Sometimes with Craigslist, you strike out. Sometimes, you get lucky. Some “events” are real disappointments, others deliver.
This one delivers.
They promised “gang bang”, and that’s exactly what’s happening. There are eleven men in the room, an even dozen if you count the woman with “DYKE BITCH” tattooed across her shoulder blades and wearing a strap-on that wouldn’t look out of place on a plow horse.
The other woman in the room is a girl, perched up in the sling, and Dyke Bitch is feasting on the girl’s cunt while the girl enthusiastically sucks the cock offered to her. A man with a brush cut and impossibly chiseled pecs is pulling his cock with one hand and fisting mine with the other. The other men in are arranged around the room, and all eyes are on the girl in the sling.
The room is redolent with hashish, perspiration and need. Iron Maiden is blasting away on the stereo system that probably cost more than my car. The rock and roll smashes and reverberates against the brick walls of the old, loft-style condo, mixining with the haze of hash and reminding me of younger days, before the girl in the sling was even alive.
I look at the girl in the sling, and suddenly she pulls her mouth away from the cock she’s been sucking and shrieks out howls of orgasm that are even louder than the music. Her too-perfect breasts jiggle and heave as she pounds her crotch against Dyke Bitch’s face. I can only imagine what the neighbors are thinking. Hell, for all I know, the neighbors are in the room, too. This is the fifth or sixth time she’s climaxed since I got here, and it’s only been twenty minutes since I walked in the door.
Dyke Bitch stands up and walks off to get some water from the pitcher from the bar. Immediately, a young man pulls on a condom and takes his place between the girl’s legs. His strong arms grasp the girl’s thighs and he starts thrusting away with a series of long and steady strokes. Another man has positioned himself next to the girl’s head, and she has started taking turns on suckling first one prick, then the other.
The girl has the red-red hair and translucent skin of true Irish stock. A spray of freckles runs across her face and her breasts. A tattoo of an octobpus glides and dances across her abdomen. She’s blindfolded, but I know that her eyes are green, made an impossibly deep and jewel-like green by colored contact lenses.
I know this because the girl is my daughter.
I watch the young man fuck her in the sling. I watch her lips blindly seek out the cocks she eagerly sucks. We are all strangers here. If I saw anyone I recognized, I would have made some excuse and bolted for the door.
I could fuck her. I could do this. It’s been obvious from watching her that she is up for anything. I’ve seen her invaded, used, probed and pounded in all three openings. I’ve listened to the electrifying sound of her climactic wailing. She wants to be fucked, and by as many guys as possible. I’m just one more. I could do this.
I’m feeling woozy from the hash-smell, but my prick is on full alert. Between the exhilarating scene in front of me and the attentions of this stranger’s hand, my cock has been rock-hard. I can feel the pulsing of my prick in my ears. My balls ache. It’s not easy to stand.
Maybe I could just fuck her with one of the toys. Others certainly have. The bar is piled high with all manner of dildoes, vibrators, nipple clamps, butt plugs, flails, whips, handcuffs, restraints, paddles, condoms, lubes and jellies … enough to open a small boutique. I’m thinking this might be a safe place to start and I start browsing amoung the offerings when the young man fucking my daughter gives a shout and pulls out. With a quick, deft move he yanks the condom off his cock in just enough time for the first white, ropy jet of cum to go arcing through the air and splashing on her naked torso.
“Ah, fuck! That was too soon!” The young man gasps. He walks drunkenly in the direction of the bathroom. I feel a polite tap on my shoulder.
“You look like you have a plan. Why don’t you go next?” The man says. I assume he’s the host, as he’s the one who answered the door. I turn to look at my daughter, spread-eagled and naked in the sling. Her body is wet and glistening from the lubricants and globs of cum that have rained on her. The sling spreads her out in vivid, naked invitation. Her cunt and asshole gape with signs of obvious hard use, and she’s wriggling her pelvis. She wants whatever cock is next.
I grab the tiny “bullet” vibrator off the bar, select a ribbed condom, and position myself in front of my daughter. My hip touches her thigh, and she says “who’s there? Let me feel!” Her hand snakes down and grasps around. I take her fingers and lay them on my cock.
“Oooh! A thick one! And where’s it going?” she smiles. I almost say “It’s a surprise”, and then clamp my mouth shut. She’d know my voice in a minute, even over the music.
“Mmmm …
maybe you fuck more than you talk,” she laughs and then goes back to sucking the bigger of the two cocks next to her face. My heart is pounding. I am soaked in my own persperation. I pull the condom on and sink into her cunt with one swift stroke.
She pulls her mouth off of the other man’s cock, grins, nods her approval, and then goes back to her sucking. The man who has his cock in my daughter’s mouth looks at me with a fatuous smile and gives me the “thumbs-up”. It’s all I can do not to explode between her legs right then and there. The only thing that is going to work is disassociation, so I look away from her face and picture a submissive I knew back in Texas.
All right, you cock-hungry bitch ... I think to myself, still not daring to speak, let me show you how a man fucks you.
I immediately start sawing myself in and out of her sopping pussy, fucking her with a smooth and steady rhythym. But the reality of the moment is catching up with me. This is my daughter. I’m fucking my own flesh and blood, and she’s loving every minute of it. My pace steps up and she enthusiastically bucks her hips in response. I speed up the pace of my fucking and she responds in kind. Soon, I am slamming away at her with an intensity that rocks the whole sling and makes her team-fellatio difficult.
A single though slams into the center of my awareness: Fuck her ass. You’ll never get another chance.
I stop and pull my still-rigid cock out of her weeping pussy. I start shifting her around in the sling to make improve my access to her back door. My daughter is full aware of what is coming next, and she grins in anticipation.
“Anal lover, eh?” she laughs. “Go easy, that thing is pretty thick.”
I move the head of my cock down to her asshole, and push in with the slow and steady move I usually reserve for my wife. My daughter’s back door has already been opened and loosened by the earlier visits, so she readily opens up to me. When I am in all the way, I start to fuck her with a hard, insistent tempo.
The tiny bullet vibrator is so greasy from the lubricant that it is difficult to activate. When I finally get it working, it buzzes to a life with an intensity so strong that I almost drop it out of surprise. How can so much vibration come out of something so small. I slam my cock into my daughter’s asshole, line up the vibe with my thumb, and shove it up into her pussy. It takes me no time at all to come into contact with her G-spot.
“Oh, you BASTARD!!” she screams out. “Oh, you bastard! You fucking bastard! Oh, shit! Oh, I can’t fucking handle that. Oh, fuck! Oh, I’m gonna … oh, I’m gonna squirt oh I’m gonna I’m gonna ah fuck mommy oh shit oh my god mommy! Mommy! Shit!! Pull out!”
I pull out as my daughter lets out a shriek that would shatter glass. Her whole body convulses involuntarily, and an enormous salty stream shoots out of her pussy and blasts against my torso. My eyes are like saucers as I drink in this sight. I’m beating off like a madman and scarely aware that I’m doing it until my come shoots out in thick white ropes and lands all over My Host’s carpet.
I’m wringing with perspiration. I feel faint and my knees don’t want to hold me up. “You look like you could use a shower,” My Host says, and takes me to another, smaller bathroom.
As I close the door behind me, I am insulated from both the rock and roll and the ubiquitous hash smoke. I turn on the water as cold as I can stand it, and I place myself under the stream. The cold water sobers and invigorates me. There’s pumice soap, a godsend. I start lathering myself up. The icy water cures and restores me.
I find the shampoo and lather my hair. I adjust the water so it is now running hotter and get down to the task of seriously getting clean. I don’t hear the door, but I do hear my daughter’s voice saying “Got room for one more?”
I freeze. I’m caught. I look at her, and she looks at me. I see fright and bewilderment in her eyes, and I am suddenly consumed with shame.
Then the bewilderment in my daughter’s eyes is replaced by recognition and then merriment. “Dad?!?” She laughs. “Was that YOU? Ha! Holy shit, for a minute. I thought I was hallucinating! Wow … it really is you.”
Laughing, she steps into the shower and hugs her naked body against mine. “We can’t tell Mom, OK? She’d kill both of us, twice. Do my back?”
All my shame falls away like a house of cards. I start to laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more. She turns around and I gratefully start to wash her back.
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