One In Three Ch. 01

Force-adjusted, it was Gretchen now loud for her sisters – for more kisses and caresses, reinforcements of any sort – and George spread his daughter’s pretty buns as far as they’d part to watch her soft hole clutching and smoothly hooping in & out with every stroke of his prick and the brown-pink froth foaming at the edges of her anus, the same broth of which he’d made Bridget suck him clean. Gretchen squatting froggy, low and her knees drawn up under and wide aside her, her buns boldy pointed at her father’s crotch and leading with her rectum, like her mom in the island layout and living the photo’s design, bare-assed and being butt-pumped, the contrast between her daddy’s great gnarled sausage dividing her raw muffins and all-opening her as he had mom when she was her age, cannon-firing his cock solid up her butt – explosion, recoil, and explosion again, spit bubbles and cooze, wet at both ends and her ass blasted for half-again longer as had her sister endured – and Gretchen then felt lumps of hot paste adhere to her insides, her daddy’s spillage flushing through her, an organic slick that’d take all night to drain off.

And then Eleanor, on the floor as well, but lying face-down over one of the sofa’s large throw pillows, more restful and in for the better part of an hour, her father’s knees planted to either side of her hips and his ankles hooked over her legs, behind her knees and holding her immobilized and pinned in place; no prolonged push until he was let inside, as he had been with Bridget & Gretchen, his weight carried him into her just as she was readying to be entered and before her yell reached her throat, no more unbearable but less gradual the discomfort: a rigid pause, waiting for air, George already stroking through his daughter, and then a howl from her she thought stopped long before it did, nailing Eleanor to the floor through her fanny, sodomizing heavier the third of his daughters, drilling and feeling her squirm under him, she as if in search of an easier way to get fucked up her soft ass: ten whole inches of play along the length of her father’s cock and none of it free of its girth – 3 inches wide and all too thick, whether shallow or shockingly deep.

Eleanor was then knelt upright by her father, his hands clamped atop her shoulders: she could be seated no further down than her ass squashed flat, was let no more up than within an inch of out, then forced at the shoulders for the wide ride back into place; he’d manage only a smear of semen inside the last of his daughters and he’d make the most it, driving hard, leveraging her whole body onto him. Bridget & Gretchen knelt in front of Eleanor as she was bounced pogo-motion from behind, and Gretchen ventured too-affectionate smooches of her face and neck – for both their sakes, Ellie’s titties jumping and jiggling – and Bridget reached under Eleanor to finger her pie.

Gretchen looked over at her, and Bridgie blushed, uncertainly smiling back at her sister, though her fingers softly remaining inside Ellie and getting results; Gretchen kissed Bridget on the lips – nicely lingering, entwining tongues, both discovering this would do until the boys their age grew up – now grinning easily again at each other, and then at Eleanor: goodwill & consent all around, and Bridget as sweetly smooched Eleanor in the same manner, their father still absorbed with reaming-running-roughshod up Ellie’s ass, and Gretchen put her fingers between Bridget’s legs. The girls they then all three looked over at Maggie; she’d at some point poured herself a large tumbler of wine and had been quietly seated off to the side, having a smoke, observing the action. She suddenly got their message and rolled her eyes and laughed, deeply blushing herself, and just said ‘…ok’, and then as cheerfully nervous as her daughters, “ – tomorrow night.”

All got their remarkable mention – Bridget, taking the first, biggest load, an entire pint enema; then Eleanor getting the last, longest ride, 40 minutes; and Gretchen, a good portion of both and set to her choice of music – throbbing, bass-heavy rhythm and a free-form vague poetry, the drive of the tempo rather than the songs’ simple messages: electro-botic / techno-botic mechanical & dispassionate music you could attach your own meaning to because all it did was feel good.

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(part 2 to follow…)