Breaking Amy

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[This story is a work of fiction and involves themes of incest and non-consensual sex. If you are in any way offended by this type of subject matter, please do not read further. All characters depicted in this story are over eighteen years of age. I do hope you enjoy this particular fantasy.]


I didn’t say a word when I saw her outfit, if that term could even be applied to what she was wearing tonight. Charlie and John came into the kitchen behind me—I caught the quick smirk that passed over their faces when they saw her.

“Guys go in and get a seat. You know how to work the remote, right?”

They both nodded, and I watched them walk out towards the living room.

“I thought we talked about this?” I said, glaring at Amy from behind.

“What?’ she answered smartly, not even turning around to face me.

“You know what I’m talkin’ about,” I said, my voice rising involuntarily.

Amy spun to face me. I could read the defiance in her stance, her legs set a little wide, hands thrust to her hips.

“I can’t help it that you got hang-ups.”

I got hang-ups, I thought. I got my little girl standing in front of me in a blouse that is maybe two sizes too small and a pair of jeans that were hitched down lower than gravity should allow. I had to break off my stare.

“You dress like this, you send the wrong message.”

“What message?”

“Look just go change into something nicer,” I said, opening the refrigerator and taking out three Coronas.

“I like what I’m wearing.”

“I’m not here to argue. Just do what I said. That or you can go spend the night in your room.”

With that I left the kitchen. I could hear the guys laughing at something and just got more pissed off. This deal with Amy and her outfits was going on for a while now, and it was getting into a particularly bad routine on Monday nights like this.

I guess I could put it succinctly by saying that I didn’t think my daughter should be dressing like a slut, that sometimes I’d find myself getting a hard-on before I realized who it was I was ogling. It had been just her and me for going on ten years now, and these last couple months were a strain on me.

And it wasn’t just the outfits either. It was the fact that Amy looked good in them, I’m talking real good. She had the same skinny build as her Mom did, the same blond hair with all the curls. And she was a genuinely beautiful girl, very cute, and she’d started filling out. Maybe that was what was bothering me the most. The breasts were still smallish, but she had the ass thing going, the long legs with the muscles so defined. There was that smooth, silky quality about her, that glow that younger girls and women had.

The pre-game was on when I came into the room, the TV was a big projector model, one of the first to come out on the market. That was why I’d started inviting the guys over last year. John and Charlie were employees of mine, young guys, early twenties. They’d helped me hook it up, and I’d started asking them over to watch a game, and then it became a routine.

And Amy, especially in the last few months, had started her thing. Every Monday night, like clockwork, we’d come in and there she’d be, decked in something too sexy, hanging out to watch the game when she wouldn’t otherwise cross the street to see the Super Bowl. I’d gotten to harping on her about it over the last few weeks, telling her she couldn’t dress like that around a bunch of guys. I was also getting that distinct vibe that these two guys were getting to like my daughter’s company as much or more than the game. I knew they were probably talking about her like men do, but I still kept asking them over.

I handed out the beers and got a seat.

“Everything okay?” Charlie asked.

“No problem.” The kickoff went down field and I felt the tension dissipate somewhat. I listened to the guys bitch on a stupid play-call, and let the beer take my edge off. I felt myself relaxing.

“Anybody want some chips?”

I turned as she spoke, the big bowl of potato chips held out in front of her, and felt my temper rise. She did change, couldn’t fault her there.

“Anybody want another beer?”

I was looking at her ass, a pair of short-shorts with Ohio State emblazoned across her backside, like she’d earned them in the football team’s locker room. And the blouse was traded in too. For a hot pink tee that was so tight I couldn’t see how she’d gotten it over her bra.

“I’ll have one,” Charlie stammered.

“Me too,” John said, a croak in his voice.

“You, Dad?”

I didn’t answer, my fingers gripping into the upholstery. She didn’t wait for me to decide, and skipped back towards the kitchen—her hair was done up in shaggy pigtails, bouncing off her shoulders as she left the room.

I looked at the boys, saw them quickly avert their eyes. I got up off after a minute and followed her out into the kitchen.

“I want you to go to your room,” I said, watching her pivot to face me.


“You know what kind of message you’re sending out dressed like that?”

She Fulya Escort ignored me, and tried to edge around. I stepped in front of her, anger tightening my voice. We’d had a complicated relationship, Amy and I. Close, but still a man lurching about to raise a girl alone.

“You know what they call women who dress up like this. Girls who try to get men all worked up?”

“Cock tease,” she blurted, the defiance suddenly etched across her features.

“Yes,” I said after a moment, trying to keep things in check

“Well, maybe I want to tease ’em.”

“Go to your room now.”


She tried to edge past me, but I blocked her in.

“Amy, look…”

“Let me go.”

I’d had her by the shoulders without even knowing it, shaking her. I immediately let go.

“You dress like this, you might as well parade out there naked for ’em”

“Maybe I will,” she said, squirming past me in that instant, looking back over her shoulder, a beer in each hand, those pigtails bouncing off her shoulders.

I stood there quite stunned at the anger I was feeling. I could hear her laughter over the television noise, then the guy’s chuckles.

Looking back, I can say that there was conscious thought in my head, the knowledge that I should just cool down and handle this tomorrow. But I was already striding after her.

“Amy just said she wants to show off a little more for you,” I heard myself say as I came into the room, roughly taking her by the shoulders and spinning her to face me. “You up for that, guys?”

Charlie and John sat there slack-jawed, eyes widened at the nasty little domestic drama playing out before them.

“Let me go,” she screeched, squirming to escape my grip.

“No, you said you wanna show ’em something. Let’s show them.”

I was tugging that pink tee up over her head, not even thinking of what I was doing, tussling with her, then simply getting my fingers in along the collar and ripping the fabric, tearing it down along her spine, stepping back with the shredded rag gripped in my fists.

Charlie and John were sitting there in shock, the room was dead still for a second, Amy cringing away from me, too stunned to cry, her arms up instinctually over her pink brassiere.

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed.

“You want to strip me, then finish it,” my daughter shrieked, tears flooding her big hazel eyes, suddenly so full of rage, stepping in and slapping me hard across the face. I stepped back and caught her hand before she could strike again. “Come on, you coward, you want your friends to see me, then do it. Or don’t you have the guts.”

I remember grasping the front of her bra—it was one of those with the clasp there—and catching myself. Her tiny chest was heaving , breasts capped with pink lace. The anger was boiling, but I’d have to be honest and say that it was then that I felt that first scalding sexual rush.

Even then I still might have stepped back from…

“No guts!”

I tore though the clasp, throttling down on one of her pigtails, pulling the bra free and flinging it across the room.

“You want to be smart, huh? You want to see what you’ll fucking get,” I shouted spinning her towards the men on the couch, pinning one of her arms to her side, hefting her up by the hair till she was tippy toed. “Give ’em a nice fucking show.”

I pushed her forward until she was perched right in front of them.

“Nice or what?” I shouted, seeing that Charlie and John were cowed by the way this had exploded in front of them. “Wanna give them a little kiss.”

Amy was whimpering now, too off balance to even struggle much.

“Come on, I’m letting you have a taste. You won’t get many tastes as fresh as these.” I edged her more towards Charlie, bent her in towards him. “Come on, Charlie, you know you want to try them.”

I saw the change in his expression, the few seconds of hesitancy, and then that final nod to me. He slid forward, jerking as he positioned himself in front of her, looking up into her face before leaning in to kiss her right tit. Her breasts were small, perfectly proportioned little buds. I twisted her shoulder back so I could watch. Her nipples were thick and had hardened, which frankly surprised me. Charlie was still not going after her good, looking up nervously from Amy to me. He was actually trembling a bit as he finally kissed the nipple and took it into his mouth. Amy shuddered at each touch, stiffening as he started sucking, his hands working up along her waist as he switched to the left breast and then back again, caressing that smooth belly, taking her whole tit in his mouth, biting down softly on the nipple.

“Come on,” I said, looking down at John, pivoting her so that she was facing him, Charlie sticking with her now, still working on her, getting more aggressive by the second. Then John reached out to touch her hair, then the fingers trailing down across her body, stopping at her waist, tracing out the seam of her shorts.

“Go ahead, pull ’em down,” I said, nodding. My cock was hardened, uncomfortably Fulya Escort Bayan imprisoned inside my jeans, feeling my girl’s butt rubbing against it. “Get her nude. Get everything off.”

John looked directly in Amy’s face as he tugged the shorts downward, letting them slip down around her ankles. He grinned, then laughed, maybe at the fact that she didn’t have panties on.

“She is so fucking gorgeous,” he muttered.

I shoved her forward onto the couch, letting her take a hard landing, quickly sandwiched in between the two of them.

“Have some fun with her,” I said, stepping back and reaching down to click off the television.

Amy was still struggling, writhing from their jostling hands and mouths. She flashed a pleading glance at me as I settled awkwardly into my chair. They were literally banging into each other, these guys, until they settled into a wordless rhythm, with Charlie pinning her backwards onto his lap, anchoring her arms to her sides, his face lost in her silky hair.

John looked back at me, and then pulled his shirt up over his head. He moved against her quickly, his bare chest to hers, and kissed her on the lips, shifting as she shied away, averting her face, keeping at it till his mouth mounted hers, pressing in hard. I wondered if she opened her mouth for him, if she felt his tongue.

John was dominating her now, leaving her mouth, gliding kisses down along her delicate neck, rubbing his body to hers. As her struggling eased, he became more gentle, bringing his mouth down along her small breasts, kissing and sucking them, but softer than Charlie had done, crossing the taut belly, finding that perfect triangle of straw-colored hair, firm as he spread her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs.

Amy stiffened markedly as he got his tongue on her, her eyes on me all the time. I could see her breathing quicken, his head lolling as he licked her there, his hands under her ass cheeks, lifting her, Charlie rapt at the sight. Then her eyes clamped; I saw the shimmy in her hips, slight, then more pronounced as John’s face pressed into her, angling as his tongue found new spots. Her stomach muscles were quivering now, her head lolling back against Charlie who was intently gnawing at her neck, his hands roughly cupping her small tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

And then she was coming, her spine arching, her pelvis bucking against John’s face, the cords of her neck straining, then the moan, deep and guttural, starting low in her chest. She reached orgasm in a vicious spasm, thrashing against the guys, the moan bitten off as she clamped her mouth shut, then a shriek that made me flinch in my chair.

My daughter sagged against Charlie, eyes shut tight, her mouth moving, muttering something soundless. I looked at her there, my daughter, stripped by my own hand. I wondered if she’d ever had an orgasm before, if she’d ever touched herself.

John stood up and looked back at me, his mouth glistening wetness. He touched his belt buckle, as if asking my permission. I found myself nodding without any sort of thought.

John bent to touch her cheek, keeping his hand there until she opened her slowly eyes. Then he stepped back and undid his pants, pulling them and his shorts down in one motion, his cock springing free, hard and straight. Again that cringing from Amy, Charlie laughing at it as he took firm grip on a blond pigtail and pushed her forward, framing her lovely face in front of his pal’s hard-on.

“Okay, baby. Show me what you can do with a cock,” John said, rubbing the coarse head along her lips, lifting her chin when she tried to duck away. “You’re just getting what you were asking for all these weeks. You looked so fucking good too. I’d have to jerk off every night I’d go home from here. Not tonight though, right. Now, come on and suck it.”

He grabbed her other pigtail and gave it a nasty yank. “I said suck it, you little fucking whore!”

Amy closed her eyes as she opened her mouth and John pushed his engorged cock right in, gripping the back of her head, pushing deeper, making her retch, backing off, then pressing again, stepping back so she came off the couch, drawn down to her knees. He pumped himself furiously, my daughter’s mouth stretched wide, looking up at him now as he quickened his pace.

Charlie was stripping behind her then, shirt, then his pants and shorts, his cock not as big as John’s, getting on his knees behind her, running his hands along her body, his erection pressed against the pale curves of her rump.

“I’m gonna come,” John suddenly blurted. I could see the tightening in his thighs, his features contorting. And then he was bucking his hips, ejaculating in her mouth, grunting loudly. “Fucking little slut. Fucking…ohh, ughh…”

He held there for a second and then pulled out, Amy gagging on his semen, thick gobs of it running down her chin and over her tits as she tried to spit it all out.

“That was so fucking good,” he whispered, looking quickly at me, and then away.

“Back here,” Charlie was saying Escort Fulya roughly pulling Amy back to the couch, smirking at the way John’s sperm had marked her. He thrust her legs back, waving a condom in her face. “You know what this is, baby?”

“No,” I said, rising a little in my chair.


“I said no.”

“Come on, what the hell?” Charlie was pissed. He still had the rubber in his hand, Amy’s legs bent helplessly back.


“Just make her blow you, man,” John said, sounding spent. “Go down on that box a bit.”

“No fuck that shit, I wanna fuck her.”

I shook my head, meeting his gaze.

“Charlie, just take that mouth man,” John went on. “It’s fucking sweet. I think we’re probably the first in there.”

He waited there for a moment, staring me down. Then he angrily tossed the rubber on the floor. “Blow jobs better anyway.”

With that Amy got forced back down to her knees. She looked at me as he put his cock to her lips, then closed her eyes as he pushed his way in. He was rougher than John, rougher and faster. He fucked her mouth in a frenzy of thrusts, and wasn’t going more than a minute before he started to stiffen.


He looked back at me, as if to make sure I was watching. …I was.


Charlie pulled out just as he started spurting, jacking himself, sperm flaying wildly across her face, in her hair, thick rivulets dripping down across her throat and breasts. After a moment he eased her back until she was sitting next to the couch.

“I don’t believe this shit,” he said, more to himself that to us, his erection already flagging. He was catching his breath, looking up sheepishly at Amy who seemed almost in shock, absently touching her streaked face and pulling a string of crawly semen from her skin

“We better go,” John said.

“We can stay a while,” Charlie countered, no doubt wanting another go at my daughter, or just being too addled to think clearly. That or maybe he just wanted to get back to the game.

“You okay?” John said, ignoring his pal and speaking to me.

I shrugged vacantly.

“I think we should maybe go,” he repeated, nervous now, this being uncharted territory for anyone.

“Yeah.” It was all I could think to say.

Amy was still touching their semen which was already drying a milky white. She was sobbing softly, hiding her face. She didn’t look up as the guys silently got dressed. I sat in my chair as they nodded goodbye. John reached down to touch her head, but she shrank from him.

I sat there as I heard them go, the door shutting, John’s car starting and then backing down the driveway.

“Let’s clean you up,” I whispered after maybe five minutes had past. I came up to her and gingerly tucked an afghan over her bare shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she wept as I lifted her up.

“No, I’m sorry,” I whispered back, covering her nakedness as best I could.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”


I was leading her back towards the bathroom, feeling her legs giving beneath her, making her sit on the toilet seat as I turned on the shower. The two of them had covered her with sperm, marked her in a way she’d never forget.

Amy was sobbing softly, the afghan dropping off her shoulders, leaving her bared as she sat there, so completely helpless.

“You’ll hate me,” she wept.

“I’ll never hate you, I’m so sorry…”

“You’ll never love me again. You’ll never…”

I was on my knees then, hugging her, letting her slide off the toilet so that we were both on the bathroom floor, our arms wrapped around each other, both of us crying, asking for forgiveness, holding each other so tight.

And then I was looking into her eyes. She brought her lips to mine, I pulled back. My daughter broke, rubbing at her face with her hand, as if the drying come was the reason I rejected her.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m so sorry, I am…”

I pulled her to me, touched my lips softly to hers, a furtive brush, then pressing upon each other, opening our mouths, suddenly kissing with a passion I’d almost forgotten existed and my baby had never known. Her skin was on fire to me now, her thin frame surging against me as we kissed hungrily, her tongue doing a first hesitant probe, then moving confidently, swirling against my own.

Her nipples were peaked. I kissed one then the other, tasting the salt of her skin—and probably the dried come of Charlie or John. I didn’t care. I eased her back onto the tile floor, her body electric under my fingers. I kissed my way down her stomach, her hips arching even before I got to her pussy. I looked up into her eyes; she was hiked up on her elbows watching me, anticipating the touch. I drew my tongue across her, probing the delicate petals of her sex, probing her, finding that sweet little bud. I felt the flinch, the strangled sound she made. I had my tongue on it, swirling, flicking. My girl started coming within seconds, convulsing wildly with each ministration, coming off in waves, bucking wildly against my mouth.

Amy tried to push me off. I gripped her hips tightly. Her clitoris swelling as I sucked it, that moist whooshing sound from deep within her vagina. Beyond words, grinding on my face, that animal-like shriek as she hit that final orgasm.

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