The remainder of the car ride was surreal. My heart pounded in my chest, so hard and so loud that I thought he would he would notice that, too. I couldn’t look at him, instead I stared out the front window, my bag now between my feet in the car’s tiny footwell.
Neither of us spoke. What was there to say? I had been sitting there, absentmindedly, playing with myself while my father drove us back to his apartment. Granted, he didn’t know I was pushing a replica dildo of his own cock against my crotch, but I’m sure that my rocking motions weren’t leaving much to the imagination.
Jesus Christ, I chastised myself. What must he be thinking?
His face was unreadable. I opened and shut my mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say, anything to say.
Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as I feared. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he thought I was… what? What could that motion have possibly be interpreted other than what it was?
My mind tried to replay what I was doing, just to think about what it must have looked like to him. He must have caught my hand movements, to be sure. But was I moving my hips? Was there a look on my face that revealed everything?
I wanted to die. Maybe I could just open the door and “fall” out and…
I sighed and turned to look out the window again. The remainder of the car ride was spent in silence.
When we finally reached his place, I grabbed my bag and practically leapt out of the car. I just wanted to have a bit more space between us, even for a moment. My father soon followed suit, and made a show of fumbling for his keys as he approached the front door. At least, I think he was making a show of it. Was I being paranoid? Again?
Inside the house, I headed for the stairs to go up to my room. “Shannon?” he asked, before I got too far.
I stopped, my breath caught in my throat. I turned to him to face him fully. “Yeah?” I said.
“Do…” he paused for a second. “Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“Some tea would be nice,” I replied, and then turned to go up the stairs. I stopped, and looked at him again. “I’m just going to take a quick shower.”
“Okay,” he said, as if a bit relieved. I understood that feeling well – at least we would have just a few more minutes before any conversation was absolutely necessary.
I raced up the stairs and into the guest bathroom.Turning on the water, I then started going through my bag, trying to get clothes that I could wear after the shower. It slowly dawned on me that I hadn’t packed carefully enough. I had dumped five T-shirts and two pairs of jeans in the bag, and no underwear whatsoever.
“Shit,” I muttered. I pulled out every piece of clothing, but the only other thing in the bag was, of course, the dildo. I took it out of the bag, and felt its comforting weight in my hands.
Comforting…
As the drone of the shower water fell behind the curtain, the warm, humid mist began to fill the room and began to cast a sheen in the light. I felt dirty. No, that’s not the right word.
I felt unclean.
Suddenly, the shower seemed the right place to be. I tossed my glasses onto the counter and took off my shirt. The silky lace once more came into view, and I saw my nearly naked torso in the mirror. I froze for a moment, gazing at the effect. There I stood, my skinny body reflecting back as it always did, but this time it was different. Wearing nothing but jeans and the bra, I realized my mother was right. I had a certain… appeal.
I swallowed. For my entire life, I had felt awkward, ungainly. I was too skinny, I had no real breasts to speak of. While my chest wasn’t completely flat, I had convinced myself that no one would want someone without curves or “meat” on them.
I twisted my hips, and that round little bubble butt came back into view. Framed perfectly by the jeans, I saw the delicate curves of my ass rotate back and forth as I searched for the perfect view.
The curves of my ass were smooth, no lines from cotton underwear to disrupt the sultry arc across the back. One thong, and suddenly my world opened up? Ridiculous. Ludicrous, even.
Yet, here was all that evidence in front of me. Even someone as dense as I could plainly see a difference.
The girl in the mirror wasn’t awkward. In fact, she looked… sexy. There’s no real way to put it – everything matched together. When I had thrown the clothes on, it was a haphazard rush. Who knew that by taking off that t-shirt I would suddenly reach a whole new level? Hell, who knew that a simple brassiere and thong would have such an impact?
Just for fun, I put the dildo between my legs, jutting forward. I expected the mirror to mock me, point out my ridiculousness. I thought that it would show just how much of a goof I really was, but that’s not what happened. Instead, it presented an intriguing visage, one that I never thought that I would see.
Of course, the girl in the mirror was holding onto an eleven inch cock with purpose, too. That didn’t hurt the effect at all. I reached for my glasses on the counter and put them back on, and marveled at the effect. I may not have been Punk Girl, but I certainly was a Naughty Nerd.
Despite everything, I couldn’t help but giggle at my new superhero name. I saw the strange mix of innocence from the neck up, tempting sexuality from my neck to my waist, and then normal, everyday casual from the waist down. Well, with the exception of the ridiculously large phallus jutting from my crotch, compared to my tiny frame. I adjusted my glasses, an awkward gesture at the best of times, but with my bare torso in view it came across as a coy and demure tease.
I flashed back to the dream, where I had been walking around nearly nude, with a black leather vest exposing nearly everything. Now I wondered if I would have the audacity to go out in public like this. Of course, this bra wouldn’t work because my nipples were practically poking through, but still.
Oh god, my nipples. How they ached to be touched, squeezed. Staring at them in the mirror, I could practically hear them begging for attention.
Feeling a bit naughty –
Naughty Nerd! giggle.
– I raised the head of the giant cock to my chest. Swallowing hard, I knew that what I was about to do was going to cross a line, somewhere. But haven’t I crossed too many lines already?
As the tip of the cock slowly approached my nipples, I licked my lips in nervous anticipation. I didn’t know what would happen, but the sheer taboo implications of what I was doing made me think that a fiery portal would open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole.
This is wrong. This is so wrong.
Then it happened. I pressed the tip of the giant cock, that cock that represented my father’s massive penis, against the lacy covering on my left nipple. My breath caught in my throat, and my entire chest burned in ecstasy.
I had seen porn, of course, and never really understood the appeal of the cock-and-tit scenes. Not having any breasts to speak of, maybe it was simply envy. However, I’d never seen an actress who actually liked doing what I was doing. I knew that it was all a show.
This, however, was no show. This electrified me beyond words. I pressed the cock harder against my nipple, making it roll out of the way and to the side. It was so sensitive, so glorious. I began to rub in little, vertical motions against the nipple so that it could graze the side of the rubber cockhead.
I imagined some boy standing in front of me, pressing his spongy flesh against my tit. He would be the same age as me, nervous, but so hard he could break rocks. The head of his dick would rock back and forth against my nipple, drops of pre-come making it slippery and moistening the lace.
My nipple rolled back and forth as I moved the head across it, in any direction that felt good. My fantasy guy would lose it, and I imagined a hot flood splashing across my chest and neck. It was a new fantasy, and I wanted to see it happen in real life very, very much.
Glancing in the mirror, I watched the sexy girl in the reflection give the fake cock a tit job. Seeing myself did nothing for me, but it did make me realize just how big the thing was against my body. The tip was touching my chest, but the base was all the way down to my crotch. As small as I was, maybe it fell even lower.
With a start, I realized that the water had been running for several minutes. I tore off the rest of my clothes, and stepped inside. I took the cock with me, naturally.
The hot water felt like a sharp sting on my sensitive skin. Soon, though, it blossomed out across my entire body, the stream forming rivulets down my body. I stood in the shower to aim the falling water on the back of my neck, and closed my eyes as the gentle rhythm pulsed on the base of my skull.
I still had the presence of mind to know that I was holding onto the dildo with both hands, keeping it close to my chest as I allowed the soothing comfort of the water to flow around my shoulders. I had hoped the hot shower might bring some sense back to me, would flush away that feeling of being unclean.
Part of me wanted that purity back. Part of me wanted never to have known what I knew. I couldn’t undo the damage, and as I stood in the shower with the steam billowing around me, it couldn’t cleanse the fact that I was cuddling my father’s repli-cock.
Sure, there was a part of me that wanted that innocence back, but now that it was gone I wasn’t so sure that it was a large part of me. I felt like I was shedding a cocoon, emerging from a protective shell. I wasn’t completely convinced that I should crawl back into that, or even that I wanted to.
I opened my eyes and saw the cock mere inches away from my face. I needed both hands to hold it. The enormity of it still shocked me, even after having seen and held it a few times.
When I had first seen it, I had been frightened of it, scared out of my wits. Now, though, I cradled it against my bosom with arousal and affection. (Do people even say bosom any more? For some reason, it fit.)
I felt protective. I had a connection to this thing, this monster in my hands. It may have been molded plastic, or silicon, or rubber, or whatever, but I’m no fool. It was so much more than that. It was mine.
It’s not clear when it happened, but I realized that I had made up my mind already. Perhaps it was just when I brought it into the shower. Perhaps it’s when I threw it into my bag. Perhaps it was even before then – I don’t know.
Whenever it happened, I had made up my mind long before I did what I did. That’s why it felt so natural.
My hands did all the thinking for me. The first thing I did was press that lewd head in between my breasts. Small mounds, perky nipples, and a huge cockhead in-between. I wanted to fold my nipples inwards so that they could both be rubbed at the same time, but I was far too small to form any real cleavage around the toy. Frustrated, I once more chastised myself for not being as curvy as my mother.
Then I remembered Punk Girl. Her tits were practically non-existent. Her chest was nearly flat as a board. No one in their right mind would say that it made any difference whatsoever in her sex appeal, though. I felt better in the knowledge that sexiness didn’t have to be limited to my mother’s beautiful body.
What made me feel much better, though, was the attention I was now able to pay to my nipples. Trying to maneuver the cock from one nipple to the other, my free hand grabbed whatever nipple wasn’t getting the toy’s caress and gave a violent squeeze.
The pain… the pleasure… I couldn’t tell which was which. The only thing that I could tell was that I wanted more.
Without really intending to do it, I began to rub the rubber cock harder against my chest, moving between nipples. In one desperate move, I held my right nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and ran the cockhead across the very end of the nub as I squeezed.
I couldn’t help it. I gasped out loud, and nearly screamed. I wished that I had three hands, so that I could hold both nipples out from my body with my fingertips, while the dildo ran across both of them at the same time. I imagined myself lying down on a bed, holding my tiny tits up by my nipples, as my toy sawed back and forth across their sensitive tips.
My toy…
Yes, dammit. It was my toy! Yes, I knew who it was modeled after. Yes, I knew who it represented. And yes, it was mine.
I gripped the shaft of the cock with even more determination now. It was almost as if that little mental temper tantrum flipped another switch for me, one more step towards depravity.
Yes, I felt unclean. No longer pure. The little voice inside my head that held onto that existential status had been growing fainter and fainter, until it was finally locked away in a closet somewhere. Out of sight, out of earshot, out of mind.
My hand released my nipple, forcing a complaint at the loss. My nipple was hungry, and needed to be fed with attention and affection. Instead, though, my hand lurched down my tight abdomen, over my rounded mons, to reach my cleft. A single brush of my fingertips against my clit caused my knees to buckle, and I almost fell in the shower.
The cock, which had been pressed against my chest, collided with my falling head as I fought to regain my balance. The veiny surface caressed my chin, then my cheek. Without intending to do so, without even realizing it, I turned my head slightly into the false flesh.
And I kissed it.
It was a natural movement, as involuntary as breathing. My cheek pressed against the shaft and my lips simply brushed against it, and my instinct was to pucker them to plant a tender kiss along the side. At the same time, my fingers danced across my folds, playing with my clit and prodding my entrance, but the realization of what I was doing with my mouth was where my focus was. I had been holding this toy –
my toy –
for a few days. It felt like weeks. Without meaning to, I was now beyond simply growing fond of it – feeling possessive over it. This… this just felt natural. Sitting in the car, next to my father, feeling a warmth of feeling towards him that I never had before – it all started with this cock now pressed against my lips.
The water from the shower slicked the cock, and I could run my lips from side to side without any difficulty. I ignored the smell of the material, instead focusing completely on the texture and the feel. As the shaft moved across my lips, I felt every alternating vein and smooth valley.
The instinct was natural, involuntary. There was no conscious thought at all when I parted my lips and stuck my tongue out to enjoy the sensations my lips had been monopolizing. First, the tip of the tongue, playing out across each rounded vein, searching along its path. Then that wasn’t enough, and I flattened my tongue to cover more surface area.
It never seemed to end. From base to tip, my slow languid licking of his cock –
his cock
– went on forever. I tried opening my mouth wider to taste and feel more of it, trying to open my mouth to take the shaft in horizontally, the way that a dog would hold a bone. There was no way I could do it in this fashion, however, and I soon abandoned such an idea.
Yesterday such an act would have been reprehensible to me, nauseating. Just thinking about licking my father’s cock – fake or otherwise – would have sent me into fits of disgust. Licking the same toy that Simone had tried to stuff inside her pussy would have been anathema.
Now, though, I didn’t care. Doing this took that feeling of being unclean, and embraced it. I didn’t want to be “pure” any more. I wanted to eradicate it from my personality. All this time, my whole life, purity had been a weakness.
I wanted to be strong, just as strong as Punk Girl. She could have been a wussy, tiny little purity doll, but she wasn’t. She simply didn’t care.
I didn’t care, either. I thought about how much I hated Simone, how her pussy had slid across the bulbous head that I now had pressing against my tongue. I thought about my father, his cock pushing against his jeans in the car, and how I had been so dangerously close to the real thing. I thought about the warmth I felt towards him, the turning of my attitude in his favor, while I stroked the dildo in the car and pressed it up against my pussy. I anguished about how puritanical I had been, how critical of my own body, of my own attractiveness, and how I had completely missed out on the sexuality within.
I threw all of those emotions into a blender and whirled them into unrecognizable mush, and something snapped inside me. Like some sort of membrane, I simply pushed through all of it.
Once more, my body acted on its own without my mind’s contributions. The head of the cock was right at my lips, and I felt it start to push inwards, separating my lips and pushing my tongue back into my mouth. It seemed to have a life of its own, as if my hands weren’t the ones forcing it into my mouth.
The giant head crept forward, my jaws expanding to accommodate the size. My tongue ran, instinctively, across the head to give it more lubrication. I felt strain on the corners of my mouth, a stretching that was unpleasant, and I backed off a bit. Determination set it, however, and once more it prodded against me. Each time it entered my mouth, the strain would still come but a little later each time. There was no way I was going to get the head inside my tiny mouth, much less the entire length, but it became a challenge to see just how far I could go.
I loved it. The feeling was indescribable. I finally felt like I was taking control – control over this toy that Simone had burdened me with, control over my own stunted maturity, control over my feelings of inadequacy, control over my overinflated superego.
I needed to touch myself as I did this. I needed to come with this knob in my mouth. I needed to feel the gratification that would come from all of these sensations colliding at the same time. So much need coursing through me, I wasn’t sure how to contain it all.
Yet, I simply couldn’t control the dildo with one hand. It was just too huge. I whimpered in frustration, not knowing how to solve this particular problem. I didn’t want to remove the cock from my mouth or my hand from my pussy.
Even so, sometimes you have to take a step backward to go forward. The cock didn’t have one of those suction cup thingies on the bottom – I doubt that it would ever be able to stick to anything, it was too heavy and long for that – so the only thing that I could do was place it on the floor of the shower and hold it with my hand.
I got on all fours, and placed the obscene cock on the floor, facing straight up. It was so tall that I didn’t have to bend down any further, and I could lower my mouth onto it in complete comfort.
This was a much better position than standing up. I held onto the base of the cock, which surprisingly gave me good support and control. Gravity helped my head lower just a bit more onto his cockhead than when I was standing up, and I had the freedom to wriggle my fingers between my legs and get good, strong strokes across my clit.
Just a bit further… further…
The head started to taper in my mouth, and I started getting the excited feeling that I might actually be able to get the whole thing in! My determination doubled, and I desperately wanted to feel the flare of the head behind my lips. I needed to feel it. Needed to.
Slowly, further, slowly… and then…
With a soft release, the head slipped completely inside my mouth. It wasn’t as much of a “pop” as it was a smooth slide into position. My eyes went wide, dumbstruck with the achievement. My fingers whisked away at my pussy, my orgasm picking up steam from the hours of teasing. There was going to be nothing stopping this train. My breathing was rough, and the strain of my jaws was uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to stop. I just needed to feel it here, in my mouth, resting here against my tongue and filling my cheeks, as I came.
Nothing was going to stop me. I was going to finally have the orgasm that I deserved, my purity gone, my soul cleansed of pure thoughts.
“Shannon?”
I heard my father’s voice outside the bathroom door. My eyes bolted open in fright. I was acutely aware of my position, and it wasn’t good. Here I was, on all fours, on the floor of the shower. I had my hand deep in my pussy, and my mouth filled – literally – with my father’s cock. Fake cock, but still!
“You’ve been in there a while,” he continued. “Are you okay?”
I tried to take my mouth off the cock so that I could respond. I needed him to go away. Just for a couple of minutes. We can talk then.
I couldn’t do it. My mouth couldn’t release his dick. Apparently when the head had slid completely inside, it had nestled just behind my teeth, and I would need both hands to pull it free. There was no fucking way I was going to take my hand away from my pussy, however.
“Shannon?” he called, softly.
His voice sounded melodic to my ears. Hearing him call my name set off fireworks somewhere inside. To my surprise, my body responded as if a zillion little electric tongues touched me everywhere. My orgasm, which was coming forward like a steady train, now jumped the tracks. I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to.
I moaned, completely unable to stop myself. Oh please, say my name. Say my name…
“Shannon?” he repeated, with a little more worried tone.
Oh my god, he thinks something’s wrong! He’s going to come in. He’s going to think I’m hurt or passed out or something. He’s going to see me like this.
My climax jumped 3 spaces forward. It was right there. Right there!
Oh no, did I want him to see me like this? Is that why I was so close? Couldn’t think of that now, though. Not now. Now I had a mission.
Get out of your head, Shannon!
I wanted him to say my name again. Say it, with the simulacra of his own cock stuck in his daughter’s mouth, her fingers buried in a frantic push towards the finish line. Like a lion waiting to pounce on its prey, waiting for it to make the final move, my orgasm hovered just at the edge of glory in anticipation.
A pause. Another pause. Silence.
For fuck’s sake, say my name!
“Shannon?”
That did it. There was a slight pause, the briefest of moments, when the air seemed to rush out of the room and I had a severe case of tunnel vision. Then, the explosion in my ears, and the flash of light that blinded my eyes, struck with intense force. Having my pussy and my mouth stimulated at the same time was a new experience, to be sure, but there was no denying the electric charge that coursed through my body came from my father’s voice.
As quickly as I could, with my arms and legs quivering in a gelatinous mess and my orgasm not quite subsided, I grabbed the dildo with both hands and freed myself from it.
Trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, I said, “Yes, Daddy?”
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
I slinked to the bottom of the shower floor, completely unable to hold up my own body weight. My dildo towered above me, still erect and standing on the floor. My hand tightly gripped the base of the cock for support, as if it were keeping me from sliding down the drain with the falling water.
I convulsed in aftershocks, the impact of what was happening to me still not registering completely.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, and another orgasm hit me hard. Talking to my father while holding this replica, in the middle of an orgasm, was having its own effect on my libido. Suddenly sonorous, his rich baritone seemed to resonate along my nerve endings, keeping my bliss at a high peak.
I inhaled and attempted to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be right out,” I said as smoothly as I could. If he could only see me, a quivering, shuddering, shaking mess on the shower floor, holding onto this image of himself, I can only imagine what he would have thought.
My attempt at a strong vocal answer seemed to have placated him. “Okay,” he said. “It’s getting close to lunchtime.” Another pause. “Your tea is cold.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you,” I managed to say, before I collapsed completely on the floor of the shower. The water was now growing cold and fell unceremoniously onto my body, but not quite able to prompt me to move from my exhausted stupor.
All I wanted to do was sleep. The only thing that was preventing me from passing out completely was the fact that my breathing was too hard, too ragged. I had no energy left, and it took me a full two minutes to get the strength to stand up straight. By that point, the water had run completely cold.
Not even standing completely, I slapped at the faucet to get the water to turn off, managing only after several frustrating tries. I limped my ass out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Before tending to myself, though, I reached into the shower and retrieved my dildo. Carefully drying it off, I then took one of my extra t-shirts and wrapped it around the cock, before putting it back into my bag.
Confronted with a lack of underwear, I contemplated putting my bra and panties back on, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. I settled for putting the bra back on, because otherwise I would have created very obvious titty peaks on any t-shirt I chose. As it was, it would be bad enough as the lace didn’t provide any padding at all.
But my panties had been soaked for hours of arousal. I just couldn’t do it; that didn’t seem so much naughty as gross, so decided to go commando.
The feeling of raw denim against my raw, freshly fapped pussy and my exposed buttocks was… magical.
Once more, I saw myself in the mirror with just the jeans and bra, but this post-orgasmic me was far more confident, and far more natural with the look. I had a fleeting temptation just to exit the bathroom as I was dressed and see my father’s reaction. Common sense kicked in, though, and I pulled on a clean t-shirt.
As expected, my nipples did their little “Hey! I’m here!” impression, but there was nothing I could do about that. A few days ago (or was it just yesterday?) I would have been mortified and spent hours, if necessary, looking for ace bandages to wrap around my chest.
Now, though, I shrugged, and muttered to myself, “Fuck it.” Leaving everything else in place – something else the “old” me would never have done – I walked out of the bathroom to go face my father. I mean, join him for lunch.
It was only as I left the bathroom that I realized I hadn’t bothered to wash myself at all.