My Daughter the Porn Model (pt. 01)

As my busty 18 year old daughter spread her legs for the photographer, revealing a cunt which was completely shaved around her lips, but which retained a tasteful triangle of hair above where her slit ended, my already moist pussy felt like it was about to gush through my jeans. I would soon reach for the button to the remote vibrator nestling inside my 50 year old gash, bringing me to what I knew was going to be a crushing orgasm. I knew that I was a dirty bitch, but as my eyes feasted on my naked daughter's hot body, I felt like I was in heaven, and that every layer of my personality had been stripped away one by one, leaving only the essence of who I really was. For better or for worse, I knew that this was the real me.

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I know how common it is for men to be sexually attracted to their daughters. My marriage had ended a couple of years before, when I had discovered that my husband had been writing stories and posting them on a site where every second story seemed to be about guys fucking their daughters. I stumbled across his login details and saw that he had written two stories called "Dave and his daughter." I didn't have to read more than a few lines before deciding that it would be straight to divorce, and I kicked him out of the house immediately. I didn't want him around Kelly anymore. But after he had gone I went back to the stories and read them properly. At first I just wanted to understand his filthy mind. But soon, to my surprise, I found my body reacting to the stories as I read, my nipples hardening and my pussy getting damp.

After that I consumed incest stories on the site every night after I'd gone to bed. The thought of 18 year olds with their daddies' cocks deep inside turned me on at an almost primal level. I would read for a couple of hours, and when I couldn't take the throbbing pleasure between my legs any more, I would lube myself up and finish myself off with a large, veiny, black dildo, often squirting as I came.

For a long time my fantasies were confined to those nighttime hours in my bedroom, but when Kelly turned 18 and her body blossomed into the big-titted beauty that she had now become, I began to find myself drawn to her increasingly powerfully.

After leaving school she had gone a bit wild, like many girls do. But instead of a few drunken evenings and some fumbles with boys of her own age, "wild" for Kelly involved bringing grown men back to the house for sex. Her taste appeared to be muscle bound guys in their 30s and 40s, often but not always black, who she would bring back to the house in groups of three or four, taking them into her bedroom for hours at a time.

Maybe it makes me a bad mother for allowing it to happen, but the truth is that I loved the sound of my daughter being gang-banged in her bedroom while I lay next door playing with myself. And although I couldn't see what the guys were doing to her, I loved imagining my daughter's holes being filled with their thick meat, and the thought of their baby making seed flooding her pussy, anus, and mouth, and covering her sweet innocent looking face. I could just picture the feeling of ecstasy that Kelly must have been feeling, on her bed on all fours being pounded hard from behind, the movement at her rear impaling her mouth deeper onto a big black dick in her mouth at the other end, while a couple of other guys fondled and groped her massive tits as they hung towards the bed, and they played with themselves, waiting for the turn that they know would come with my horny young slut of a daughter.

Maybe it was because Kelly had become such an overtly sexual person, but I began to become obsessed with her body. Being a warm summer she wore revealing outfits that left little to the imagination. Her bra size had grown to 34JJ, and I would find myself staring at her bra wondering what her boobs would look like underneath. To help me find some kind of relief I began to buy porn magazines, always focusing on those that showed bigger girls. Titles like Big Ones, Voluptuous, XL Girls, Score, and Plumpers. Anything that would show girls who had figures like my Kelly's.

Before I bought my first magazine I was so nervous. The idea of buying porn from a newsagent felt so humiliating. Several times I walked into a shop, and was greeted with a friendly smile by the man or woman behind the counter, and I couldn't bring myself to reach up to the top shelf and show them that I wasn't one of their "normal" customers, but a pervert who was here for porn. I would buy a pack of chewing gum or a soft drink instead, and walk out of the shop again pretending that that's what I'd come in for, feeling crushed.

I remember so clearly the first time that I had the courage to go ahead and buy a magazine. It was in a mini-market with a rack of magazines at the back. Each shelf below the top one was filled with perfectly innocent titles. Football, home interiors, fashion, and the like. But, as was always the case in those days, the top shelf was devoted to porn, with dozens of magazines showing scantily clad, smiling, happy looking women. As I walked into the store the guy behind the counter greeted me with a smile. He would have seen a respectable looking middle aged lady, dressed stylishly and attractively, and he probably expected me to pick up a pint of milk or some groceries.

As I walked towards the rack at the back of the store I felt the familiar feeling of shame, knowing what I wanted to do, and knowing both that it was perverted, and that I probably didn't have the courage to follow through. But then when I glanced at the top shelf and took in the full beauty of the women showing themselves so proudly on the cover of dozens of porn mags, it felt like time stopped still, the world went quiet, and the only thing that existed was my eyes, those gorgeous magazines, and the connection between us.

I reached up and took hold of the edge of a magazine called Nugget, with the headline "The Chains That Bind", and a picture of two buxom brunettes loosely draped in metal chains in a softly kinky way. I wanted to see those girls spreading their pussies for each other so badly, that any sense of shame was completely overpowered by desire. I took the magazine down from the shelf, and walked over to the counter. I don't even remember whether it was a man or a woman who served me. I was beyond caring. My pussy was throbbing, and my whole mind was filled with the thought of taking the magazine home, spreading my legs, and fingering my aching cunt to a sopping climax.