by Rosie Zweet
Oh Papa… please don’t be angry!
“Please, my lord. I… I just can’t sleep,” I say.
He is silent for a moment, assessing me with dark eyes.
“You’re hopeless, Girl,” he exhales loudly. “Let’s go to your room then,” he says as he drags me through dark corridors.
He seems to know where my room is. I wonder if by chance he recognizes me too, for I am the spitting image of my mother, brown hair, blue eyes and heart shaped face.
We enter my room quickly. The room is dim with only small lamp on the table.
Suddenly, he takes off his breeches. I yelp in shock and my heart is beating faster.
“What… what are doing, my lord?”
He looks at me oddly as he folds his breeches. But luckily he still has shirt on so that part is still covered.
“I sleep in the nude,” he barks in annoyance.
Suddenly, he chuckles darkly, shaking his head in mirth. “Do I really look like your father?” he asks.
I nod. “May I call you Papa?” I dare to ask.
“Well… I think I should leave now—”
“Oh please stay here, Papa,” I cut him, stopping him donning his breeches again. If he sleeps in the nude so he shall now. I truly don’t want him to leave. I won’t let society’s rule to stop me bond with my long lost father. So, I help him to take off his shirt instead.
But I blush furiously as I see his naked body.
He’s my father, not really a man, I tell myself. I try not to glance there, but my eyes are drawn to it.
I gasp when I see it, standing proudly between his legs. And it seems growing under my watchful eyes.
“It’s not fair if I’m the only one in my birthday suit, isn’t it?”
I tear my gaze from his manhood. “Ahhh… of course not,” I say, agreeing.
With trembling hand, I take off my nightgown. I shiver visibly when my naked skin touches the cold air.
My father eyes scan me from head to toe, making me shiver even more.
“Shall we, Papa?” I squeak.
I want to break his wandering gaze so badly so I drag him to the bed.
He chuckles again. “Eager… I like that.”
I lay my body on the bed. Suddenly, I feel shy so I cross my hands, covering my naked, rounded breasts.
He tsked. “No, no… I want to see you, Girl.”
I remove my hands and blushing furiously. He wants to see his daughter I suppose. And he has the right. I am his daughter after all whether he knows or not, it doesn’t matter.
“Beautiful,” he says as he moves behind me, spooning me.
Immediately, I scoot closer, seeking his warm body as we lie together on the bed. It feels so nice to have my beloved papa spooning me like this. I crave to be loved like this since I was a child. Having a doting father is a luxury I never had.
Tentatively, he brings his hand to my belly, drawing me closer still.
“Please love me, Papa,” I whisper.
“You’re so naughty, so beautiful,” he whispers on my ear.
And his hand does the loving, it strokes my belly lovingly, making me feel funny inside.
I squirm, moving closer to him. My back hits his hard chest.
“You really need it badly, don’t you?” he rasps as he kneads my breasts gently.
“Yes… ohhh… yes… Papa, please love me,” I whine. “I need you.”
He chuckles. “Don’t be afraid, my girl. I will. I will make sure you can’t walk straight on the morrow,” he says as he grinds his manhood on my bottom.
Oh my, it seems getting big and bigger. It is common thing for a man when they see a beautiful girl I’ve heard. I suppose a father will get hard too when they see their beautiful daughter.
Suddenly, he squeezes my breasts harder, shaping and pinching my nipple.
“Ahhh…” I moan, biting my lip.
“You like it, don’t you?” he growls, grinding faster.
“Oh yesss… I love it,” I answer, breathless.
Then I feel something prodding my cunt. Large and thick and hot.
“Oh god, you’re so tight,” he says as he stretches me with his manhood.
I wonder if it is right for a father to put his manhood inside their daughter. I also wonder if he does this to Lady Cecilia, my half-sister. And it makes me mad. I want him for myself only.
“Ohhh… Papa,” I moan, moving my hip so he can penetrate me deeper.
He bites my neck as he shoves his large tool deeper, stretching me wide open.
“Arrgh, sweet heaven,” he groans.
It is sting a little but the stuffed feeling is so good. His love feels so good.
We moan, breathing hard as our bodies try to become one down there.
With hard thrust, he settles to the hilt. I wince a little because of the brief pain.
Noticing my discomfort, he stilled. But his throbbing meat feels so good inside me.
“Ohhh… Papa…”
“Shouldn’t you stop calling me that by now?” he says as he licks my jaw, kissing my cheek and lips softly.
But you are, I bite my lip to stop my retort.
I grind my hip, drawing low growl from his lips.
“Naughty girl!” he says as he starts to move in and out me, bucking me hard and fast.
My eyes roll back. His cock feels so good.
“Ahhh… so tight…” he says as he keeps his fast pace, pummeling me with his manhood.
I arch my back, angling my cunt for his cock, for his love. He acknowledges me by hammering me faster, feeding me with his love relentlessly and grunting madly as he does it.
Is this how one should be loved?
I want to cry aloud because of the mounting pleasure my father brings to my belly.
“Papa… thank you… ohhh… thank you,” I say as I move my hip, following his rhythm.
“You truly love my cock, don’t you?”
Then, he flips me, flat to my belly and garbs my hip high and proceeds to shove his cock in and out me faster, rocking the bed under us.
“Take my cock… take it… ahhh… sweet cunt,” he growls, pummeling me in and out with strength that belied his age.
Finally, I can’t stand the pleasure. I cry out as my cunt clench, tensing and then clutching his pistoning cock so hard.
It makes him wilder. He holds my bottom higher, angling me more for his hammering cock, jolting me to and fro as he works his length in and out me.
I am sated, spent and limp, but my papa still plows me vigorously. And I let him use me. I want him to. I want him to love me more.
“God… ahhh… I’m cumming,” he yells loudly as his cock twitching before it spits, and flooding my cunt.
I feel the splash inside.
“Ahh… Papa,” I moan in pleasure.
We are so loud. I wonder if my neighbors can hear us. But I don’t care.
He is still panting above me. “Oh god… It’s been a long time since I cumming this hard,” he says as he rolls me and wraps me in his strong arm.
“Thank you, my dear,” he says when he kisses my cheek swiftly before he drifts to sleep.
His warm and hard body feels so nice. “I love you, Papa,” I whisper before I go to dream land too.
I am glad that I found you.
Book 3
Ride to London
Chapter 1
1796 England
I walk to the stable, looking for John, the driver. I heard that he will go to London today.
This is the perfect opportunity.
After years of ignoring me finally, my Lord Father remembers me. I was happy when he sent me letter a week ago but soon I became sad after I finished read it. He wants me to marry our Cousin Ezra. I don’t remember him much, he is few years my elder I suppose.
It is not marriage itself that makes me sad but I want make a debut, going to ball and courted by many gentlemen. I hear many wonderful tales from my friends who already left this academy of young lady a year ago.
I should go with them but of course, my father forgot that his daughter is old enough to wed. But I am eighteen now, more than ready to wed.
I won’t stay still and meekly following my father wishes so I will go to London, to my aunt house. I am sure she will understand me, she even will sponsored me herself for the season, I am sure of it.
As I come closer to the stable, I see John is brushing the horse by himself. It is good that no stable boys in sight. I need to talk in private.
John is in his early fifty, I guess. He has dirty blond hair which streaked with grey, lean, frail built, and not that tall, just shy below six feet. He can’t be called handsome but his lined, old face looks kind and gentle.
“Hi, John,” I greet him amiably.
“M’lady,” he says, bobbing his head. And he keeps his head low. He is just so shy when he is around his better. “What I can do for you?”
“I need ride,” I say.
His head jerks up, his eyes look at me widened. “M’la—”
“I heard you will go to London,” I add.
“Oh London, yes… yes…”
I take his hand in mine. “Please take me with you,” I plead.
It is hard to convince the poor man to let me ride with him.
“Please, I will pay you good, John,” I cajole. He is always nice. He often helps us, the young ladies, sneak to the village to buy ribbon, sweet or have a tryst with young men there.
“The mistress will have my head if she knows,” he says, still stubborn.
“Oh, please John, I will do anything. ANYTHING,” I plead and pouting.
“Anything?” he asks, his face reddened.
“Do you have something you want, John?”
“Ahh… M’wife left me years ago, my lady,” he says in small, weak voice.
I remember the story. His wife left him for another man and they run away together to America.
Oh, poor, old John.
“Could you… a man has need… ummm…” he trails, his eyes darted uncertain.
“Do you ask me to be your wife in our journey, John?” I say, helping the poor man. “Oh, that will be splendid.” It is a good idea besides. It will be suspicious if people see a young lady travel alone un-chaperoned. And it will fun travelling in commoner clothes.
***
I know nothing about wifely duty but now John looks at me in wary face. I know that he demands me to do I don’t know what but he too afraid to ask.
We stops after few miles ride from the academy of young ladies’ manor. And now, we sit in the carriage, facing each other.
John fumbles, opening his breeches and pull out his long meat.
Is it his manhood?
I know that a man look different down there but I never saw one before.
“Come here, my lady, take care your husband needs,” he says with strained voice.
His face looks pained. And I pity him more.
“But… but I don’t know how…”
“I know they never teach you. But this is the most important duty of a wife,” he says, his eyes dark, his face twisted with agony. He looks little wild now, so unlike the usual gentle and kind old man I know.
“Come here, Girl. Let John teach you,” he says, attempting to smile but it looks like a sneer.
I have promised to be his wife today so I scot closer, kneeling between the poor man’s legs.
He guides my hand to his manhood. It rapidly hardens and lengthened. My eyes widened in shock.
I really know nothing about this wifely duty.
I look up at John, his head lolled back and his mouth opens in silent moan. He looks pained, I truly pity him.
How can the poor man manages years without a wife?
He groans as I move my hand faster. Hearing his pained moan and holding his huge manhood in my small hand makes my flower grows wet down there.
Oh, what happen to me?
He stops me. “Enough, Girl,” he says in gruff voice.
“Now, sit here.” He points at his lap. But with his manly meat standing erect, spearing in his lap. I am not sure where to sit.
He grabs me roughly by the waist and makes me sit in his lap straddles his thin thighs, my back to his chest. I feel his ragged breath just behind my ear.
He bunches my skirt to my waist. “What are you doing, John?” I shriek in protest.
“Shush, Girl. You’re my wife, remember?” he says his face dark with pain.
I nod, for I pity him. I have to help him ease his pain. Besides we have made the bargain.
“I’m sorry, John. I just don’t know what to do,” I say meekly.
I feel his hands fumble, opening my drawers. “Don’t worry sweet heart. John will teach you how,” he says.
He dips his long finger inside my womanhood. “John,” I shriek again.
“Shush, Girl,” he scolds me as he pump me, in and out. I grow wet, and wetter.
“Oh sweet, oh so tight,” he praise me.
I am happy that I please him. And his finger does feel nice. It is stretching my flower good.
I look down, seeing his pistoning finger and his big, erect manhood between my legs. I blush furiously at the sight.
“You’re ready to take care your old husband,” he says as he pulls his long finger from my cave.
I sigh sadly at the lost. But then I see his grabs his much bigger tool, his manhood. He aims it to my petals, and rubs it slowly there, wetting his tool.
“Argh,” he groans. His hip lifted slightly, and he pants loudly behind me.
“Put it in, Girl,” he commands me.
I turn my head, looking at his poor face. Then, I take his throbbing manhood in my small hand, put it in my lip down below, trying to push it in. But I am so tight and it won’t go in.
He is still breathing hard behind me. Finally, his patience snaps, he grabs my hip, angling me and thrust hard.
“John,” I wail. It is so painful, like he rips me into two. I feel my eyes are filled with tear.
I look down at our joined body. His tool only half way in and my poor flower is stretched so painfully for his spearing manhood.
“Arrrgh,” he groans again as he starts to shag me. His hot, long tool is slithering in and out.
I bite my lip to stop my pained moan. I let him move in and out my slit, widening my small flower, stuffing it with his old, big manhood.
One of his hand grabs my breast, knead, massaging it roughly.
“Nice tits, young, wet, tight cunt,” he murmurs. His pistoning grow faster and deeper now. I feel more pain but it starts to feel nice too.
With hard shove, he is bottoming me now, feeding me with all of his length. My eyes roll to my back in pleasure.
“Oh, oh,” I moan.
He grabs my hip again and bucks in me madly. In and out, he plows me.
His hip lifted again and again as he hammering me, stretching my flower to the max. I wonder how can someone who looks frail and weak can plow this hard.
“Good girl. Sweet, tight…. Argh,” he groans and plows me with his old bone some more.
I glance down at his pistoning tool, marveling it size and how tight my petals cling at it, strangle it. I feel wetter at the sight.
Oh, I love it. I should do this sooner.
I move my hip, up and down, meeting John half way.
I feel the funny feeling in belly take a hold of me. I need something…
I slam down at John old bone, hard, it feels better.
“Arrgh,” he howls.
“Faster, faster, oh John faster please,” I commands him.
And oh boy, he does speed up some more, rutting me roughly, jolting me up with each hard punch.
I can’t take it anymore. The feeling in my belly explodes.
“Argh,” I moan loudly. I feel my inner muscle squeezing his hard, thrusting manhood.
He is jerking hard and groaning like an animal, still bucking in and out me.
“Arrgh,” he shouts, flooding me with his hot fluid.
He jerks again. “Argh, argh,” he groans as he splashing my belly with his molten lava.
And then I bursting again, creaming his jerking manhood with my own fluid.
We sit, limp and exhausted.
“Oh John, this’s wonderful,” I say.
He mumbles his answer back to his shy self.
Chapter 2
We almost arrive at London. John decides to plow me once more so we stop on the road side, just few miles from the city.
Immediately, he tosses my skirt up as I take my position under a big tree. My bottom is high in the air. And John is standing behind me, straddle me my upthrust-bottom and hammering me with his manhood.
I feel a little sore but I can’t resist. We will part way after this. And I am not sure when I will be plowed so good like this again.
“Oh John, oh…. Arggh,” I moan loudly as I creaming his pistoning tool, spasming around his manhood, milking him.
“Arrgh… my good girl,” he bucks me fast and hard, coming too, filling me with his hot seed.
I feel limp, spent but my bottom still thrusting up.
I hear a loud cough not far away from us. It seems we have viewer but we haven’t noticed it until now, drown in our own world.
I take a peek at the short, stocky gentleman who comes closer to us.
I feel my face drained of blood seeing his old face. I know him. He is our neighbor in the country. He is my dearest friend’s father. Oh the rotten luck, why it has to be Lord Randy who find us.
“What we have here?” he says in jolly voice. He looks at me still smiling. It seems he doesn’t recognize me. It has been more than three years since the last time I saw him.
“Just bit of fun, m’lord,” John says with small frightened voice.
“You don’t mind sharing, I trust?” he asks amiable, his eyes darting to my naked bottom then to John.
“Oh no, not at all, m’lord,” John says fast.
Lord Randy old, lined face beaming. He takes out a pouch full of coin and gives it to John.
I see John bewildered face.
“It’s okay, John,” I say to the poor man.
I hope my poor, small cunt still can endure one more plowing.
Lord Randy eyebrows furrowed. “Do I know you?” he asks.