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From: unlucky <dr.unlucky@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Drunk Girl 1/? (Mf, inc, cd, drunk)
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Date: Wed, 28 Sep 2011 05:10:03 -0400
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Story: Drunk Girl 1/?
Mf, inc, cd, drunk
drunlucky@gmail.com

In his defense, he was drunk.

Coming home from the party he had to carry his wife into the house
from the taxi. He climbed the stairs with her and put her in bed, shut
the door and the lights and then went back downstairs to find
something for his stomach.

It had been one of those over the top office parties and he and his
wife had gotten drunker than they'd been since college.

He so drunk he didn't really know how to react when he walked into the
living room and saw his sixteen year old daughter sprawled out on the
couch, the liquor cabinet open and a bottle of blackberry brandy and
another of vodka open on the table.

He didn't want to yell or grab her, not while he was so drunk he could
hardly stand. He didn't want to lose control, but he had to do
something.

He shook his head, he tried to find his balance. He tried to take some
deep sobering breaths. He cleaned up the spilled liquor and collected
the various juices, sodas and other mixers she was apparently using to
make what was obviously her first attempt at drinking alcohol somewhat
potable.

Then he sighed and sat down next to her curled up body on the couch.
He remembered sneaking drinks for his father's cabinet when he was her
age.

"Silly little thing," he whispered, brushing her hair away from her
sleeping face.

His hand rested on her bare leg and he nearly jumped at how hot and
smooth her skin was. He didn't even know that she shaved her legs.
Those were things her mother dealt with. He chuckled, his little girl
already shaving her legs? Her skin were pale and flawless, he was
hypnotized by how smooth it was; how perfect it was.

She wore the rainbow knee high socks he remembered buying her at the
mall one Saturday afternoon. A little skirt, the one he had started
giving her a hard time about wearing. She wore a simple white, boys
cotton sleeveless t-shirt, which she often liked to sleep in. He
didn't even realize, as he looked over his unconscious daughter, that
his hand was now on her thigh.

Guilt made his heart ache a little. He felt his face go a little cold.
Still he was tipsy, nothing wrong with touching his daughter's leg
anyhow. And it was so soft.

"Piglet?" he said, pushing her leg a little.

She didn't stir a bit.

"Wake up!" he said a little louder, but she didn't do anything but let
out a little snore.

His hand moved back to her thigh, fingers just under her lose skirt.
He heart was racing now. He moved it farther up, letting his arm push
her skirt up. She was drunk and passed out, no one would ever know.
She was his little girl and every year she became more beautiful. And
for every ounce of love and protectiveness he had for her there was
just a little tiny dark thought in the back of his mind.

He wondered how far up she shaved. His hand was bolder, moving up
farther until his fingers brushed the bottom of her panties. He was
hard now, his breathing heavier.

"Piglet can you hear me?" he said, now tracing the elastic leg-band of
her underwear, but she didn't stir.

He looked around, knowing no one else was home. He knew she was passed
out and probably still very drunk. His mind raced. He just wanted a
little bit of her. He needed it. Just to see. Just to get a little bit
of those dark hungers he felt sometimes, when he watched her, when she
sat on his lap, when she passed up in nothing but a towel in the
morning.

And his head was still spinning for all that whiskey. It wasn't fair
that he couldn't at least see her. She was his little girl.

He reached his other hand up and took her panties in both hands and
pulled them down to her knees. He paused, his heart now pounding in
his ears, seeing if she woke up at all; nothing. He pulled them off
and dropped them; they were tiny and sort red cotton with little
patterns. He was so close to doing something so wrong.

He pushed up her dress quickly, but gently, pushed it all the way up
and saw that she'd shaved everything off. Maybe she'd never even grown
hair there. He was hypnotized by the hairless little triangle between
her legs. Want was rising in him like nothing he'd ever felt. His face
and ears were burning red.

He parted her thin legs very gently and saw her little slit, barely
opened, pink and perfect. His body was taking over. His guilt was
being beaten down by want.

He leaned down and hiss just above the slit. She smelled clean and
fresh, like the little girl who kissed him good morning. His tongue
slipped down, finding the very edge of where her little lips split. He
let the wetness of his tongue spread and found the little curves and
soft lines of her little pussy.

A low moan came from his chest. All those little moments of dark lust
were finally coming to fruition. The monster inside of him was finally
getting what it wanted.

He licked more, opening her legs further and looking at the pinkness
of her, the inner lips, finding where her little clit was, then the
tiny opening. His tongue explored every part, finally slipping a
little way into the tightness of her, not finding the obstruction of
virginity he expected. Logic had left though. All that existed was her
warm little body in his hands.

He cradled her butt in his palms and held her sex up to his mouth his
tongue finding a light musky wetness; her wetness. His finger could
barely fit inside of her when he sucked it and then slipped into his
little daughter. He watched her face as he penetrated her for the
first time with his finger. Her eyes were moving under their lids. He
knew that meant she was dreaming. This was all a dream.

One finger barely fit, two was almost impossible. He reached up with
his other hand and pushed up her shirt. He groaned again, louder at
the sight of her pert breasts. His little girl and her perfect breasts
he'd seen little glimpses of, but never like this. He cupped one and
he tried desperately to fit his two fingers in to her.

He looked at the clock. It was just past one. His face was beet red
and covered in sweat. This couldn't last much longer. She wouldn't be
drunk forever. He knew what he was going to do even before his hands
were fumbling for his belt.

His mind raced with rationalizations. There was no way out of it, but
he couldn't not do it now. She tasted sweater than any woman he'd ever
been tasted. She was perfect.

His cock was harder than he could ever remember. It was the erection
of need. Teased for years. It looked huge and angry next to her tiny
pink slit. He spit into his hand and smoothed it over his cock. There
was no more thinking, there was only the monster inside of him. There
was only her little girl pussy and the fact that he would be inside of
it soon.

He aimed the head against her opening. He felt her slick wetness. He
rubbed the head around. He pushed forward, but it was like a vice. He
had no time to be slow. He spit more, he rubbed her wetness, which now
seemed never ending. He pushed in more and watched as the head of his
cock started to disappear.

He heard her gasp just as the first inch slipped into her.

He froze.

Her eyes weren't open but her body was moving. She was raising her ass
up, seemingly to get more of him inside of her. Her head nodded back
and forth and she bit her lip.

"It's all a dream," he whispered, wishing, hoping, but knowing he
couldn't stop himself now.

He pulled out and then pushed back in, the tightness painful, but like
nothing he'd ever felt. He kept going until he could fuck her with
almost his whole cock. His hands were on her waist pulling her to him.

"No, what are-" she moaned shaking her head but not really waking up.

He started pounding into her. The tightness was almost painful. She
squirmed, never quiet awake, but making pained little whimpers.

All logic and guilt and thought of any kind was gone. He was fucking
his little girl. Some little tiny pinprick of common sense told him
that even through the wrongness of all this he couldn't come inside of
her. He had to at least be safe. He had to at least do one thing
right.

Still the pounding into her tightness was hypnotic. He felt the
reality of the situation creeping in. He imagined the anger and the
fear in her eyes. He looked down at her and she was still out of it,
here eyes were closed and her mouth was trying to form words.

He looked down at her beautiful face, her pink lips, her reddened
cheeks. He looked at her breasts, the nipples puffy and still
developing; then the obscene split of her pussy and his cock
stretching it open as he pushed it in. It was the exact thing he'd
feared wanting for so many years. It was the worst thing he could do
to his little girl.

She was almost awake; he could see her fighting against all the liquor
in her body. She put her arms up and her weak hands pushed against his
chest trying to stop him.

He felt himself starting to come and desperately wanted to pull out.
He tried but her little cunt was a magnet. The most forbidden moment
of his life as he felt his cock shoot again and again into her little
cunt.

He stopped, still inside of her. She stopped pushing him once he
stopped thrusting. Her head flopped from side to side as she tried to
lift it. Her eyes opened slightly, unfocused. A question on her lips.

He didn't know what to do. The fear came down on him like a sheet of
ice. He tight sixteen year old pussy pushed his softening cock out.

He pulled away looking at his come oozing out of his daughter's pussy.
He was almost hyperventilating. He kneeled down and did the only thing
he could think of. He sucked his come out, just to get rid of the
evidence.

The salty taste of his come mixed with her pussy and the wrongness of
all of it made him lick and suck ferociously.

He was hard by the time he finished and almost sober. She was sleeping
again. He wiper her off with his shirt but she was still red and
swollen and probably very sore. She would know something happened, but
probably not exactly what.

Looking around desperately he thought of something. Who knew if it
would work. He picked her up and brought her to the bathroom. He laid
her on the plush little rug and looked around the cold tile room. He
found a thick plastic hairbrush, remembering videos of college girls
fucking themselves on webcams.

He took the purple plastic and spit on it and rubbed it slick. He
slipped it inside of her and she winced, even in her drunken sleep.

He looked down at her, thinking his plan might actually work. He
walked backwards out of the bathroom and he closed the door. He went
back out of the house and he started walking, where he didn't know. He
just walked and as he did he started to cry.

There were still hours of night to go and he wondered if it the
morning he would lose everything he cared about.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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