took her there, with her back against the cool tile edge of the pool, the city lights painting his thrusting form in silhouette. The water provided a surreal buoyancy, changing the sensation of every movement. When he came, she felt the hot rush diffuse instantly into the warm water around them, a secret emission lost in the pool's vastness. Afterward, they floated on their backs, holding hands, staring up at the starless city sky, a married couple bound by blood and seed, their secret safe in the water and the night.
Part 3: The Return Home – Domestic Depravity
Returning home was a shift, but not a softening. The illicit thrill of the honeymoon morphed into the deeper, more intimate depravity of domesticity. The house, once just a father's home, was now their shared marital space, and they imbued every corner with their new reality.
Emma didn't go back to school. He withdrew her, citing "homeschooling" for personal reasons. The truth was simpler: she was now a full-time wife. Her days were spent learning to keep a house, yes, but on their own terms. Laundry became an opportunity for him to bend her over the washing machine. Cooking dinner often meant she was naked under her apron, his hands kneading her breasts as she stirred a sauce. Cleaning the living room would be interrupted by him pulling her onto the couch for a quick, intense fuck.
The ring was their constant symbol. She took to wearing it on a chain around her neck when they had to go out for groceries, letting it nestle between her breasts. He would see it there, glinting, and his eyes would darken with ownership. In the checkout line, his hand would sometimes "accidentally" brush against the back of her neck, his fingers tracing the chain, a silent reminder of who she belonged to.
Their nights were dedicated to longer, more experimental sessions. He bought a large, ornate mirror and leaned it against the wall of their bedroom. He would take her in front of it, forcing her to watch herself—his daughter—being taken by her father. He'd make her say it. "Who's fucking you?"
"My Daddy," she'd gasp, her eyes locked on their reflection.
"Who's your husband?"
"My Daddy."
"Who owns this cunt?"
"You do, Daddy. Only you."
The mirror reflected it all: the sweat-slicked skin, the frenzied movements, the look of rapturous surrender on her face, the look of primal conquest on his. It was the ultimate truth-teller, and they were both addicted to the view.
One afternoon, a Jehovah's Witness came to the door. Emma, dressed in just one of his old t-shirts and nothing else, answered. The woman, middle-aged with kind eyes, began her spiel about salvation. From his armchair in the living room, Emma's father-husband watched. He slowly, deliberately, unzipped his pants and freed himself. He didn't call out. He just stared at Emma, his cock in his hand, stroking slowly.
Emma, at the door, felt her face flush. She tried to focus on the woman's words, but her attention was pulled magnetically back to the living room. She saw the slow, rhythmic motion of his hand. Her breath hitched. A familiar, hot wetness began to bloom between her legs.
"Is… is everything alright, dear?" the woman asked, noticing her distraction.
"Y-yes," Emma stammered, her voice tight. "I'm… I'm just… my husband is calling me." It was the first time she'd used the word "husband" aloud to a stranger. It sent a jolt through her.
"Oh, of course. Well, God bless you both," the woman said, handing her a pamphlet before turning away.
Emma closed the door slowly, her back against it. She watched as her father continued to stroke himself, his eyes burning into her. Without a word, she walked over, dropped to her knees before his chair, and took him into her mouth, the taste of him mixing with the bitter aftertaste of the lie she'd just told. He came down her throat while she fingered herself frantically to her own climax, the pamphlet from the Witness crumpled under her knee.
Part 4: The First "Scare"
A month after their return, Emma's period didn't come.
At first, she thought nothing of it. Stress, change of diet, the sheer physical upheaval of her new life—it could be anything. But as days turned into a week, then two, a slow, creeping realization began to dawn. The constant fullness she'd grown accustomed to was different. It wasn't just the residual, sloshing feeling from his frequent deposits. It was a lower, harder, more persistent bloat. Her breasts felt sore, sensitive in a new way.
She mentioned it offhand one morning as they lay in bed, her head on his chest. "My boobs feel weird. And I'm late."
He went very still. His hand, which had been stroking her arm, stopped. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then, he slowly rolled over, looming above her. His expression was unreadable—a mixture of intense calculation, dark curiosity, and something else… a flicker of fear?
"How late?" His voice was low, controlled.
"Two weeks. Maybe a little more."
He stared down at her body, his gaze like a physical touch scanning her stomach, her breasts. The air in the room changed. The usual playful depravity was gone, replaced by a stark, sobering gravity.
"We need to be sure," he said finally. He didn't sound excited. He didn't sound angry. He sounded… clinical.
He went out that day and returned with a box. Not one test. A box containing five different brands. He lined them up on the bathroom counter like instruments in a lab. "We do them all," he stated. "To be certain."
Emma's hands shook as she took the first plastic stick into the toilet. The three minutes of waiting for each test were an eternity. He waited outside the door, a silent, looming presence.
One by one, the results appeared. The digital one simply said: "PREGNANT." The ones with lines showed two bold, undeniable pink stripes.
Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.
She opened the bathroom door, the array of tests in her trembling hands. She held them out to him, a silent offering of proof.
He took them, his eyes scanning each one with a fierce intensity. His jaw was tight. He didn't smile. He didn't whoop with joy. He looked… overwhelmed. The reality, which they had fantasized about, joked about, was now a biological fact, staring back at them in stark, plastic clarity.
He pulled her to him, his embrace crushing. He buried his face in her neck, and she felt the rapid beat of his heart against her chest. "My God," he breathed into her skin, the words muffled. "My little girl."
That night, the sex was different. It was slower, more reverent, but somehow more intense. He touched her with a new kind of awe, his hands constantly drifting to her still-flat stomach. He didn't fill her up roughly or playfully slosh the cum inside her. When he came, it was deep, a slow, pulsing injection, and he held himself there for a long time, as if sealing his claim, his contribution, into the new life they may have created.
"My daughter," he whispered afterward, his lips against her temple. "My wife. The mother of my child." The words were a sacred incantation in their profane world.
The pregnancy, however, was not to be. A week later, she woke with sharp, cramping pains and a rush of blood. It was a brutal, physical end to the brief, terrifying hope. She miscarried in their bathroom, clinging to him as she wept, not from grief for a lost child she'd barely conceived of as real, but from the shattering of the potent, taboo fantasy. She had been carrying a piece of him, a true fusion of their blood, and her body had rejected it.
He held her through it, cleaned her up, whispered that it didn't matter, that she was still his, that they could try again. But the experience left a mark. The games with filling her up took on a sharper edge. It was no longer just play-pretend pregnancy. It was a replacement, a reclaiming. Every time he emptied himself into her, it was a reaffirmation of his intent, a defiance against her body's betrayal. The bloated belly became a more frequent, more deliberately achieved goal. He'd feed her heavy, salty foods to make her retain water, then pump her so full of cum she could barely walk, a living, breathing monument to his potency.
Part 5: A New Rhythm
Life settled into a rhythm, a day-to-day existence built around their obsession. Emma learned to manage the house around their sexual needs. She learned to cook meals that could be easily reheated, because dinner was often interrupted. She learned to do laundry while still slick with his sweat and seed. She learned to answer the door with a pleasant smile while still feeling the ache of him between her legs from an earlier pounding.
Their interactions with the outside world became a complex dance. At the bank, where they went to merge accounts, the clerk—a prim woman in her fifties—commented on their "lovely father-daughter relationship." Emma had smiled sweetly, squeezing her husband's hand under the table, feeling the gold band of his ring press into her finger. "Thank you," she'd said. "He's my everything."
At the grocery store, a friendly old man in the produce section remarked on what a "helpful young lady" she was, shopping with her dad. Her father had smiled, his hand coming to rest possessively on the small of her back, his thumb stroking her spine through her thin shirt. "She's the best," he'd said, his voice dripping with a meaning only she understood.
They cultivated a small, necessary circle. There was Mike, a divorced, grizzled mechanic who lived down the street and minded his own business. He'd wave from his driveway, occasionally borrow a tool, and never asked questions. There was Mrs. Henderson, the elderly neighbor who was nearly blind and mostly deaf, who accepted their story of Emma being a "young cousin" who'd come to live with and help her relative. They'd bring her groceries sometimes, and she'd pat Emma's hand, calling her a "good girl," completely unaware that the "good girl" had her father's cum drying on her thighs beneath her jeans.
The isolation was near-total, and it suited them. Their world was each other, their house, and the endless, hungry exploration of their bond.
One rainy Tuesday, with the gray light washing through the windows, he laid her on the rug before the fireplace. He didn't fuck her immediately. Instead, he spent what felt like hours just… looking. Touching. Tracing the lines of her body with his fingers and tongue, re-memorizing every curve, every freckle. He kissed the inside of her thighs, the soft skin of her belly, the delicate arches of her feet. It was worshipful, tender, and it made her cry slow, quiet tears. This was love, in its rawest, most forbidden form. It wasn't just the rough, claiming sex; it was this quiet adoration, this obsession with her very existence.
"You are mine," he said, not as a command, but as a simple, undeniable truth, his lips against her hip bone. "Every part of you. From the first cell I made, to the woman you are now. Mine."
"I am," she whispered back, her hand in his hair. "I always was."
He entered her then, slowly, with a profound gentleness that was more devastating than any violent thrust. They moved together in the gray afternoon light, the only sounds the crackle of the fire, the rain against the window, and their mingled breaths. When he came, it was with a deep sigh, a surrender, his release a warm flood inside her that felt less like a deposit and more like a homecoming.
Afterward, as they lay tangled before the dying fire, he spoke into the silence. "We should get a dog."
Emma turned her head to look at him. "A dog?"
"Something to bark if anyone comes around. Something for you to care for when I'm not here." He wasn't gone often, but occasionally he had to tend to business—the remnants of his old life, finances, things that couldn't be done from home.
She thought about it. A living thing in the house, another being to witness their life. "Would it… know?" she asked quietly.
He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her where she lay against him. "Dogs don't care about human morals. It would just know you're its pack. And that I'm the alpha."
She smiled, nuzzling into his chest. "Okay. A dog."
It was a step, however small, towards a semblance of normalcy, a prop in the play they performed for the world. But in their hearts, they both knew the truth: their normalcy was the locked door, the drawn blinds, the secret language of touches and looks, and the ever-present, warm proof of his love sloshing inside her, a constant, liquid reminder of who she was, and who she belonged to.
———x———
If someone had asked Emma a year ago what she'd think of being a free use cumdump for her own father, she'd have reacted with disgust and disbelief. Now she'd just say it's great. Though great would be an understatement.
To kneel in front of him, her lips pressing against the tip of his massive cock, licking and kissing him till he pumps a yummy load of incest cum straight into her mouth – there's nothing better. It's almost become an act of worship. Or rather it is a form of worship; sexual worship. Though there is probably a degree of actual worship as well. She is kissing her maker after all. Not that she minds, Daddy's cock and balls deserve worship for being such magnificent source of life, tasty cream, and pleasure.
Daddy's massive cock always throbs with such delight at her touch. Each twitch is like a confession of love. There's no hiding the passion he feels for her when her lips are on his cock. As such she never bothers kissing his lips. His cock makes for much better make-out sessions. Not to mention making out with his cock always ends in a creamy reward.
It feels so natural. The cum tastes so good. It's so nourishing. She swears using the white cream as a lotion has also made her skin smoother and prettier. And it didn't take long after that trip to Paris for the pregnancy tests to turn positive. It's like her body realized his cum is what had given her life and just accepted it as a natural part of her.
"Do you think it's gonna be a boy or a girl?" Emma says as she rubs her swollen belly. She's on her knees beneath his desk. His fat cock rests atop her left shoulder and she cuddles it against her cheek.
"Girl," he says without hesitation.
"Why so sure?"
"Hyperspermia often comes from a huge increase in the production of a specific type of sperm. Meaning I probably have a 99.9-something chance of fathering only children of one gender. And since you're a girl…"
"Hmm. So I'm most likely only gonna give birth to little sisters?"
"Pretty much."
Emma keeps gently rubbing her stomach. There's something a little funny about Daddy putting a daughter in his daughter. Daughter-ception!
Though given how Emma keeps drinking Daddy's cum (she really can't stop) she can't help but wonder if her daughters are gonna grow up to be even more incest cum craving little sluts than her. They'll basically be nourished on Daddy's cum while in her belly and then when breastfed they'll drink milk her body made using his cum. Maybe that's what her mom did and that's why Emma is such a slut for Daddy's cum now.
She's not sure how to feel about breeding a bunch of incest sluts. On one hand, he cums so much she can't eat all of it. Though that also allows her to shower in what she doesn't swallow, but it also hurts a little afterwards when she has to wash it down the drain. So having a few fellow daughters would ensure no drop goes to waste. But then she'd also have to give up his cock once in a while. Doubtful the little sluts would be satisfied with only being fed cum from bowls. They'd also want to drink cum straight from the cock, and get fucked and bred with their own little sister-daughters.
But that's a problem for far future Emma. She'll have at least fifteen years ahead of her where Daddy's cock is guaranteed to be all hers.