Tiffany and het father

Her father, Chris, occupied the archway, casting a long, distorted shadow across the linoleum. In stark contrast to the sudden, suffocating heat that was now emanating from the hallway, Hate Sex the chill of the Sudbury night filtered through the slender window panes. His normally clean shirt was hanging out of place, Hate Sex and his normally dull, flat grey eyes now sparkled with an unfamiliar, predatory light. She swallowed, the bread tasting like ash in her mouth. Her voice was barely audible, a reedy whisper. In the suddenly shrinking room, there was a palpable presence in the form of a thick, insistent bulge on the front of his jeans. It was a claim and a statement. “Tiffany,” he said in a gravel-like low growl. Her nostrils were assaulted by the musky, primordial scent of stale beer. His large, calloused hand clenched onto her arm and dug into the supple flesh above her elbow. He snarled, “Early enough,” and drew her closer. Tiffany stood by the kitchen counter, a half-eaten sandwich forgotten in her hand, the quiet hum of the refrigerator a mocking serenade to the heavy thud of the front door. He walked slowly and purposefully across the kitchen floor. “Every day.” She pulled desperately and frantically to get away. “What are you referring to? She felt a sickening knot in her stomach as her focus shifted to the noticeable ridge in his jeans. His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “Tiff, I’ve been thinking about you.” His intense, dark, heavy-lidded eyes swept over her and revealed her nakedness. The sandwich fell silently, crashing to the ground. She was dragged by him through the narrow hallway from the kitchen, the worn carpet rough beneath her bare feet. She fell against the bed as a result of him pushing her inside. You’re hurting me, let go. In a somber protest, the springs creaked. Please!” The sudden, deafening flow of blood in her ears drowned out the plea in her cracked voice. “This must stop, Chris! She felt a wave of nausea as his breath warmed her face. Her usual haven, the door to her bedroom, was now a gaping maw. Arrogant and demanding, it bobbed. He unbuckled his belt while standing over her. His engorged, thick erection broke free, forming a dark, pulsating column. The buckle’s metallic clang, followed by the zipper’s, reverberated throughout the small room. “Don’t you call me Chris,” he snarled in a lust-filled voice. A bead of pre-cum glowed at the tip of his enormous and veiny cock, giving it a life of its own. “Do you think you can say “no” to me?” She was ensnared as he climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing the mattress down. He sharply screamed as he ripped at her t-shirt, revealing her breasts. Escape from me!” He lunged, grabbed her by the ankles, and then dragged her down the bed. Additionally, you’ll pay attention to your father.” After lowering his jeans so that they gathered at his ankles, he removed his underwear, the white cotton falling off like a surrender flag. With her hands outstretched behind her, she scrambled backwards on the bed in an effort to escape. He didn’t care about her. His rough and hefty hand squeezed her one breast while rubbing her nipple with his thumb. I’m your daughter!” She shed a torrent of tears, leaving hot marks on her icy cheeks. Her head hit the headboard with a thud. Standing erect, her nipples were small and tight from fear. She let out a loud gasp. The sudden, piercing heat of his hand followed by the cool air on her bare pussy. His blunt, thick fingers parted her labia, probed, found her clit, and then slipped inside her with two deep thrusts. He leaned in, his mouth touching her neck, and he sucked hard, causing a cut. Her throat ripped open with a choked scream. His massive cock pressed against her wet folds as he positioned himself between her legs. He murmured against her skin, muffled, “My daughter is exactly what you are.” He fumbled with her shorts’ waistband and tore them down, then her pants, revealing her writhing mass. Her body arched and Hate Sex her legs shook in an agonizing effort to free him. With a sickeningly loud “schlick,” he pulled out his fingers. He grunted, rocking and pushing with his hips, “You’re so tight, Tiff.” “So well.” As he plunged, she screamed and felt a sharp, Hate Sex tearing pain between her legs. He was too rough and too big. It was unbearably hot, slippery, and massive. She felt a sharp, nauseating jolt as he hit her cervix. He pushed further, slamming his balls into her arse and filling her up to her utmost capacity with his cock. Her bones were pierced by the new wave of pain that came with each plunge. He sat down with his mouth over hers, forcing his tongue through her clenched teeth to get a taste of her fear and tears. The room was filled with his deep breathing as he began to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm. She felt stretched and burned as the head pushed against her entrance. Her mouth was filled with a metallic, blood-like taste of beer and beer. With glistening, wet lips, he pulled back after sucking on her tongue. “Does Tiff feel that?” He hissed, speaking in a rough whisper. In a primal, raw protest, her body screamed. Under their combined weight, the bedsprings screamed like a broken melody. Within you.” He increased his speed, and his attacks became more ferocious and rapid, a never-ending battering. His wet, heavy, and suffocating body collapsed onto her, his breath rasping against her ear. His body tensed as he grunted a deep, guttural sound. She felt a burning sensation in her own body that was greater than any other pain. That hurts!” While she whimpering, he ignored her while stretching and wetting her inside with his fingers. The thick, musky scent of his cum mixed with her own tears and the metallic odor of blood filled the air. As he pumped his hot, thick cum deep inside her, he slammed his hips into her one last time, releasing a shivering release as he filled her with a sickening warmth that spread through her already broken body.