In Camera

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Y’ know, all the years she lived at home, I never – not once – looked at my daughter that way. I like to think I never would have either. I love my daughter – as a father. So how did I get into such a fucked up situation?

It started a few weeks back. Meg, my wife, has lost interest in sex over the last couple of years. Oh, we still make love but more and more I get the impression she’s just going through the motions to please me. So, touched as I am by that, I’ve found myself wanting her less and less. Making love to Meg used to be such a spiritual thing that I’m increasingly uncomfortable sullying that memory for what has become just a few minutes of callisthenics. Anyway, in the absence of sex at home, I sought release elsewhere. No – not my daughter. I took to searching for porn on the internet.

It’s been a couple of decades since I took a real interest in porn and, wow, has it changed? What happened to all the grainy photos and untrimmed muffs? With so much porn available, I was able to find girls who looked a lot like Meg used to, except they were doing things Meg would never have done back in the day.

All that was fine for a while. Then I discovered the joys of webcams. The idea of some little chica taking off her panties just for me and fingering her wet, little twat while I jerk off in my study. Holy Shit! I found a couple of girls who reminded me of Meg, because Meg is still the woman I really want, even after 25 years of marriage. I found a couple of girls who looked like her and got off with one of them virtually every night.

A few weeks ago, neither of my regular girls was on-line so I got to browsing the public rooms looking for a one-night stand. Now, if you’ve never seen these sites, I’ll explain a few things. They’re two tier. There’s the public rooms where the girls chat and flirt and tease but don’t get nekkid. Then there’s the private rooms where the girl of your choice does pretty much anything you can imagine for five bucks a minute. Sounds expensive? So how long does it take you to get off when a girl you really fancy sticks three fingers up her ass and three in her twat while telling you how much she wants your cock instead? Trust me, its twenty-five bucks well spent.

Anyway, there I was, trying to pick a room based on the thumbnails of the girls – peeking through windows, so to speak. I spotted one girl with her ass to the camera and bisected neatly by a white thong. Just my speed, thought I and went right in.

Allwaysalways was her nom-de-salon and she was unbearably sexy, at least from this angle. Her bottom was perfect, flawless and devoid of pimples or blemishes. Her thong was so slim that her shaved labia were only half covered. What was covered was discernable as a contour map of white cotton. There was the nub of her clitoris at the head of a long straight valley that fed into what may have been a fjord, judging by the long slim wet patch that glistened as light caught it. The thin back of the thong did little to hide the sepia periphery of her anus, though it did cover her actual sphincter – just. As I catalogued all the good reasons for wanting to spend time with her, an elegantly manicured finger, tipped with a pearl coloured nail hooked under her string and traced the cleft of her buttocks, brushing over her anus and vanishing from sight momentarily under the white triangle of her gusset. It returned to view and was held close to the camera, glistening with her juices. Fuck! She was most definitely ripe for the plucking.

My cock was painfully hard, trapped in my trousers, so I unzipped and hauled the little guy out of there for his daily exercise. On screen, one of my roomies asked her real name, introducing himself as Vinnie. Helen. I now had a name for my lust. Helen! The ass that launched a thousand ships. Trust me guys, Helen’s ass and apple pie are like God and Country – We must defend them both to a man!

But I digress. Helen rocked her hips slowly, practically pouting with her pussy. Girls who know how to be on camera always move slowly. Webcams have so few frames per second that if you move fast it can look very jerky. Slow is sexier anyway and Helen clearly knew that. I stroked my length and watched her awhile, using my free hand to type a greeting and a comment on how sexy she was:-

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: Hi Helen. Damn, Girl! That is some fine tush you got there.”

“Allwaysalways: Thx papa. Want 2 see more?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: In a min. Gotta get warmed up. It takes time at my age. Toys?”

Gotta get warmed up! Who was I kidding? I had a boner you could drive nails with, but its as well to be really ready before the meter starts running with these girls or it can get expensive.

“Allwaysalways: Lots of toys. How old are you papa?” On screen she draped a string of anal beads over her butt so the first bead rested just where it should. A bright blue dildo came into frame from between her legs, nuzzling her crotch. Yeah! She had toys.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: 45. U?”

“Allwaysalways: 20. ready to go pvt papa?”

Man was I ever ready? But I wanted to see the rest of Escort bayan her first.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: depends. do u have a pretty smile?”

There was a moment of unfocused movement as she turned around and adjusted the camera to show all of her. As the image refocused, I nearly had a heart attack.

“Allwaysalways: do I papa?”

Fucking hell! My daughter! Helen! I was sitting there with a hard-on ready to explode and I’d got it up watching my own daughter’s tush.

“Allwaysalways: well papa?”

Shit. She was even calling me Papa. And to add to the general fucked-up-ness of the situation, my hard-on wasn’t abating. It was actually twitching excitedly at the prospect. Not having any idea how I could deal with this, I closed the webpage.

My daughter. My little girl is doing sex shows. Y’know, I could have lived my whole life without that datum. She’d told her Mom she had a summer job in telemarketing. Sure, we were disappointed that she wouldn’t be home for the holidays but students always need money and we were proud of our independent little girl. But this? This isn’t telemarketing. Ok, so it’s closer to stripping than hooking but still… Strippers just take their clothes off and dance. Cam girls tend to have to get a whole lot more explicit than that. How many guys have watched her push those beads up her tush? How many have jerked off as that dildo stretched her wide? Oh Shit! This was too fucked up. Mental images of Helen using the toys were making my cock twitch. I couldn’t possibly deny I was turned on, even while I was internally ranting about what my little girl was doing for money.

I’d call her. That’s what I’d do. Call her and talk to her about it. I reached for the telephone and speed dialled her mobile.

“Hi Daddy. What’s up?” She sounded so chipper I lost my nerve.

“Hello Sweetheart. Why does anything have to be up?”

“Because you never call me. It’s always Mom.”

“So? Then it’s about time I did. You’re always talking to your mother. I just thought… It’d be nice to hear your voice for a change. I always get your news second hand.” How on earth was I going to get on to the subject of her ‘job’?

“It’s good to hear you too, Daddy, but I’m at work right now.”

“So late?” Yeah Sweetheart, Daddy knows you’re at work. That’s what’s up.

“I need the overtime. Tuition to pay.”

“Helen… I’ve told you before, if you need help with that…” Shit! I’d gladly cover all her tuition at this point, just to get her off the internet. But I wish my cock would go back to sleep. Damn! Helen’s voice is so sexy. Oh God! I can’t be lusting after my own daughter. I just can’t.

“I know, Daddy, and its sweet of you to offer… but I want to pay my own way if I can.”

I gave in to the demons and reopened the browser, navigating back to Allwaysalways’ chat room. I heard a kerching noise over the telephone as I re-entered.

“What was that?” I asked. Not that I needed to. Some cam-girls have sound and you hear the kerching from their PCs whenever a customer with credit enters their room. It is the money they’re interested in after all.

“Just someone reaching their sales target.” Helen lied smoothly. On screen, she was lying face down with her feet in the air, propped on her elbows, holding her phone to her ear and typing with her free hand.

“Allwaysalways: welcome back papa”

I could hear Helen typing in the background.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: sorry. lost connection. Who r u talking to?”

“Daddy, I really gotta get back to work. We’re not supposed to take personal calls.”

“Allwaysalways: girlfriend ;-)”

“Oh…Sure Sweetheart. Well, I’d better let you get on with it then. Goodnight.”

“G’nite Daddy. Love to Mom.” The line went dead. On screen, Helen put down her phone.

“Allwaysalways: Papa. u never did tell me what u thought of my smile.” She reoriented and zoomed her camera to show just her face and white cami top. She was stunning – even allowing for paternal bias in such things.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: Lovely” And still my cock was hard. I was going to have to accept that I wanted her. I felt like such a sicko. That turned me on more, not less.

“Allwaysalways: Papa I’m really wet. Wanna take me somewhere quiet and …?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: sure” I clicked the button to go private with her. I told myself that it was to protect her from all those perverts who’d been ogling her and demanding flashes or making vulgar suggestions. I told myself that but, deep down, I knew I was just another dirty old man and I really really wanted to get my rocks off.

“Allwaysalways: shall I take these things off?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: not yet. can we talk a bit?”

“Allwaysalways: sure papa. u like talking dirty?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: no. I’m just wondering why you do this. Is it just for the money?”

“Allwaysalways: you’re not gonna start trying to save me are you?”

“Allwaysalways: because I don’t need saving. NO, not just the money. I couldn’t do this unless I got off on getting off in front of an Bayan escort audience.”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: sorry. I didn’t mean to sound critical”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: I’m not trying to save anybody”

“Allwaysalways: Good”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: So you really do come sometimes?”

“Allwaysalways: It takes me about 10 mins to get off properly. Most guys don’t want to spend that much. I can put on a show that’ll get you off in half that. Wanna try?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: I don’t mind the money”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: Why don’t you show me what you really like?”

“Allwaysalways: Oh goodie!” She zoomed out a bit so she was all in shot and peeled her cami top off. Damn! She had pert tits. I realized why I was so hard – she was the spitting image of Meg, twenty-five years back. Same breasts, same build, same face. Even the hair and eye colour matched. But Meg had pubes, like all girls back then in the dark ages. Helen’s thong got hooked by thumbs and slid along thighs and calves out of frame. Helen had no pubes at all: a fact easily discernable as she sat with legs apart, facing the camera.

“Allwaysalways: I hope you can last long enough papa. I’d like us to come together. Would you like me to turn the microphone on?”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: You have sound? Cool.”

Helen reached off camera and suddenly the speakers boomed into life. I turned the volume down to a whisper.

“Sure I have sound, Papa. But I don’t like talking to the punters all day so I save it for private guests. I hope you enjoy this as much as I plan on doing.” She moved a couple of pillows behind her and reclined, using a remote controller to pan the camera for the best view of her pussy. I could see her ass hole lurking in the shadows too. Not for long! She brought her knees up to her chest, exposing both her holes to the camera, and reached for her bottom. She didn’t actually penetrate her sphincter but she massaged her anus and the surrounding area with a fingertip.

“Mmm… Its torture you know? Touching and teasing for hours and not being able to just come… Oh, that feels so good.

Helen’s other hand homed in on her labia, slapping them with quick, sharp taps and plucking at them, pinching and stretching first one, then the other, then both, letting them spring back. She moaned with lust as she mauled her lips until the juice was trickling out of her pussy hole. She sank three fingers into herself with a sigh like someone slipping into a hot bath after a hard day. Her fingers pumped rhythmically, her head, out of focus but still just in frame, tossed from side to side on the pillows and she gasped with each intake of breath. I pumped my cock slowly, mindful that I had to last twice as long as usual despite the extreme nature of my arousal.

After a minute or so molesting her labia, Helen reached for her nipples, pinching and rolling them, kneading handfuls of breast.

“Enjoying the show, Papa? Ooh.”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: Loving it.”

Her right hand went to her clit, rubbing little circles over its concealing hood. She made eye contact with the camera and smiled at me. This wasn’t the smile I was used too: the smile of my little girl. This was a smile filled with raw sexual abandon: The smile that says I know you’re watching, you naughty man.

“I bet your cock’s hard enough for me now. I wonder which hole you’d stick it in.”

Without looking away, Helen reached for her dildo, jamming the thick toy into her vagina almost to the flanged base.

“Oh! That feels so big!” Her head dropped back on the pillows as she pinched either side of the base of the dildo and worked it in and out. Every few strokes she pulled it right out of her gaping pussy then drove it back in like a dagger. Faster and faster she pumped the plastic cock in and out. I’d never seen this two-handed grip before but it looked like she needed both hands to push it in hard enough for her.

If her gasps of pleasure were any measure of these things, she was certainly having fun. My own strokes speeded up too. I’d all but forgotten this was my daughter and I just wanted to come.

As her orgasm seemed to be approaching and she was moving the dildo so fast the webcam image became jumpy, I could hold on no longer, grunting and blowing my wad all up the front of my shirt. I kept on stroking my cock as it dribbled a pool of sperm that overflowed my fingers and dripped down onto my balls. On screen, Helen was still going at it hell for leather. I stroked on and barely softened as my little girl fucked herself to climax a few minutes later.

“Oh Fuck! Yes!..Fuck yes!..oh Oh OH…YESSSSS!….OOOH!” She slowed the dildo right down and everything came back into focus. Her skin shone with perspiration and her face was flushed pink after her release. The dildo slipped from her hands and body and lay motionless on the bed between her legs. Her bosom heaved as she caught her breath.

“Did you come?” Her voice was breathy, sleepy.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: LOTS. I couldn’t hold on though. I came ages ago L”

“Well thanks for taking Escort me all the way.”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: I wouldn’t have missed it 4 the world.”

“I’ve gotta get cleaned up.”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: See U back in the room?”

“Sure Papa.” Helen turned off the microphone, waved to me with a juice soaked hand and turned off the camera.

I dug a box of Kleenex out of my desk drawer and cleaned up as much as I could of the mess I’d made of myself then went back to her chat room to say goodnight.

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: that was amazing. thx”

“Allwaysalways: anytime papa. I enjoyed it too J”

“Papasgotabrandnewbag: goodnight”

“Allwaysalways: goodnight papa. don’t be a stranger. x” On screen, she went through the motions of blowing a kiss. I closed the browser.

Then came the guilt. She was my daughter for fuck’s sake! I felt like such a pervert for what I’d done but I managed to convince myself that in some weird way it wasn’t incest. I even convinced myself that by spending online time with Helen, I could covertly fund her college tuition – the money she wouldn’t just take. In hindsight, that’s complete shit but, at the time, it allowed me to sleep nights and spend my evenings jerking off while watching Helen’s kinky antics.

A month and a thousand bucks later, Helen told Meg that she was coming home for a couple of weeks R&R. My daughter? Here? How could I face her after the last month’s antics? I went to pieces. Meg thought I was having a mid-life crisis and kept looking out of the kitchen window to see if I’d bought a Harley yet. I was a wreck by the weekend, when I drove to LAX to pick Helen up. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was shitting myself.

“Hiya Daddy!” Helen spotted me first.

I turned in time to be hit full on by an attention seeking missile. She hung around my neck, buzzed my lips, hugged me and finally pressed her cheek to my shoulder and babbled about how much she’d missed me and how much she was looking forward to spending time with me again and how she had so much to tell me and so on and so forth. As the enthusiasm batteries ran down, she noticed that I was standing like a statue and that I wasn’t hugging her back.

“What’s up Daddy?” She pulled away far enough to look at me, her expression reflecting deep affection and concern. I was doing my best to imagine cold showers to avoid noticing how warm she felt against me. A hard-on poking her in the tummy right now would be a bad thing.

“Nothing’s up, Sweetheart.” Not strictly true. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by the bandwidth. Think you could talk at 56K instead of 8meg?”

“Oh Daddy!” She hugged me again. Thankfully, she didn’t get close enough to feel what was really up. “I’m just so excited! Didn’t you miss me too?”

“You know I did. I even called you at work because I missed you.”

“I remember… I’ve quit the telemarketing job now. I’ve found a bar job instead. You meet a better class of people in bars.”

“Really?” I eased her off my neck and picked up her luggage. She took the hint and we got moving.

“Oh sure! People are so rude to telemarketers. Speak to a bartender like that and you’d die of thirst. And bar staff get tips! I get to use my charm.” Helen was still pretty hyper and was skipping along beside me when walking would have done just fine. “Daddy!” She used the tone that, as a little girl, meant she was about to ask for something.

“Yes?” I asked in the same cautious voice I’d used for most of 20 years.

“Can we stop off for ice cream? I’ve had a craving for a chocolate sundae since Boston.”

“Sure Sweetheart.” It’d been years since the two of us went for sundaes together. At least it was a memory of her that didn’t involve nudity. “Denny’s?”

“Super! Where did you park?”

“Right over there.” I nodded to the east corner of the parking lot.

“Shall I fetch a trolley? They’re heavy. Us girls never travel light.”

“Don’t bother. They’re not that heavy and I’m not that old yet.”

“You’re not old. You’re just mature…like wine.”


“And one of these days, someone’s gonna get that cork out of your ass.”


“Just teasing Daddy Dear.” She twirled around in front of me causing an emergency stop while I got buzzed again. “I read it in a novel and I’ve been just dying to use that line.”

“You have time to read novels? Not enough textbooks?”

“It’s not all work, work, work. I get an hour in the exercise yard every other day and Sunday afternoon off once a month.”

“Ok. I surrender. I do vaguely remember having fun at college too. Just so long as books figure somewhere in your busy social calendar – somewhere between booze and boys.”

Helen thought about that for a second. “Alphabetically ‘books’ come before both ‘booze’ and ‘boys’, but ‘studying’ comes after ‘parties’, ‘socializing’ and ‘sex’.”

“TMI Sweetheart.”

“Oh Daddy! You mentioned boys first and I have to do something with my evenings. I’m not 21 yet.” She was right. I did mention boys and I do know my little girl has been a ‘woman’ since prom night and, right now, I was deeply regretting even obliquely mentioning her social life as any thought involving Helen and sex got my pecker interested in the conversation again. Cold showers. Cold showers. Cold showers.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo�altmam� ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *