When we moved to Aurora, I imagined a better life. I didn’t quite envision this: my wife, now 35, her slim frame and still impossibly perky tits, bobbing up and down on my cock while I flipped through our oldest daughter’s Instagram; my wife, Sarah, describing our sweet high schooler in the most degrading ways possible as she flexed her small hips against me, searching desperately for an orgasm she knew she didn’t deserve.

“Imagine how good her pussy tastes. She’s been shaving it for a few years now. It’s smooth and bald, just waiting for a cock to stretch it out.” As she says this, my eyes stare fixedly at my phone, tracing my sweet girl’s long legs up from her firm calfs to her bikini-clad Spring Break crotch. “Don’t you want to fuck her in the ass? Imagine her face covered in cum. Imagine your cum leaking from her freshly fucked ass. Don’t you want to hear her say thank you? Don’t you want to watch her cum from your hard cock in her ass. Don’t you want her to look up at you with those big green eyes and her face covered in cum and say, Thank you daddy.” She said the last part in a sweet, breathy flasetto that put me over the edge. I came inside Sarah, wishing to God it was my daughter.

Our daughter had turned 18 the year we moved, and between the pressures of high school, the jarring move across the country to this little suburb of Colorado, Natalie had grown a little distant from us. In Ohio, she was the captain of her cross country team, a state track star, an honor’s student. In a few years she had sprouted and bloomed, almost overnight. An athletic frame, her mom’s long legs, a beaming smile, handful B-cups and an ass that I found myself staring at whenever she wore her running spanks. I never imagined myself the kind of father who would ever stare too long, but, somehow, my little girl was a woman, and, invariably, I was still a man.

As a sales rep, I’d done well and my wife and I had always known that we wouldn’t settle in that small town forever. We wanted to offer our kids a different perspective of the world, a more progressive education, and a little more culture than the rough-edged stylings of our little farm town.

Aurora just made sense. The company offered me a sizable amount to move, we had great equity in our house. And the school system! My wife and I had grown up in great schools, we’d gone to a good liberal arts college together, and we really believed that a community of parents, dedicated to their children’s future could make the world of a difference.

So we moved, we began this chapter in our lives that would forever change our family.

My wife was the first to bring up our daughter. Natalie spent more and more of the day sulking in her room. I felt bad. She had left her friends, she had started at a new school and she was no longer the state champion athlete and A-student she once was. I worried for her. My wife, though, she wanted to make things work. She felt like she could force Natalie to love this new life.

I remember one morning, Natalie bounding down the stairs, bee-lining to her car, dressed in the sluttiest and sexiest outfit I had ever seen: a short skirt that just barely covered her ass, a crop top with a plunging neck that showed her perky, pointy nipples. She waved to me and I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t stop in my chest. “Bye Dad.”

Sarah swung from her work preparing breakfast at the kitchen counter. “No you don’t,” she said.

Natalie stopped. She cocked her knee out, giving me a look at the inside of her thigh, and she looked at Sarah with disgust, “What?”

“You know damn well what. Get upstairs and change.” She pointed a knife (unintentionally, but no less ominously) toward the staircase.

Natalie made a tisking sound and turned toward the door.

“You will NOT treat me like that young lady,” Sarah said.

I know that I should have intervened, but I also knew that something in Natalie was hurting. She needed this. She needed to make new friends and the idea that she might make some mistakes in order to do it, well, it seemed like the right move. This was a safe community, the school could handle her acting out, provide her with more clothes — or, hell, maybe some boy would ask her out, give her something to wake up for every day.

Sarah looked at me for support. She saw my eyes trained on my daughter’s crotch. So did Natalie. Sarah frowned and Natalie grinned from ear to ear. “Mom, don’t give me shit just because you can’t get dad hard.”

I almost fell out of my chair.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. Dad knows I look good and everyone at school will too. Don’t get all over me because you can’t make Dad happy. That’s between you two. You’re a dried up all hag. Dad probably jerks off to porn made by girls my age anyway. So why don’t you get off my ass.” She walked over to me, bent down and kissed my cheek. She ran her hand along my thigh and, whether intentional or not, she rubbed the head of my cock.

I was beside myself. But not more than Sarah. Sarah was standing, knife still in hand, watching it all take place. As I heard the door slam shut, I rose from my seat. Sarah hadn’t moved, but something was stirring deep inside of me. The way Natalie had talked to her mother, the way she had kissed me on the cheek, something broke inside of me.

As Sarah stood flabbergasted, I strode up to her, I slid her sweatpants down and ran my fingers over her slippery cunt. Sarah hardly moved. She just let me strip her pants down in the middle of the kitchen, in the wake of a complete dressing down from her own daughter. She was dripping wet. This was the moment I found out something incredible about my wife: she loved to be humiliated.

I pushed her upper back so that she was bent over and I slid my cock easily into her pussy. She was quiet at first. Her pussy creamed around me. She was hot and grunting in short animal bursts. And then, “You wish I was younger, don’t you?”

I slammed into her, my cock buried to the hilt inside of her.

“I jerk off to young girls ten years younger than you almost every day.”

She moaned. “Yes.”

“I need a younger woman. I need a tighter cunt.”

“Yes”

“Don’t you want me to be happy? Don’t you want me to cum?”

“Yes, baby. Pretend I’m a little college girl. Use me, defile me, baby.”

I slammed into her harder and harder. “Use me.”

“You’re cunt is so sloppy wet, you dirty fucking whore.”

“Treat me like a little college aged fuck toy. I want to watch you fuck a girl like that. I want to watch you make her cum, watch her face when you slide inside of her. I want to watch you cum deep in her pussy.”

Fuck. She was hitting things inside me I didn’t know I had.

“Cum in her pussy, babe. Treat her like the little fucktoy she is.”

“You have no idea how badly I want that.” I sunk myself deep in her cunt, feeling the walls her pussy convulsing around me. “You can’t please me anymore.”

She let out something animal. She was cumming from some place deep inside herself. “Nnnnnngggghhhh”

I fucking loved it. For the first time in months, I burst deep inside of her.

I don’t know how long we stood in silence at our kitchen table, my cock buried in Sarah’s soaking pussy, but it must have been a few minutes. We didn’t say a word. I slid out of her, my cum dripping down her leg, and she pulled her sweats up. I walked upstairs and cleaned my cock off while she returned to chopping whatever it was she was working on for breakfast.

Now, I shouldn’t have, but after the display this morning from Natalie, as I passed her room, I couldn’t help feel my cock jump. I listened for my wife downstairs, and then I entered her room. I called it the care of a concerned parent, but there was, of course, something more sinister in my intention. She had brushed the head of my cock, enjoyed the leer of my eyes on her. It was like I had gotten the taste for something I couldn’t kick that easy. I wanted more.

Unfortunately for me, her room was ascetic and almost alarmingly clean. It almost made me turn right around on my heels. But the nerves and the rush of invading her privacy made me stay a little longer than I might normally have. I poked around her desk, her calendar. I opened some of her drawers and then to her closet — immaculately organized. My daughter was going to be a terror to a young man one day. I looked over my shoulder and then back to her closet, to her hamper, made sure I could still hear the methodical chopping and stove-noises of my wife. I lifted the lid and stared down into a pile of her clothes.

I knew what I was after. I knew before I had even walked into the room the real purpose of my being there. I shifted some things around and then pulled a tiny thong from yesterday’s clothes. The crotch was gummy, not just like she had been aroused — which was clear — but like someone had rubbed vigorously at her wetness. I lifted them to face and drew in a breath of her sweet cunt. I was hard again in an instant.

Looking over my shoulder, I released my cock and began to pump it gently and then more intentionally as I smelled her incredible, intoxicating scent — acidic, flowery, musky. What was she doing that her underwear had gotten so soiled? She must have been dripping wet. Was it her? Did she rub her clit in some clandestine way at school? At home? Was it a boy? Was she in a boyfriend’s car getting her pussy rubbed to orgasm? In less time than I can ever remember it taking, I could feel cum rising in my balls. I kept imagining my daughter pumping her hips against a young man in the front seat of his car, jerking this poor sop toward her own quivering release. I pulled the thong from my face and, in a moment of primal need, I came directly into my daughter’s dirty thong. Wad after wad, creaming onto her panties. I reached to the wall for support and hunched over slightly as I stroked myself against the soft, cum soaked material. The more I thought of my cum cumming onto her cum, I just came harder. When I was done, I tried to regain my posture, adjust myself, and refasten my jeans. I set the absolutely soaked thong back in the hamper as inconspicuously as I could, half hoping she might find it, dip her finger into the incredible amount of cum I had left and rub herself to an orgasm at the very taste of my offering.

I was unhinged. And more than a little ashamed, I admit.

My wife was downstairs, probably reeling still from the morning we’d had. If she only knew. This was the start of something very new and different in our lives.

And it was just getting started.

As I was about to leave, a pamphlet on her nightstand caught my eye.

It was a normal-looking pamphlet, the kind of tri-fold you would expect to find at the guidance counsellor’s office. On the cover were two wholesome looking parents and their young daughter. “The Aurora Student Seminar.” I smiled: A-S-S.

I opened it up and I had to read it twice, not sure I fully grasped what I was looking at the first time. Here’s what I mean:

“College is a place of new opportunities and new horizons. The Aurora Student Seminars are designed to break the ice and give students a head-start on the opportunities available to them at the next step in their schooling. Over the course of a few weeks, your daughter will have the opportunity to engage in all kinds of activities that will make the college experience easier to navigate. Fellatio, facials, anal, … mentors from across the Aurora community will help prepare your daughter for anything she might face.”

 

Pure dope, thank you!!!!