Debora And Dads Acting Class

I leaned against the wall in my bedroom and looked down onto the balding head of my Dad, as he feverishly tried to undo the four buttons that held the front of my denim mini skirt together. My blouse lay on the floor where Dad had thrown it after he had ripped it off me just a few moments ago. I looked at my exposed breasts and could see that there were already signs that, by morning, they would be scarred with his love bites. I could probably still stop him now if I wanted to, but did I? Hadn't I set all this up anyway? Hadn't I been looking forward to this all day and dressed so provocatively for his arrival? As he managed to get the top button of my short skirt unfastened, my mind went back to how it all started.

Six months ago I was a fairly happy 24-year-old with a good job, a nice flat, a fairly new-ish car and a good social life. OK, so I had a failed marriage behind me, but at least there were no kids to worry about, and Mum and Dad were both very supportive. Then came the blow that threatened to change all these good things in my life. I went to the bank where I work as a counter clerk one morning as usual, only to be summoned into the manager's office along with two other people. His expression was grim and we all guessed the worst. The office had been rife with rumours for the last couple of months. It looked now as if my most dreaded fears were to come true. Sure enough, due to a slump in the market and ruthless competitors, the bank had no alternative but to cut its workforce. We were the last three in, so we were the first three out. We were given two weeks notice and a further six weeks redundancy pay.

I went to Mum and Dad's place that night and broke down in tears. I lived in a small town where there were few jobs to be had, even given two months to search. I faced losing everything I had built up since my divorce. They tried to comfort me but I went back to my place that night not sure that I could go on.

Seven weeks passed and still no offer of employment had presented itself. I tried to cut down on what I could, but the mortgage on the flat still had to be paid no matter what. That evening I got a call from Mum asking me to go round to theirs for supper. When I arrived, she and Dad had huge grins on their faces.

Mum told me that Dad had managed to get me a job in the company that he works for. It meant driving twenty miles each way to a nearby city, but I could cope with that. I would be working as an administrative clerk in a large firm of accountants and my salary was even better than my old job. Dad said that he got me the post without an interview because he had faked an interview sheet stating that I should be taken on at the first possible opportunity. However, there was a catch. The firm Dad works for has a strict 'no relatives' policy with regard to employees. Dad said I would have to use my old married name and call him Mr. S, and that I should never let on to anyone that we were father and daughter or we'd both get canned. He said there was no one there who knew me or had ever met me, so providing I didn't slip up and call him Dad, we should get away with it.

The job came just in the nick of time and was every bit as enjoyable as I hoped it would be. My prospects seemed rosy and the people I worked with were very friendly. Then last month, I was approached by the guy who was kind of responsible for employees' welfare and morale, and he asked me if I was interested in performing in the Christmas play that we put on every year for the benefit of the bosses and our customers. Being new and keen I said yes. He told me that the play this year was a modern version of Romeo and Juliet, and that parts were assigned by lucky dip and that I'd be notified of my role in a couple of days. Sure enough, two days later he came around with a hat filled with rolled up pieces of paper. I took one out and unfurled it. I couldn't believe my eyes at first, but it was definitely true, I was to play Juliet. 'Wow', the guy began, 'Mr. S sure is a lucky man to be playing Romeo opposite you ', and walked away. I was in a bit of a daze to say the least. My Dad had the male romantic lead and I the female.

Later that afternoon, Dad came to see me at my desk. He said that it would look bad, not to mention suspicious, if one of us were to pull out, and that we just had to go through with it. He told me first rehearsals were tomorrow night after work.

All of the cast assembled in the staff restaurant and were given scripts. It was in modern prose so at least I didn't have to worry about speaking in old English. Came the first scene between Dad and I, and it called for a passionate embrace followed by a lingering kiss. We both felt awkward as we said our lines then Dad took me in his arms and just stopped. The director, a guy from public relations, told Dad to give me a big wet kiss and that he shouldn't need any prompting to be given the chance with a girl young enough to be his daughter. We played the scene again. This time Dad gave me a small peck on my closed lips. The director shouted for us to stop. He said we should try a less demanding scene, but that by next week we'd better be more confident than we were now. He suggested that we practise our kissing over the weekend, much to the whoops and hollers of the rest of the cast. Dad and I blushed, but when rehearsals were over he called me to one side. He said that the director was right. Any guy Dad's age should be all over someone as young as me, given this opportunity, and that it would look strange if he acted differently. Also, Dad said one or two of his colleagues had remarked on the resemblance between the two of us and that this would only add to their doubts. I agreed that maybe we should practice the close scenes in private so that we were relaxed when it came to rehearsals next week. I suggested to Dad that he should come over to my place on Saturday evening and we could make a start.

Next day, at work, a girl friend came up to me and remarked how lucky I was to be playing opposite Mr. S. When I inquired further, she said it was a common secret around the men's washroom that Mr. S, my Dad, had a donger that you could get two hands on even when flaccid. I have a pretty open relationship with Mum but she'd never mentioned this to me. I know what office rumours are like and there's generally a morsel of truth in them. I hadn't been with a man since my divorce and the thought of a piece of meat that big inside me, even if it was my Dad's, occupied my mind almost constantly.

The weekend came, and sure enough at six thirty on Saturday I opened the front door to my Dad. He declined my offer of a drink and suggested we get straight down to rehearsals. We took out our scripts and stood in the middle of the living room. We nervously got to the kissing scene. Dad put his left arm around my shoulders and held onto the script with his right hand, whilst I put both arms around his waist. I am only five two in my bare feet and Dad is over a foot taller. He bent his head down to mine and we timidly put our lips together. I kept my head level, which wasn't making it easy for him and certainly not the way Juliet would have embraced her lover.

We pulled apart and I said that this was silly and we should be able to do this scene easily, especially as both of our jobs seemed to be riding on the outcome. Next time when we embraced, I tilted my head right back to offer my mouth up to Dad. His lips touched mine and with my eyes closed I tried to imagine a young man necking me. I opened my mouth slightly and let my tongue brush against Dad's lips. Slowly I probed his mouth, looking for an opening. If we were to lose our jobs it wouldn't be because of my lack of effort, I was determined of that. Suddenly, Dad's lips parted and our tongues met. We explored each other's mouths carefully. I became aware of a movement in Dad's groin and my thoughts returned to the dimensions of his dick. Before I realized what was happening, I was gyrating my hips against the swelling in Dad's trousers and holding him tightly, imagining his lovely thick, long tool rubbing up and down my pussy. Dad too must have become aware that we were both turned on.

I heard his script fall to the floor and felt his now free right hand move around my waist. As we exchanged saliva feverishly, I felt Dad push me back towards the edge of the dining table. Our tongues mingled and, with no room to back up, I felt Dad grind his swelling against my lower body. As our passion increased I felt his right hand move down towards my hip. Slowly, Dad began to rub my hipbone through the jeans I was wearing. I moaned softly and wanted him to rub harder. Then we heard the doorbell and immediately we were brought back down to earth. Both embarrassed, we got ourselves together and I peeped through the spy hole. It was my friend Ruth, from the bank. I had completely forgotten that I had invited round for a girl's night in. I could see Dad was angry and before he left I suggested that we should rehearse some more tomorrow afternoon and promised there would be no interruptions.

All that night Ruth must have thought I was really bad company. I just couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier. I couldn't get the picture of dad's dick out of my mind. When Ruth left, just after midnight, I rushed to bed to give my soaking wet pussy the rubbing it had been asking for since Dad first started to push his hardening tool against my jeans. As my fingers did their work, I imagined Dad was fucking me with his foot long. I could almost feel it inside me as all of my body shuddered to a climax. I went to sleep with Dad still on my mind.

I awoke early next morning and wondered what the day might bring. I was feeling more horny than I'd felt in a long time and was determined that today I would get myself fucked. I had some breakfast and then decided to get ready for Dad. After a long hot soak in the tub, I went to the wardrobe to pick out my outfit to tempt Dad just in case he'd had a change of heart. I wrapped a faded denim mini skirt around my waist and fastened the four buttons down the front. It was short. Much too short to wear outside. It just about covered the thin pink thongs I'd put on underneath. I decided not to wear a bra and just put on a pink blouse that fitted real tight and left a bare midriff. I let my long blond hair fall in curls around my shoulders and applied some pink lip gloss to make them shiny and inviting. I went to the shoe rack and put on a pair of five inch, salmon pink spikes. I had worn these for my husband when we wanted to play. They are completely impractical anywhere outside the bedroom, but they do something for a woman's body that nothing else can accomplish; they make her butt stick out invitingly, her breasts stand out proud in front and her calf muscles become taught and nicely defined. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and knew that the message I wanted to convey to Dad would get across loud and clear.

I teetered around the living room, anxiously awaiting Dad's arrival. Then, at last, at three o'clock exactly, the front doorbell rang. My heart was pounding as I went to the door. What if I'd misjudged this and made a complete fool of myself? I could never look at Dad again. I peeped through the spyglass to make sure it was Dad. I certainly did not want anyone else to see me in my whore's outfit. It was him, and he was alone. I opened the door slowly. I wanted Dad to get a good look at me. I don't think I'd ever felt so excited; it was so wrong doing this, but I couldn't help myself. His expression as he surveyed my body up and down told me that my worries were unfounded; I know the look of lust in a man's eyes when I see it. I asked if he was going to stay in the corridor all day or come in. I walked away so that he could get a good long view of me from the rear. I felt so sexy in these shoes and the way they make a woman walk with her hips.

I sat down on the couch opposite Dad and crossed my legs. He didn't take his eyes off my slender thighs as he refused my offer of a drink. I looked down to see that my nipples were poking through the thin material of my blouse like two walnuts. His eyes found mine as we made some small talk but I was thrilled to see that his gaze went straight back to my legs when I crossed them the other way. I was beginning to enjoy this teasing but I also was in desperate need of his cock, so I said that we might as well get to it.

I stood up and pulled my skirt down so that it at least covered my knickers. I told Dad that we'd rehearse in my bedroom as people could see into the front room and it would be suspicious to close the curtains during the day. Dad went to pick up the script and I looked at him and said, in a husky voice, that he wouldn't be needing that. Dad made no effort to hide the semi erection that was throbbing in his trousers as he followed me into the bedroom.

As he closed the door, Dad looked around to see me leaning against the wall, with my right leg bent behind me. I promised him that there would be no interruptions today and that we could practice as long as we wanted to. He came and stood close to me. I took the initiative and put my arms around his waist. I leaned my head right back to look up at him, licked my lips and told him to kiss me. Dad put his hands on the side of my head and lowered his face to mine. When our lips touched I let out a moan and opened my mouth. His tongue dived straight in and began to explore my teeth and gums. As I kissed him back and bit on his lower lip, I felt his right hand move from my face, down my arm and onto my bare belly. He stroked at my skin and I pulled him closer towards me, forcing my tongue deeper into Dad's mouth. Spurred on by his daughter's enthusiasm, Dad began to undo the bottom button of my blouse. When he had fumbled at it for about a minute without success, he suddenly broke free from our embrace and stood back. His face was covered with my lipstick and I could feel my own lips smeared by his greedy mouth. Dad looked down at my blouse and the heaving breasts underneath as they strained at the thin material, and with a quick movement ripped it open to expose my nakedness to his lustful gaze.

I watched the buttons as they flew around the room and felt Dad pull the remains of the blouse off me. I moaned as his hands came up to maul at my tits and tweak my already hard nipples. Then Dad bent down to take them in his mouth. First of all he was content to just lick and suck on them, but soon that wasn't enough to fill his desires and he began to bite me as well. At first the pain made me cry out. Then he would rub the area and lick it gently, soothingly. The mixture of pleasure and pain became intoxicating and I heard myself begging Dad to hurt me more. I looked down to see his bite marks developing on my tender skin.

As I writhed against the wall, Dad bent down so that his face was level with my belly, and began to undo my short little skirt. As the final button came undone, and I was left in just my thin panties and pink spikes, I was brought out of my reverie and back into the present. I knew this was wrong, but I so much wanted Dad's dick inside me that there was no turning back. Dad got hold of the sides of my thongs and just snapped the material and threw them on the carpet. I wondered if he could see how wet my pussy was. My answer came as he poked his index finger into me and said he wished he'd known about how sexy I was when I was younger. I squirmed as he touched me and soon my whole body convulsed in orgasm. I begged Dad to let me see his manhood and to touch it. 'You'll see it soon enough, you dirty little tramp' Dad began, 'And you'll pay for tempting me to do wrong like this'. I didn't see the back of Dad's hand until it had crossed my left cheek and sent me crashing to the floor. I felt the side of my face stinging as Dad pulled me to my feet by my hair and bent me over the dressing table. I turned my head to see that he had undone the belt around his waist and was folding it in half. I knew that screaming was pointless; I had brought this upon myself and deserved what I was about to get. Dad thought so too, and told me as much as he brought the thin leather strap down hard over my butt cheeks. I flinched as the pain reached my brain. I felt the tears run down my face as Dad brought the belt down on my behind for the fourth time. I could hardly believe that he could be so violent to me. Then I felt Dad's hands caressing me where it hurt. The pain quickly went away as he soothingly, licked my ass.

Dad told me to turn around and to kneel at his feet. Whimpering a little, I obeyed his command. I sat mesmerised as he lowered the zip on his trousers. I could see the bulge underneath and knew that he wanted me to eat him. I couldn't believe the size of Dad's dick when it was at last freed from it's prison. My friend at work had been right. Now at full size and twitching at my mouth, it must have been over a foot long. 'Blow me' Dad ordered. I wet my lips and took hold of the base of his tool. I let my tongue touch the tip that was already covered in pre-cum. I heard Dad groan as I let my mouth move down the underside of his shaft to his big, hairy balls. I teased back along his length, which was now almost pointing straight upwards. He could take no more as I let the long nail of my little finger flick in and out of his jap's eye. Dad took hold of the sides of my head and told me to take him in. I opened wide and looked up at him coyly. My innocent expression must have really gotten to him because he thrust his meat into my mouth with such a force that it made me bang my head against the dressing table behind me. He looked down at me as he fucked my mouth. Dad's expression was a mixture of crazed lust for his daughter and sheer disgust at her.

There was no way that I could take all of him in my mouth and this must have been the reason why he suddenly pulled out of me, stood me up, and bent me forwards over the dressing table. My pink spikes made me just the right height for him to enter me from behind. He made no preliminary foreplay. All at once I felt my pussy fill up with his prick. I had to breathe deeply just to stop myself from passing out and, I felt like he was touching my stomach with his knob each time he plunged into me. As Dad's strokes became more rhythmical, I felt my clit being rubbed like it had never been done before. Don't believe anyone when they say size isn't important. I shuddered in orgasm and cried out dirty talk to make him keep on going in me.

Dad gripped my hips tightly as he pumped me doggy style with his monster. I felt him wriggle his hips to get even deeper into me and my pussy had that lovely feeling of pleasure and pain that you only get from prolonged sex and multi orgasm. I felt Dad's hands move over the back and sides of my long thighs and turned my head to see him looking down at my high heels. I pushed my ass out to meet his incoming strokes as I became aware they were getting faster. I heard Dad start to groan and knew that he wasn't far away from cumming. With his powerful hands, he forced my head down hard against the top of the dressing table. The total picture of his dominance over me finally sent him into ecstasy. I felt him judder inside me as he emptied his balls into my womb. It must have gone on for about a minute, until there was thick globs of his stuff coming out of me and dripping down the inside of my thighs.

At last Dad pulled out of me. He told me to refresh my lipstick. I picked up the gloss from the floor, where it had fallen after Dad had forced me to lean over the dressing table while he took me from the rear. I looked into the mirror and applied the pink, shiny stick to my lips. I could still see the impression of Dad's hand across the cheek that he had slapped earlier. Dad ordered me to sit on the bed. He came over to me and told me to lick his dick dry. He offered it to my mouth and I opened up to let him slide it in. As he pulled his foreskin back and began to pump his shaft, I felt the last few drops of his semen fall onto my tongue. His face was contorted as he told me to swallow it all. He pulled his prick out and wiped it over my face and lips before pushing me onto my back. He leaned over me and put his hand around my throat. As I fought for air, I heard him tell me that I shouldn't expect this to be the last time that he would take me. Then he let go and I lay there trying to recover my breath.