Shellys Secrets Bathing Jennifer Part 2
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Shelly's Secret Chapter 3 free porn video
Chapter 3
By Greg
( True Story, Incest )
“This story contains a graphic account of sex between a father and his daughter. If this is not your thing, please read something more to your liking. All persons in this story are of legal age.”
Since the first two chapters received a positive rating, I thought I would continue on with Shelly’s story. My sister Shelly was fine with all this, but was somewhat taken-back however, by some of the rude comments directed towards her. For this next chapter, she offered an interesting suggestion. She volunteered to tell this part from her first hand perspective. I liked the idea and we will see how it goes over. Shelly is not that much into the actual writing, so I’ll still do the actual typing and editing, but it is pretty much written in her own words.
Shelly,
First off, let me say how amazed I am at the amount of interest in my brother’s story. He had told me a while ago that he was considering doing something like this. I was fine with it and a little bit curious about the whole thing. I was a little upset at a few of the comments that came in response to it, particularly the ones about me being a "bitch or whore."
I have turned out just fine, by the way. Thank you. I grew up okay. I got married to a really sweet guy, and I have two wonderful sons whom I love very much. I have a good-paying job that I really like. My husband was in the military and shipped out overseas. He died three years ago in an accident aboard a ship. It wasn’t combat-related; someone just got careless.
For those thinking I’m all messed up mentally or something, sorry, I’m just fine there too. I really don’t understand all the judgmental attitudes out there. For Pete’s sake, we are all adults. My story is on an adult website and is being read by grown people who choose to go there. Why be so judgmental about my life? For me, sex is fun and a part of life, with anyone. What is the big deal? We all want it. We all do it, and we all need it. Why can’t everyone just enjoy it for what it is? To me, sex is best with someone you love, be it a friend, spouse, or even a relative.
What’s the difference? My family members are my best friends, and I love them the most. Greg is giving me nasty looks now, so I better end my speech and get to the story.
In Greg’s first story, you heard how he got involved in my sex life. I know he wrote that it was all Dad's doing, but I have to confess that a lot of the initial stuff was me teasing and pushing things. True, Dad jumped at the chance, as most men would. This is my version of how things really got started.
My memory of how this all began is when I used to sit next to Dad in the evenings. He always crashed in the living room after dinner and watched TV. Greg usually cut out right after dinner to go to his buddy’s house until our 9:30 curfew. He was always late getting home. Remember, all this happened in an era before computers, video games, and cell phones. I was bored, and maybe I was just looking to gain some attention.
After finishing up kitchen chores and homework, I would find some excuse to join Dad on the couch. Being affectionate, I would go and try to snuggle up next to him. With Mom gone in the evenings at work, we had lots of time alone. I think things really got started because I got bored with what he was watching on TV
I had started resting my head on Dad’s lap. He never objected to this, so I continued doing it for a while. I soon became aware that if I gently rocked my cheek into his lap, he seemed to get uneasy. I began to notice other things too. He never said to stop, so I persisted. I was thinking this was a game he was playing and that he was trying to ignore me.
I continued and watched him fidget around. I was playfully rocking my face around once when, finally, he grabbed my head. He held me still and then, with a firm hand, pushed the side of my face tightly against his lap. That’s when I really felt the pressure from his stuff against my cheek.
My constant teasing had finally gotten him aware of me. Now I had his attention. I knew I was pretty clueless about things. I wasn’t thinking about where any of this was really leading. At some point, he called my bluff. He asked me if I wanted to see what I was doing to him. I didn’t think he was really mad or anything at me, so I just kind of acted "like whatever."
At this point, he undid the buckle on his belt, unsnapped the top of his jeans, and pulled down his zipper. I just sat there, unsure of what he was expecting of me. After letting me sit puzzled for a few moments, he made some statement like,
"Well girl, take a look at what you got started."
His briefs were stretched tight and bulging upward. I wasn’t going to do anything but look. I had just gotten my head over his zipper and had just begun to try to make out the shape beneath the fabric. Then suddenly, he caught the back of my head and shoved my face right down into his crotch.
Dad had always worn white briefs, or "tighty-whities," as I called them. He pushed my face right up against the fabric. As my face was being held there, I don’t remember resisting. I guess he thought I would fight back or jerk my head up and try to pull away. I have always had a little competitive, tom-boy streak in me. So, I went with it and stayed passive, sort of like, "Yeah, so what?"
I remember the scent of the fabric softener Mom had always used. My nose was sort of pressed out flat. When he finally let me up, I looked to see him smiling.
"Well then, why don’t you have a real good look?" he said, challenging me.
I will admit to being a bit curious, and I was never one to back off a dare. I tried to work my fingers into the slot in his underwear, but you know how tight those damn things are. After watching me fiddle around for a bit, he finally stood up and dropped his jeans and briefs to about his knees, then flopped back down on the couch. I sat there staring at the first male cock I had ever seen.
I know guys are all hung up on size and all, but I don’t have any measurements I can give you. I’m not good at guessing how many inches or whatever something is. All I could think was, "How do you walk around all day with something like that between your legs?" Doesn’t it get squashed or pinched when you move or sit? I was thinking it was always that size. I hadn’t realized that I had caused it to swell up like that.
Dad was pretty hairy around his balls, and the majority of his cock seemed twisted and bent. I was totally absorbed by how alive it seemed to be. It seemed like a coiled-up living thing. Dad reached down and straightened out the shaft, sort of letting it fall across the leg closest to me.
The crown is what fascinated me the most. It was a deep crimson color. I had sort of figured a guy’s cock would be more like a finger. Remember, I had never seen a real cock, and I had nothing really to compare it to. Anyway, Dad just left it lying on its side, sort of pointing toward me. He said that I could touch it if I wanted to.
I wasn’t about to fall for the same trick by leaning over to get a better look, so I cautiously put my hand on his thigh and moved his leg somewhat to see if I could get it to move more. At my touch, it seemed to try to stand up on its own. Now feeling more confident, I reached for it. I gently lifted the shaft part upward. I was stunned at how heavy it felt. It didn’t need much help to keep standing upright after that.
This all started with me sitting by him and playfully touching it after that. I have always enjoyed the feeling that I can make any man respond to my touch. I would often just lay there along-side him blowing at it, or softly caressing the sides of it. Sometimes I’d just trace little circles in the soft skin of his ball sack with my fingers. That would usually cause his dick to lengthen and turn a deep red color. I was so fascinated with it moving, as if of its own free will.
I remember a certain ease during all this; I wasn’t scared, ashamed, or anything. It just seemed to be something we fell into naturally. At first, I had no idea what to do beyond this. Besides, I really did just like watching it twitching about as I teased it. We continued to mess around like this for several weeks.
I don’t think I would have thought of it, so it was probably at Dad’s suggestion that I began using my mouth and tongue more. Dad had always just showered right after dinner, so I felt no issue with using my mouth.
I became accustomed to the regular taste of it. But I noticed changes as things went on. I didn’t know back then that it was really "pre-cum" that I was sometimes tasting. It never turned me off though. This one time, after messing around for a while, Dad actually had a real cum. I had been touching and softly rubbing the side of his shaft when he suddenly groaned. He knocked my hand away, grabbed his dick and began furiously jerking at it.
With very little warning, a spurt of the white cum stuff just burst out of his cock. Several more shots lept upward; they cleared his knees before landing on the floor. The rest got all over the armrest of the couch. I was scared at first. He was groaning so loudly and shaking all over. His face seemed wracked with severe pain. It really scared the hell out of me. I thought maybe he was having a heart attack or something. He went like this for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he calmed me by saying . "It was all OK."
I knew what had come out wasn’t pee, but he had never warned me about any of this orgasm stuff. He asked me to lay my head back down on his leg and just be still. I remember watching the cum stuff dribble down the back of his fist.
Dad was sort of out of breath, but he quietly began explaining about what had just happened. I was completely fascinated by the whole experience. The aroma of the stuff seemed so masculine. I remember asking to touch it. I used my finger to feel it first. I brought a sample close to my nose to smell it. Dad watched intently to see what I would do next. I had it near my nose to get a better whiff of it. He watched me do this and seemed pleased that I wasn’t put off or grossed out.
I remember it being so warm; actually, it was hot. I had it so close to my mouth that I stuck out my tongue and tasted it. It didn’t have a bad taste, maybe just a little bit salty. Seeing the satisfied look on my dad’s face, I figured it was alright with him too. I just continued licking it off my finger till it was all gone. I do remember back then being an affectionate and kind of needy young girl. I would do anything to gain my dad’s approval.
I continued and got up closer, licking up every bit of the cum stuff off the back of his fist. Dad then kind of pointed his cock directly at me as if offering me the remainder. I didn’t give it much thought and went ahead and licked the shaft of his cock clean too.
Dad told me, "It was good for you." I couldn’t say I loved the taste of cum right at first, but he got such a kick out of seeing me do it. So I kinda did it just for him. After I learned what would happen and in what order, this started to become a common thing for us to do. I remember him telling me that this was our secret and not to tell Mom. Since I liked all the attention and didn’t want it to end, I kept quiet about it.
About a month into this, I had started removing my tops and bra. Dad said the warmth of my skin on him was really nice. My boobs were not big by any measure, but they were still filling in. To keep from messing up his jeans, he began taking them all the way off. For some reason, I never felt shy about seeing him naked or with me having very little on either.
This went on for several more weeks, and eventually it got to the point where I would hold onto his prick myself as it spewed out his cum load. I loved the feeling of control I had over it.
I clearly remember the pulsing of the shaft as jets of cum coursed upward through it and out. I had gotten used to the taste and got to the point where I always cleaned up every drop of his cum with my tongue. I liked the sensation of watching his cock shrivel up as I licked about on it. Dad would just lay back, smile contently, and watch me do this.
One evening he brought out a video, and allowed me to watch a man and woman actually doing a real fuck. I was mesmerized by the whole process. The moans and cries from the woman sort of puzzled me at first. I know now that this was mostly just acting. I hadn’t realized yet that, by the woman doing these and other things the guy would get an orgasm too.
It was kind of hard to tell if they were enjoying the whole thing or not. I knew you had to have sex to have babies, but I had never thought about exactly how the whole thing really happened. Remember, we did live out a ways. We weren't completely isolated, but I didn’t have any contact with any girls that had actually done sex yet.
This one time I was sitting on the couch next to him and, from start to finish, actually milked his cock through the whole thing. I loved looking down and feeling the hot goo drip down over my hand. I remember realizing for the first time that I had the power to cause a man to spew whenever I wanted to. This left me with such a feeling of power and control that I had never experienced before.
I wasn’t very good at the blowjob stuff until we started watching the videos. I now realize that I had no idea what I was doing at all. Dad had never complained, though. I used to wonder why it was even called a "blowjob anyway." For a time, I had been actually trying to blow at it like a candle.
You’re all probably interested in the first time we actually fucked, huh? That was at least three months into this. I had gotten used to seeing graphic examples in the videos. Dad also had some old magazines he would get out. We’d sit and look through them. Dad would give me the names of all the positions. I preferred the magazines over the videos because I could study the pictures longer. There was always too much going on in most of the videos, and often the lighting wasn’t really very good. But I still liked them both. So I guess for us, fucking was just the next logical step.
I always had lots of questions, but I wasn’t sure if Dad really wanted it to go that far. He did tell me his cum "won’t make anyone pregnant." I didn’t fully understand, but I trusted what he said.
One evening, I was sitting across his waist. I had also gotten to the point of removing my panties by then, just to avoid leaving any stains on them. Dad was really rock-hard at that point and was breathing really heavily. I don’t know if I did it on purpose, but I scooted down and started to rub my pussy back and forth against his cock. I’m sure I had seen this position in one of the books or videos he had. The heat from his shaft was amazing. I had him really wet from spit. I used to spit on it to lubricate his shaft.
Anyway, I started poking the head at the folds of my pussy. Dad was lying flat on his back on the couch, and I was on top, facing his feet. I think it’s called a cowgirl something. I always liked this way because I could switch hands if one got tired. I especially liked watching the cum shoot up from the end of his cock when he would "shoot off." I didn’t weigh all that much back then, and I could easily slide my butt up on his chest, lay down, and lick him up once he stopped bucking me.
This time, for some reason, I was lower on him and started playfully poking the shaft against my pussy. Dad started thrusting upward while I was doing this. He nearly threw me off of him. I remember turning around to look at him. His eyes were all glazed over, but he seemed to be encouraging me to continue. I had seen the actual act itself in the books and on TV, but I wasn’t sure if that big, old thing would really fit inside of me.
I poked the head a few more times against my slit, but I was still kind of just fooling around. Finally, I just grabbed the shaft about halfway up, bent it over, and started to really jam it inside of me, just to see if it would even go in.
I must have hurt him, because he let out a yelp. I froze, and then suddenly Dad grabbed me by the waist and threw me off of him. I was scared he was mad. He suddenly got up and stood in front of me. He grabbed me just under the arms and lifted me right up off the couch. He pulled me roughly against his chest, then grabbed me by the butt and hoisted me up. I could feel his stiff cock lodged in the crack of my butt cheeks. I wasn’t sure what he had in mind because he just kind of stood there for a moment, holding me.
He had become very quiet. I could tell he was thinking of something. Then suddenly, he turned and started walking away from the couch, carrying me with him. I didn’t say anything as we crossed the room and headed towards the hallway. I sort of locked my legs around his waist. I remember my heels bouncing against his back as he walked. I could feel the thickness of his cock nestled between my legs. He turned, entering Mom and his bedroom.
I still had my arms wrapped around his neck. I was looking back towards the couch in the living room. The pillows were strewn on the floor. From the time we first started messing around, that is where we always did it. As we passed the doorway into their bedroom, I knew that this would be different. I guess he had decided it was time to go all the way. In my mind, I knew I was about to be fucked for real.
Dad carried me over to the bed and laid me down on my back. He followed me down. I was still clinging tightly to his neck. As I was placed on my back, I released my grip, and he kissed me softly on each breast. I loved it when he did that.
He seemed to know exactly how to position himself, and without missing a beat, he lined up his cock to me and pressed solidly against me. I had always worried that if we got to this point, would I be able to fit him in me. Seeing all the videos, I knew what he wanted and what was in store for me.
The adult women I had watched all moaned and seemed to be in pain. I was afraid I would be too small. I felt a great pressure and thought I was going to be ripped in two. I was trying to spread my legs apart to help, but the pressure increased. I had just started to cry out in pain, then suddenly something gave and he seemed to fill my entire body.
I lay there, not sure if I should be doing something or not. Dad’s head stayed down alongside mine. He was huffing and gasping for air. I could actually feel his heart pounding through the veins in his neck.
He hadn’t said a word since we left the living room. I’ve learned since then that once he got into his "horn-dog state," there was no stopping him. Dad was generally easy-going while we were messing around, up to a point. When he stopped talking, I knew he needed his release.
I should probably explain "Horn dog." Several years earlier, I was at a school friend’s house. We were out behind her barn, watching one of her pet male dogs trying to mount a female. The poor male dog was in such a state of frenzied excitement. He was jumping and lunging all around the bitch. He would whine so pitifully. I felt so sorry for the poor guy. My friend called him a “horn-dog” as well. For some reason, that’s how I always referred to my dad’s lusty state.
Well, when Dad’s got a "nut-on" and really starts rocking, you had just better just go along with whatever he wants. He was slow at first, his thrusts rocking me rhythmically. I remember the bed starting to squeak. My sense of panic had vanished as the friction against me increased. A feeling of completeness and calm seemed to come over me.
I remembered all the videos we had watched and wasn't sure about all the wailing and moaning. Until then, I had thought the women were in pain. Now I think it dawned on me that it might be due to the intense pleasure they were feeling. I had never really had any orgasms yet; that would happen later on. For some dumb reason though I remember I liked to just to lie there making cooing sounds as he slowly thrust his cock in and out of me. I used to pretend I was a kitten and try to make sounds like I was purring.
Dad had only been rocking on me for a few minutes before he had a cum. It was way too soon for me. He sped up his movements and then let out several grunts, and his legs went stiff. He shook me for maybe a minute. During this time, he lunged and jerked at me. I thought he was still trying to push it even deeper into me.
I remember the pressure of his body on mine afterwards. I had kept my hands locked on his upper arms. As he slowed his thrusts down, I could feel the tension and stress leaving his body. As his cum finished, he sort of shuttered a couple times and then just collapsed right on top of me. Dad wasn’t fat or overweight,
Some women I know complain when their lovers collapse on them like this. They call it a suffocating feeling. I loved it. As long as my lover stays off my chest just enough for me to breathe, I relish the sensation of being crushed. It feels as though they are melting right into me.
I feel their release in my body as they compress on me. I can’t think of a more satisfying place to be than to be pinned under a guy wracked in the throes of an orgasm, knowing that I caused it.
I just love sensing their last little jolts of pleasure. I guess this is why I’ve always favored the missionary position. Also, because this is how I was first fucked. To this day, the best feeling in the world is to have a thick cock pulsing cum into my pussy. Over the years, many stiff cocks have found relief in my pussy, and I’m glad for it.
The pressure and smell is a vivid memory I think about to this day. I should clarify that by "smell," I don’t mean it in a bad way. Even though Dad worked outside all day and came home looking pretty rough sometimes, he always cleaned up. Unless he was working on something at home or outside, he would shower and shave just after supper.
Being a roofer, he had to be on the job early and got into the habit of getting cleaned up in the evenings before. What I mean is that I can still recall the scent of his aftershave.
To this day, I still occasionally stop in the men’s fragrance aisle at stores. I search out "Old Spice" cologne. More than once, another woman has walked up on me as I was leaning up against a shelf with my eyes closed and a bottle pressed up against my face, recapturing old memories. I often get a knowing look from them. I think maybe they understand what I’m doing.
As to whether or not I should have been fucking my dad, I guess I will leave that up to someone else to figure out. I never really thought that much about whether we were doing something wrong or not. I only know how I felt at the time, and I loved every bit of it.
I’m sure some might even say this all was sick and that my threesomes with Ray were abusive to me. I now know most people are hypocrites too. All I know is that for me, it never screwed me up. Of course, I wasn’t raped or forced into doing anything I didn’t want to do. Mom either didn’t want to or chose not to keep Dad satisfied. I did! No apologies.
Any woman who doesn’t enjoy the sensation of having a hard cock pulsing in her pussy can send her man to me. We all have a sexual drive. Why not deal with it the best way we can? Isn’t that a reason someone would be reading this anyway?
As to my obsession with the cum swallowing part, Early on, I figured out guys liked it when I did it. I remembered even from the videos. It seemed only natural to me for "it" to go into me. Cum belongs in a woman. It just seems sort of sad to just leave it lying there. I’m funny though; for some reason, I only like it while it is still warm.
Sorry for my divergence from the story; Greg can take this out if he wishes.
Well, when my dad’s orgasm finally quit, he came around. He drew his head back. I was looking right at him. His face and neck were red. The veins in his neck were pulsing, and his forehead was covered with beads of sweat. He didn’t look at me right off. I think maybe he was a little ashamed or embarrassed. I was afraid to move or even look at my pussy. I thought I might somehow look different down there.
As he pulled away, I could feel the suction of his cock leaving me. As it slipped out, I could feel the warm trickle of cum leaking out. I started to grab for him. I didn’t want him to pull away. My whole body felt like something important was being taken from me. The feeling of being filled with cock was something I immediately wanted more of. I wanted it hard, stiff, and back in me. I have always loved that "completely filled" tight feeling.
I think right at that point in my life, I had discovered the thing that makes me the happiest. This, I thought, is what I was born to do. Being physically connected to another human being is what it takes to make me feel complete. Dad was struggling to get up, but then flopped down along side of me. I instinctively scooted over, snuggled against his chest, and just lay there, feeling his breathing against my cheek.
There’s more I’ll talk about later, but I think I’ll stop here for now. Greg is about to flip-out if he doesn’t get some relief.
PS. This was sort of fun. I hope you all enjoyed it too. -->
Jayla
- 08.10.2022
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