Bailey Easton, and her boyfriend Brad, both 19 years old, wanted to get married, but first they needed her father's consent. Born and raised Catholic she met Brad at the end of high school. A budding romance followed. The youth snuck out into the evening each night to see each other. Then following school, Brad took a local factory job. It barely provided, but after Bailey and him moved into the same place, things were going good. Bailey, wasn't fairing much better living separate from her parents. She didn't miss the purist drivel of her childhood routines under their roof. Coming into her own as a young adult, she rebelled when it was safe, but followed the code of family honor ingenuously. She was an astern woman, prideful, and had a rigid perseverance to fulfill her family's secret rite of marriage. A sacred passage that was only ever hinted at while she was growing up.
The Easton Matrimony Night, her parents sometimes humorously explained it, but never in detail, had been performed since the days of Old Testament and according to tradition, an adult child could only marry and live outside the home if the father of the bride approved of the couple's love for each other. The bride's father would only grant request after spending a night with the new couple. In the time-honored tradition, meant to test the strength of the couple's love, the night is secret between the family. Borrowed from a slogan in a Vegas vacation commercial, Mr. Easton, Bailey's father liked to say,
"What happens on Matrimony Night, stays with Matrimony Night." Always followed by an awkward laugh and a pat or rub.
Brad had no idea what Bailey was describing when she tried explaining these riddles to him.
Bailey joined them after she left work, and the three talked about ambitions and plans, and most importantly: the family. Finally, after a few hours and a few beers Brad asked for Mr. Easton's daughter, but it was senior Easton's response that changed the course of the evening, "Brad do you understand biblical importance?"
"Good, then you know that a woman belongs to her father before her husband, don't you? That she is his property to give and command?"
Brad was taken aback at such bold objectification of his fiancé by her own father, but non-the-less simply nodded looking for approval.
Mr. Easton, then turned to his daughter and asked forthright, "Have you been deflowered?"
Brad felt the wind go out of him; Bailey and him had had sex several times, and he was afraid that if she told her father the truth, this would ruin their chances together. It wasn't like Bailey to lie to her dad, nor was it typical for her to openly discuss anything this private. Brad felt that he was still trying to work Bailey out of a shell. The girl was usually modest, only allowing Brad to fuck her with a condom, and never diverging from missionary. Regardless, she knew how to give head, and the condom sex was still enough blackmail to set her father against him and ruin any marriage plans.
Brad fidgeted under the tension in the room, but after a long pause, Bailey lied.
"Not yet Daddy..." She said in a shrill voice, emphasizing a name she never used around her father, except for her last birthday. The secret time she received her best birthday gift from him.
Mr. Easton sat quietly and seemed to analyze the answer between the young couple. Then he said, "Good," and then beckoned for Bailey to sit on his lap. She did as suggested, looking over at Brad with a puzzled but provocative look of anticipation. Brad smiled back shyly. Then after a few moments of Bailey squirming uneasily on her father's lap while he casually took a few more drinks, Mr. Easton stated; "Bailey baby, you can't love another man until you learn to make-love, and it's my duty to instruct you, do you agree?"
Brad was flabbergasted and thought for sure Bailey was going to slap her dad, but instead she smiled nervously, glanced about the room. First toward Brad then turning toward her father's serious expression, Bailey's cheeks glowed. She then lowered her gaze along her father's physique , and promised quietly:
"Yes Daddy, I'll do anything you want me to."
Brad was glued to his seat in amazement and disgust as he watched Mr. Easton's coarse, aged hands feel their way along Bailey's shapely curves, and cupping her delicate mounds. Each hand served a purpose; one cupped and vigorously kneaded her soft breasts, and the other undid her bra. She had been wearing a thin black bra, laced along the edges above the cleavage. He tossed it aside, and the hand rejoined the other in the vigorous squeezing and kneading of her luscious form. She bend her neck down, and began kissing him.
Not a peck between family; not a loving peck between a parent and a child; but a full lip, tongue-tasting, sweaty, sloppy exchange of saliva. She made no sound; but if a person could moan silently, then she made such a moan with her whole attitude. The two clumsily kissed each other across the cheek and stopped a moment to sample the ear. She twisted her tongue around the back of her father's ear and whispered something inaudible to Brad. Mr. Easton's expression lit up, and he bit gently on her ear lobe. Bailey's blond hair dropped around her father's neck as she returned the kissing, sucking, and licking all the while her right hand groped for her father's penis, trapped beneath her. Her legs swayed from the side of the lounge chair, and she began grinding her rump across his lap.
Father and daughter kissed, and licked, down each other's neck. She trembled and twitched as he kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. He took moments to suck tiny dark red circles into the inner crevasse of her neck and collar bone. Mr. Easton's hands groped his daughter's large tits, and caressed her youthful body. As the pair sucked, kissed, and licked as experienced lovers might, he lifted her work shirt, a rubbish green and gray polo and looped it over her exposed chest. Her pastel bare breasts within the reach of her father's rabid kissing and sucking, which he immediately performed upon the ample fresh skin. Mr. Easton's dominate hand rubbed along her core, down across her exposed stomach and into her pants. Brad watched the old man's fingers push their way past Bailey's pink and heart underwear, this too laced.
Senior Easton's south-bound arm twisted and bulged repetitively as his fingers sought new textile within her worn jeans. As his arm worked against her rocking across his lap, his lips came to one of her light pink areolas. His outstretched tongue glistened the puerile ovals then dashed across her upturned nipple. Bailey seemed to enjoy it and Brad thought he heard her moan. The two rubbed against each other and the fire burned hotter than Brad could have ever imagined. He felt half-hearted with the entire soiree. Feelings erupted an acidic taste in his mouth, but his quivering lip held still. He coughed unpleasantly, feeling like he had encountered a situation for which we was not prepared.
The rhythm swaying only stopped but left Bailey breathing heavily as she pulled herself into composure. Looking more satisfied, Mr. Easton said, "You might be a keeper for my daughter yet, but first I think my baby better go take off her clothes; we won't be needing those tonight."
Bailey stood up and adjusted her pants and top. Mr. Easton's hands, half concealing his hard-on, fell limp into his lap. The hand on top sparkled in the dim light; the fingers translucently glazed. Bailey inhaled and exhaled in long exuberant gasps. She trembled uncomfortably, and stood there.
Bailey stood there a moment, looking dumbfounded. Brad couldn't tell if Bailey was upset, happy, or simply confused. She swayed queerly biting her lower lip, and sucking inward on it. Her head was down, but she surveyed the room and her company carefully. Bailey knew her dad was a pervert, she had seen his collection of pornography in the past, and caught him masturbating on several occasions. Unbeknownst to Brad: on one such occasion, she even helped her father masturbate, and he had helped her. It was an innocent frolic upon her last birthday, but that seemed so different to Bailey now, so far away. She didn't understand what had happened between them then, but now she was certain things were going to go farther than her and her father's unusual relationship had taken them before.
There was a certain anticipation spoiled upon fearfulness in her haughty display of devilish tradition. Her breathing slowed with struggling mastery, and she smiled reluctantly, "Ok. You two go into the bedroom; I will be there in a second. I want to do something with my hair for you, daddy."
Bailey's brow knotted above shinning hazel eyes, and her smile changed to a teasingly sly grin.
Mr. Easton and Brad went into the bedroom, any attempt Brad could muster some courage to speak his mind, Mr. Easton barked an order at him. It wasn't like Mr. Easton to be demanding toward Brad, or to even impose himself with such ostentatious oppression, but the new Mr. Easton called the shots, which left Brad distastefully vicarious. Once in Brad and Bailey's apartment bedroom, the younger man sat, drawing the stool away from the bed and into a dark corner. The bedroom is a oblong room with a creaky, metal-frame bed. There is also a soft stool with a violet cushion, a gray dresser, and nightstands. On the wall next to the bed, a mirror mounted on the wall. Perhaps it was the most drab of all bedrooms, but on this night it looked like a puzzle box to be opened.
Easton emptied his pockets: an empty bottle of Viagra and some lube. He looked back toward the stool and mischievously grinned. He took off his shirt, and stood in front of the bed facing the hallway, but adjacent to the mirror and the stool on side. With the lights dim, a shadow fell across the hallway door. From the silhouette, Bailey appeared, naked and curvy. She stood in the doorway bashfully biting her lower lip, which was freshly painted in bright pink lipstick, which also had been used to write; Happy Birthday Daddy, with an arrow shaped heart on her lower abdomen below the crenulated imprint of her underwear. It, of course, suggested the indented birthday present was something between her softly pale legs.
How could Brad have forgotten? It was her father's birthday, he was in his fifties; Brad was sure, and feeling suddenly apprehensive. He thought about Bailey acting strange all day; he wondered if she had had any indication or premeditation of the incestuous activities in practice. He had proposed, she pushed it off for two weeks holding him on suspension for an answer. Then, as he was losing hope, she had told him yes upon her father's blessing. She had even suggested this night for a casual conversation with him. Bailey was also so prudent, but tonight she swaggered under a red light.
She tried to cover her naked body, but with blossoming tits as large as hers, it was a fleeting effort, and her dodgy hand hiding her silken skin lotus indulged the men in the room beyond reason. Her hair was styled in tightly pulled pigtails, each fluttering a stream of golden hair down to pelt the top of her trembling shoulders. She looked younger and more innocent than Brad had ever expected, and he involuntarily reached for his penis. He looked over at his soon to be father-in-law, and in the dim lit room he saw him blushing.
In a shaking voice Mr. Easton commanded Bailey onto her hands and knees. She looked over at Brad for approval; Brad nodded, and she obediently did as she was told. Tarrying in front of her father, naked as the day she was born, and dolled-up to his specifications, she crawled toward him as he instructed. Slowly and provocatively waving her hind, she scooted as summoned across the cold wood floor. She knelt in front of her senior, knees out in front and toes tucked under her seat, each leg spreading like a starfish. She looked downward and a tear dripped onto her bear knee.
This felt so embarrassing, but there was something in the forbiddingness of it all that empowered her onward. Would she do without her father's consent? Brad would surely leave, he wouldn't understand, she thought. She would have to follow her father's perverted ritual exactly as he commanded, so he would keep his promise of allowing her to marry. Only then would she be Brad's wife, and not her father's plaything.
She took a deep breath, and looked up into her father's eyes. She raised her trembling hands to his belt buckle. She looked like she was praying or begging. He smiled with the sudden thought, "Now beg for it," he insisted.
"Please..." she mutely whispered.
"Tell me what you want to do."
"Please daddy," she repeated impishly, "I want to taste your cum!"
Bailey's face was only a few inches away from the contoured bulge that pulsed in her father's pants. She seemed to notice and bit her lip seductively. It twitched and grew as she plead prying the tips of her fingers on her father's waistline. Clawing zipper and buttons, fumbling with the belt, and begging for attention, she was deplumed beneath him.
"Will you be a good girl and swallow?" Mr. Easton asked, tenderly, planting an open palm across her face. It was the same hand that held the musky scent of her passion.
"Yes, Papa; I'll swallow all that you give me¬¬ ¬- I promise!" Bailey beamed, then guiltily sucked her lower lip again. "Am I being a good girl for you tonight?"
He bend down and whispered in her ear, "Yes, you are. Now go ahead baby girl; give your daddy a kiss!" Mr. Easton smiled and nodded to Brad.
Bailey adverted her eyes from Brad's gaze and undid her dad's belt buckle. She slowly pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. His penis, which was fully erect now, sprang out and hit her across her nose and cheek. For an old man, his manhood was large and dominating. His one-day-older cock was hard as a rock and larger than one of her hands. As his flashing might swept across her face, a dab of pre-cum dribbled out and mixed with Bailey's tear. On her cheek it separated into a thin sticky strand, like a string of glue, webbed between her lower cheek and her dad's imposing penis.
She reached up to wipe it away, but he reached down and guided her hands to the base of his shaft. He motioned for her to pull from there. Brad knew that this wasn't Bailey's first blowjob, but definitely the first between family. Her hands fumbled as she tried to stroke the dick sensually and extended her tongue around the purple head. She licked in a circular motion and puckered her lips over the tip. Bailey awkwardly sucked the length of her father's cock, quickly leaving a smudge of pink lipstick stain. Slurping and swallowing, she was noisier than she meant to be. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and embraced poetic movements.
But she gagged when he had taken a hold of her hair, forcing the lipstick smears into the back of her mouth in one quick thrust. Her eyes lit up, and she hastened a glance over to Brad. He had scooted the stool closer to the bed and his dick out of his pants - masturbating. Frightened by her father's ferocity and the impulsive gagging while he held her longer and longer. She would pull away, but his hands tightened around her bouncing pony tails. He pulled her face further down his massive staff each time she managed any freedom, and in quick secession. She gagged loudly, and drooled out of her mouth with each attempted gasp. Bailey closed her eyes, and bobbed her head.
The first taste was salty, and like sand. Bailey's father had an aroma of freshly dug dirt and she inhaled it becoming intoxicated. Her tongue worked around the wrinkles and the contours of her father's foreskin. Her wetly painted lips curled as she accepted him farther into her mouth. But it was the drool she would dislike above anything else! The cold slimy spit that dribbled from her chin, running down between her breasts, across the supple divot of her belly, and pooled on the floor around her pussy. As she bounced up with each gulp her quivering labia lapped the slime from the floorboards. The splashdown of her raw skin diving into the pool of saliva created a wet slopping sound - Slooop.
It was as more pre-cum drained against the roof of her mouth and ran down the back of her throat that Bailey noticed something more than the cold spit making her pussy wet. Accepting the foreign flesh in and out of her mouth in bold display of Brad, all at once, felt natural. A warm gooey sensation tingled inside her guts. The warm trickle inside her privates mimicked the cold slime flowing around the outside. It began to formulate together and soon her entire inner thighs were wet and dripping with the magic love potion. She tried to finger the warmth back into her privates. But she was fighting a losing battle as her father forced his hard dick in and out of her mouth. The room began to spin for her.
"Get ready for it," Bailey heard her father say, "get read..y for it, oh..." He stuttered and moaned. "Oh ba-by, oh yes, I'm gonna, I'm gonnna cum in your mouth! Remember to swallow... just like a good girl, oh yes baby.. I'm cumming...ooh."
Mr. Easton bucked his hips and tightly wrapped Bailey's pigtails around his grip. He held her in close to him for several seconds. She gulped and gagged. When she was allowed to pull back, she coughed upon a flow of a similar magic potion. Warm milk white semen pouring from her father's fat throbbing prick swam about in her mouth. As her dad's dick pulsed against her tongue, a river of cum flooded her mouth. There more than Bailey had expected and some of it dripped from her lips and slithered down her wet body and toward her sticky pussy.
She heard a moan not her father's, and panicked when she remembered Brad was still in the room. She glanced quickly toward her boyfriend, who was wildly stroking his own dick. Relieved from her fears, she was hornier than she had ever felt before, but also ashamed despite Brad's approving groans. Then she closed her eyes and swallowed the pooling cum in her mouth in two large gulps. She glanced up after doing so, and looked for the approval from her father. Her eyes were red from crying, and her face was puffy as she ate every inch of her father's draining manhood.
"Good girl," he said lovingly. "Let's put you on the bed now."
Mr. Easton winked at his beautiful daughter. He was panting hard and even coughed a few times. With a heavy wheeze, he bent over and pulled Bailey up upward by her armpits. He then spun her around toward the bed, yet keeping her facing him. He held her in his arms, then allowing her to lean backward toward the bed he read aloud the lipstick heart;
"Happy birthday, to me? Oh I couldn't be happier!"
"I'm glad you like it, does that mean Brad and I..."
Bailey's question trailed off as he laid her back. In clockwork motion he lifted her legs skyward. His hands slid from her hips to her inner thighs, then glided them upward and apart. Once she was laid completely back and her legs held in a raised V with his hands in the crook behind her knees, he pulled her to the edge of the bed, sat on the floor, and buried his mouth into her tender flesh.