Sex With Daughter Novels & Stories

Before a gathering of New York's underworld Families, I slipped into the vintage Chanel gown my mother had left me. As I looked in the mirror, my seven-year-old daughter suddenly said, "Mommy, it doesn't matter what you wear. You're always the ugliest one." Just like that, all the joy the gown had brought me disappeared. It wasn't the first time my daughter had said something cruel. Once, the FBI took me in for questioning and kept me for three days. The moment I got home, I wrapped her in my arms and asked if she'd missed me. She only shrugged. "No, Mommy. You're too stupid. Smart people don't get caught." My husband, Vincent, said sternly, "You can't talk to her like that. We're a fam

This guy, really is. Aliana sighed, putting her fork on her plate, she crosses her arm. “You know…” instead of answering Lancer question, Aliana started to say, the corner of her lip curling up in some mockery as she remembered the conversation she had with her daughter earlier. “Someone very ‘close’ to you, suggested that I leave you because you’re a scumbag and it doesn’t matter anymore what would happen if I really did it. So tell me Lancer,” she paused, taking the expression of her mate in front of her, “How could I possibly sown discord between you two, when your daughter already dislikes you so much that she came up with such suggestions?” she smiled, her dark green eyes twinkling.

Those were the words she had always used on me. Suri had been in a terrible mood lately because she was unable to attend school and was deeply humiliated. Worst of all, without school, where was she supposed to bully others or extort money? She stomped her foot and screamed, "Why won’t you give it to me?! If you can’t afford me, why did you even give birth to me?! You old hag, why don’t you just die? All the money in this house belongs to me!" Hearing her beloved daughter tell her to die, Mom nearly fainted from shock. She thought about all the humiliation she had endured begging for Suri’s schooling and all the money she had spent, only for this ungrateful child to curse her over allowance.

I've already tasted this man's mouth, but I wanted more. “You're dying to be my only whore, aren't you? Baby girl.” Then he wrapped his hand around my throat, and I licked my lips hungrier. “I've already made that clear, yes.” I literally moaned out, breathing into his mouth. Yeah, I'm very very sexually attracted to this man. “Such a bad girl. Fuck,” He growled. “I wonder if Daniel knows how bad his daughter is.” He teased but I clapped back. “I also wonder if he knows his business partner is aggressively trying to fuck his daughter mercilessly.”

I yelled back, but my voice was shaking. Behind me, my daughter clutched my clothes tightly, her tiny body trembling with fear and shame. "Lying?" Director Lee sneered and gestured at my small, shabby apartment. "Ms. Sanders, don't push your luck. I'm here today to give you a piece of advice. Don’t let us see you near the school again, or..." She paused and shifted her gaze to my daughter, her smile turning icy. "We can’t guarantee that your daughter won’t accidentally fall down the stairs and get hurt."

"Just picture it, in an age when women are waking up to their power. A mother financially tormenting her only daughter. If you nail this story, think of the payoff!" Her hesitation crumbled to dust. A true journalist would never pass up a story with real value. Three days later, the announcement hit the video platform. Celebrated educational influencer Jessica Lowell was set to unveil a groundbreaking live documentary series titled, 'Cruel Mom Refuses $80 Allowance, Poor Daughter in Trouble.' My daughter, Evelyn Smith, and I had both signed on for the reality show, agreeing to let cameras follow us around the clock for a full week. No filters, no edits–just raw, unvarnished life.

Sophia, Don Clinton’s daughter. She reclined across the spacious back seat like a queen, pussy in full display, a curtain hiding her from the driver, and a pink dildo, slowly rubbing her pink hole. She doesn't look shocked. Maybe she's known about what the Don had planned. I was terrified as she smirked. “Running away already, Daddy’s little doll?” she purred, not stopping her masturbation. “How pathetic.” I stared, stunned. “Sophia… please. Just let me go. They’re going to kill me.”

He didn’t bother with foreplay — he slammed into my pussy hard, gripping my collar like a leash. “You’re mine,” he growled, fucking me with deep, punishing strokes. “Not your aunt’s. Not your mother’s memory. Mine.” I moaned, tears falling onto the wooden desk as pleasure and guilt crashed together. “But they’re right,” I gasped between thrusts. “This is wrong. I’m your stepdaughter. People will find out eventually. What happens when they do?” Daddy pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and thrust back inside me, eyes blazing.

“This is just... a little strange.” The fertility doctor that my mom has been seeing insisted that she try a natural approach before considering any fertilization treatments. She had been terrified of explaining this to my father, telling him that her doctor had recommended that she sleep with another man in order to get pregnant. And so she turned to me for that “natural approach”. I guess as my father’s son, it makes sense, in a way. The baby will look enough like him, and given our close, trusting relationship, the two of us will be able to go on with our lives without the sex meaning anything, at least in theory.

Richard and me. Though I wanted more, and that was finally having penetrative sex with him. I wasn’t worried it wasn’t going to happen because, while communicating through the letters in books at the library, he had made his intentions clear that the next time we would have our privacy, he was going to fuck me. Hard. While I buried myself in work, my father opened my door and walked into my room, making me slap my laptop shut. “Dad!” I yelled with a frown. “What happened to knocking?”