It S What He Does

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All characters are over 18, fictional, and none of it ever happened. Think of it as a grimm fairytale.

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A family planning man.

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I never felt such a large a cock or hand. He surprised me as I bent across the thick padded bedroom armchair, my eighteenth birthday gift he had given me that morning as I slowly woke. Over the back. Testing it for comfort. In my birthday satin nightie. He finally came to our room. Did he think I was tempting him? Perhaps.

His left hand went across my mouth and his weight settled on my back. I felt his hard cock for the first time. It was wonderful and full of promise and pressed into me. His right hand was around my waist and he pulled me back against his pelvis which he thrust forward. That night I learned for the first time, but not the last, how I love being trapped like that.

He lifted off for a moment to pull my nightie up and panties down. I kicked them off when he grunted at me. He spread my legs and I felt him pause, admiring his creation. Then he ran three deceptively gentle fingers of his right hand down my presented arse and between my legs. I knew if I struggled he wouldn't be gentle and I was tempted, but decided to be a "good girl" that first time.

He slid his first and third fingers along either side of my puffy pussy lips, and pushed his middle finger slowly through my slot, feeling everything, working back and forth. He was getting to know me. Getting to know what's his. He'd been waiting for today. Now he was exploring and taking what he'd waited for.

He took his time.

He pushed along my slot, wiggling through my inner lips and squeezing the outer lips. He felt my pee hole then backed up to press into my arse. Then forward again to work my clit. He was getting me ready. Wet. Engaged. Engorged. Warm. Tingly.

Then he pushed into my cunt and pressed gently at my hymen, feeling around for what seemed—and would become—a lifetime. After all it would soon be gone and he wanted to remember it.

"You're more beautiful than I dreamed," he finally said matter-of-factly, to himself, as if my body was none of my business.

I felt so chosen and so special.

***

Finally satisfied, his right hand returns and slides back to the front of my waist, under his satin gift to me, down to my downy gift to him.

Pressed against the armchair's coarseness I pretend to resist. I start to whine, "Nooo... Dad..."

Of course it has no effect, it's just further invitation and assurance. He knows me.

And he has his plan. I don't know it yet or how grand a plan it is, but we're going to learn soon, the two of us.

For now he slides his big palm down and cups and holds me like we've both dreamed of. His fingers work my bare skin, rough against smooth, strong to yielding, possessor to possession, intruder intruding, entering, claiming.

My blood carries his claim through my body, proclaiming, "We are being claimed. Owned. Put to purpose. Rejoice! Prepare! Awake! Partake!"

My arms, toes, breasts, cheeks, arse, nipples, sight, hearing and scenting nostrils all ignite. He has kindled a warm fire in me, soon to become a bonfire, and then a lifelong inferno.

He has the upper hand. He's dominant. I'm being overcome. I'm struggling for a breath, but still have enough to moan and groan.

Glowing colours and lightning flashes cross my emerald vision, which calls to my roaring blood, which breathes in his male musk, and that swells my breasts squeezed tight against my new padded chair, our breeding bench, one of his special gifts to us, and I am finally beneath his glorious weight.

My female reptile brain receives him as my pair-bond. My perfect lifelong mate has found me and I've found him. Sperm for my egg, semen for my womb, shaft for deep inside, his glans to nuzzle my uterus, his cock pulses to reward my orgasming cunt, my squeezing cunt to reward his pulsing shaft, my womb to receive his tribute from his balls, and give him his third child and first grandchild, first of many, and then great-grandchildren, and great-greats.

And she'll do the same when it's her turn.

Until now he was ever a gentleman. A caring and protective man. The best father and provider she and I could ever have. I know that will not change. We'll always be his loved and loving daughters.

But from today she and I are more than that. He never said. He didn't need. It was unspoken. In the family history, and his plans. We're in our place. He knows we're his. We're his birthright breeders, and he's opening us on our eighteenth birthday.

Now rough fingers—oh, his ever gloriously man-rough fingers—slick down into my slot and folds, to hidden holes, then slick back, to spread my eager waiting wetness around my swollen clit and lips.

Flashing lights and my roaring pulse drown out my last restraint. I'm keening now with no regard for anyone else in the household. As a token gesture he tightens his hand across my mouth, but he doesn't really care. They'll know soon enough.

I am a mare being put to service under a stud stallion. His strong left fingers are across my mouth like a service bridle, with two fingertips inside my cheeks as a steering bit. He's holding my mouth wide open. It's a grimace, a gaping wide-on, and my tongue is sticking out to its full extent through his fingers. He will tell us later it was like a slippery eel escaping, and we'll all laugh and cuddle.

As I moan, his right fingers—already deep inside my soft wetness—tense and stiffen, and he thrusts them in further. He is seeking what's his and whatever he finds he'll make his. His flesh, his pleasure, his reward, his cunt, his woman.

Oh my Lord, do not stop. Stiff finger, please find my small and untried entrance waiting just for you. Mine now yours. Thrusting in. Repeated. Preparing. Curling. Rummaging in my nest which waits impatiently yet patient. You will come in all good time. But quickly now, do not dally in your work. Yet please dilly-dally a while in me.

I feel pressure, pain and tearing. My maidenhead was my body's notional defence, existing only to yield to my sire. Now my sire is here. Sire, please violate me.

But my sire holds back. He won't tear my hymen with his finger. He'll use his cock. He has his plan.

I spread my legs wider, wanting his finger, even as I cry in muffled pain through his twisted fingers across and in my mouth. My tongue works wetly in and out between his fingers, tasting his salt. Is his semen salty?

Now a second finger enters me, doubled, thick in me, first and second, then a third, even thicker. Stretching me. Distending me. Preparing me. For his paternal cock. Our shared destiny.

All the while his rough warrior palm is cupping and working my downy mound and swollen clit. It's dreamed a long time of this, never knowing what it dreamed of. It only knew that at night as I huddled in bed it was wanting something.

All the while his other rough warrior hand and fingers enfold my mouth-mound and tongue-clit which also long dreamed of this. He is pulling my head back and up, steering his mare with reins and bit to witness everything. In the mirror I see him behind me, looking down, and me bent down, in front, face up, my lips curled back under his mastering fingers, and through his fingers my tongue-clit protrudes and my mouth-cunt drools.

Beside us a disheveled pile on the other bed moves and jerks and turns. My twin sister is adding to our lech. He wants her and she him, though she doesn't know it yet. Later she'll make him chase and catch and mount her.

For now he's too far gone to see she's awake. His male lizard brain is focused only on my womb.

"Shh," he says, "or your sister will wake. It is not yet her time. She's younger, by five minutes, and her turn is next."

My insides are out, bare and wet for my claiming mate, my Dad, and he enters me. I'm a lucky girl.

He presses in his hard cock. I'm slippery and open but still tight. He's so much bigger than the three fingers he prepared me with. I never knew he would be so big. He has to force it in, hard. He will tell me later it was like getting into a garden hose.

He's reached my hymen.

He pushes. I cry out. I spread my legs further. I tear. He's in. I'm breached. My sire is within my gate.

Dad's cock is in me, his weight on me, I see him in the mirror thrusting into me and the armchair rocking. I look to the side on the other bed and see Virginia's form beneath her blanket twitching rhythmically. I know she is aware and wanting and working her big fat clit and hole that's not yet breached as she waits her turn.

Her thick padded bedroom armchair, her own eighteenth birthday gift, waits patiently for her christening ride on her side of the room. Dad hauled both of them enthusiastically into our bedroom this morning. Early. Before breakfast. He couldn't wait. He told Mother his girls deserve all he can give, and he will give us all he's got. He winked at Mother as he spoke and our wide-ons moistened for some unknown reason.

We compared cunts and puzzled commentaries as we dressed, and did not understand why Mother told us, "Hurry, don't dilly-dally, you have a big fat day ahead."

Now Virginia peeks from beneath her blanket, watching, listening, working her fingers.

Within me your cock is swollen, filling, thrusting—and now you are slowing—now thrusting short and sharp—which is bringing me on—oh, I'm cuming, my cunt contracting rhythmically—which is bringing you on—your swollen cock swelling rhythmically as you spurt your ropes of cum inside me—your first of many—as long as I should live—and I can't stop calling "Dad!" through your fingers tight across my wet and open mouth—my tongue protruding through with lust.

***

That first night when we three came together, Virginia, me and you all called loud and long throughout the house, and Mother smiled and waited for her husband.

Then you rested on me, breathing heavily, already planning your first Virginia mounting, as the back of my broad armchair comfortably supported me and you. As hers and mine have supported us ever since.

Virginia's and my armchairs are in our and our husband's bedrooms. They were always ready for your conjugal visits. They're our favourite of many claiming and breeding places, full of happy family memories.

Your breathing slowed, you removed your hand from my mouth and tongue. We were so very wet.

Mother called, "Are you ok, I heard a noise?"

You called back, "All ok. Something got into Angela. But she's coming to her senses."

You and me giggled as you oh-so slowly softened in me, and Virginia struggled not to giggle beneath her blanket. Her fingers were still squelching in her steaming cunt.

Then your cock popped out and you said to me, "Now into bed, but kiss me first," and you inserted your tongue so deeply that I moaned and you felt my pulpy cunt where your first ever load slowly drained.

You said to Virginia, "And I'll see to you in the morning. You're next but I have to refill my balls."

"I'll keep you both filled every day until you catch. I intend to have two lovely grandkids in nine months. And that's just the start. I'll find you both good cooperative provider husbands proud to have a strong genetic line. Then I'll keep you popping out kids, and grand-kids and great-grand-kids. I even plan to sire a few great-great-great-grand-kids."

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight, Dad."

***

A lifetime later we're reminiscing.

"Today's our hundredth birthday. We've been so fortunate since we were born. To have Dad. A good father. And Mum. So understanding.

"Here's a toast to today and to Dad and his good breeding way. He gave us sons and daughters, grand-children, great-grands, great-great-grands and great-great-great-grand twins Emily and Emma.

"A prolific breeder. He sowed his seed in all our family furrows. A good family man.

"He always did have the largest cock and hands."

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