Cuckold Daddy part 3

Emily tells her slut dad that if he licks a married mans cum out of her cunt, he may finally get to fuck...... he eagerly obeys.

The house felt unnaturally quiet that Friday night. Karen had left at five to spend the weekend at her sister’s place in the next county, some long overdue girls’ trip involving wine, gossip, and zero husbands. John had waved her off from the porch with the usual peck on the cheek, promising to mow the lawn tomorrow and fix the leaky faucet she’d been nagging about for months. The moment her taillights disappeared around the corner, the silence settled like damp fog.

Emily had texted around six: “Big date tonight. Don’t wait up, Daddy. 😘” He’d stared at the message for thirty seconds before typing back a lame “Have fun, be safe.” No reply came. He didn’t expect one.

He spent the evening in the living room recliner, television droning some crime procedural he wasn’t really watching. A half empty beer sat sweating on the side table. Every ten minutes or so his eyes flicked to the staircase, then to the front door, then back to the screen. His cock stayed half-hard the entire time, trapped uncomfortably in his jeans, stirred by the simple knowledge that his daughter was probably out somewhere right now, her legs spread, skirt hiked, mouth open, letting another man use her.

Around 11:40 the front door clicked open.
John straightened instinctively. Footsteps, light, slightly unsteady crossed the foyer. Emily appeared in the archway between hallway and living room.

She looked wrecked in the most beautiful way possible.

Her auburn hair was a tangled mess, strands plastered to her flushed cheeks and neck. Lipstick smeared across her lower lip and chin. Mascara had run in faint black tracks under her eyes. The short black pleated skirt she’d left the house in was wrinkled and riding high on her thighs; one of the buttons on her white blouse was missing, exposing the lacy edge of a black bra and the upper swell of her breast. Her bare legs gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. She carried her heels in one hand, toes painted crimson.

She saw him sitting there and smiled, slow, lazy, predatory.

“Hey, Daddy.”

John’s mouth went dry. “Hey… you’re home early.”

“Am I?” She padded barefoot across the carpet toward him. “Felt like forever.”

She stopped directly in front of the recliner, legs slightly apart. He could smell her now: sex, sweat, expensive cologne that wasn’t his, and the unmistakable salty musk of fresh cum.

Without warning she swung one leg over his lap and straddled him, skirt riding up until the damp crotch of her black thong pressed directly against the bulge in his jeans. Heat poured off her cunt like a furnace. John groaned low in his throat as his cock surged to full, painful hardness beneath her.

Emily leaned in, breasts brushing his chest, lips grazing his ear.

“I just got fucked,” she whispered. “By a guy named Mark. Thirty-five. Married. Big gold wedding ring on his finger the whole time he was balls-deep in me.”

John’s hands rose automatically to her hips. The skin under her skirt was fever-hot, slick with perspiration and other fluids.
“He’s got the biggest cock I’ve ever taken,” she continued, voice soft and filthy. “Thicker than my wrist. Stretched me so wide I thought I’d split. Kept telling me how much tighter I am than his wife. How much wetter. How much sluttier.” She rocked once, grinding her soaked thong against his erection. “The cheating part made it so hot. Knowing some soccer-mom wife is home folding laundry while her husband pumps his load into your 16 year old daughter.”

John’s fingers dug into her flesh. He could feel the sticky residue on her inner thighs, dried and fresh cum mixed together.

“What do you think, Daddy?” she murmured. “Your baby girl just got fucked by a married man in the back seat of his SUV. He bent me over the center console, skirt around my waist, panties around one ankle. Fucked me so hard the windows fogged up. Came inside me twice. You mad? A real man would be mad, would be looking for the guy to beat his ass”

John couldn’t form words. His hips lifted involuntarily, humping up against her heat.

Emily giggled—light, cruel. “No? Not mad at all?” She leaned closer, breath hot against his earlobe. “You’re not mad because you’re a sick pervert who wants to fuck me yourself. Isn’t that right?”

He swallowed hard.

“Say it.”

“…Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I… I want to fuck your cunt, Emily.”

She laughed softly, delighted. “Good boy.”

She slid off his lap and stood. Cum glistened on her inner thighs in thin white trails. She crooked a finger.

“Come to my room. Clean me up properly… and maybe you’ll get to fuck something tonight.”

John followed her upstairs like a dog on a leash, cock throbbing with every step, jeans painfully tight.

In her bedroom she flicked on the bedside lamp, soft pink glow, and dropped onto the mattress. She lay back, propped on her elbows, and hiked the skirt around her waist. Her black thong was soaked through, clinging transparently to her swollen cunt lips. A dark wet spot spread across the gusset; thicker white fluid seeped from the edges.

“Come on,” she said, spreading her thighs wider. “Eat me.”

John hesitated. The smell hit him, raw, pungent, unmistakably male. Another man’s cum leaking from his daughter’s cunt. His stomach twisted with revulsion… and unbearable arousal.

She tilted her head. “You want that fuck, don’t you? Then get on your knees and clean your little girl’s used fuck hole.”

He dropped to his knees between her legs. Fingers trembling, he hooked the soaked thong aside. Her pussy gaped slightly—lips puffy, red, glistening. Thick ropes of semen oozed from her entrance, pooling in the crease of her ass. The sight made his cock leak steadily into his boxers.

He leaned in and licked, tentative at first. Salty, bitter and warm. The texture was slimy, viscous, gross. He gagged once, then forced himself deeper. Tongue flat, he lapped from her asshole up through her slit, gathering the creamy mess. Emily sighed above him.

“That’s it… clean every drop you sick fuck. Taste what a real man leaves behind.”

He sucked gently on her clit, then plunged his tongue inside her. More cum flooded his mouth, thick globs sliding down his throat. Disgusting. Degrading. Intoxicating. His cock ached.

“Look at you,” she mocked. “My own daddy on his knees slurping a married mans spunk out of his daughter’s cunt. Such a filthy little slut. You love it, don’t you? Love being my cum-rag.”

He moaned into her flesh, tongue swirling, lips sealed around her hole, sucking hard. He moved lower, licking the cum that had dripped to her asshole again, probing the tight ring with the tip of his tongue. She shivered.

“Deeper. Rim me like the pervert you are.”

He obeyed, tongue circling, pushing inside. The taste was darker, earthier, mixed with the semen still leaking from above. He was rock-hard, humping the air.

“Make me cum,” she ordered. “Show me you’re good for something besides sniffing my panties.”

He focused on her clit, sucking, flicking, circling. His jaw ached. She squirmed, impatient.

“Harder. Faster. Use your fucking tongue like you mean it.”

He tried. Desperately. But she grew frustrated.

“Useless,” she snapped, shoving his face away. “You can’t even eat pussy right. No wonder you’ve got such a pathetic little cock. Can’t fuck, can’t lick, just good for watching and cleaning.”

She spread her legs wider and slid two fingers into herself, then three. Her other hand rubbed furious circles on her clit.
John sat back on his heels, face shiny with cum and her juices, and frantically stripped. Jeans and boxers hit the floor. His cock sprang free, pathetic, throbbing, dripping. He wrapped his fist around it and stroked while she finger-fucked herself.

Emily’s voice turned dreamy, filthy.

“He fucked me in the parking lot behind that Italian place on Maple. Pushed me against the hood, yanked my panties aside, rammed it in dry at first, felt so good. Called me his little whore the whole time. Said his wife hasn’t let him go bare in years. Said my cunt was made for cheating.”

Her fingers plunged deeper, squelching obscenely.

“He bent me over the console after. Face down, ass up. Spanked me red while he pounded. Kept saying ‘take it, take it, take my married cock.’ I came so hard I squirted on his seats. He laughed and fucked me through it. Then he pulled out, made me suck him clean, then shoved back in and unloaded again. So much cum, Daddy. Felt it splashing my cervix.”

John jerked faster, precum flying.

Emily’s breathing hitched. “He told me he’s gonna text me next week. Said he wants to fuck me in their bed while his wife’s at yoga. Said he’ll send me pictures of her panties so I can wear them while he breeds me.”

She arched, fingers slamming. “I’m gonna let him. Gonna let him fuck his little side piece in his marital bed. And you’re gonna sit here jerking your worthless dick thinking about it.”

Her body seized. Orgasm hit hard, her thighs trembling, cunt clenching around her fingers, fresh wetness gushing. She cried out, loud and shameless.

John lunged.

He climbed over her, cock in hand, aiming for her still quivering entrance. “Please—Emily you promised”

Her palm cracked across his cheek—sharp, stinging.

He froze.

She slapped him again, harder. His eyes watered.

“No,” she said coldly. “You don’t get to fuck me. Ever.”

He scrambled back, stunned, cock wilting slightly from the shock. Tears pricked his eyes.

“But… you said… you promised I’d get a fuck…”

Emily laughed—bright, merciless.

“I said you’d get to fuck something. I never said it would be me.”

She rolled off the bed, walked to the wardrobe, and pulled out a large cardboard box he’d never seen before. From inside she lifted a sex doll, lifelike, blonde, big tits, open mouth, spread legs molded in soft silicone. The pussy was anatomically detailed, slightly gaping.

She dropped it on the floor at his feet.
“Go on,” she commanded. “Fuck it. Show me how badly you need to cum.”

John stared at the doll. Humiliation burned through him like acid. But his cock was still rock hard, his balls aching.

“Do it,” she snapped. “Or get out and jerk off in the bathroom like the loser you are.”

He knelt. Positioned the doll on all fours. The silicone pussy was cool, slick with factory lube. He pressed the head of his cock against it and pushed.

Tight. Artificial. Nothing like the real thing.

He thrust slow at first, then harder. The doll rocked under him. Emily stood over him, arms crossed, watching.

“Look at you,” she sneered. “Fucking a plastic whore because you’re too pathetic to get the real thing. My own father, reduced to this. Pumping away in my bedroom while I’m still leaking another man’s cum. You’re disgusting.”

John’s thrusts grew frantic. The doll’s tits jiggled realistically. The fake pussy made wet sucking sounds.

“Thirty seconds,” Emily taunted. “Bet you don’t even last that long.”

He didn’t.

At maybe twenty-five seconds his hips stuttered. He groaned, buried deep, and came, thick spurts flooding the doll’s artificial cunt. His body jerked, shame and relief crashing together. When it was over he collapsed forward, forehead against the doll’s plastic back, panting.

Emily nudged him with her foot.
“Pathetic. You couldn’t even last half a minute. Clean yourself up and get the fuck out of my room. I need to sleep.”

John pulled out. Cum dribbled from the doll’s hole onto the carpet. He stood on shaking legs, cock shrinking, face burning.
As he reached the door she called after him.
“And Daddy?”
He paused.
“Next time I go out with a married guy, I’m gonna make you wait in the closet again. Dressed in my dirtiest panties. You can listen while he breeds me… and then you can clean me again. Maybe I’ll even let you fuck the doll while he’s still inside me.”
She laughed softly.

“Night night.”

John stumbled into the hallway and closed her door behind him.

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