A Night Out with The Boys

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A Night Out With the Boys

A Father is probably the most important male figure to a girl, but the resulting “Daddy issues” can also really screw up a girl’s life; I know this because I’ve tried unsuccessfully to deal with mine for years.
I love my Father, but somewhere along the way, our connection took a strange, maybe even perverse detour that continues to affect my life and relationships to this day.

Warning: This story references father/daughter incest, promiscuity, and anal sex


Young, rebellious and unhappy, I look back now and can remember everything leading up to that night. The sensations, the desires, emotions are as real and vibrant as if they had just happened.

At twenty-two years old, I felt as if I’d lived a lifetime. Nannies reared me for the most part while growing up; they never stayed too long, not after Daddy got a hold of them. I grew up a sheltered, introverted child, the only offspring of two self-absorbed people. My Daddy while an influential and important man in the community was a very difficult and demanding person to live with. Over the years I came to know my Daddy as a man more so than a father, I loved him and sought his love and his approval, even now.

My Mother had become a virtual doormat to Daddy’s needs and desires, but Daddy always claimed she didn’t understand him. Her deference to him sometimes angered me, and like the typical immature female, I could be nasty and vindictive. I enjoyed flaunting my special closeness with Daddy in front of her and once in a fit of anger I had yelled at her that, “Daddy loves me like he loves you!” Mother had looked at me with a strange, knowing look on her face. There was no way she could have known or suspected what had been happening . . . was there? I wished I could have pulled the words back.

Over my last year of high school, things were changing at home; Mother and Daddy were always arguing, Daddy was away a lot, Mother was spending a lot of time with her friends, and the house was filled with tension, unhappiness, and anger.

I don’t really remember how it started, it just did. During that summer following my graduation from high school, Daddy began coming into my room late at night when Mother was out with her friends. In my naiveté and insecurity, I was flattered and happy that he was finally showing an interest in what I did, and more importantly, showing his love for me.

“You’re eighteen now, a woman. One of these days, you’re going to meet a man who loves you, and you’ll want to show him how much you love him. Won’t you?” he asked as we sat sipping wine in the dimly lit living room.

“Yes,” I reply, though at the time I didn’t actually understand what he was getting at despite the huskiness of his voice and the growing bulge in his pants.


That summer, Daddy became my lover. He patiently showed me, taught me how to please a man. My education slowly progressed from him touching me and making me orgasm, to showing me how to give him oral sex the way he liked it, and eventually him having sex with me. Yes, I was naïve, but never repulsed or remorseful, just very proud that Daddy wanted to love me.

By the end of the summer, Mother and Daddy had agreed to divorce. Granted I knew things weren’t good between them, but I never thought they would divorce. The night before he left, we had gone to the Harvest Valley Marriott where Daddy tried to console me, and where we made love until the early hours of the morning. That day when Daddy packed his bags, loaded up his car and drove away, I was left traumatized and angry. I’ll never forget standing in the driveway of our house shouting, “I hate you, I hate you.”

I didn’t see Daddy very often after he left. Despite my conflicted feelings about him, whenever I did see him, I would feel a sudden rush of emotions and physical needs. We would have sex, hard, wet, nasty sex until we were exhausted and satisfied and then we would do it again. I knew and understood what we were doing was incestuous, but I was long pass caring or being limited by social norms, and so was Daddy.

To put it bluntly, I liked to fuck, and for some sick reasons, I liked fucking my father.


Though I didn’t see or understand it when I was in the midst of the relationship, it eventually became clear to me through counseling that my need for his approval, my need to please him, my sexual relations with him had defined my behavior (drugs, alcohol, sex) and foreshadowed my future interaction with men . . . and there were many men after that summer.

My life grew increasingly out of control, and after a while, everything seemed to culminate in a dizzying circus of sexual promiscuity. Daddy, of course, was my first and then I went away to college where I became involved in a turbulent romance with Peter, a controlling much older boyfriend who made my freshman year at college bahis firmaları a nightmare. Because of my “issues,” most of my energy and efforts were focused on filling an emotional and sexual void centered on Daddy. The drugs, alcohol, and inappropriate sexual behavior all contributed to my poor grades and infrequent attendance in class that precipitated my being put on academic suspension in my sophomore year.

Mother was concerned, and I know she was trying everything she could to help me, but nothing seemed to help. Desperate, she called Daddy, and he agreed to meet and talk with me about what was going on and maybe figure out what he could do to help me get myself straightened out. Daddy arrived Friday afternoon. For the next two days, we were secreted away in a hotel room where he could fuck me without interruption. The night before he was scheduled to leave, Daddy pulled his cock out of me after cumming for the umpteenth time that weekend and stretched out next to me. With my head resting on his chest, he brushed my damp hair from my face and told me that he was going to send me to rehab for a few months. I began to protest and cry, but he was adamant.

“I’m tired of your Mother and her whining and bitching about you, and I’m tired of your antics. Tomorrow when I leave, you’re coming with me, and I’m taking you to the rehab facility,” he said firmly, subject closed. What could I do? I had no money, no job . . . I was still totally dependent on my parents for support.

That morning it was still dark outside when I was awakened by the warm, moist pressure of Daddy’s mouth licking, sucking, between my legs. Did he think this would make me forgive him for putting me into rehab? Well, he was wrong . . . he was so fucking wrong if he thought . . . eating . . . my . . . pussy . . . would, would change how I felt.

“Ughhhh . . . Oh my God, Daddy,” I moaned as an intense, wet, orgasm gripped me. Still writhing under him, Daddy sat up, changed position and slipped his hard, wooden cock into me, his little girl and came almost immediately.


I was in a residential rehab for three months and then outpatient for another three. It seemed like it was worked. I eased back into school which pleased Mother and was doing surprisingly well considering what I had been through until Professor Horowitz my journalism professor began showing his interest in me. Professor Horowitz was in his early fifties and quite distinguished looking, what with his salt and pepper colored hair, neatly trimmed beard and piercing grey eyes. Some men have an innate ability to spot a woman’s character weaknesses, and the Professor jdentified mine during our first student/advisor meeting. Professor Horowitz loved having sex in empty lecture rooms. There was always the threat of being discovered, which I guess excited him, and one day that’s exactly what happened. Mrs. Familiari, one of the Professor’s colleagues, walked in and discovered me pressed against a wall. Panties down, skirt pulled up, and Professor Horowitz’s long, thick cock pushed up into me. She was a shocked witness to Professor Horowitz calling me a slut and a whore as he enthusiastically fuck me from behind. The incident did not end well, the Professor was suspended for a few days, and I was asked to leave.

After Professor Horowitz, I met and had sex with Officer Phillip Thomas during a traffic stop one night. He pulled me over, and as he approached my car, I could see he was tall, attractive and commanding in his uniform. I begged him not to give me a ticket (I already had two moving violations). He looked at me, thought for a moment and then said, “I think we can work something out.” The next thing I knew, I was on the back seat of his cruiser with my legs up in the air, and Officer Phil between my thighs pounding into me until he came in a grunting, groaning orgasm. When he finished, he stuffed his still semi-hard dick back into his trousers, straightened his clothes and as he turned to walk back to his cruiser said, “drive safe Miss.”

I didn’t think any more about Officer Phil until one evening there was a knock on the door. Before opening the door, I peeked out the window and could see a police car parked in front of my building. I opened the door, and to my surprise, there was Officer Phil. He had apparently found my address by tracing my license number and had stopped by for a quicky.

We got together a couple of times after that, not dating or anything like that, purely for sex and fun (?). We did it two or three times here at my apartment during his shift, you know on duty, once at a seedy motel that the hookers frequented (that was kind of scary), and several times at a rest stop in his patrol area. I would drive out and wait for him to pull into the rest stop. When he arrived usually around midnight, he would park in the shadows, and I would get into his cruiser. He’d be sitting there already stroking himself when I got in, ready for me kaçak iddaa to take him in my mouth and suck him off.

I would suck him until he came, draining him, being sure to swallow every drop.

“Fuck, you give the best head I’ve ever had . . . guess you’ve had a lot of practice, huh? My girlfriend should take lessons from you,” he said admiringly.

Our meetings went on like that for several weeks until his new rotation went into effect, which changed his patrol area. Sadly, I didn’t see Phillip anymore after that.


My time in rehab had seemed so promising in the beginning. Within just a month or so of starting the outpatient counseling, I quickly found myself immersed in the same bad habits and behaviors I had tried to escape. It was my discovery of a little white pill that eased the pain, memories and sexual guilt that I still lived with.

I thought I had things managed until that night on the side of the road when I came face to face with the pitiful, needy creature I had become.

I had gone to a party, and though I had already been drinking and had a respectable buzz working, I eagerly swallowed two of my little white pills. Within maybe twenty minutes of taking the pills, I could feel a warmth and almost contentment creep over me. In my increasing euphoria, an uncontrollable urge to suck my boyfriend Franky’s dick possessed me. I didn’t even like Franky that much anymore, but I pulled him into the bathroom, unzipped him and pressed my face to his groin, deeply inhaling his warm, male scent. I knelt on the cold bathroom tile in front of him, and he pressed his large bulbous cockhead between my full, parted red lips. I could hear him moaning as I sucked his dick and gently insert my pointed tongue into the wet, slippery slit at the tip of his cock.

I looked up at him and watched a dark pink flush spread across his masculine features. He groaned loudly and began to tremble when I began to work his full length in and out. As I sucked, I lowered his pants midway down his thighs allowing my long, blonde hair to feather across his bare thighs. Franky grabbed and wrapped handfuls of my hair in his palms and held my head in position as he increased his depth and rhythm and began to fuck my face mouth. I felt him suddenly stiffen and with a final long, hoarse whimper, he ejaculated deep into my mouth sending spurt after spurt of warm, sweet/salty cum down my throat. Not wanting to stop, I hungrily milked him until he was drained, leaving his now soft dick hanging limply between his muscular thighs.

“Let’s go back to my apartment where we can get comfortable and have some real fun,” he said, a bit breathlessly, arranging his dick in his pants and zipping up.

Wiping cum from the corner of my mouth and finger brushing my hair back from my face, I looked at Franky and though again how I didn’t even like him very much, but the need for a good fucking even if it was with him was something I couldn’t refuse.

“Alright,” I said, my hand purposefully massaging the swelling bulge through his pants.

We had ridden to the party with Mike and Steven, two of Franky’s good friends, so when we left the party, we piled into the car, Franky and I in the back seat, Mike driving, and Steven riding “shotgun.”

When I had finished giving Franky head in the bathroom, I swallowed another pill washing it down with a beer. I now had an otherworldly sensation; you know sort of watching from the outside everything I was doing. When I crawled into the back seat of the car, my head felt wrapped in cotton, and my pussy ached with the need to have a cock filling it. I closed my eyes and let my head rest on the back of the seat; I think I must have been on the brink of passing out. I knew I was drunk, high, or wonderfully drugged out, more than I had ever been before, and despite this, I was still kind of halfway aware of everything that was happening.

Strangely, it was as if I couldn’t help myself, the insistent throbbing and the growing wetness was more than I could stand. When Franky slipped his hand under my dress, and between my legs, it was all I could do not to scream with the anticipation of cumming when his fingers inched under the elastic band of my panties. Mike was watching, and Franky blatantly fingered me for Mike’s amusement. I heard Mike say something to Steven, and at the sound of his voice, I half opened my eyes and emboldened by lust, without embarrassment I held Mike’s eyes as he drove. Furtively stealing glances into the rearview mirror . . . his gaze never shifting as he took in every sound and action coming from the back seat. I liked Mike, since first meeting him, there had been a long-simmering sexual tension between us that he tried to ignore, not wanting to jeopardize his friendship with Franky and except for that one time, he had been successful.

One night, when Franky was unexpectantly working the overnight shift, the heat between Mike and me came kaçak bahis to a head. Mike, expecting Franky to be there, came to Franky’s apartment without calling and began ringing the doorbell. Thinking Franky had forgotten his keys, I rolled over and glanced at the clock, becoming pissed when I realized it was almost two in the morning. I pulled myself out of bed, and though half asleep made my way to the front door. The knocking and banging on the door had grown louder and more insistent by the time I threw the door open, and Mike barged through the doorway.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Get Frank,” he commanded.

“Franky’s not here, I said in a sleepy but annoyed voice. Go away; he’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

Mike stood in front of me, glowering.

I normally did not wear panties at night and was uncomfortably aware of Mike looking at my neatly trimmed blonde patch peeking beneath my short nightshirt before his eyes drifted upward. He hesitantly reached out and touched my hair that fell in loose disarray about my shoulders, barely concealing the top of my breasts, and the nipples that chilled by the coolness of the room had become embarrassingly erect and obvious.

He stepped closer to me forcing me to take a wobbly step backwards. It happened so quickly I was caught off guard when he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I tried to wrench free as he pulled me to the sofa. He bent me over the back of the sofa and despite my struggle to get him off me, he managed to control my squirming, free his cock and in one hard thrust was inside me. I couldn’t move. It hurt. In and out, in and out he stroked, grunting like an animal as he took his pleasure. His weight on top of me, my head securely held in place and unable to turn away he began kissing me. As his tongue raped my mouth, his cock raped my pussy, and all I could do was stand there. When he finally came, it was deep and forceful.

He stood up and leaned over me. My only thought was to get away from him and call the police. I slowly straightened up and made to move pass him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

He jerked me along roughly behind him and headed upstairs. Once in Franky’s bedroom, he pushed me toward the bed and crawled in beside me. Casually tossing his long, muscled leg over mine, and his arm across my chest, I was pinned to the bed, unable to escape. Trapped in that position, after perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, I could hear his light snoring. My tired body surrendered and thinking he was already asleep, I allowed myself to fall asleep.

During the night, he straddled and entered me again, awakening me.

“Mike, no . . . ,” I groggily said.

“Shhhhh,” he said in a low, husky voice, ignoring my protests. He pushed harder, and his cock filled me, making me all too aware of his rigid length and girth.

“Oh, Mikkkkkke” I whimpered, as my body unexpectedly began to shudder and my pussy gripped and contracted around his cock.

Mike, feeling my release began to thrust harder and deeper until with a loud grunt he again filled my pussy with his thick, warm cum.

Though that night was never repeated, it never failed to make me wet whenever I thought about it.


I could clearly hear Mike’s heavy breathing, and like the slut I had become, I looked into the rearview mirror and could almost see in Mike’s eyes the lust engendered by watching what his friend Franky was doing to me in the back seat. Encouraged by his appreciative, hungry gaze, I whorishly opened my legs wider to give him an unobstructed view as Franky’s experienced fingers brought me to orgasm.

“Damn it, man . . .” Steven said as the car abruptly veered to the right.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he questioned before he looked over and saw Mike feverishly jerking his cock as he drove.

“Fuck man,” Steven said and watched mesmerized as Mike grunted and his straining cock came messily into a fistful of wadded up tissue. “Fuccckk, man.”


The pills and alcohol had fully kicked in and left me vulnerable and acquiescent. I turned and slumped into the corner of the rear seat against the door. I felt Franky’s hands when he bunched the skirt of my dress up around my waist and ripped my panties off. There was no resistance to what he wanted, what he was going to take, only a vague awareness when he pulled me onto his lap and began to work his rigid, leaking cock into my pussy. He held me around the waist with his big hands and guided me down his cock holding me there as he began to thrust upward and into me.

With the entire length of his cock buried inside my puffy, pink slit and my back pressed against his chest, I leaned forward, letting my forehead rest against the back of the driver’s seat. As Frank slowly and deliberately fucked me, Steven turned around in the front passenger seat, lifted my head so that I was upright and unbuttoned my blouse. Steven began to roughly fondle my breasts, squeezing and pinching them until they were swollen and my nipples painfully hard and pointed, forcing an involuntary, groan of pleasure from me.

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