Sexual Assault 2: Humiliating, Degrading, and Impregnating my Fertile Daughter in front of Family
Last night I raped my daughter. It’s 9:03am now, and at one point in the night, I must have tied to her back to the bed. Glancing over at Michelle, I saw her in her bed sleeping. The sheets were covered in sexual fluids.
I stood to my feet and stretched. Looking at my daughter, I saw her legs spread and tied to each footpost of the bed. “Hmm,” I said, feeling my morning wood. Seeing her cummy, messy, vagina, I wondered if I should clean her off in the shower before raping her again. Walking over to Michelle, I realized that I might still be drunk.
Noticing the Fifth of Whisky on the table, I realized there was only a few shots left in the bottom. Then I heard my daughter let out a long-winded snore. I turned to the bed and remembered very little from the night before. Slowly a smirk crept across my face. I climbed onto the bed and put my fingers between her legs, running my hands up her soft skin. The smell of her sexy lotion filled my nose and further stiffened my dick.
Michelle stayed asleep as a groped her vagina, feeling her soft pussy lips and juicy insides. I began to move my fingers faster, my other hand sliding towards her ass. Within minutes, I had moved myself into position over my sweet daughter and pointed my cock down at her cunny. Seeing her sleeping face, I watched as I lowered myself onto her, my dick going into her tight eighteen year old pussy.
Just as the tip of my girthy cock opened her pussy lips, I watched as her eyes opened, making contact with mine. Her beautiful brown eyes enticed me to fuck her hard. When her mouth opened to scream, I put my hand on her mouth and held tight. “Keep it quiet,” I spoke. “If your sister hears me, you will be responsible for her rape as well.”
I saw Michelle’s eyes widen in surprise. She shook her head, sweat dripping down her forehead.
“That’s a good daughter.”
Suddenly Michelle screamed. My hand moved as she tried to bite into me. “You bitch!” I yelled, standing from the bed just in time for my daughter’s bedroom door to open.
“What’s going-” Freya spoke.
I watched as her eyes went from the bed to me.
Like a cheetah on a mouse, I lunged onto Freya, throwing her onto the floor on her back. She began to scream, but by the time her mouth opened, I had already cuffed both her hands. I worked quietly and quickly, moving the rope into position and tying my daughter’s feet to the bedpost. Once I was satisfied with my work, I began to grow tired of the girls screaming. “Shut up,” I told Freya as I shoved my dirty boxers into her mouth.