My Daughter is a Fart Queen Pt. 12

"Sorry, Jess," I mumbled, "but I think my daughter's here." My hands are starting to sweat.

Jessica glanced around, but I wasn't where or why. I mean, she had no idea what Belly looked like.

"I just ... I just saw her walk in," I continued. "She's seen me, she's walking over. I didn't expect her to be ... uhh ... fuck ... I told her she had the place to herself tonight, because ... umm ... because ..."

"Because you were out on a hot date?" teased Jess.

Nervously, I cleared my throat. "Yeah, kind of," I winced, "maybe something like that ... uhh ... I thought she'd stay home tonight, I thought she might cook dinner for herself, or ... or order something in, maybe ... or ... but anyway, the last place in the world I expected her to be was here."

My daughter's still striding confidently across the room, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's OK with me, Rob," said Jess. "If she wants to join us, I mean." She fingered the stem of her wine glass. "We've already agreed this isn't a date," she smiled. "Right?"

I felt so relaxed a minute ago, but now I'm starting to panic. I leaned closer to her. "I was hoping you and me ... we could ... have a quiet ... I mean, just the two of us ..."

I didn't get to finish my thought. "Hey Dad!" arrived my daughter. "Never expected I'd see you here tonight!"

I guess it serves me right for being too obvious. I could've suggested Jess and I meet literally anywhere else in the city but here, but I didn't. The pub seemed like a sensible option: easy, familiar, casual, local ... most definitely 'not a date' ...

"Hey, Belly," I said, sipping my beer, hoping my forehead hadn't broken out into an edgy sweat. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin' much," she answered, casually running her fingers through her hair. "Bored. Plus hungry. Felt like a feed. Like I said, I didn't think you'd be here tonight. I was gonna smash a quick burger then head back to raid your whisky ..."

"There's a million places you could've gone tonight, Belly." I let the thought hang, hoping to let her know she was interrupting.

Belly stared aggressively at me. "Well, yeah, Dad, but so could've you ..."

I couldn't help noticing my daughter was wearing tight black leather pants that accentuated her beautiful, curvy, flatulent rear. I'd never seen her wear them before.

I couldn't help wondering what her arse would stink like after she'd been wearing them for a few hours, maybe after dancing at a club in the dark of a humid night. I imagined her picking me up on the dancefloor and taking me home, a violent summer storm raging outside as she ties me down. I imagined her checking my limbs were helplessly immobile before straddling me and parking herself on my face. I'd smell warm sweat and leather as her weight pressed down on me, and I'd feel the rumble of her guts as she let loose. My nostrils would flare, wanting to catch her scent, wanting to inhale it, to breathe it in as deeply as I could, but her leather pants would be far too tight, defeating me, trapping her hypnotic stink. She'd squeeze a few more farts out before pushing perhaps a little bit too hard, her voice rising in surprise, leaving me wondering if there'd been some kind of accident.

By the time she'd dropped six or eight stink bombs, I'd be begging. Begging to taste her, to smell her, to lick her, to eat her. She'd tease me, pulling her leather pants down just a little, exposing just the top of her delicious arse crack. Hot beads of sweat would drip onto my nose, and she'd command me to lick them up. She'd make me plead, knowing I'd do anything to smell her right now. She'd pull her leather pants to her ankles before resting her naked anus directly on my nose. And oh my god, the stink -- it'd be like a lightning bolt to my cock. I'd lick her clean, and she'd drop another bomb right on my nostrils, moaning as she let her thunder go. And then she'd ... she'd ...

"Do you wanna join us?" asked Jess.

Trance broken. Bugger.

"Yeah, sure!" My daughter pulled up a stool. "I'm Belinda. But call me Belly." She glanced at me. "Everyone does, especially Dad."

I glared at my daughter.

"I'm Jess." She paused for a second. "We were just talking about you."

"Nothin' bad, I hope?" teased Belly. Her leather pants squeaked as she slid onto her seat.

"Your dad was telling me how proud he was of you."

My daughter leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she poked a dismissive thumb at me. "Don't believe a fuckin' word of anythin' this cunt ever fuckin' says. He's so full of fuckin' shit."

"By the way, Jess," I gritted, "I forgot to mention my daughter's a stuck-up bitch with a foul mouth."

It looked like Jess wasn't sure how to interpret the febrile mood that had suddenly developed between father and daughter. I wondered if she thought we were always like this. Giving us room, she drained her glass of wine. "Gonna get a refill. Anyone else want a drink while I'm up?"

"I'm in the mood for wine," grinned Belly.

"What about you, Rob? You want another beer, or are you happy to share a bottle with us?"

Already, Jess and Belly were an 'us'.

"Wine's good for me too," I mumbled. "Easier that way."

Please, Belly, I thought, *please* piss off. You're in the way. Go somewhere else. Please.

"Back in a sec," smiled Jess.

Belly clapped her hands. Free booze.

I watched Jessica walk towards the bar. So did my daughter, apparently. Belly leaned closer. "Fuck, Dad," she seethed, her brown eyes wild, "she's got a hot fuckin' arse."

"What the literal fuck, Belly?" I exploded, doing my level best to keep my voice down. "What the fuck are you doing here? Can't you just ... piss off somewhere else?"

A protest was imminent. "Wait, like, how the fuck was I meant to know you were gonna bring her *here*, Dad? There's ten thousand places in Sydney you could've picked, but you're here, in the most fuckin' obvious one of all? An' no, Dad, to answer your question, I can't piss off somewhere else, because your hot fuckin' date just invited me to join you, so what the fuck am I s'posed to do now?"

Exasperated, I tried to justify myself. "She lives local, it's close, it's easy ... but that ... like, fuck ... this isn't the point. You've got the apartment to yourself tonight, and you decided to come here?"

"So *what*, Dad?"

Suspicions rose. "Are you spying on me?"

Belly cackled. "Are you fuckin' serious, Dad? Like ... don't fuckin' flatter yourself."

Jess leaned over the bar to pay. Her short skirt hitched up, and Belly noticed. "Fuuuuck, Dad," she whispered, biting her bottom lip. "I reckon she's in heat."

I really don't need to hear this shit from my own daughter.

Under the table, I felt Belly's foot brush against mine. "I reckon you're gonna get some tight fuckin' shitpipe tonight, Daddy."

I kicked her back. "Fuck off."

"And if you don't want it, then let me. I'll go to fuckin' town on that bitch. She won't know what hit her."

Sweet fuck. I never knew my daughter was into women. The thought of her tongue buried deep in Jessica's starfish ...

I adjusted my pants.

Jess plonked a bottle of Tassie chardonnay on the table, plus three glasses. She poured equally. Belly waved down a passing staff member to order a serve of potato wedges.

Small talk dominated the next few minutes as my daughter waited for her deep-fried carbs to arrive. Jess told Belly she was in media for a multi-national construction company, and my daughter revealed she was enrolled at Sydney Uni in her first year of medicine.

"Wait, you're gonna be a doctor?"

"Maybe," replied my daughter. "I'm not really sure what I wanna do yet."

"You must've got exceptional marks at school," whistled Jess. "Medicine at Sydney Uni is the hardest course in the whole country to get into."

"Yeah, I know," said Belly, "and I picked it because I could, an' not necessarily because I wanna be a doctor. I'm just seein' how shit rolls, an' ... like, there are always options."

We talked and drank. Belly, unfortunately, wasn't going anywhere. From time to time, she and Jess talked about me as if I wasn't even there, almost as if they were striking up a friendship independent of me. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. I felt myself tuning out of the conversation, aimlessly studying nearby people on adjacent tables.

"I still don't know what your dad does for a living," said Jess.

"He works for the local council," stated Belly. "He supervises the crew that looks after the parks and gardens."

Fuck. Jess is gonna think I dropped out of high school and all I'm good at is digging holes.

"I had no idea!" Jess gasped. "You do a pretty good job, Rob!"

"Thanks," I blushed, snapping back to the conversation.

"He works in the office most of the time," explained by daughter, "but sometimes he gets out there himself, with a wheelbarrow or on a ride-on lawnmower or whatever ... or drivin' the ute to Bunnings to pick up soil for flowerbeds, an' ..."

"Those are the good days," I said. "I don't enjoy being cooped up in a building in front of spreadsheets or stuck in meetings. I wanna be out there with my team, in the sun, getting the job done."

Belly grinned. "Oh, an' I guess you already know about Dad's football career?"

"Yeah," answered Jess. "He mentioned it last time we met, but he was really bashful about it."

"Yeah," deadpanned my daughter, "that 100% sounds like him. He's really ... like ... he ... I dunno, for some reason, he doesn't like talkin' himself up. Footy, his job, whatever."

Belly's wedges arrived, accompanied by sour cream and sweet chilli sauce. She nudged the bowl into the centre of the table, suggesting the food was for everyone to nibble on. Jess, I assume just being polite, grabbed a piece of potato and dunked it into sour cream. The pizzas we'd already eaten were huge. I wasn't hungry.

"Hey, Jess," said Belly, "I really like your skirt."

"Thanks," replied Jess, smiling at my daughter as she ran her fingers through her hair. They shared a telling glance. I'm still imagining my daughter's face buried in her crack, but I'm also starting to wonder why I'm even here. Maybe Belly and Jess could look after each other, and I could go home and jerk off thinking about it.

"You gonna fuck my dad tonight?" asked my innocent daughter.

I coughed; white wine spilled out of my nose.

Jess swallowed her sliver of potato. She stared at the wall.

"I don't mean to intrude," said Belly, "I'm just curious."

This was waaaaaaaaaaaay beyond awkward. I didn't know where to look or what to say. Neither did Jess.

"Fuck," whispered my daughter, "was that too much?"

Oh my fucking god. For someone so smart, that was the dumbest thing to say.

I think she realised. "I think it's my shout," Belly said, escaping. Her leather pants squeaked as she stood up. "Gonna take a pee, too."

I'm imagining my daughter pissing on my face, her warm white wine cascading...

What's wrong with me.

Belly's tight leather pants sashayed away. My heart rate was somewhere in the stratosphere.

"Hey, Rob," said Jess, leaning closer, "what's ... what the fuck's going on?"

I was just as shocked as she was. "I don't know where that question came from." I didn't know what to say, and at this point, it felt easier to leave. "If you wanna call it quits, Jess, then we can just pretend this insane conversation never happened."

"No, Rob, I'm just ... I'm just confused." An uncertain accusatory tone hid beneath Jessica's quiet words. "Did you ... did you tell her about ... about us, last weekend?"

Tangled webs. I'm only safe if I lie. "No, of course not." I sculled the rest of my wine. "But she knew I was meeting you tonight, though obviously she didn't know we were meeting here." I cleared my throat. "I told her about that time we first met at the beach, because I remember being excited about meeting this cute woman and telling Belly how I was waiting for her -- I mean, you -- to ring me, but I didn't know I accidentally typed my number into your phone wrong."

Two lies for the price of one. I'm sweating bullets. Did I get out alive? Suddenly I'm not so worried about my daughter fucking this up: I'm doing a good enough job all by myself.

I glanced towards the bar. Belly's finalising her transaction, collecting a cool bottle of wine.

I know I've lied. This is torturous. I can't tell Jess that I told Belly everything. Where would that confession lead? She'd quite rightly ask why, she'd read the body language between Belly and me, and it wouldn't take long for her to work out that I'm fucking my daughter.

I mean, fuck, the whole reason I bailed from Jess's place after we had sex was because I wanted to check whether Belly was OK. I mean, she was dressed like such a fucking slut that night, and a doting father worries ...

"Fuck," said an exasperated Belly, plonking the bottle on the table. "Drink up," she said, pouring.

I don't think I want to be here anymore. I'm not thinking straight, and I know I'm drinking way too fast. I've got work in the morning. Already, I know Jess and I aren't gonna hook up later. The spark isn't there. At least not tonight. The mood is all wrong.

My not-a-date drained her glass and checked the time on her phone. "I should get going. I've got work in the morning."

Sweet release. "Yeah, me too," I replied.

I expected Jess to prompt me to text her soon, and I'd enthusiastically nod in response. It didn't happen.

We hugged like acquaintances. There were kisses on cheeks.

*

"She's nice," Belly appraised as we walked home. Traffic roared by.

"Hmph," I replied.

My daughter reached for my hand, but I brushed her away. "Sorry for spoiling your night, Dad."

"Hmph," I reiterated.

"Like, maybe take her somewhere nice next time."

I frowned. "That's *if* there's a next time, Belinda. I don't think tonight went very well."

We stopped at an intersection. "I reckon she's into you, Dad. Sometimes it just doesn't happen."

It'd been ages since I'd been in this position. For some reason, I'd been thinking dinner and drinks were a prelude to sex, and that this order of proceedings was somehow preordained. As though Jess wouldn't have showed up at all if she wasn't interested in a casual exchange of bodily fluids later in the night.

Maybe tonight was a lesson for me: don't be such a fucking caveman.

*

I took a piss and collapsed onto the couch. I grabbed the remote and flicked through the dial, but I wasn't really looking for anything. Belly sat next to me. "I've got work in the morning," I said.

"Yeah, Dad, I know." I felt her hand on my knee. Her leather pants squeaked.

That's all it took. She's so fucking beautiful. And I'm so fucking horny.

"I wanna fuck you," I seethed.

Belly's fat tongue was in my mouth, scraping my tonsils, tasting like sugar. "I wanna fuck you too, Dad."

I grabbed her hand and dragged her to my room. I ripped her leather pants off. We climbed under a thin cotton sheet and started making out.

"I wanna eat your arse so fucking bad," I whispered, my hands squeezing her juicy tits.

Belly climbed onto my face, spreading herself wide. "Does it smell good, Dad?" I inhaled the scent of her sweaty pussy and her even sweatier arsehole, each tinged with the febrile, tannic scent of leather.

Her milky white cheeks were perfect. My tongue spiralled deep into her anus. "Fuck, Belly, you've got no fucking idea."

I could feel her squeezing, trying to force something out. "Uhhh," she moaned as she farted on my face.

I seriously can't get enough of this.

My daughter leaned forward, sucking my dick into her throat. She pushed another fart out, right on my nose.

All I can think about is the hot stink of her arse and the pressure building in my balls. "I'm gonna ... fuck, Belly, I'm gonna cum," I confessed, seconds before flooding her throat.

My daughter gulped me down like dessert. She lay down beside me as my post-orgasmic heart raced. "Thought you said you wanted to fuck me," she taunted, kissing me on the cheek.

I could smell my hot load on her breath. "Sorry," I apologised. The wine, the stink of her delectable arse, her greedy throat ...

"It's OK, Dad," she said, stroking my face. "I know you're old."

Old? Fuck off, Belly. I'm not dead yet.

"Anyway, I can look after myself." My daughter threw back the cotton sheet and padded away. I heard her rummaging around in the spare room, lids of her unpacked cardboard boxes pulled open and closed. She returned with a bottle of lube and what looked to be a fat black dildo. "You need to get up for work in the morning, Dad," she soothed. "I'm just ... like ... I'm just gonna fuck myself while I lie next to you."

I gasped. Despite the odds, my dick twitched.

"Don't mind me, Dad. I'll be quiet. Just go to sleep. But I'm quickly gonna get a towel from your linen cupboard because ... like ... I don't wanna make a mess down there."

Oh my fucking god.

I heard her bare feet pitter-patter across the floor. I heard the cupboard hinges creak softly as she opened the door, and the fluff and ruffle of fabric as she found what she was looking for.

I felt her float back towards bed.

I'm pretending to be falling asleep, desperately trying not to get erect again.

She's on her back. She's touching herself. She's moaning. Her voice. Her hair.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of her tits. Her nipples are stiff, erect. I want them in my mouth, on my tongue. I watch her fingernails brush across them; she gasps.

I can't fucking believe this is happening. My own daughter is lying next to me, masturbating, having just swallowed my load.

I'm trying not to pitch a tent. I'm wondering if she can still taste my sperm.

The cotton sheet ripples and shifts as she rearranges her legs. She rolls onto her side and reaches for her bottle of lube and her dildo. She sucks the plastic cock into her mouth, choking herself on the fat shaft.

I'm trying hard to ignore her. I'm trying to make my breath sound deep and even, as if I'm just about to drift away into sleep, but it's a challenge.

Gently, so as not to disturb her sleeping father, my daughter drizzles lube onto her dildo, her fingers rubbing the remainder downstairs.

I'm lying there, wondering which hole, but I know it'd be an easy bet.

I can tell she's teasing herself.

I desperately want to suck on her neck and tits, licking her ear, but I'm meant to be asleep.

She wafts the sheet, and I can tell she's squeezed a sneaky one out. My nostrils flare and twitch. I hear her moan as she pushes the dildo past her sphincter, deep inside, deeper ...

"Fuck me, Washy," she gasps, and I know she's thinking about Washington's enormous BBC.

I'm so fucking hard right now.

"You're so big, Washy," she whispers. "I love how you ... how you fuckin' wreck my arse."

If I even so much as tickled my nuts right now, I'd explode like fireworks.

She guided the dildo back and forth inside herself. Her eyes were closed. Her tits rippled, matching the rhythm of the fake cock fucking her. She pinched a nipple.

She pushed it deeper.

"Uhhh ... fuck yeah, Washy ... fuck my hungry poophole with your big black cock ..."

Surely she knows I'm not asleep. My breath is far too shallow.

As Belly's hand left her breast and went further south, her breath changed. I knew she was touching her cunt. I wanted to help her ... with my fingers, with my mouth ...

But I was asleep.

"Fuck, Washy," whispered my daughter, "I love your big black dick ... so huge ... so fuckin' enormous ..."

She began fucking herself deeper.

"Fuck me, Washington," she seethed, fucking her arse while she flicked her bean. "Make me cum all over your cock," she moaned. I felt her hips jerk, then an explosion of warmth under the bedclothes, and then dribbles of moisture. I was glad she was lying on a towel.

Her back twitched, her knees buckled.

"Fuuuuuuck," she gasped, bringing herself to an explosive orgasm.

I wanted to bury my face in her sweet puss, but I couldn't, because I was meant to be asleep.

I wanted to flip her over, forcing my tongue deep into her sphincter, but I couldn't, because I was meant to be asleep.

I could smell her. I wanted her in my face so fucking bad. I wanted to ...

"Oi!" Belly shook my shoulder. "Wake up, Dad!"

In that split second, I thought about pretending to snore myself awake, but ...

She pulled the dildo out of her arse and dragged me on top of her. Immediately, I knew what she wanted -- she wanted the same thing I did. Already wildly erect, I pushed myself inside her, feeling her warm backdoor opening to let me in. I felt her hands wrap around my back, pulling me into her.

Our lips met. My tongue's in her mouth.

I'm fucking my daughter in the arse. Two thrusts. Three. Four.

Her eyes closed. "Fuck, Dad," she whispered, "I love your cock so fuckin' much ..."

Five.

I felt her fingernails scrape across my back. I watched her eyes roll back into her head. I felt her sphincter contract around my shaft, as if wanting to keep me inside her forever, never letting me leave.

"Fuck," she whispered, lifting her hips.

I'll never forget the look of bliss on her face.

She moaned as I poured thick seed deep inside her trembling rectum. She touched herself, climaxing, her pussy dribbling ...

"Don't pull out," she begged, but I couldn't stay inside her forever, no matter how badly I wanted to.

Her fingers clasped into mine, her nails digging into my knuckles. I was still pulsing as I fell out of her.

I went to the bathroom to clean up. Belly didn't move; she was lying on a towel. I'd throw it in the wash in the morning.

I came back to bed, my entire body vibrating.

"You've got work in the morning, Dad," she said.

"Yeah, I know."

I could tell she was sleepy. "Thanks for helping me get off, Daddy."

"No worries," I mumbled, spent beyond belief.

"For an old man, you've got an awesome fuckin' cock."

What the fuck do I say to *that*?

I rolled onto my side. Belly scratched my back with her fingernails as I drifted off to sleep.

*

We're sitting on the couch on Friday after work. I'd spent the afternoon outside with my team, planting palm trees in a park not too far from the beach. Best way to end the working week. I was in a good mood.

"Have you heard from Jess since last night?" Belly asked. Outside, the sun's slowly setting.

"Nah," I replied. There's a cool glass of water in my fist; a solid reward for an honourable afternoon's toil.

"I'm really sorry for interrupting your date."

"It wasn't a date, Belly."

She cackled in disbelief. "Yeah, right, Dad. Then I'm sorry for interrupting your non-date." She paused for a second, suddenly looking pensive, introspective. "I reckon I fucked it up." She cleared her throat, and I knew she wasn't done. "I ... umm ... Dad, I'm bein' serious, like I want you to be able to move on from Mum, an' ..."

"You didn't fuck it up, Belly," I admitted. "I was doing a good enough job of that before you showed up."

My daughter looked guilty. "I should've just eaten dinner by myself last night. I shouldn't have interrupted."

No shit, Belly. I mean, you certainly didn't help.

"But I ... like, umm, I ... I reckon she's into you."

Maybe, I thought to myself, but I wasn't necessarily sure whether I was into her. And last night was a car crash.

"I seriously thought she was gonna give you some hot tailpipe."

My breath caught in my throat. I got some hot tailpipe last night, but ...

"And I reckon she would've," Belly continued, "if ... if I ..."

Was this meant to be an apology?

"Anyway, Dad, I reckon you should text her." Belly playpunched my arm.

I shook my head and winced.

"No, seriously, Dad, you should fuckin' text her. I remember you said you're into the same stuff, you're both equally old, she's your fuckin' type, so what's the fuckin' problem?"

You're the problem, Belly, I thought to myself. But I can't tell her that.

She shook me by the shoulders as if trying to wake me from a deep psychological slumber. "Send her a fuckin' message, Dad! She wants your dick in her arse!"

"Belinda!" I chastised.

"You've already told me she farted on you, so ..."

I knew I should never have told her about that. "It was an accident, Belly."

Mt daughter lowered her voice. "Imagine a threesome, Dad."

I blinked.

"Like, I couldn't help oglin' her arse last night, Dad. When she was bendin' over the bar. Imagine your dick buried deep in her hot fartbox while I'm sittin' on your face, smotherin' the fuck out of you, an' ..."

I gasped. My mouth felt drier than the Simpson Desert.

"... an' like, you can't fuckin' breathe, Dad, except for the stink of my farts, an' you're tryin' so hard not to bust inside her juicy fuckin' turdcutter ..."

Oh my god.

She knew. "Yeah, Dad," grinned my daughter, "that got you goin', didn't it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Belly," I frowned. "You're not helping."

"I reckon I am, Dad. I reckon I am." She leaned closer to me. "Just think about it. Just for a second. The three of us in your bed, the lights are out, the window's open and there's a cool breeze blowin' in, we can hear the traffic outside ... your cock's in my mouth and she's lickin' your balls ..."

"Belinda!"

"Ever had a blowie from two hot chicks at once? Just imagine our faces starin' up at you as we slobber all over your fat dick, Dad ... wantin' you to ... to fuckin' ... fuckin' shoot all over our faces ... an' then we swap over, and she's face-fuckin' you and I'm eatin' your nuts, thinkin' 'bout all the hot, creamy sperm sloppin' around inside of 'em ..."

She kisses my neck. I feel her breath on my skin. I'm gone, and she knows it.

"Fuck, Dad," she coos, resting her hand in my lap. "You're a little bit swollen down here." She kneels before me, tugging at my zip.

My daughter's such a goddamn nympho. Her tongue traces hypnotic circles around the tip of my dick, making me shudder.

"Up," she said, and I knew exactly what she meant. I lifted my arse up off the couch so she could pull my pants down. "That's better," she smiled, juggling my warm balls in her fingers. "Now imagine me and your bitch tag-teaming on your cock," she challenged, impaling her face on my shaft.

I felt her throat bottom out. "Fuuuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkk," I shivered.

"Yeah, Dad," she mumbled, "I know how much you love this shit." She stroked my shaft with her wet hand. "Now imagine two hot sluts hovering around your crotch. Me and Jess, slobberin' on your fuckin' knob. Serious, Dad, like ... all you gotta do is call her."

Oh my fucking god.

"Is she into lesbo, Dad?"

Sweet jesus. "I ... uhh ... I don't know, Belly."

"I could show her a thing or two, Dad," grinned my daughter. "If you want me to."

"We've never talked about this before," I whispered.

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"About ... about you and ... women ..."

"Jess is hot, Dad," my daughter confessed, stroking my cock with a wet fist. "I'd totally fuckin' eat her out. Front and back. An' I'd totally fuckin' let you watch me do it."

Just the thought of it set my balls on fire. Belly ran her tongue the entire length of my shaft before swallowing me whole. The pressure building up inside my balls is relentless. "I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..."

"I know, Dad," Belly winked, smiling. "An' I know what you're thinkin' about, you dirty fuckin' motherfucker." She paused for just a second, leering. "Give it to me."

I can't count how many times I've busted in my daughter's expert mouth, but one thing I know is it's never enough. Through barely believing eyes, I watched her swish my load around on her tongue, showing it to me like a good little slut, before swallowing.

"Now imagine me and Jess kissing your load back and forth," Belly teased. "Ever watched two horny bitches play with your cum before?"

I think I shook my head as a 'no', but I wasn't sure.

"Reckon you could make it happen, dickhead," she teased, "if you really wanted to."

Slowly, I caught my breath. Right now, there was only one thing I wanted. "I want you on ... Belly ... I want you on ... on my face."

My daughter switched effortlessly into a completely different mindset. "Excuse me?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"I want you to sit on my face."

"Oh, do you now?" she taunted. "And what makes you think you deserve that?"

I'm addicted, and I know it. "I need ... Belly, I ... you have to ..."

She stood up, hands on hips, defiant. "I don't have to do *anything*, Dad."

I'm leaking. "Yeah ... I know, but ..."

"Ask me nicely." Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back. I can still smell the faint aroma of leather.

"Belly, can you please ... can you please sit on my face?"

"Why?" Tantalisingly, she cupped her perfect breasts in her hands, pinching a nipple.

I couldn't speak. My tongue was nearly hanging out of my mouth.

"What's in it for me if I let you?"

"Fuck," I spat. So hungry. So desperate.

"I don't think that's a good enough answer to my perfectly legitimate question," stated Belly. "I'll ask again. What's in it for me if I let you eat my arse?"

"Fuck," I spat again. My mouth was dry and I wasn't sure what to say.

"You gonna eat my pussy too?"

"Oh my god yes."

My daughter turned her back to me and spread her cheeks wide. My eyes focused on her browneye. I wanted to eat it so fucking bad.

I'm on my knees, her arse is in my face, my tongue is scraping its way across her anus. I'm feeling her hands on the back of my head, pulling me into her, making it difficult to breathe.

It's all I want, and all I can smell is her.

I've got one hand wrapped around her thigh and another running up and down the length of her wet pussy lips. I push a finger inside, then two, feeling her slick juices coating me. I explore north, eventually finding my daughter's sensitive bean. I flick it back and forth, and as she moans, she farts into my mouth. She stinks so fucking good.

"Uhhhh ... fuck yeah ... fuckin' eat it, Dad. Eat my fuckin' arse."

I can't get enough of her.

Wetness trickles down her leg as she cums again. Her butt makes a mess of my face.

She twirls around, and suddenly, her pussy is in my mouth. "You said you were gonna eat my cunt, Dad, so get to work."

I've never felt so hungry in all my life.

I grab her by the hips, pulling her towards me. I'm smelling her, she's ...

"Now, Dad."

My tongue's all over her pussy, I'm finger fucking her ...

"Uhhhhhh ... fuuuuuuck," she moans.

I'm sucking on her clit, my tongue's flicking it back and forth ...

Her knees tremble, I hold her hips upright.

Without taking my face away from her cunt, my wet fingers explore, tickling her sphincter.

"Fuck yeah, Dad," she seethes. "Just like that."

Now it's my turn to tease. "Not yet," I mumble, my face still buried in her hot crotch.

"Dad, I need you to ..."

"Not yet," I repeat.

My fingers are tickling her butthole. I feel her shiver.

"I want it," she says.

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands," I retort.

The tables have turned. "Dad, please ... I'm ... I'm fuckin' beggin' you to ..."

Her cunt smells like hot, sticky desire.

"Please, Dad ... please ..."

I push one finger into her arsehole. I feel her sphincter clench, and almost immediately, she explodes. "Uhhh," she moans, almost like an animal, as her pussy violently fucks my mouth.

I push a second one in and it's like a hurricane makes landfall on my face. Her clit twitches as if it's possessed by the devil. She's writhing, seething, screaming, struggling to stand upright. I'm holding her up as best I can while I'm fucking her pussy with one hand and her arse with the other.

"Fuck, Dad," she seethes, her head writhing as if she's halfway through an exorcism. "Don't you dare fuckin' stop .... fuuuuuuccckkkkk ..."

Her knees tremble, her clit pulses in my face, her pussy explodes. Her hungry shithole clenches tight around my fingers. She's a ball of energy and sweat.

The storm passes, and my daughter's looking down at me with a slack jaw, unfocused eyes and matted hair. "Fuck, Dad," she gasps, "that was ... that was fuckin' unbelievable."

She collapsed onto the couch so hard I thought it was gonna topple over.

I sucked the fingers of my saturated left hand into my mouth. Sweet, sticky pussy juice. I studied the fingers of my right, knowing where they'd just been. I lifted them to my nose. A brittle, almost sour scent. Eyes closed, I licked them clean.

"Fuck, Dad," said a dazed Belly, "did you just eat my arse off your fuckin' hand?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I kissed her. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, saturated with the tang of her holes. She kissed me back, her hands gripping the back of my head before slipping down to my neck.

My daughter grinned at me. "You're such a kinky motherfucker, you know that?"

I knew my face reeked. "Look who's talking."

*

That night, I dreamed Belly wasn't my daughter. Instead, she was someone my own age. We went to the cinema and to art exhibitions together, we went for long drives listening to music, we jogged along the beach together, we ...

We fucked like rabbits while enjoying each other's company so thoroughly it was almost as if we were the same person.

I think I dreamed Belly was Jess.

I woke up to take a piss. I'm holding my cock with the hand that fucked my daughter's cunt. I lifted my other hand up to my nose.

I could still smell her arse.

I shook the stray drops away and went back to bed. I didn't have an alarm set for Saturday morning; it was the weekend, and I had no specific reason to wake up.

As I lay back down, Belly's eyes opened. "Hey Dad," she whispered.

"Hey Belly."

"I'm tired, Dad."

"Then why are you awake?"

"Shut the fuck up, dickhead."

A happy grin spread across my face. "Yeah, I'm tired too," I yawned.

"Can we have breakkie together in the mornin'?"

"Course we can."

"At Dino's?"

"Yeah."

"He makes the best fuckin' coffee, Dad."

I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning, but right now, I'm looking forward to more sleep.

"Anyway," said Belly, "nighty night, Dad." She rolled away from me and farted. To amplify the gesture, she fanned the bed clothes. "That was a good one, hey?"

I can't lie. I sniffed my hand and my dick responded immediately. I think Belly noticed. She rolled back over to face me.

Without a word, she cupped my balls in her hand and began massaging my shaft. Her hand was dry, but it didn't matter. I knew I wouldn't last very long.

"You like the way my arse smells, Dad?"

I stiffened in her hand.

She let another one fly, wafting the sheet. "Smell your fingers," she said. "Your hand still stinks like me, doesn't it?"

The room is silent. There's barely any traffic outside. My breath is noisy and shallow.

"What can you smell on your hand, Dad?" she whispered.

"Your arse."

"Smells, good, hey?"

I nod. I'm so close.

"What else can you smell?"

"Leather."

"Mmmmm, that's right, Daddy. Did you like seeing me in my tight leather pants last night? Did they make my butt look good?"

"Oh my fucking god."

My back arches and my balls detonate. Hot white seed pours across her knuckles. I watch her lick her hand clean. "Now my hand smells like you, Dad," she stated.

My chest rose and fell as the echoes of a powerful orgasm slowly faded away.

My daughter tickled my empty balls and kissed me on the cheek. "Good night, Daddy."

I was asleep in a matter of seconds.

*

Saturday morning: I woke up at ten. Belly was already awake, sitting on the couch as she flipped through a magazine. I padded to the lounge room, stretched and yawned.

"Hungry, Dad!" pleaded my daughter. "Been waitin' for you! Time for breakfast!"

The room felt dark, a little darker than I expected. As I glanced out the window, the sky was fifty shades of grey. "I think it's raining, Belly."

"So?" pouted my defiant daughter. "You've got an umbrella, right?"

We're walking the few blocks to Dino's, huddled under the golf umbrella I use at work when I'm out in the parks and gardens. I feel my daughter's arm wrap around my waist. "I love you," she says.

Three simple words, but even in that simplicity, I'm not sure exactly what she means.

"I love you too, Belly."

Her hug intensified.

Rain tumbled down. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

Inside, I felt happy, though a part of me knew I shouldn't.

Dino seemed a little subdued this morning. There was no point in eating breakfast outside unless we wanted to eat it with soggy rainwater. We sat inside. Belly ordered poached eggs on toast with an espresso while I went for an avocado salad with a flat white. There weren't very many other customers this morning. The rain got heavier.

"Fuckin' hate flat whites, Dad," frowned my daughter. "Australia's given the world so many awesome things. The backyard lawnmower, the bionic ear, the aviation black box, dual flush dunnies, the pacemaker ... the emergency escape slide ... goonbags ... fuckin' wifi ... but I fuckin' swear, Dad, if I was Prime Minister for a day, I'd ..."

"Huh?" This was a bold vein of invective I didn't see coming.

Her eyes were fiery. Do people really get this passionate about coffee? She raised her voice. "Why not just order a mugful of frothy milk?"

"Yeah, but a flat white's still got coffee in it, right?" I challenged.

"But you can't fuckin' taste it, though, can you? All you can taste is milk." She paused as our drinks arrived. "See?" she gestured, lowering her tone as she pointed to her small, potent vessel of coffee. "When I drink this, I'm gonna taste bitterness, astringency, smoothness, the earth from which these coffee beans came and the journey they took to get here, but all you're gonna taste is a cow's warm udder."

I glanced at my mug of beige froth. "If you wanna make me lose my appetite, Belly, keep going."

My daughter necked her beverage in a single gulp. "Fuckin' perfect," she said, chasing it down with a mouthful of water.

I wondered whether she said similar things whenever blokes exploded in her mouth. Bitterness, astringency, smoothness ...

I wondered whether she'd ever chased a shot of semen down with a fat gulp of water. My cock twitched, imagining.

Dino brought our food over. "Sorry about the weather," he said.

"Not you're fuckin' fault, mate," sympathised Belly. "Oops," she said, "sorry for the language."

"No worries," said Dino, glancing at the sky. "I just wish the rain would go away."

"Me too," I agreed.

Our host left, and my daughter and I tucked into breakfast.

"So you gonna text her, Dad?"

I knew who she meant.

"You gonna text her?" Belly repeated, somewhat urgently.

I lowered my voice. "I'm not sure."

"Why the fuck not?" challenged my daughter.

"Because," I mumbled, my mouth full of avocado.

"That's not a reason." Belly put her knife and fork down for a moment. "You reckon you've got stuff in common, she's about the same age as you, she's hot, an' you reckon she's recently divorced so you're both lookin', an'..."

"Who says I'm looking?" I challenged. "And who says she is either?"

My daughter brushed my question aside before resting her case. "An' because you're clearly keen for a threesome," she teased. "I felt how hard your cock got last night when I suggested the idea of me and her blowin' you at the same time."

I couldn't deny it.

Belly leaned forward. "Imagine how hot it'd be, Dad ... your dick's in her arse while I'm sittin' on your face ... she's squeezin' your shaft, an' ..."

Sweet christ.

"An' the other thing is me an' Jess could eat each other out ... or I could fuck her with one of my toys, or maybe she could fuck me ... an' you could sit in a corner and just watch us goin' at it ..."

This is 100% batshit crazy.

"Text her, Dad. I totally reckon she'd be into it."

I'd been thinking about trying to repeat the date night / not-a-date night that failed. I'd been thinking about asking Jess to one of a million venues other than the local pub, getting to know each other a little bit better, just her and me, enjoying a meal and a drink, but every time I think about it, I get butterflies in my stomach. It makes me feel nervous. Too much pressure. I like her, but ...

"Want me to text her instead?" suggested Belly. "Like, just give me her phone number, I'll explain who I am and why I'm textin' her, an' ..."

"What are you gonna say? She doesn't know we ... we ..."

"She doesn't know we *what*, Dad?"

"She doesn't know ... umm ..."

"She doesn't know we fuuuuuuuuck, Daddy. She doesn't know that about us, does she? That's what you're tryin' to say? That's what you're tryin' to tell me? She doesn't know one of your hands smells like my arsehole while your other one smells like my cunt?"

"No," I said leaning forward and lowering my voice, "she doesn't, and how the fuck do you expect me to introduce that concept with her? 'Hey, Jess, how's things? Me and my daughter were wondering if you'd be free on the weekend to partake in a threesome with us'..."

My daughter nodded. "Yeah, Dad, *exactly* that. What you just said."

My head exploded. "Belly, do you ... do you realise how insane that'd sound?"

Belly shrugged. "One person's insanity is another person's truth. And besides, life is just a series of moments."

I blinked. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Do you remember the late great Shane Warne?"

One of the greatest cricketers who ever lived. "Of course I do."

"Remember what he said about appealing for LBW?"

I frowned.

"If you don't ask," said my daughter, "you don't get."

My frown intensified.

"There are so many things we can do in life, but we only ever get the opportunities we ask for."

Deep down, I know she's right. But If I let Belly text Jess, it'll be the end to any possibility of a relationship between me and her. On the other hand, it could be fun.

"OK," I nodded.

Belly's eyes widened. "Shit, really?"

I shrugged. "Let's find out."

"Gimme her number, Dad," she gasped.

"What are you gonna say?" I checked.

"That it was really nice meeting her at the pub the other night an' that she seemed nice and that she's pretty and she's got a hot arse and I'm bisexual and I know Dad's already fucked your arse and you accidentally farted on his face and he's into it and I fuck my dad an' ..."

"Shit, Belly, that's a lot for her to take in. I mean, she barely even knows me." I paused for a second, picking up on something in my daughter's brief monologue. "Wait," I said, leaning forward. "You're bisexual?"

It was only last year, my daughter was locked in her bedroom most nights, studying hard, wanting to ace her high school exams ... all these things about her that I never knew ...

"Are you surprised, Dad?"

I'd already worked out Belly's a sex-crazed nympho. Why would she restrict herself to only half the population? "No," I shrugged, "not really."

Dino swung by, checking how breakfast was. "Delicious," thanked my daughter. "Can I have another espresso please?"

"Si," grinned our host. "And for Rob?"

"Yeah, he'll have one too," my daughter answered.

I was still only midway through my flat white.

"Of course," said our host, retreating to the kitchen.

Belly waited until he'd gone. "So, Dad, what do you reckon?"

I pondered. "I wanna see what you're gonna say before you send it."

A clap of thunder pealed in the distance. The rain was insistent.

Belly whipped out her phone. I watched her thumbs nimble their way across her screen. Dino arrived with our espressos. In deep concentration, Belly's tongue poked out the corner of her mouth. I couldn't help thinking how many times it'd wrapped itself around my shaft ... how many cocks, how many cunts it'd pleasured ...

"How this?" she said, holding her device to my eyes.

'Hey Jess,' she'd typed, 'I'm Belinda, Rob's daughter. Everyone calls me Belly, but you probably remember that from the other night. It was lovely to meet you. Dad gave me your number, I hope you don't mind. Anyway, I've got a question for you. This is kind of awkward, and please don't feel like you need to respond straight away, but Dad and I were wondering if you might be interested in ...'

"It's not finished," Belly explained.

"No shit."

"I don't know what to say next."

"Again, no shit."

"How should I describe it?" she asked, hesitating.

"How the fuck should *I* know? I thought you knew what you were gonna say."

My daughter bit her lip nervously. "I thought I did, but ... fuck ... maybe I don't."

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" I tested.

"Yes!" screamed my daughter. "She's so fuckin' hot, Dad, but ... but I just need to find the right words." She paused, deep in thought. "Wait, what about this?"

Belly's tongue poked out the corner of her mouth again. I watched her type. She's sooooo fucking cute.

She held her phone up to my eyes so I could read what she'd typed.

'Dad and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner one night. I think he mentioned I moved in with him to save one rent, I'm in his spare room, and it gets a bit boring just the two of us. Anyway, let me know? Belly xxxxx'

"Save one rent?" I asked.

"Typo," Belly muttered, her fingers erasing.

"I'm boring?" I challenged.

"I need to say something that invites an opening."

I've got openings on my mind already, but there's nothing in Belly's message about sex. It's just an invitation to come over for a meal. "Fuck it. Whatever. Send it."

"You sure?" asked my daughter.

Did I think Jess would be the replacement of my ex-wife? Was that what I was in this for? I'd love it if she and I could be friends, ideally friends with benefits, but I'd been approaching this as if I was looking for a relationship, but right now, right here in this moment, I realised that wasn't what I wanted.

At least not right now.

I forced out a nervous half-smile. "Yeah. I'm sure." I gave her Jessica's number.

Belly gulped her espresso and pressed send. "Sent. Done. Can't bring it back."