textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/trinit06.txt

                         Chapter Six

     For weeks, Darlene and Christina fucked and sucked and played
roles and collected souls while I wasn't getting any at all.  I had
turned into a voyeur watching and doing myself like a dirty old man
in one those dirty little booths in adult video stores.
     I wanted cock.  Not just any old cock, either.  I wanted a
pretty one, big and dynamic and part of a real man.  I wanted Daddy.
When the pussy speaks, the rest of me listens. The pussy, just like
the cock, sets aside nonessentials such as insults and breaches of
trust when the juices are dominant. Hypocrisy itself, whether merely
a generalized behavior you abjure or an act that personally affects
you, can be overlooked at least long enough to get laid.  Our high-
sounding melodramas and psychosocial intensities are brought into
perspective when our crass biological mechanisms express themselves,
telling what is really important in life and has to be handled.  No
matter the seeming significance of the issue before you, if the body
says go take a shit or you're sexually turned on or you have to cum
now, you will.  Your causes and projects just have to wait their
turn.
     Thus it came to pass that I cuddled up next to Daddy on the
couch one evening, and we watched old movies and ate hotdogs.  When
you boil a wiener, it swells up just big enough to remind your pussy
and mouth of what they've been missing but not big enough to do more
than torment you.  I was tormented.
     We were watching Dracula, of all things.  Daddy said, "He
wasn't quite so appealing in the original Bram Stoker book. Smelled
like a slaughter house full of disemboweled animals."
     "That's interesting," I said.  "I want to suck your dick."
     "There was a real person named -- what did you say?"
     "I said I want to suck your dick."
     He looked at me, no doubt wondering why, after these weeks of
no sex with him at all.  But he wasn't about to sidetrack me with a
discussion.  Like I said above, issues can wait.
     "Ok.  Suck it.  You'll find it right where it's always been."
     I dismissed where all my Daddy's big sweet cock had been in his
hyperactive sex life, and unzipped his pants, adeptly stuffing a
cloth napkin over the zipper so it wouldn't puncture the base of his
prick when we got going.  Nothing can be more distracting to a man
getting a blowjob than prick pain.  I didn't want to be interrupted,
and I didn't want him to be.
     He was right.  His big dick was still there.  Flaccid peters
turn me on, especially when they're big like Daddy's. "Don't get
hard too fast, Daddy.  I want to suck it like this."
     "I'll just watch a little TV," he quipped.
     I took half his dick in my mouth and moaned as I cupped it on
my tongue and clamped it in place with my lips.  Unlike a wiener, my
daddy's nice big soft dick let me slide my mouth clear down until I
touched base and all the way back up to the head without actually
moving my mouth, except to suck, of course.
     Different parts of the tongue and mouth have different kinds of
taste buds and sensitivities.  The unhurried sucking of Daddy's dick
the way I was doing it gave me a variety of sensations and flavors I
forego in a frenzied gobbling for cum.
    Going down slow, I tasted the characteristic differences by
focusing my attention on different parts of my tongue and mouth.
All the way down, the head of his dick was in the back of my mouth.
I sucked with my lips and the front half of my tongue for one
sensation and with the back of my mouth for head taste and a duller,
thicker sensation.  When I pulled back, I focused on the experience
all along my tongue and lips and the inside of my mouth at different
stages.  Then I savored the different taste of the head of his dick
on the front part of my tongue.  I went back down to remind myself
of how the head tasted in the back of my mouth, then came back up
and compared it to the taste and sensation in the front part. They
were both wonderful, and getting there and back was wonderful, too.
     I lip-sucked his helmet with my tongue pointed down so the end
of his dick could poke at the middle of my tongue.  I got a craving
which required that I hold his big schlong and milk it while I
licked all around the helmet.  Then I went through the whole
procedure in a few smooth movements to integrate all the tastes and
sensations at once.  Lick around the base of the helmet, lip it and
tongue it, slide down halfway, renew the grip halfway down, push all
the way into his hairs, and then suck my way back up.  I did it and
did it and did it and did it in flowing integrated movements that
gave me exactly the unified experience I wanted in my mouth.
     I heard Dracula say, "You are a wise man, Van Helsing," and
remembered I had left Daddy sitting up there watching TV. I looked
up at him.  I don't know how to describe the expression he had on
his face as he sat there looking down at me.  Sort of a hollowed out
or dazed, perhaps the wide-eyed idiot-like expression of one who is
awed, stunned, titillated, and beguiled all at the same time.  Maybe
it was just a daddy marveling at what his daughter was doing.
     "Daddy."  I said it in my best little-girl voice.
     "My, God," he said in a barely audible sigh.
     "You're getting harder, Daddy," I teased.  I cupped his balls
in my hand and fondled them.
     "Suck it."
     I took it in my mouth again and did the whole number slowly
while manipulating his balls.  I pressed my middle two fingers
against the pressure point under his testicles and worked his balls
in my palm with my thumb and other fingers, all the while giving him
the new Trinity blowjob I had just developed.
     "My daughter is sucking me off," he observed very quietly.
     "I'm going to make my daddy cum, and I'm going to swallow my
daddy's cum," I murmured.
     I sucked his dick lovingly and caressed his balls with soft
hands.  He stroked my hair and petted me serenely, lingeringly.
     "I'm very much in love with you, Trinity.  I don't think I
could live without you."
     I could barely hear him, barely sense his sedated fear of
losing me.  I felt guilty at what I had been up to lately. This
loving, generous man with his dick in my mouth, in love with me, had
a sense of the foreboding, a presentiment of imminent loss, and was
telling me of a soul about to be wounded and asking that he not lose
the one thing he held most dear under heaven: me.
     But his cock was in my mouth, immense and august, and I could
not at that moment have given him spiritual balm in any better way
than by receiving his essence into myself.
     "Cum in my mouth, Daddy."


     He released it.  His splendid member burped, and I got a shot
of Cowper's up the length of my nose before I could get my mouth
back over his dick.  Just in time.  He began filling my mouth, and I
began drinking it.  He had gone weeks without release, and I
swallowed and swallowed and swallowed more gushes of thick man cream
than I thought two balls could hold.  I thought he must have a
reserve tank down there in that powerful male apparatus, and I was
glad for it.  I sucked with all parts of my mouth and milked his
long thick tube to get all of it.  Every time I thought he was done
and started to suck up what had spewed over, he'd shoot some more of
his hot substance into my mouth, and I'd swallow.  I saved up
several loads so I could swallow a whole mouthful at once.  I felt
it slide down my throat like the big nasty slug of cum it was, and I
had to swallow several times to get it all down.
     Daddy's cum.  Daddy's cum from Daddy's dick.  Breathes there a
soul anywhere on earth among the daughters of men one so sublimely
blessed as I?  I counted my blessings as I cleaned my daddy's balls
and cock with my mouth and tongue. His spent peter, flaccid again,
was still delicious but had a new taste and feel altogether
different from its presucked state.  No matter how sedulously I
licked, it retained a sticky, clammy quality, and I liked it.  It
meant this cock has had sex, has performed one of its primary
functions, and will resurrect itself in time to do it again.
     I laid my head in his lap and held his big floppy sticky cock
in my mouth.  My daddy's cock in my mouth.  He stroked my hair and
caressed my face and neck and shoulder. I sucked at will, and he let
me, but mostly I just let my natural mouth movements happen and
basked in the intimate glow of domestic tranquility.  I entered
sleep gracefully.

     The halcyon personality of the evening lingered sweetly into
the night.  I awoke when Daddy took his dick out of my mouth and
lifted me in his strong arms.  He carried me to his bedroom.
Kissing me lovingly, he placed me on his giant bed and removed my
clothes.  Unhurriedly, he removed his own clothes, never taking his
eyes off mine.  Those eyes so kind, and his expression so warm.  I
felt genuinely loved, his beloved, my daddy's lover and soul mate.
     He crawled on top of me, and I opened myself to him.  He
entered me slowly and steadily, kissing me with profound tenderness.
He fucked me as he had seldom fucked me before, slowly,
methodically, savoring each stroke up inside of me, cherishing the
feel of my female body.  I met his movements with my own.  He held
his hardness deep within me and locked his open mouth on mine.  Our
kiss was a slow, chewing, tonguing, sucking kiss, and we held each
other as one and experienced the feel of each other in our
incestuous coupling. He withdrew nearly the full length of his shaft
and slid it all the way up in me again, holding it there as we
renewed our sensations both physical and mental.
     He began pumping steadily, rhythmically.  We melded together in
the natural unity of father and daughter, moving with celestial
harmony to the music of the ages, the dance of sexual love.
     I found the words he had found earlier to express a new depth
of love:  "I'm in love with you, Daddy."
     "I'm in love with you, Trinity."
     The magma of his manforce gushed from him to me in symbiotic
interfusion of maleness and femaleness as we abandoned ourselves to
each other in the eternal ecstacy of divinely inspired sexual orgasm
and the sacred love of daughter and father.
     That is, we fucked and loved and cum until we passed out. It
was the best and most sensual and fulfilling fuck I had ever had. It
would be matched by no other again until Daddy and I returned for an
encore and then a thousand more -- after lessons were learned that
still had to be learned.
     Oh, how I wish the lessons men and women must learn could
somehow be presented linearly in nice, neat, orderly fashion with
one module following the other logically and no branching into what
could have been an infinite abyss.  On the other hand, had there
been no snake in the Garden of Eden, would Adam and Eve have missed
knowing their joys for want of contrast?
     This man I loved and who loved me could not be the fiend
Darlene and Christina had portrayed him to be.  Our love was true,
our sexual union beyond discrediting.  I would confront the diabolic
snake and her beautiful offspring who had weaved and swayed and
beguiled me.
     I could be wise as a fox instead of harmless as a dove this
time.  If necessary to effecting a good end, I would be as deceptive
as Darlene had been.  I wasn't in too deep to pull out.  I would lie
and say I had merely given them shelter and had no knowledge of
their sinful activities.  They may bruise my daddy's heel and hurt
those they led astray, but we would all recover and be the stronger
for it.
     Maybe someday I would meet my real mother, and she would join
Daddy and me in our union of bodies and souls.

     Yes, I was eighteen and gullible, but I was learning fast.
Looking back over my life, I think it is my trusting naivete that I
now miss most.  There are sophisticates enough already in this
world.  What we lack are the innocents, people not on guard, not
afraid to be fooled.  What we lack, and what we most need.
     In a short time, I had gone from loving Daddy to hating him and
back not only to loving him but being in love with him.  Can there
be a middle ground?
     If so, I didn't find it with my next lesson.  I confronted
Darlene and Christina.  How did Christina get a cross brand when
Daddy didn't know she existed?  According to Darlene, Daddy thought
Darlene had aborted the baby.
     "We shouldn't have let you believe your father burned the cross
into Christina," Darlene said.  "Christina did it herself as a
symbol of solidarity with me.  She showed you her crotch just to
identify herself, and we just never spelled it out.  You assumed
your father had done it, and we should have told you otherwise.  We
know how persuasive Jonathan is, especially in bed, and we knew he
was fucking you."
     Ok.  After some discussion, her explanation was reasonable.
But I didn't believe Darlene had just run across me by accident on a
Sunday morning in New Orleans.
     "You're right.  It was not just a coincidence.  I thought we
told you that.  We had been collecting data on Jonathan for two
years and had followed him to New Orleans.  The whole act in the
hotel room when I pretended to be shocked at seeing him on TV was
just that.  An act, perfectly timed.  And my shock at seeing your
cross was an act.  Try to understand that we had been working
undercover for two years; you get to where you automatically take a
devious route to everything you do."
     Her frankness was disarming.  But if they were so habitually
deceptive, they wouldn't be above staging scenes and taking dark
photographs and showing me a scratched up video tape of a blond man
I couldn't really see taking turns on a prostitute with three other
men.  The reenactment of what Daddy and three other preacher boys
had done to Darlene was a bit too pat.
     Besides, I told them, I simply did not believe that Daddy could
be so completely reprobate as to make love with me as he had this
week and say the things he said if what they were telling me was
true.  No one, especially Daddy with me, could be that cold a liar.
     Darlene and Christina looked at each other in some kind of
mental conversation.  "We have to show it to her, Mother," Christina
said.


     And they did.  It was a videotape, well photographed with good
lighting and in color.  It started with a back shot of a woman
sitting on a man's face.
     "Oh, great," I said.  "Here we go again.  I'm supposed to
assume the man I can't see is Daddy?"
     "Keep watching.  And keep listening.  There were five cameras
set up in that room, and we paid a professional porn director a lot
of money to put this tape together."
     The woman was fucking his face good.  Whoever she was, she was
certainly beautiful, and she knew how to move like a cobra.  Sensual
is an understatement for the way this beauty fucked face.
     "Nice back," I said sarcastically, "and she knows what she's
doing.  So who is she and where's Daddy?  He's not the only man in
the world with blond hair on his legs and a beautiful cock.  Even I
know that much."
     There was a shot now of the woman's body taken diagonally from
the front.  A wonderful body.  Dimples and ripples in all the right
places as she cobra-danced on his mouth, perfectly formed breasts
designed in heaven to coordinate with her body size, soft, smooth,
plenty of bounce when she hunched.
     I was getting turned on in spite of my intention to be analytic
about the whole thing.
     "You ok, Trinity?" Christina asked.
     "I want to suck her off."
     "You can."
     Just as she said it, the camera zoomed out far enough to show
the woman's face.  It was Christina!  I caught my breath, both at
the surprise and at the little jump my pussy does when it gets
excited.  I had been where the man was, and I had seen Christina
from his enviable position.  I could almost taste her again as I
watched, almost feel her legs on my face.  God, she's good.
     "Tell me again who you want me to pretend I am," Christina was
saying to the man.  "Tell me.  I want to hear the words."
     "My daughter," he answered through his girl muffler. "You are
my daughter."
     "Suck me, Daddy.  Suck me.  Suck that sexy daughter pussy 'til
I cum.  I want you to swallow daughter fuck."
     I was wet between my legs and adjusted my posture uneasily.
Christina knew some buttons to push with her fascinating combination
of words.  She used the expression I had heard her use several
times, one that did strange things to me:
     "Drink my womanfuck, Daddy." I forgot for a moment what the
tape was supposed to be about.  I swooned.  "God," I whispered
coarsely.
     "Steady, girl," Christina said to me.  "You won't make it
through the movie at this rate."
     The view switched to a shot taken off to the side and slightly
behind her to the right.  It was perfectly timed to catch
Christina's brilliant maneuver, one I had never seen.
     First she drew her feet up so she could squat on the man's
face.  She did it to him for a while that way, then she suddenly
threw her feet and legs out from under her, squashing his mouth in
sex and female crotch, and twisted completely around like a weather
vane.  I heard the man grunt in pain and saw his body lurch.  She
was facing the other direction before he could get his hands up to
push her off.  He moaned again and seemed to collapse under her,
spreadeagled and totally vulnerable.
     "Suck my asshole," Christina commanded him confidently. "That's
it, yes.  Stick your tongue up your goddess daughter's asshole."
     She ground her ass in his face.  "See if you can get some of my
shit on your tongue.  Suck for my shit, Daddy."  Saying it in such a
matter-of-fact way was ten times sexier than any deliberate attempt
to sound nasty.  Not even professional porn directors have learned
what Christina seemed to know naturally.
     Well, I'm not into coprolagnia, but you have to remember that
Christina understood perfectly that it's the idea of a thing that
drives a person nuts with lust.  Only a couple of years older than
I, she had acquired a slut wisdom I had to admire.
     She went skin diving next, swimming down the man's beautiful
body and engulfing his erect penis in her mouth. They rolled onto
their sides, his face toward the camera but hidden in glorious
female flesh.  Only his blond hair was visible, and I strained to
see if it just might be Daddy.
     They had hit upon the best position for sixty-nine. There's no
strain in that position.  You have complete flexibility of movement,
and each partner has full access to the other's goodies.  They ran
their hands over each other, maximizing their pleasure as they
sucked at each other.  They pumped and hunched and felt and sucked
each other, and I listened to their slurping sounds and grunts.
     Christina started crawling down his legs, kissing and feeling.
My eyes widened in fearful expectation, and I sat forward and waited
without breathing.
     There!  Oh, God!  It was unmistakably Daddy!  His face was
soaked with Christina juice and was goofy with pure lust. His face
sagged and his mouth hung open and his eyes drooped with sexual
labor.  He breathed and looked like a dying animal who had
surrendered to inevitable death.
     And I hated his fucking guts.  Seeing him like that with
another woman, willingly and hungrily participating in sexual acts
with her, nasty and dopey-looking with a draining lust that sapped
him of dignity.  I wanted to reach into the scene and destroy the
hated face of the slimy thing my daddy was.
     He followed Christina down her path and turned her over. They
lay face to face and petted each other.  Like lovers.  Lovers!  They
kissed deeply.  He smeared his nasty face on hers and rooted his
chewing mouth in her neck away from the camera.
     Christina reached between them and guided his lust-filled organ
into her.  He began fucking her.  She looked directly into the
camera, directly into my eyes, and smiled coyly and superciliously
at me.
     Still smiling the smile of a conquering, sneering slut, she
said, "Fuck me, Daddy," and grinned widely as he obeyed. It was
filthy.  Profoundly squalid, slovenly, spiritually depraved,
Christina making all the moves and sounds of sexual abandonment and
uninhibited craving while smiling out of his sight to prove she was
just putting on a performance.
     "Cum in me, Daddy," she begged, looking into the camera with a
superior nonchalance that made me sick.
     "Please stop it," I said quietly.
     "It's almost over," Darlene said.
     "There's still one more thing you have to hear," Christina said
to me.
     I had my face in my hands, unable to witness more of my daddy's
degradation.  I was crying in absolute and devastating
disillusionment.  Christina put her arms around me.  "Listen,
Trinity.  You don't have to watch anymore, but listen."
     "No, please.  I don't want to hear.  Please.  I don't want to
hear."
     But I did hear:  "Tell me, Daddy.  Say the words you need to
say.  Say it!"
     "I love you, Christina.  I'm in love with you.  I can't live
without you.  I love you."
     And I heard his distinctive grunts I had heard so many times
before as he cum in her.  I sobbed violently in the arms of the same
woman who was taking his cum into her body.

--end Chapter 6--