Truly a Daddy's Girl (Whtbitch4u2own & Intimate)

[whtbitch4u2own]

RE: Truly a Daddy's Girl (Whtbitch4u2own & Father Figure)

LATEST UPDATE: THE PARTNER IN THIS GAME HAD PICKED UP MORE GAMES AND IS UNABLE TO POST SO IT WAS DECIDED HE DROPS OUT OF THIS RP. ACCEPTING NEW PARTNERS.

 

[intimate]

RE: Truly a Daddy's Girl (Whtbitch4u2own & ....) LOOKING FOR NEW PARTNERS.

Harry woke in the morning slowly with a thick head and sticky eyes. His brain was fogged and is it slowly cleared and he became aware of his surroundings he was gripped by a sudden panic. A feeling of terror overwhelmed him. What had he done? He searched his memory, but all he could see was drink and Phoebe. But hadn't Monca been there? No. The wave of grief was like a wave of nausea. Monica was dead. He'd never see his beautiful wife again or share another intimate moment with her. The tears welled and then rolled, silently. He eased himself out of the bed, careful not to wake his daughter.

His daughter? As he stumbled to the bathroom he felt another stab of uncertainty. What had happened? What had he done? But he could not pull an image out of the blackness. He knew there was something wrong, something bad, but he just couldn't make it manifest itself in his head. He quickly stripped and stood under the powerful showerhead, letting the water pummel into his skull and his shoulders, cascading down his thick set body, still well-defined, despite his advancing years. The water started to work it's magic, waking up his head and his skin.

After 5 minutes he felt alive enough to wash and shampoo and start to let the water impact on all sides. It hurt and that was good. He needed something to kick him out of his malaise. He needed to get himself together and make a plan for life after..... Too much, too soon. He wanted a drink, but he knew that wasn't the answer. He wrapped a towel around himself, padded to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. He needed a vat of Columbia's best. He needed to get his head in order and he needed to remember what had happened the previous night before Phoebe woke in order to work out how much he needed to apologise.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

She stirred in her sleep when the bed moved as her father slowly slipped out of the bed. He'd have to either slide down towards the foot of the bed or roll over on top of her. Whatever it was, she stirred awake enough to hear and notice sounds around her but not try open her eyes. It wasn't until she heard her door thud shut behind her father when she peeked open her eyes, lazily glancing at the door after finding it. It'd been while since she'd sleep in her own room and her own bed, so it did take a few seconds to realize where she was.

It was then it hit her. All the memories rushed to her mind the moment she was actually awake and had realized who it must have been walking out of her room. Her mind raced to the moment when she jumped into her bed, with her father, thinking it would just be something where two people would share a bed. She had never thought that something like that would happen and even after trying to get away, she'd find him pinning her in his sleep. The whole act from the moment he snuggled into her from behind, mauled her breasts, felt her up, kissing her slender neck and even poked his member from behind...all while he was drunk sleeping with her, assuming her as if she was his wife. The act played and she threw her comforter off of her, noticing her hardening nipples, she freaked out. She figured it was due to the room being cold and she quickly jumped out of the bed and made her way to her attached bathroom.

She couldn't face him, not yet. Even though he may not remember, she would see flashes from last night the moment she'd see him. She decided to wash her face and then brush her teeth, while which, she pushed strands of hair off her neck to see if he'd left any mark while kissing and nibbling on her flesh. She was relieved to notice no visible mark on her skin. She quickly jumped into the shower and let the water run on her head and down her frame, washing the dirt off her frame as well as them memories. She wondered what she'd say if he asked about why he slept in her room and what he did? Though, she wished that he wouldn't remember anything and it was for better because she wasn't going to tell him how he was feeling her up. She dried herself off and then put on something decent to wear. When she was ready, she told herself how she couldn't just ignore him to steer clear of the topic. But, realizing how she wouldn't know what he'd remember and ask until she went out of her room. She knew she couldn't just stay away since they were under the same roof. So at last, she finally stepped out of her room and decided to walk into the kitchen, acting like nothing had happened. She felt her heart racing, looking up at him as she came around the counter to get herself a cup of coffee, "Good morning." She said and noticed how she could barely look up at him. At least, she was glad that she had plans that day to go out with friends and spend the day with them. She decided to act as if nothing had happened. She looked through the cabinets and found nothing she could make. There were no eggs, no pancake mixture, no bagels. "Seems we have to go get groceries. There's nothing here." She said taking a seat on the table, sipping on her coffee, "By the way, I am going to be out with friends today. And I will pick up dinner on my way back." She looked at him and flashes from last night rushed to her mind and that's when she darted her gaze elsewhere.

 

[intimate]

He looked up at her as she walked in and was overcome with conflicting emotions. Love for his daughter, shame for his actions, desire for the beautiful young woman he saw in front of him and sadness knowing he'd never see Monica again. "Yeah, maybe we should go shopping. You should enjoy yourself with your friends." He smiled weakly. He did want her to enjoy herself, but he was jealous. He wanted to spend time with his daughter. Then he felt guilty, guilty that maybe it wasn't just time he wanted to spend with her.

"So, shall we shop?"

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe was dressed in a white dress that came to little above her knees, ready to leave as she had planned a whole day with her friends. It was something that was planned few weeks back when few of her friends from high school messaged her, inquiring if she was coming home for the holidays. Besides, she needed to get out of here to clear her head after what had happened previous night.

Speaking of which, she looked at him for any signs she could read off of his face, possibly remembering what happened previous night. But the way he smiled weakly when she decided not to mention anything from the night and how he agreed to go shopping, she was pretty sure that he didn't remember anything.

She wondered if she should still tell him but bringing up such a topic didn't feel right. If he didn't remember it, it actually never happened. And she was okay with that. She sat there sipping on her cup of coffee and paused to look at him. "Oh? you mean now? I...uh..was actually saying it hypothetically. Seeing we don't have anything around and that we should. I can't today since I am going with friends. Some other time..." she said and felt bad turning him down. "Maybe tomorrow?" She suggested and looked at him.

 

[intimate]

"Okay," he replied. There was an awkward silence between them, so Alex turned and went back to his bedroom and got dressed. He would spend the day trying to sort out his teaching for the coming semester. But however hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of his daughter out of his head. The cute little white dress and just made her seem sweeter and more desirable. But is the smell and the feel from the previous night that invaded his thoughts most strongly. Her skin, like Monica's had been when they first met. Her smell, sweet and musky.

They say the olfactory is the strongest of all the senses when it comes to memories. So many times he could remember being close to Monica and it was always her scent that stayed with him. He couldn't help spending the day wondering where Phoebe was and what she was doing and whether she was having fun and then feeling a pang of guilt, mixed with a stab of jealousy. He wanted her here. was he being selfish, or was it something more?

The day passed far too slowly and he found himself procrastinating for distraction. he even navigated a few porn sites to see if he could relieve his tension, but they were also so false. Plastic women, uncaring men, fake moaning. It was so artificial it felt like it wasn't made to turn you on at all but simply to remind you how seedy it was. How pathetic to need such stimulation. Even the harder stuff that appealed to his darker fantasies seemed so clinical and by the book. No, what he wanted, what he needed was genuine emotion. But could he ever find that with Phoebe.

He grabbed a drink and sat in his favourite easy chair, cupped and hugged by the soft material from years of relaxing. Overwhelmed once more by self-pity and loss and yearning. Yearning for the one thing he knew he could never truly have.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe noticed how his face had sulked when she said not today but next time. She was talking about restocking their cabinets and it was just something that she meant they should do. Either one of them can go shopping or they can go together. If it won't be done today, she was planning to go with him the next day. It was just that she had this planned and her friends have been bugging her ever since she told them that she was coming home for holidays.

She felt bad when she said no and watching him leave but she also knew that she wasn't his wife. He needed to get out there, get hold of himself and meet new people. She wouldn't blame him if he went out on a date or something. It was about time. But, it was something she didn't see happening anytime soon. Not after how he recalled his wife in his dreams last night. She wondered if that happens every night or it was because she was around and in the same bed as she was.

She really wanted to help him but there was no way she could. She was only his daughter and the only thing she could do was give him emotional support and do chores around the house so it's not too much on her father. With that thought, she finished everything up in the kitchen and then cleaned a little bit of living room, in case he'd want to sit and watch TV. She then shouted, "I am leaving. I will be back later on. Don't wait up for me dad." She said and left. Shortly after which, she realized that she should have taken away the booze and hide it so he wouldn't get drunk again.

It was too late and she tried not to think about it much. She went out with her friends for lunch and then gathered at someone's place to spend some time. In the evening, they went to a mall to shop around and then had a dinner at this nice place that had opened up in the town. Before she knew, it was almost 9 when she left from the place and then arrived at her house. She parked the car and then opened the door to her house.

 

[SweetLips]

Harry woke in the morning slowly with a thick head and sticky eyes. His brain was fogged and is it slowly cleared and he became aware of his surroundings he was gripped by a sudden panic. A feeling of terror overwhelmed him. What had he done? He searched his memory, but all he could see was drink and Phoebe. But hadn't Monca been there? No. The wave of grief was like a wave of nausea. Monica was dead. He'd never see his beautiful wife again or share another intimate moment with her. The tears welled and then rolled, silently. He eased himself out of the bed, careful not to wake his daughter.

His daughter? As he stumbled to the bathroom he felt another stab of uncertainty. What had happened? What had he done? But he could not pull an image out of the blackness. He knew there was something wrong, something bad, but he just couldn't make it manifest itself in his head. He quickly stripped and stood under the powerful showerhead, letting the water pummel into his skull and his shoulders, cascading down his thick set body, still well-defined, despite his advancing years. The water started to work it's magic, waking up his head and his skin.

After 5 minutes he felt alive enough to wash and shampoo and start to let the water impact on all sides. It hurt and that was good. He needed something to kick him out of his malaise. He needed to get himself together and make a plan for life after..... Too much, too soon. He wanted a drink, but he knew that wasn't the answer. He wrapped a towel around himself, padded to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. He needed a vat of Columbia's best. He needed to get his head in order and he needed to remember what had happened the previous night before Phoebe woke in order to work out how much he needed to apologise.

 

[intimate]

Harry, went over in his mind memories of time spent with Monica, her smile, her laugh. When their relationship was at its best she had made him feel so loved that nothing else seemed to matter. Not money, not hassle at work, not things going wrong around the house. When they were together life was good. He had lost a friend as well as a wife. Now the future seemed bleak. The ache in his chest simply wouldn't go away and he had to deaden the pain.

He went to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a single malt whiskey. He poured a small measure into a crystal glass and took a sip. The alcohol warmed his mouth, then burned his throat before spreading a tingle outwards. He felt better, not emotionally, but just because he knew the alcohol would dull his pain. He swept the rest of the measure down in one large gulp. He poured himself a larger amount and sat back down, he distracted himself, scrolling through the internet. Amazon, some books he needed. Youtube, some comedy that distracted him and even raised a smile. As the drink was consumed, so he began to relax. Then an urge over-took him.

He googled hardcore bdsm and found the site he'd stumbled across before. It had amateurs and a home-made feel. He watched a few videos and then came across one with a slim girl with long dark hair. She seemed nervous as she had her clothes removed, her wrists bound and tied to a chain above her head. The she was lightly whipped with a cat-o-nine tails. It still made the girl flinch, but more with surprise than pain. But the whipping grew stronger. Then she was made to open her legs and the man whipped her from behind so that the fronds slapped upwards between her legs, stinging her pussy and making the girl twist with agony. The man told her to open her legs again and she did, the whipping continued and the girl began to cry, and Harry found himself with the glass in one hand and his rigid cock in the other.

As he watched, tears began to role down her cheeks and the girl's faced morphed into Phoebe's . Alex found himself tugging at his cock and becoming increasingly turned on at the idea of watching his daughter being whipped to tears by a fat stranger. Suddenly he groaned and came and dropped his glass. Shit, what the fuck was he doing. He stumbled to the bathroom to clean up and returning closed the tab, refilled the glass and sat staring at a newspaper report. Then he heard the front door open.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe did feel bad the first few hours she left from her house to be with her friends. Friends were good. They were there for support and she wondered if he was still catching up with few guys he used to hang out with; his circle of from friends from his high-school and college, even his co-workers. She didn't realize that she shouldn't have left him alone, not after how she's been away for quite a while.

She did think of calling home to check up on him but she wasn't his wife, just a daughter and they both had their own different life. Did they? The only common denominator was her mother and how they were attached to her....bonded by her absence and sorrow. Though, she was glad that it didn't hurt as much as it did before, at least for her. But, seeing him in pain, it all just came back rushing inside her.

She couldn't get herself to call him so she went about spending the day with her friends and when she was done, she was just as glad as they were that they finally did this. It's been a while since she had a real laughter. Her heels ached from wearing her heels so when she entered her house, the place was very dimly lit. So, the first thing she did was to turn a few lights on, "Dad?" She said and moved further into the house to find him sitting on a couch with newspaper in his hand. She wondered if he was actually drunk, seeing he had a glass in his hand as well.

"Hey...I hope you didn't eat. I brought you a take out." She said and smiled, thoughts from the previous night were far gone for now. She moved to the couch to sit next to him before kicking off her heels to place her feet on the coffee table in front of the couch. She leaned over to grab a remote and started flipping through few channels. She didn't really shop for anything but her friends did. She just needed some time away and was glad that she went. "So...how was your day?" She asked to make small conversation.

 

[intimate]

Harry watched Phoebe move gracefully into the room, the floaty white dress showing off her slim figure. As she slumped onto the sofa and put her feet up the material rose slightly above her knees and he couldn't help but look at the soft flesh of her thighs. The shadow cast, her legs slightly apart, his mind traced up between her legs to the point of intimacy that he knew he shouldn't think about, but he simply couldn't resist. It felt perverted, but he couldn't stop himself. She was his daughter - it was wrong. But she was also a beautiful young woman. The only woman he could be close to at the moment and she reminded him so much of Monica and he missed their intimacy so much that it was physically painful. He wanted to touch her, to feel his fingers running over her smooth skin. His cock was beginning to stiffen again.

He looked up at her and flushed, "No, I didn't eat. Thanks. Help yourself to a drink." He wondered if he could hear the break in his voice. It sounded unnatural to him, as if he were betraying his inner-most thoughts; his dark desires. He looked at her breasts gently rising under the thin material. "My day was okay, but I was worried about losing it. I don't want to drink tonight, but I don't want to be alone either. When I'm on my own my mind keeps throwing itself of the precipice and I'm worried I'm going to follow."

What was he saying? The words tumbled out of him. He wanted to hold her, but he was scared at what that might lead to. She was his daughter. Goddamit, he shouldn't feel like this about her. He wanted to slap himself. But instead he just said, "How about you, did you have a nice time?" and wrenched himself back to the TV in the hope that the images and sounds would distract him.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe moved around the room, her floaty white dress hiking not even an inch and yet, making her look all the more ravishing. As she sat on the couch, she placed her feel up after taking her heels off, looking up at the TV in front as she didn’t notice the way her dress hiked up. The reason why she didn’t notice because it wasn’t much and normal when wearing a dress. Though, ones who were noticing would notice…as was her father.

She wanted to ask him why he didn’t sleep in his bedroom. Assuming he usually crashed on the couch ever since, she finally looked at him, finding his face flushed. “You don’t mind?” She asked as she grabbed a beer, knowing she was underage but it was obvious he knew how teenage girls didn’t wait until legal age to actually start drinking. He had really eased down from his strictness she had noticed ever since the passing of her mother. She wanted to see just how drunk was he? She could smell the alcohol but she didn’t want to assume as she sat down and relaxed.

She did leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of beer, putting it to her lips as she drank from it. She placed her hand on his, “Look dad, I get it. I don’t blame you for drinking. You can and I have no problem. I am here for you. But, you also want to slowly wean off of it to casual drinking. Too much of it and it’s not good. I lost her but I don’t want to lose you too.” She said and turned her torso to look at him, “Speaking of which, I was wondering…you haven’t slept in your bedroom since then….” She wanted to talk to him about it, “That’s fine. I get it.” She patted his hand again before lifting back to place it on her thighs, “I had a decent time.” She smiled and looked at him, “Are you hungry or shall I put the take out in the fridge. We can eat it tomorrow afternoon.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked at him.

 

[intimate]

Harry watched her move, her lithe body swaying and the thin material hinting at the body beneath. It was hard not to think of her sexually. Even when he thought about how wrong it was. he rationalised that it wasn't as if he were going to do anything about it. Or was he? He thought for a moment. If she didn't have an issue, how far might he go. The image of the girl being whipped popped into his head:
http://www.videosxxxzorras.xxx/video/young-slave-girl-pixie-tied-and-whipped-to-tears-13706006467255986453
Harry and Monica had explored a great deal in their time together. Sometimes he'd even been scared it might get out of hand. She liked breath play and they had discussed how she might be taken to her limit. He couldn't imagine Phoebe understanding, he figured she would probably see it as abusive. Maybe she'd even have hated him, thinking he was hurting her mother. How could he possibly explain.

Her grabbing the beer bottle snapped him out of it, but instead of protesting that she was too young, or that alcohol was not good for her, he watched her raise the bottle to her soft pink lips, watched her throat move as she swallowed and watched a bead of condensation leave her lip and slide slowly down her chin.

"We can eat tomorrow. Right now, maybe we can drink together, watch a movie and just snuggle. like we did when you were little." Was he pleading? Was he deceiving her into physical contact? He thought he'd wait and see what happened. He clinked her bottle and smiled.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe had no idea of the ways her father watched her move. Had she known that his mind was wandering towards them being sexual with each other, she would be freaking out at the moment. Fortunately, she had no idea as she sat next to him.

She wouldn’t believe if he told her that her mother was into such things. It would be everything that she knew her mother by. She was caring, gentle and a real person.

She grabbed the beer bottle and started sipping from it. She wasn’t going to drink as much he had but it was not bad to share a drink with her father. He’d been really mellow after her mother passed away so that was a good change inside him that she appreciated.

When he told her they can eat the take out the next day, she arched back. “I don’t know about a movie. I mean we can watch for an hour or so. I am tired so I don’t know just how long I’ll last.” She said and looked at him. She did flinch a little when he told her they can snuggle a little. It was odd because he never mentioned this all these years and now, all of a sudden. She found herself choking on some air, “Umm that was when I was little.” She said and shrugged her shoulders, changing topic, “So what’s good on TV?” She freaked out a little. They couldn’t possibly cuddle…consciously. The night prior was different and he’d been drunk and passed out.

She settled back but didn’t move away from him nor snuggled up to him. She figured they’d watch some TV and call it a night. He wasn’t drunk so he might actually go to his bedroom and sleep too, not hers.

 

[intimate]

Harry was dismayed. Of course she didn't think of him in that way and nor was she his little princess anymore. he had to face up to the fact that having lost his wife he was now losing his daughter too. As she grew into adulthood she wouldn't want or need to spend time with him. She'd be forging an independent life for herself. Her friends. Her time. He felt an overwhelming wave of blackness crash over him and desolation once more flooded his body. What was the point. Monica was gone and now his only connection with her was drifting away. Soon he'd be on his own. Logic told him that he had to pull himself together; that he would/could find someone else. Maybe even be happy. But Monica could be special and had shared an interest in more visceral intimacy. Things he hadn't been able to share with others, either through fear or because they had made clear what their boundaries were.

He sat and stared at the TV screen, but he wasn't able to concentrate. Just her proximity made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt the same way he'd felt when Lucy Conner had rejected him in the playground in 9th grade. Humiliated, burning red, but somehow strangely aroused still. It was the conflict that ate him up. Phoebe looked so delicate, but maybe that was just the dress, emphasising her supple form. He felt bad again. It wasn't right for a Dad to fancy his own daughter.

After a period of comfortable silence. He stood and without looking at her said, "I'm going to bed, help yourself to another beer if you want."

He walked as noncholently as he could over to the cabinet, placed his beer bottle carefull on top and picked up a bottle of 20 year old single malt and a crystal tumbler. If he was going to drink himself into oblivion, he was at least going to do it in style. As he walked slowly out of the room he called over his shoulder, "Sleep well."

When he got to the spare room he stripped to his boxers and sat in the single armchair facing the window that looked over the backyard. The sun was a fading glow and the cicadas were adding their chirrup to the nighttime peace. The window was open and a warm gentle breeze eased itself across the room. The humidity drew beads of perspiration across his chest. The whiskey filled him with fire inside. he sat and stared into the middle distance, desperately willing his mind to go blank, but waht he saw, felt, heard, smelled was Monica. Her body, writhing, her neck arched, her eyes covered and her wrists bound. Her voice begging him to hurt her. His hands squeezing her throat.

His cock twitched at the thoughts, but was dulled by the effects of the alcohol. The images played in a loop. Never reaching climax, just that constant gif of arch and moan. The bottle slowly depleted. Harry crawledonto the bed and the tears of anguish came. A voice he had not realised he possessed let out the animal roar of dispair. He was more alone than he'd even been. The room was dark and hazy as if out of focus. The sounds muffled. His head filled with rushing blood. He wanted to die.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe wasn’t going anywhere. Sure, it might feel like that to him but she was actually moving back home and was going to commute from home since her college wasn’t far. Of course, these were her thoughts as she was strongly considering it and hadn’t told her father because she wasn’t sure herself.

One thing for sure, she wasn’t his little princess anymore. Especially, since he started to spend less time with her while she was growing up, he stayed busy with his business and that was the reason why Phoebe was close to her mother than her father. Though, now, it was only them two and they had to support each other, be there for each other.

It was quite in the room as the TV was the only thing that was making noise but when he stood up and left, “Oh okay?” She said and before she could say it was his idea that they watch some TV, he just left. It was odd and even she was tired. She certainly wasn’t going to just sit there and watch TV. Though, she did finish her beer and seeing him gone, she saw a bottle of hard liquor.

She turned around and saw he was gone, taking the bottle to pour herself a shot, she downed it. It had been a while since she went to parties and so, a while since she had a decent drink. She figured, why not? She didn’t want another shot but still wanted to have a sip or so, deciding to place the bottle against her lips to take a sip or two from the bottle directly. It did burn her throat but it eased her nerves, understanding why her father drank all the time.

She cleaned up downstairs and when she went upstairs, she watched him sitting in a guest room through cracked door. She went into her room and fixed her bed before going downstairs to get some water. On her way back, she decided to check up on her father again but this time, he was in the bed and without any lights, she could barely make out where was what. The windows were open and from it flew in a cool breeze.

She couldn’t help but walk over to the windows to close them and then on her way out, she stopped over to look at him. She saw how the comforter had fallen off the bed, noticing how he still had that athletic body even at this age. The drinking hadn’t given him beer belly so that was good. Without wasting time, she spread the comforter and covered him, leaning down to actually cup his cheek and ran her hand through his hair, “I am sorry for not being here.” She said and stood straight…preparing to leave to let him sleep peacefully.

 

[intimate]

She came to him out of the blackness. She had not left but was unable to reach him through the fog. He heard her foot-steps, sensed her shadow pass over him, then her hand was on his face, her fingers in his hair. "Monica," he whispered, "I've waited, I've been waiting for so long, I want you back." Were the words on his lips or in his head. He wasn't sure. The world was monochrome. He could feel her heat, smell her scent. His hand reached for hers and he interlaced his fingers and turned, pulling her down on top of him, his other arm circling her waist.

"I can't go on without you," he sighed into the warm night. Her weight on him, so delicate, yet so real. Monica had come back. Who knew for how long. But she was here with him now. Perhaps the strength of his longing had made substantial the thought that never left him. He didn't want to lose her again.

Even in his drunken state the feel of his dead wife rekindled his desire and his cock stiffened automatically. His body burned. His nerves remembered past times, like an athlete's muscle memory. His heart began to beat faster and his breathing deepened. Without needing to move his hands he could 'feel' her shape, the small but firm breasts, the flat toned belly, the slim waist, the full hips, the smooth thighs, the soft, shaven pussy. Everything that they had done together, the ecstasy and the pain.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe was still dressed in her white dress, bare feet as she had taken off her sandals downstairs earlier. She figured she’d change into something comfortable once she goes back into her room and decided to stop by the guest room when she felt a cool breeze coming from the slightly ajar door.

Seeing the lights were off, it was obvious that her father was asleep and him having few drinks, she was pretty sure that he was passed out like the other night. Though, she didn’t blame him since he was still in a bit of a shock of losing his wife, as was she from losing her mother.

She had different way to cope with it, like he did by sinking into booze and solitude. She couldn’t tell him she was sorry for not being there, it felt odd. Now that he was sleeping, it felt right to at least tell him what she thought and how sorry she was. Her hand slightly comforted him when he stirred from sleep and looked up into the dark room, at her. She almost pulled her hand back when he addressed her by her mother’s name, Monica.

His hold was strong and soon found him interlocking his fingers into hers as he told her how he’d been waiting for so long and he wants her back. Phoebe felt bad about his whole situation, seeing how he was longing for his wife. She could smell alcohol on him and since he called her by a name of Monica, she knew he was not in his right mind of state, just like how he was the other night.

She felt him pull her down and she couldn’t pull back, falling on top of him while one of her legs were on the bed and the other, still on the floor. It was an odd position since she was still trying to escape his grasp. She wasn’t his wife, but his daughter and the way his hand moved around her waist, she couldn’t just get away from him. She figured she needed to calm him and put him back to sleep, maybe then, she can sneak away. “Shh…the wait is over. I am back.” She said as she felt weird talking to him in such a manner. “Relax now…go back to sleep. I am here.” She said thinking he will fall asleep now or soon and she can go back to her room.

 

[intimate]

Harry pulled her towards him and his lips pressed against hers. She tasted amazing. His tongue tried to coax her mouth open. He wanted her so badly. Even with all the whiskey his cock was now rigid pressing against his shorts and her belly. his hands slid down to the hem of her dress and slid up the backs of her thighs and onto the perfect globes of her ass cheeks. Soft, yet firm. Toned. Monica had always worked out, it was one of the things he liked about her. Their sex had always been athletic, energetic, dangerous. There relationship was passionate in the best possible way. All the memories and sensations tumbled into his head. He wanted her. He wanted to feel that excitement again. His hands slid up and then down, now inside her panties, squeezing the soft flesh.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe was surprised as he shocked her by pressing his lips to her after she managed to speak a few words of comfort. She felt as if she could put him back to sleep and slip away but it was obvious that his grip on her tightened even further, from the fear of losing his wife again. She realized, it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d thought.

When she felt his tongue circle around her lips, trying to enter, she pressed hard to keep them shut. Her eyes widen further when she felt his hands move to hike her dress up to her ass and that’s when she tried to reach for his hands, pressing her palms into his and then entwine her fingers between his.

She squirmed a bit more, lifting her leg up from the floor and getting more foot on the bed, straddling him a little while she tried to get away. Of course, she was failing. He was much stronger, even in his drunken state. When she felt his hand slide under her panties, she quickly moved his hand away and brought it away from her frame and back onto the bed, “Easy…there. Relax.” She said to calm him down a little.

 

[intimate]

Harry felt her hands and the resistence. It was a game they'd played a thousand times. Although they had talked a great deal about both their fantasies, and in the end had settled on a safe word and gesture, there was always a few moments when their eyes would meet and a spark of fear would be in her gaze. They both new it turned them on. They had talked about limits but in the heat of passion, limits were to be tested, crossed, extended. There were times when he had thought he might hurt her and even one time when it crossed his mind he could take her close to death. His hand on her throat, squeezing hard. Her eyes begging him to stop but refusing to stop him. He had been so hard and come so violently after that it had shocked them both, but somethign drove them on, to find ever more dangerous and extreme moments.

Sometimes it was just a matter of the fear of discovery. A public bathroom. A shop changing room. The woods; the beach. Always her nudity more than his, always her subjugation. Even once in a library, in a quiet corner by the reference books. He made her strip completly, suck his cock then let him fuck her from behind. The only sound the pounding of his thighs against hers. he had made her walk around in a short skirt without panties and ride escalators, knowing that anyone below would at least be able to see her naked ass. He liked going to bars and fingering her, waiting until he caught the embarrassed gaze of a stranger, unable to pull themselves away from the sight. he had talked to her about watching her with other men, but that was the one asrea they hadn't been able to agree on. Not because Monica wouldn't let another man use her, but because Harry had wanted to put her into potentially dangerous and uncontrollable situations and she was genuinely scared at what might happen.

Harry was on auto-pilot. This was Monica and she wanted to play. He didn't need to be sober or able to fuly focus his eyes. he knew her. Knew what she wanted. He let her change her weight, then, without warning turned and rasied himself at the same time. "Baby wants to play," he slurred. Flipping her onto her back, grabbing her other hand and pinning both her wrists with one hand above her head. He had one knee between her legs and his free hand ripped her panties away from her and clamped itself over her pussy, his middle finger brushing her clit and sliding between her lips. His head dipped to her still covered breast and kissed hard.

"My little whore," he whispered with the menace that always sent a tingle of expectation through his wife.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe had no idea what sort of games her parents had played. She resisted and try to get away, not knowing this and many other fantasies were something her parents explored. Though, if she were to find her mother’s diary or something, she would learn that this was their new way of keeping things spicy in their love live, a change of recent and they haven’t had the chance to explore as much.

It was obvious that her father was thinking she was Monic, his wife, from the way he was holding her and not wanting to let go, subconsciously. She could see that his eyes were lazily open but the room was dark that he’d only see her silhouette and shadows. She had lost her balance when he took control of the situation by shifting her from the edge of the bed to the inside of the bed, trapping her between him and the wall.

She was trying to get away but it felt as if she was stuck in a quicksand, the more she tried to get away, the more she found herself getting stuck with him. The various names he called her mother by were baby, Mon, and hun. She realized quickly that she had to make him realize she wasn’t Monica. But then, it would shatter him, making him go back to memories that haunted him. Instead of telling him who she was, she tried to calm him down. “Baby wants to sleep.” She murmured softly as if felt odd to talk back to him in that way.

She wondered if her saying things like that did anything. “I am tired. I want you to go to sleep.” She said, trying to ease him into sleep but found her hands being gripped as he held them over her head. Before she knew, his knees was pushed between her legs when she found a hand sneak under her dress to pull at her panties. Her eyes widen and she gasped as he almost lifted her butt off the bed in process, hearing fabric being ripped.

The way he clenched at her sex as he leaned down to press his lips over her breasts under her dress, she couldn’t get himself to stop. He continued to surprise her when he called her his little whore and it felt so demeaning. “Let’s talk. Relax Harry. Take a moment first, please.” She tried to calm him again with her words.

 

[intimate]

Harry, let go of her wrists and moved both hands to the soft, tender, smooth flesh of her waist. God she felt good. He suckled hard, her breasts were so soft and the nipples so hard, his tongue flicked across them. She tasted delicious, but somethign was different. Monica had always smelled musky and this was more perfumed. Harry's head span and it was if he were watching a movie and dreaming at the same time. His hands slid to her hips and his mouth moved down over her rib cage, to her belly and to the soft downy mound abover her slit.

he heard her speak, her words floated in the dark, coalescing in a jumbled mess. Relax. Take your time. So she wanted it slow. While his passion was up, the alcohol was dulling his movement and the suggestion cooled him a little. But they had played teasing games a lot as well and sometimes would see how long foreplay could last before one of them gave in and demanded to be allowed to cum.

He dropped his hands and looped them under her thighs, pushing her knees up and opening her thighs. His head dipped, sniffing her scent, sweet and enticing. He took a long slow lick of her pussy lips, from bottom to clit. Then pressed his mouth to her raised nub and circled his tongue around the sensitive bud. Tears rolled down his cheeks. How he had missed his Mon. He missed her so much, the yearning felt like a hand cruching his heart.

 

[whtbitch4u2own]

Phoebe felt him release her wrists and found his large palms on the sides of her waist. It was then, she realized how far up he had lifted her dress that she was able to feel his fingers on her bare flesh. He continued to suckle hard on her breasts through her dress to a point she felt a wet spot on her nipples. With her free hands, she moved them over to his shoulders, lifting her head to see his head, trying to stop him as her hands moved to cup his cheek. “Stop it.”

She couldn’t help but use her words because she was weak in front of him. She felt him move further down as his hands move to her hips and his mouth was over her belly and further it moved towards her mound. She almost sat up on her elbows, trying to pull him back up but it was too late. Having no idea that her words of hesitation would only draw this out, whatever he thought he was doing, apparently with his wife.

Feeling his hands loop under her thighs, pushing her knees up to spread her legs wider, she freaked out and move upwards in the bed to get away from him. That’s when her head met with a wall, making her realize she was stuck. He felt like a beast; sniffing her scent, not easing back with his strength. Her small body almost jerked upwards, hitting her head into the wall when he licked her pussy lips ever so gently.

Now, that was something she would never forget. Her father doing such a thing to her while she was nothing but his wife for him, in his dream or subconscious. Oh, how she would do anything to make him stop. She did reach the back of his head, caressing and pulling at him, “Please come back up…Harry.” She urged and moved her other hand to loop around his shoulder, “Come here…” she said as she turned her hips to make him stop or at least stall him.

 

[intimate]

Something was wrong. Why was she resisting? THat wasn't like Monica, she loved cunnilingus. It was the reward for letting him hurt her and degrade her. The thing that told her just how deep his love and his desire was. Sometimes this was all they did, she made him slave to her desires. It compensated for the things he did that in other circumstances might be considered abuse. It had been their thing. He raised his head and crawled back up her. She was soft and warm. Inviting. He kissed her briefly, apologetically on the lips. The tears poured from his eyes. He had upset his Monica. She was cross. the pain in his chest was unbearable. He thought he would break. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't how it should be. This wasn't.... his mind drifted, his body relaxed. He wasn't quite asleep, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to distinguish between what was real and what was imaginary. Was Mon here? She was gone. Where was she gone? He knew but he couldn't remember. Why was he crying? Why was he sad? A shaft of piercing light entered his brain. If this wasn't Mon, who the fuck was he currently lying on top of?