Im Mels Dad Ch 01 Discovery

I'm Mel's Dad

ONE

Discovery

I'm sitting at my desk, chatting with several women online. I hear you come through the door, a little surprised that you are here - I did not expect you till dinner.

You come beside me, hug my neck and kiss my cheek, pressing your young and tender breast against my shoulder. I stroke the inside of your thigh through your jeans and turn back to continue chatting.

You snake a hand down the back of my collar and rub my shoulders. I unbutton the top couple buttons so I don't get choked. You giggle and reach further down, your practiced fingers soothing.

You turn to read the chat on the screen.

You lean forward to read.

"Betty Wilson: He brought her to the Ranch as promised."

I turned to you and smiled into your young eyes. "Betty and her husband, Jim, own a ranch and have converted the big barn into a theater. She's telling me about a young woman their friend Roger brought to the ranch over the weekend."

I unbutton my shirt completely and, gripping your wrist, guide your hand to the hairs of my chest. You circle a nipple with your fingertip, bringing it erect.

"Betty Wilson: I greet him in the field where we're parking the cars and... she is so beautiful. Looking young and innocent. But I know better from the stories he's told me."

"Me: You will have to tell me the stories

Me: But not now, go on "

"Betty Wilson: She had dressed as we had instructed, well-heeled open-toed pumps, fish-net stockings (about 2 inch squares), short, tight black leather skirt that molded to her hips and barely covered her pussy, thin white 3/4 sleeve top tied tightly under her tits which were not particularly large, but her nipples looked ready to punch through. She wore a wide red velvet choker snugly, set off quite nicely by her tan. Her long, straight California-beach blonde hair hung down past her ass."

You lean down closer to read. I love the feel of your tit pillowing against my ear. I lean into you and type.

"Me: Just so you know, my daughter has joined me now. She is reading along

Me: Her fingers are toying with the hair over my abs."

Both of your tits press against my shoulder.

"Betty Wilson: It is delightful to have a close family. Should we stop now?"

"Me: Oh, no. Go on, this will be good for her

"

You drape your long, soft, flaxen hair to cascade over my chest and across my abs and lay in a small, silver-gold pile in my lap

"Betty Wilson: I slipt two fingers under the choker, pressing against her trachea. Her eyes opened and looked at me, unsure. They were blue. And I mean BLUE"

"Me: light or dark?"

"Betty Wilson: Light in color, but dense, like stained glass."

"Me: Mmmm "

"Betty Wilson: He lead her into the theater barn. Jim had everything set, the stage in the middle and lights and cameras all around. The group was sitting in the couches and chairs facing the stage."

Your fingers comb through your hair in my lap and trace the bulge in my jeans. I slip my fingers up the cut-off edge of your shorts, your ass-flesh yielding in eager accommodation.

"Betty Wilson: Jim was standing behind me and he pressed his cock in the groove of my ass. I was wearing my long cotton print skirt, very loose hanging over my hips

Betty Wilson: Roger tells her to spread her arms wide and hold them out. She of course, does as instructed."

"Me: Obedience is always appropriate."

I lift my face to you, smiling, you lean down and brush your lips along my nose. You lean down, your tits slip to press against the front of my shoulder and your fingers find the flap of my fly. I lift my hips, indicating approval.

"Betty Wilson: It is indeed.

"Betty Wilson: Roger asked Jim if he had some shears, so Jim went to the shed to get the large pruners."

You unzip my fly and reach in to curl your fingers and cup my balls. You watch my face intently as you press the heel of your hand against my cock, flattening it against my bone.

"Me: Mel's gotten her hand into my pants."

"Betty Wilson: Should we stop, Dad?"

You massage my balls, sliding your wrist along my shaft - which stiffens more. I look up at you and smile. at your beautiful eyes - you have your mother's eyes. You have been reading the screen, but now gaze at me. We both know we want her to go on.

"Me: No... it will be good."

"Betty Wilson: Indeed"

"Me: So - she's... what's her name? So, she's standing with her arms out."

"Betty Wilson: Yes, she is. I have no idea what her name is... you know how we are."

"Me: I do.

"Betty Wilson: Roger walks up to her and grabs her tits - hard, REALLY HARD."

"Me: And you know 'hard'."

"Betty Wilson: Deed I do.

Betty Wilson: He told her to keep her arms out, and squeezed into her soft tits even more, digging in deep.

Betty Wilson: Roger pulled her down to her knees by her honeydews.

Betty Wilson: She didn't struggle or resist at all... YOU know Roger."

"Me: I do."

You pull your hand away and step around between my legs, blocking my view of the screen. You grip the top of my jeans and lift my ass off the chair, slipping them out from under me. Leaving them half-way down my thighs, opening my crotch to the air. You step around and kneel beside me, draping your hair over the arm of the chair to pile on my abs and spill over my cock to cascade between my legs, a golden water-fall.

I looked at the screen... apparently all that had taken much longer than I thought - lots of messages waiting.

"Betty Wilson: I expected him to have her suck him, but he just left her kneeling in front of him, resting his hand on her head.

Betty Wilson: We all waited expectantly, knowing where it will end, but not knowing the path he'd lead us down.

Betty Wilson: Her throat looked so vulnerable and feminine as she stretched to look up at him from the floor.

Betty Wilson:... hello... you there?"

"Me: Yes.

Me: Yes, I am.

Me: a bit extracted

Me: *distracted "

"Betty Wilson: I see.-

"Betty Wilson: Family business."

"Me: So, the girl's doing what she's told, no question, no resistence."

"Betty Wilson: You know what they're like with Roger."

"Me: Yep

"Me: Obedience.

"Me: He's got that thing."

"Betty Wilson: He does.

"Betty Wilson: Not for me - but he's never lacked a... lady."

"Me: Laugh."

You have wrapped my cock in your hair and slowly stroke me through the living silk.

"Me: Mel's doing a thing with her hair."

"Me: doing my thing with her hair"

You squeeze and jerk my cock up, hair sliding up my shaft, you fist vising my head.

"Yea-ah, Girl. Tight!"

"Not TOO tight - you like it."

"I do."

You return to stroking me long, slow and gentle.

I rest my hand on the back of your neck. You rest your head on my thigh.

"Dad, do you go to this ranch?"

"Sometimes."

"Often?"

"I don't know... you know, sometimes... when I get..."

"Will you take me?"

"You?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. Do you WANT to go?"

"Yes."

"Well, we'll see - it's a bit heavy for you."

"How do you know?"-

"Well, I know the place and what goes on - and I know you."

"Do you?"

"Don't I?"

"We'll see."

"We'll see."

"Betty Wilson: Jim came back with the shears and handed them to Roger.

Betty Wilson: The big, heavy pruning shears he uses in the swamp.

Betty Wilson: When she saw them the poor thing began to shiver and tremble and I could hear her suppressing and swallowing the whimper."

"Me: I thought you didn't allow damage at your place."

"Betty Wilson: I don't. I wasn't worried about it, but she must have been."

"Me: I can see that."

You look up at me, "What damage?"

"Well, those are big shears - for pruning trees - they can look scary. There are some who enjoy..."

"Do you?"

"No. I do not."

You looked at me, holding my attention, then looked down at my lap and started stroking my cock - which had gotten heavier thinking about the shears.

"Betty Wilson: Roger stroked her cheeks with the blade"

"Betty Wilson: Tears started slowly leaking down her cheeks."

"Betty Wilson: You could hear everybody holding their breath.

"Betty Wilson: I started to worry I'd have to intervene."

"Me: You would."

"Betty Wilson: Yes, I would

Betty Wilson: He traced the top of her tits with the tip of the blade, snugging it under the top. Her nipples got even stiffer and stood out, stretching the thin material.

Betty Wilson: They also got darker. So dark it was like the top had disappeared

Betty Wilson: Then Roger opened the pruners and laid them to her tit, framing her nipple between them. Jim and I both took a step to stop him, but it was evident that he had no intention of clipping them off."

"Me: That must have been a moment."

"Betty Wilson: It was."

"Do people cut off nipples?"

"Some do, but not at this Ranch."

"Do you?"

I laugh and reach down to grip your jaw and twist your head up to me.

"I never injure or damage something I want to enjoy."

"Do you think about?"

"Think about...?"

"About hurting, about damage... about cutting nipples off... or... other things?"

"No, Sweet. I mean I've read about it, and I know some people are into that. Not me."

"Me: So, what DID he do?"

"Betty Wilson: He gave the pruners a twist, dove into her cleavage and clipped the knot just under her tits. Her top fell open and her breasts were on display.

Betty Wilson: God, they were beautiful."

"Me: But, not big, you said."

"Betty Wilson: No, not big, but damn near perfect shape

"Betty Wilson: He leaned down and said something, no one but her could hear.

"Betty Wilson: The group was getting restless - he was taking everything so slow.

"Betty Wilson: She gathered up her hair - the hair in the front and top - and stretched that sun-and-salt bleached hair up over her head, tugging hard.

"Betty Wilson: Then he chopped through it. Cut her hair about an inch from her scalp.

"Betty Wilson: Tears were running down her face as she held that hank of sun-and-salt up above her head."

"Me: He cut her hair?"

"Betty Wilson: Yes.

"Betty Wilson: Well, not all of it, just that part. Just the top. About two inches."

"He just cut off her hair?"

"That's what she said."

"Is that a thing."

"He did it."

"A turn on."

"Likely."

"Would that turn you on, Dad? To cut MY hair like that?"

I reach down and begin to slide your glorious silk on my cock, jacking myself.

"Not yours, no. Actually, not anyone's. You know how much I like long hair."

"Yeah, you never let me cut it."

"That is true. And I never will."

You look at me and smile, then turn your head to watch me pump my cock swaddled in your tresses.

"Betty Wilson: Then he cut through the top along her shoulders and it fell to the floor.

"Betty Wilson: She sat up straighter and...

"Betty Wilson: You would have loved the way she looked."

"Me: You know what I like."

"Betty Wilson: I do."

"What do you like?"

"What?"

"You said she knows what you like. What DO you like?"

"Awoh Babe, I like lots of stuff."

"Yeah, sure, of course, but what is she talking about?"

"Oh, I like the way a woman looks sitting on her heels, sitting straight, stretching up. And with her naked tits pressing the air forward."

You stand up, which lifts some of your hair from my lap, but my grip is firm and you can't stand all the way straight. You fully extend your legs, which lifts your ass and leaves you bent, your torso horizontal. You loose the buttons of your top and let it open, your tits hanging firmly below you.

You are so lovely.

"Me: She's just unbuttoned her shirt and her tits are free. She's bent over and I've got her hair wrapped around my cock. I'm jackin'."

"Betty Wilson: I'll leave you two love-birds to it, then"

"Tell her no, Dad. I want to know..."

"You tell her."

You twist around, tugging on your hair and reach for the keyboard. This action puts your denim-covered ass right in my face. So firm, so round, so fully packed. You get that ass from your mother. And everything else about your dick-stiffener of a body.

"Me (but you): No. Please go on. Me and Dad are getting off on it."

"Betty Wilson: 'You and Daddy'? Did you take over, Mel, is it?"

"Me (but you): Yes. It's me."

"Betty Wilson: So, where was I?"

"Me (but you): He cut off her top."

"Betty Wilson: Yes, and she sat up straight, like a good girl. Naked above the waist, hair hanging down back and sides, but very short on top."

"Me (but you): Did she get off on getting her hair cut off like that?"

"Betty Wilson: She was crying over the loss - AND her bullets were like steel, so - I guess both ways. Some are like that."

"Me (but you): Like what?"

"Betty Wilson: Some girls are into that. Can't really call it humiliation, because they like it.

Betty Wilson: Thing is, now she's marked. She'll have to wear her hair like that for years till it grows out.

Betty Wilson: Or cut it all off"

""Me (but you): Is it real long?

"Me (but you): WAS it?

"Me (but you): You know, before he cut it. What's left?"

"Betty Wilson: It was down past her ass. Still is on the sides."

"Me (but you): Oh. Mine's reeeal long. Almost to the floor. It's never been cut."

"Betty Wilson: One of your dad's kinks."

"Me (but you): LOL ROFL ONE of his.

Me (but you): Kinks"

"Betty Wilson: Yes.

Betty Wilson: So, anyway, he took the cut off bit from her and wrapping the rest around his fist he pulled her over to the stage.

Betty Wilson: She stumbled at first, trying to get to her feet, but, fast as he was moving, there was no way - so she crawled.

He dragged her up onto the stage, she couldn't quite make it on hands and knees and sort of collapsed.

Betty Wilson: He dragged her roughly, bouncing her tits up over the edge."

You turn to me and, watching my eyes very closely, peel your top off your shoulders and let it fall around your feet. You put your hands on my thighs and lower yourself onto your knees. You straighten as much as you can, but your skull is still tethered to my cock and you have to scoot towards me along the carpet.

You sit up straight, tits thrust towards me and say, "Like this, Dad?"

"Just like that, Sweet."

You lean back as far as you can, tightening your hair. I resume my action on my cock and each time I move up to the head I make sure to pull on the leash of your hair silking around my cock.

I reach around you to type.

"Me: She's on her knees between my knees. Shirt discarded, tits jiggling. Her hair is wrapped around my cock and I'm jacking - with her leaning back. every time I go up I pull her hair."

"Betty Wilson: How hot!

Betty Wilson: Thanks for sharing.

Betty Wilson: Can you get a feed going - I'd like to see that."

"Me: Not now - too much fiddling. I'll set it up tonight and we can start doing that.

Me: And can we link in to your place so we can see from here."

"Betty Wilson: Oh, yeah, sure.

Betty Wilson: We have suscribers all over the world."

"Me: That's great."

"Betty Wilson: We'll give you a free..."

"Me: Great

Me: so what happened with Roger's chick?"

"Betty Wilson: Right - he got her up on the stage and made her kneel.

Betty Wilson: He separated her hair into two and twisted each side into a rope. Then threaded them through a couple of the rings.

Betty Wilson: He sat in front of her, spread legged, and set his cock to her lips. She took it in hungrily and started bobbing her head - slobbering all over the place.

Betty Wilson: and pulled them both

Betty Wilson: Then he nodded to Jim and Jim left to get Tag.

Betty Wilson: While he was gone, Roger kept her mouth on her cock and controlled her by pulling her hair through the rings - when he pulled her head went down."

"Tag is one of their farmhands."

She looked at me quizzically - since her back was to the screen, she had no idea what was going on. Watching my face was her only clue.

"Would you like me to read for you, Sweet."

She nodded her head, exageratingly, pulling my cock towards her when she did.

I tightened up on our tether and now, when I jacked, her head was pulled in rhythm - she smiled wide, eyes sparkling.

I do not know where she learned to suck so good. She'd done it for me every once in a while since her mother went away, but she must have had a coach somewhere - NOBODY'S that good without lots of practice. Besides bobbing and sucking in rhythm her tongue was a mastering snake, wrapping, coiling, stroking, tapping, drawing in and pushing out. What a talent. And she's mine.

I caught her up to the story - the girl dragged to the stage, the hair through the rings, the deep stroking by pulling her hair that had reminded me of how much I like to pull hair. Thanks, Roger.

"Betty Wilson: OK, now - Jack's back with Tag - Tag is a giant - Like a rough, shaggy, labor tan, muscles rippling. He's about two meters tall shoulders are MASSIVE!!

Betty Wilson: Roger has worked his feet in under his lass and is pressing up into her belly, lifting, forcing her to raise her ass high."

I move my head so I can see the screen next to your head, my eyes darting back and forth between yours and the screentext. Your eyes and face are totally lit and your starting to lean back, resisting my pulling on your hair. That, of course, inspires me and I shift concentration from my using it to tube my cock to jerking you around by your hair.

This is a fun game.

I reach past you to type one handed. (A very useful skill.)

"Me: Keep going with the story - Mel's between my legs and I'm yanking her around by her hair."

"Betty Wilson: Rough?"

"Me: Enough.

Me: I'm reading to her now. Reading what you send."

"Betty Wilson: OK.

Betty Wilson: Continuing."

"Me: Do."

"Betty Wilson: Tag stands and eyes the girl - she seems so tiny in relation to him, bigger, long legs, vast chest.

Jack led him onto the stage - well, actually, Tag was eager to get it on. He lept onto the stage and the hollow thud rang through the barn.

And through the girl.

She shivered and looked back at Tag towering over her, his rough, ragged, shaggy grey-black hair emphasizing his beastliness, his cock swinging with a swagger, fully extended and heavy.

Roger suddenly pulled her hair through the rings, slamming her face down onto the stage.

She started to whimper."

"Did she get hurt, Dad?"

"I would imagine so. Should I ask?"

"Oh, yes, Dad, I want to know."

I reach past her again and type.

"Me: Mel wants to know if that hurt the girl?"

"Betty Wilson: LOL of course "

"She says 'of course.' That's what Roger intended. He is demanding and a touch cruel. He likes to hurt women."

She perks up and starts to turn her head to see the screen, but is caught by my grip on her hair. She turns back to me with a face I can not read.

"Do you like to hurt women, Dad?"

I consider this. This question goes to the core of my practice and desire. It takes me a while to frame my answer to my daughter - meanwhile, Mrs. Wilson is still sending messages.

I look at my beautiful Mel. Contemplating.

I pull you off my cock by your lovely hair and kiss you, licking your lips, my tongue darting in then out. I rub your nose with mine and press our foreheads together.

"Did that hurt?"

"What? No. That was a great kiss.

"Sure?"

"Yes. No, that was wonderful."

"Did it hurt when I pulled your hair?"

"Well, sort of... sort of... yes, that hurt. Kinda. But was alright."

"I like doing that. Yes, I like hurting, if it's 'kinda alright'. I like the control, the choice, the decision of what, how hard, how much, how long. And, the pain intensifies the feeling. Which increases the pleasure. A lot of women like it. And a lot claim not to but when tested go ecstatic. And some women hate it, so I don't do it. To them. Get it?"

"Yeah, sorta."