Flirting With Disaster, Part. 5…

Guest post by Slutty Muslim:

I touched my face gently, realizing the warmth that hit my face was his cum. My mouth opened slightly in shock, but I was curious. What did he taste like? I hesitated, but then snaked my tongue out, tasting his cum. It was salty, but not unpleasant. Daddy was panting, and watching my face. I straightened my arm out, reaching down toward my dripping pussy. I rubbed his cum into my clit, then mixed his cum with the juices of my pussy. I tasted the concoction I’d made. Daddy’s cock was still hard; I watched it jump while I sucked our taste off my fingers. Our smell permeated the room, and the combination of our fluids was exotic. I did the same with my other hand, offering my dripping fingers to him. He sucked them into his mouth.

Later that night, I was in my room alone, Daddy’s scent still on me. I refused to shower after we played. Mom came home and we ordered take-out, and she was too absorbed in her usual work bullshit to notice that I smelled like her husband. Fucking clueless. I sat next to Daddy at the dinner table, to his right so I could play with his cock through his pants with my left hand. He silently protested at first, pushing my hand away and giving me significant looks. But I persisted, and he eventually relaxed and enjoyed himself after a couple of beers. Mom had some wine and loosened up; she was actually pleasant to be around for once.

My mind went back to our alone time before dinner. The food and drink couldn’t wash away our mingled taste from my mouth, and the memory caused my pussy to gush.

I slowly rubbed my clit and nipples, starting to get turned on again. Then, I heard a moan. It was mom. I got out of bed, quietly opened the door, and headed towards the master bedroom. I heard Daddy talking softly to mom through the door, then some sounds that sounded like smacks. I knew they were both drunk; they were only this loud after drinking.

I was pissed. He promised. He promised me he wouldn’t. Just tonight. And he was in there fucking her now.

I would pay him back for that.

The next few days, I treated Daddy coolly. No more teasing or flirting. Mom was home, anyway, and she seemed to be happy for a change. I thought to myself maybe he should get her drunk and fuck her more often. She was turning into a major bitch lately.

Daddy finally cornered me alone and asked me what was going on. I told him I didn’t like liars, brushing past him to leave the kitchen. I went into the living room and told mom I wasn’t hungry, and asked her if I could have a friend over later before retreating to my room.

The next day was Friday, and mom and Daddy had some thing to go to in the evening. Mom was going there straight from work, but Daddy texted me to tell me he would be stopping at home before meeting mom. He wanted a chance to talk, just the two of us. I didn’t respond, but when I saw Tristan later on, I invited him over to my house after school. Tristan was technically my boyfriend, and I had been ignoring him more than usual lately, so I thought I would be nice. I could kill two birds with one stone this way, too.

Later, in my room, I was playing with Tristan’s cock. I had already made him cum because I needed him distracted and to not cum so quickly while we were fucking. He liked me to call him names to get him hard, so I called him a faggot and a sissy until he was dripping precum all over my hands and begged me to let him fuck me. I finally let him fuck me, and I was even enjoying myself when I heard the door open.

Daddy was bellowing and Tristan jumped up immediately. He looked like he was going to shit a brick, and I had to cover my face and bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I grabbed my clothes, and Tristan frantically scrambled to get his on so he could make his escape. My father was threatening his life and we had been caught with our pants down, literally; yet I was silently laughing.

After Tristan left, crying, Daddy called mom and she came home. Daddy was furious. I hadn’t seen him this mad since I broke his car window. He was beet red, veins were popping everywhere, and he wouldn’t stop yelling. My mom rushed in, trying to tell him to calm down, which pissed him off even more. “Why the fuck aren’t you concerned that your child is having sex? What kind of mother are you? A boy was FUCKING YOUR DAUGHTER.” She told him that she knew I was sexually active, that I was on birth control, I had a steady supply of condoms, and we’d had “the talk.” He stared at her as if she had betrayed him.

Things were suddenly very quiet. Mom tried to explain herself, but he wouldn’t listen to her. She gave up and went upstairs to get ready. I was still sitting at the kitchen table. He turned towards me. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Bad things happen when you break promises, Daddy.”

He stood up quickly, reached across the table, and slapped me. We stared at each other. Then, he walked out of the house to wait for mom in the car.

Slap included, I knew mom’s night was going to be worse.

To be continued…