Father getting in me

The heavy monsoon rain hammered down on the roof like endless drumbeats, creating a loud, isolating roar. Power had been out for over two hours, leaving the house in near-total darkness, broken only by sudden, blinding flashes of lightning that lit up the rooms for a split second before plunging them back into black.

Lipsa, 18, was exhausted. She had spent the evening on her mother Priya’s big double bed, using her laptop to complete some office paperwork her mom had left for her. She wore her mother’s favorite maroon silk nighty — thin, soft, and slightly tight on her young, curvy body. The fabric clung to her full, round breasts, the deep neckline showing a generous amount of cleavage. The hem kept riding up her smooth, thick thighs, revealing the edge of her simple black panties. Her long, wavy black hair was loose, spread across the pillow.

After finishing the work, she closed the laptop, yawned deeply, and decided not to go back to her small room. The bed smelled comforting — of her mother’s jasmine perfume and talcum powder. She lay on her side, facing away from the door, pulled the thin sheet over her body, and curled up. Within minutes, the sound of rain lulled her into a deep, heavy sleep. Her breathing became slow and steady, lips slightly parted, one strap of the nighty slipped off her shoulder, exposing the soft upper swell of her breast. She was completely unaware of the world around her.

Around 11:15 PM, the front door slammed open. Imran staggered in, completely soaked and heavily drunk. He had downed nearly half a bottle of cheap whiskey. His eyes were glassy, movements clumsy.

“Priya… Priya, where are you?” he slurred angrily. “Always disappearing without telling me!”

He stumbled into the bedroom. A flash of lightning showed a woman’s familiar shape lying on the bed in his wife’s maroon nighty — same curves, same long dark hair. In his drunken state, he didn’t doubt it for a second.

Imran quickly stripped off his wet clothes. His thick, veiny cock hung heavy between his legs, already thickening. He climbed onto the bed from behind Lipsa, the mattress sinking under his weight.

Lipsa stirred as a hot, heavy body pressed against her back. She felt something hard poking against her ass.

“Wha— Da—!”

Before she could say “Dad”, Imran roughly grabbed the dupatta lying near the pillow, bunched it up, and shoved it deep into her mouth. He tied it tightly behind her head, muffling her instantly.

“Mmmphhh!! Mmmphh!!” Lipsa’s eyes flew wide open in pure terror. She tried to scream, thrashing, but the thick cloth gag silenced her.

“Shhh… quiet tonight, begum,” Imran growled drunkenly, pressing her face down into the pillow with one strong hand. “I’ve been waiting for this pussy all day.”

He yanked the nighty up harshly over her hips, exposing her round ass and black panties. He ripped the panties down in one motion. Spitting on his hand, he rubbed his now fully hard, thick cock once, then forced her legs apart with his knee.

Lipsa struggled desperately, tears already flowing, but he was too strong.

Imran pressed the fat, bulbous head of his cock against her dry, tight entrance and thrust forward brutally.

“NNNGHHHH!!!” Lipsa’s muffled scream was agonized as her father’s thick cock tore into her virgin-tight pussy. A sharp, burning pain exploded between her legs. She felt her delicate walls stretching and tearing as he forced his way inside. The burning sensation was intense — like fire and ripping at the same time. Her pussy burned unbearably as he pushed deeper, inch by thick inch.

“Fuck… so damn tight tonight,” Imran groaned in pleasure, eyes closed in bliss. “Gripping me so hard…”

He didn’t wait. He gripped her hips tightly and started fucking her with hard, deep strokes. The sound of wet skin slapping filled the dark room, mixing with the rain. Every thrust sent fresh waves of burning pain through Lipsa’s core. She sobbed into the gag, body jerking forward with each powerful slam. Her tight walls were forced open again and again, the friction brutal without any wetness at first.

After about five minutes of relentless pounding — deep, forceful thrusts that made the bed creak — Imran’s breathing grew ragged.

“Ahh… I’m cumming!” he grunted. He buried himself as deep as possible and exploded, flooding her sore, torn pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. Lipsa shuddered violently, feeling every pulse of his cock inside her.

Imran stayed inside her for a minute, panting. But even in his drunken state, he wasn’t done. His cock remained semi-hard. After two minutes, he started moving again.

This second round was slower but more deliberate. He pulled out almost completely, letting Lipsa feel the painful emptiness for a second, then slammed back in with a wet squelch, his cum from the first round now acting as lubricant. The burning was still there, but mixed with a shameful, unwanted wetness.

“Still so good…” he slurred, fucking her with long, grinding strokes. He reached around, squeezing and mauling her breasts roughly through the nighty, pinching her nipples hard. His hips slapped against her ass rhythmically. Lipsa’s muffled cries had turned into broken whimpers. Her body betrayed her slightly — her pussy grew wetter despite the pain, making his thrusts smoother and deeper.

Imran fucked her like this for nearly two more minutes, breathing heavily, occasionally whispering, “Take it… good wife… take all my seed.”

With a deep groan, he came again, pumping another load of cum deep inside her already overflowing pussy. Only then did he collapse on top of her, still buried inside, and pass out almost instantly, snoring loudly.

Lipsa lay motionless for almost twenty minutes under her father’s heavy, snoring body. His thick cock had finally softened inside her, but every tiny shift sent fresh sparks of burning pain through her brutally stretched pussy. Thick, warm cum slowly leaked out around his softening shaft, mixing with the small amount of blood from her torn inner walls. The burning sensation was unbearable — a deep, raw sting that felt like her most private parts had been ripped apart. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably. The dupatta gag had left her jaw aching and her mouth tasting sour.

Finally, with enormous effort, she pushed his arm off her waist. Imran only grunted in his deep drunken sleep and rolled onto his back, his cum-covered cock flopping wetly against his thigh. Lipsa slowly crawled off the bed, legs shaking so badly she almost collapsed. Cum and a thin streak of blood ran down her inner thighs as she stood. The maroon nighty was crumpled around her waist, wrinkled and stained.

She limped painfully to her own small room in the darkness, guided by the flashes of lightning. Every step made her wince — her pussy throbbed with sharp, stinging pain. She locked the door, then collapsed onto her bed, curling into a tight ball. Silent, broken sobs wracked her body.

“Why… Papa… why me?” she whispered hoarsely, voice cracking. Tears poured down her cheeks. She felt dirty, violated, and terrified. The burning between her legs refused to fade. She could still feel him inside her — the forceful stretching, the heavy slapping of his balls, the way he had flooded her twice. She grabbed a towel and pressed it between her legs, trying to clean the sticky mess, but more kept leaking out. The shame was suffocating. She cried until exhaustion pulled her into a restless, nightmare-filled sleep.

Priya returned home around 11:30 PM, drenched from the rain. The house was silent except for Imran’s loud snoring. She entered the bedroom, smelled the heavy scent of alcohol and sex in the air but assumed her husband had masturbated or had a wet dream. In the darkness she didn’t notice the damp patches on the sheets. Tired from her long journey, she changed and lay down beside him without a word.