Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2023 18:17:25 +0000 From: Jane Smith Subject: Slippery Slope - Rock Bottom, chapter 2 This is the second installment in the Slippery Slope series, and I have one more planned. This installment features M/F/f, F/f, M/f, M/M/F. The last chapter includes beast which will be posted separately in the Bestiality section. You can contact me at allseeingpigeon@outlook.com. I read all emails, though I may not respond. These are not checked every day so be warned. I'm on Wickr as allseeingpigeon. I may not be in your time zone. Please bear that in mind if you don't get a response. Please do not send pics without asking first. This story is fantasy and has no basis in reality. Nifty is a vast, invaluable resource, so why not make a financial contribution at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ? ----------------------------------------------------------------------- That night had been special. We didn't repeat that particular kink often -- I was aware of the physical risks of taking both of our daughter's holes at once -- preferring instead to keep it as a reward for Henry's good behaviour. If he did chores without having to be nagged, if he bought me little presents, things like that. Some wives made their husbands a nice dinner for domestic servitude; I let him fuck our little girl. Christmas was fast approaching. It was the beginning of December when it first dawned on me that we might have a problem: - Henry's father, Hank, always spent the time Christmas and New Year with us. Days when we couldn't molest our daughter. It shocked me to feel I couldn't go that long without touching her. But we were adults, dammit, and we would fucking well show some restraint. Christmas week arrived, and with it came Hank and his dog Bud. We greeted them as warmly as we always did. Tilly in particular loved Bud; they were a similar age, and the German Shepherd always seemed to love playing tug of war or fetch out in the yard. Hank was a stocky guy in his sixties. He'd been in the Army but long since retired. I'd always had the impression you could take the man out of the Army, but you could never take the Army out of the man; he'd kept himself fit, his silver-grey hair in a military crew cut. He liked to show off his well-defined pecs in tight T-shirts that highlighted his larger-than-normal nipples. I'd never admitted it to my husband, but I'd always had a daddy kink about Hank. I frequently made myself cum thinking about nursing on those nipples. I'd never felt any shame. It was just a fantasy. Given that we were now living many pervert's fantasies... no, no. I had no idea how Henry would react if I told him. Well... OK, so maybe I had more than half an idea. Henry was a dirty bastard. The idea of his father railing his wife would probably turn him on. Our resolve not to interfere with Tilly lasted into the strange time between Christmas Day and New Year. Hank was asleep, lightly snoring on the sofa, while Tilly was sitting in her daddy's lap as usual. I was in the armchair opposite, knitting in my lap, a half-finished sweater on the needles. Bud slept in his travel bed in the kitchen. Tilly was asleep. I wasn't drugging her while Hank was here. It took me a while to notice, particularly as I was half-watching TV, but notice I did -- Henry was back to his old trick of slowly, gently, humping against her ass. It was wildly dangerous. It was wildly inappropriate. And it was wildly arousing. Henry would stop immediately if Hank woke up, but his red face was a giveaway. And if Tilly woke up, she'd feel her daddy's hard-on grinding against her. But Henry didn't stop. And now the cessation of my needles clicking together had drawn his attention, and he was looking at me, a manic grin stretching his mouth. I tried to tell him to stop. To think about what he was doing. But he was thinking with his dick, not his brain, and God help me -- so was I. The thrill of the taboo, of watching my husband molesting our sleeping (but not drugged) daughter while her grandfather snored across the room... it was a powerful turn-on. No way was I going to stop Henry from doing that. Nor could I seem to stop my hand from disappearing beneath my knitting, working its way under my skirt, and slipping inside my already-soaked panties. I bit my lip to stifle a soft gasp, but I couldn't hide the way my hard nipples pressed against the fabric of my blouse. Henry saw. His grin grew wider. We had the slowest, most dangerous sex in history. The infinitesimal movements of Tilly's body showed that Henry was still humping her ass. I rubbed my clit. He was trying to keep the rough sound of his breathing down, but I heard it, and I was pretty sure he'd be able to hear the wet squelch of my fingers as I pushed them inside myself. I rubbed faster. Harder. Fingered myself more deeply. Staring at Tilly's gently shaking body, my eyes flicking to Hank every few seconds. His snores didn't change. And then my Goddamned daughter woke up. She let out a sleepy yawn. I eased my hand out from between my legs, glad the knitting hid it from view. Henry was quick to act. Before she could become aware of what must be his raging erection, he scooped her up and stood, angling his body away from Hank and toward the door to the hall. "Time for bed," he said in a soft, cheerful voice. "Let's not wake up Gramps, huh?" Tilly's sleepy giggle was adorable. Hank snored on. Henry carried our daughter upstairs. I gave them a minute, then set aside my knitting and went upstairs. Tilly was in the bathroom, the door half-open as she cleaned her teeth in front of the sink. Henry was in her room. He crooked his finger at me. I moved on zombie feet. He was on the far side of her bed, looking out through the door, Tilly visible in the bathroom down the hall. We looked at each other. I reached out and palmed his erection. His cock was hot and heavy under my hand, straining against his jeans. He turned me around and gave me a hard shove. I just had the presence of mind to stifle a startled sound, putting my hands out as I landed on Tilly's bed. Bent over, I spread my legs wide and buried my face in the blanket. It smelled sweet. Just like her. Henry flipped my skirt up over my ass. No time to pull my panties down -- his hard cock nudged past the soaked crotch and pushed roughly into my wet pussy. The pleasure was intense. I gripped the blanket, letting it muffle my groan as Henry buried himself deep inside me. His hand clenched my hair, pulling my head up. Forcing me to look at Tilly while she cleaned her teeth. He fucked me frantically. The bed shook. I stared at our daughter, knowing Henry was doing the same. She could turn around at any second, and then she'd see her parents fucking over her bed. It was delicious and nasty. Henry's low grunt, and the sudden sharp jolt of his hips, told me he'd just cum. He pulled out, squeezed my ass hard enough to leave finger-marks, and let my skirt drop. I'd just straightened up -- frustrated, horny, Henry's cum trickling down my thighs -- when Tilly finished up in the bathroom. She turned and saw us both in her room. "Mommy?" "It's OK, sweetie." Oh fuck, I sounded so breathless. "Just thought you might like a story after Daddy tucks you in." Her beaming smile was all the answer I needed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ten minutes later, we left Tilly in her bed and already half-asleep. I was about to head into our bedroom to finish off with a vibrator what my irritating husband had started, but he grabbed my hand and led me towards the stairs instead. "I really need to cum," I snapped in a low, irritable voice. "I know. Trust me, OK?" Smug bustard. He had something kinky planned. I sighed, nodded, and let him lead me downstairs. The living room door was still open, Hank visible across the room. Still snoring. Henry pushed me up against the wall. I had a clear view of Hank through the door... and he of me, if he woke up. Henry dropped to his knees. Oh, shit! He was going to eat me out right here? He pushed my skirt up again. I held it around my waist while he tugged my panties down. I spread my legs a little, just enough for him to get his tongue inside me, and tried to stay upright as he sucked on my clit. The thrill was incredible. Part of me wanted Hank to wake up, wanted him to get hard watching his son orally pleasure his daughter-in-law. It was nasty, obscene, and as Henry slurped my juices -- and his own cum -- I fantasised about what could happen. Maybe Hank would take his cock our, stroke it in one meaty fist. Maybe he'd unbutton his shirt and toy with one of those bullet-sized nipples -- My orgasm was quick, hard, and so deep I had to clamp both hands over my mouth. My legs immediately buckled. Henry held me up until I steadied myself, then he got to his feet. He kissed me. I tasted myself. I tasted him. We were fucking delicious. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The house was a Tilly-free zone the next morning. I'd taken her out early for a play-date with one of her school friends, and she wasn't due back until at least lunchtime. That allowed Henry, Hank and I to have a leisurely breakfast. I sipped coffee, Henry munched on a croissant, while Hank read a newspaper. Last night's dangerous games were still very much in my mind, enough so that I seemed in a permanent state of low arousal. "So," Hank said eventually, not looking up from his paper, "how long have you been fucking that kid?' Everything stopped. My cup was halfway to my mouth. Henry had just bitten down on his croissant. I put the mug down, very carefully. "That's a disgusting accusation to make, Hank." "You're not denying it, though." He gave me a knowing look over the top of his broadsheet. He sighed, folded it, and dumped it on the table, all while I was silently panicking. "Listen, you can drop the act. It's a good act -- a great one -- but you slipped up last night." Henry put his croissant down and slowly chewed his mouthful. The bastard, he was going to leave this mess for me to deal with. "I don't know what you mean," I said stiffly. My stomach roiled with fear. "No?" Hank raised a bushy eyebrow. "Forget the part where Henry humped your daughter, did you? Forget the part where you frigged yourself silly watching him do it? How about the part where whatever you did to that girl upstairs got you so damned worked up Henry ate you out right in the hall?" He'd seen. He'd seen it all. Oh hell, we were in so much trouble. But when I shot another panicked look at my husband, he seemed... calm, almost. What the fuck? "Hank, I don't what you thought you saw --" "I've been fucking Henry since he was Tilly's age," Hank interrupted, leaning forward. His stern eyes caught mine and held them. "Only stopped when he went to college." I tore my gaze away, looking between Hank and my husband. Bewildered. Disbelieving. And suddenly, shockingly, turned on. "I don't believe you," I whispered, though the proof was right there on Henry's face. Hank looked at him. "How `bout we give her a demonstration?" he suggested. "Been a while since I tapped your ass." He grinned, tight and hard. "We could recreate that first time." Henry swallowed his croissant. He was breathing fast, and without even looking at his crotch, I knew he'd be hard. "Right here?" "Yeah." Hank's grin showed off too many teeth. Henry let out a shallow, shaky breath. "OK." Hank stood up. My eyes went to the huge, obvious bulge in his trousers. Sweet mother of God, the outline of his cock was fucking enormous, bigger even than Henry's. How the fuck had he forced that monster up a little boy's ass? I found that I was more shocked by the idea of a child being able to take that beast than by Hank's easy admission that he'd molested his own son. What kind of a parent did that make him? What kind of a parent did that make me? Our eyes met again. Hot and heavy. Fuck. The thrill; the dark taboo... yes, we understood each other very well. Henry stood up, too. He tried to walk past his father. Hank's hand shot out and yanked him hard; with one rapid, blurry movement, he'd tugged Henry's arm behind his back and shoved him face down over the table. Crockery went flying. My coffee spilled, immediately forgotten. The plate of croissants, even the newspaper, tumbled onto the floor as Henry's free arm flailed. "Daddy," he said with a shaky whimper, "that hurts! What are you doing?" Hank shoved him more roughly onto the table. "It's been fucking months since I've had any action," Hank growled. "Been on deployment so long my dick has forgotten what it was made for. I need a hole, boy, and you're the only one around right now." "I don't understand!" Henry's childish roleplay, Hank's domination, was so hot I was shifting in my chair. Trying to get some friction on my clit. Seeing me wriggle, Hank broke character for a moment. "Do it," he said. "Play with yourself while I fuck your husband. I want him to watch you getting off." So this was where Henry got his nasty from. Still amazed at how quickly we'd gone from not to hot, I pulled my skirt up and slipped two fingers around the crotch of my moist panties and into my soaking cunt. Henry groaned. Hank growled. Fuck, what a turn-on. "Daddy's gotta get his dick wet," he said, slipping back into character. "It's gonna happen, boy, and it's gonna hurt. I'm sorry about that. But I need to cum so fucking bad." Keeping one hand on the back of his son's neck, he reached around with the other and fumbled with the fastenings on Henry's slacks. He yanked the garment down over his ass, taking his underpants with them, right to his ankles. I didn't have a good view of Henry's dick, but I saw enough to know he was rock hard. Hank let go of Henry just long enough to get his jeans undone and shoved down to his knees. A long, fat cock sprang out, enough to make me drool. Henry tried to get up. Hank shoved him down again. "Stay fucking still, bitch!" he yelled, slapping the back of Henry's head. My husband whimpered. Hank spat on his palm, slathering spit over his cock. He pulled Henry's plump ass cheeks apart to expose his hole -- winking in anticipation, fear, excitement, or a mixture of all three -- and spat between his cheeks. He used the head of his cock to further spread his spittle, letting it pool around Henry's asshole. Then he snapped his hips forward, driving his barely-lubed cock balls-deep into my husband's pussy. Henry screamed. Hank's hand slapped over his mouth, muffling the sound. I frantically fingered myself, turned on beyond all expectation. Henry's scream was real. There was no way he could fake a sound like that. But despite what must be agonising pain, he hadn't lost his erection. Incredible. "Good boy," Hank gasped as Henry's screams died down to a gurgle, then snuffling. He was actually crying. Holy shit. I tried to feel bad for him, to feel some measure of pity, but as soon as I saw his tears I came. I made no effort to stifle my cries of pleasure. I trembled and shook in the seat, finally slumping back. I didn't take my hand out of my panties. Hank shot me an approving grin. Keeping his hand over Henry's mouth, my father-in-law fucked him with short, brutal jabs, pausing for a few seconds each time before jabbing again. He peppered the fucking with a litany of filth that had me cumming all over again. "You're taking Daddy's cock like a champ, sport," he hissed. "Fuck, your ass is so tight. Tight like a pussy. I'm fucking your pussy, son, I'm fucking your cunt. I'm fucking my own son's cunt." Henry arched his back, making his ass seem bigger. He gripped the edge of the table. The noises coming through his father's hand now were whimpers of pleasure. Was this the origin of my husband's constant need for a pegging, during the early days of our marriage? The fact that his dad buggered him as a little boy? This was so beautifully fucked up. "Oh yeah," Hank gasped. He'd sped up, but each jabbing stroke lost none of its brutal power. "You like that, son? You like Daddy ramming his cock into your tiny boypussy? You like Daddy turning you into a little faggot? Huh? Do you like Daddy's big cock inside you, faggotboy?" Henry was squealing now with each hard thrust. Hank's body covered him, fucking so hard the table moved. I pulled my fingers out of dripping cunt and stroked my clit, wanting to time my orgasm with Hank's. I watched him closely, absorbing each filthy insult he growled at his son. Loving the rough, brutal power of his fuck. Hank sped up even more until he was pounding Henry's hole. He grimaced, face twisting, a yell wrenched from his throat as he started to cum. He pulled out and shot two, three, four good sized ropes of spunk over Henry's used and gaping hole. I frigged myself to another deep, rolling orgasm, finally pulling my hand out of my panties and dropping my skirt. I licked my fingers, content and sleepy. Hank wasn't quite done. He reached around with his free hand and grabbed Henry's cock, beating him off with single-minded intensity. Henry squealed again, whole body stiffening as he exploded. Hank caught some of his load. Taking his other hand away from Henry's mouth, he covered it again with his wet hand. "Lick it off, faggot. Lick off your own cum." Henry obeyed with a will, quickly cleaning his father's palm. He slid off the table and scooped up the few spots of cum that he'd missed. "That," I said slowly, and with deep sincerity, "was fucking hot. And fucking nasty."