Daughter's Slut Training Collection

by Reed James

  Her hand stroked Jalal's cock faster. It rubbed into her side, smearing her pussy juices across her hip and belly. Her hips undulated, dancing against my licking mouth while she jerked off my little brother.

  My pussy ached to feel that cock in me again.

  “Are you going to cum on the little whore's mouth?” groaned Jalal into our mother's ear. He squeezed Mom's breast. “Just cream that little slut.”

  “Yes,” Mom whimpered. “She's got such enthusiasm. Ooh, yes, plunge those fingers into my pussy. This is how you please a woman!”

  Such pride swelled through me for being such a good slut. I sucked on her clit like a little cock. Her pussy clenched hard on my fingers. I loved feeling her hot depths. I came from this warm, wet, silky hole.

  Heady delight swept through me as Mom heaved again. She groaned and gasped. Then she turned her head, kissing Jalal like a lover. Her hand gripped his cock as she groaned into his lips. His precum smeared across her flat belly as she writhed.

  Such a beautiful woman. So mature and gorgeous, her body kept in great shape to please my father. Her pussy tasted like Heaven. The sweetest sin. Why did Allah make pussy taste so good and then forbid women from eating it?

  Why did he make me into a slut?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, pumping my fingers faster and faster. My own cunt dripped juices, aching to be filled. But I ignored my own pleasure, concentrating on my mother's. She needed this orgasm. I had to please her.

  Mom gasped, breaking the kiss with Jalal. “You little slut!”

  Her pussy spasmed about my digits. She convulsed hard as her orgasm surged through her. Hot juices squirted out around my digits, bathing my chin and cheeks. I opened my mouth wide, gulping them down.

  “My daughter is such a lesbian whore!” moaned Mom. “Yes, yes, yes. Oh, Allah, what a slut you gave me!”

  “Such a slut,” groaned Jalal. “I have to fuck her, Mom. I have to pound that tight pussy again.”

  “Do it,” Mom groaned, letting go of his cock. “You're a man now. Fuck the little whore. Just get back there and ram into her cunt.”

  “But my lesson?” I gasped. “I need to ride him.”

  But Mom didn't hear me, too lost to her rapture. Jalal already moved, getting behind me. I gasped as his hands seized my hips. And then his cock nudged at the hot opening of my pussy. I groaned as he rubbed his dick up and down my flesh.

  Mom seized my hair, hauling my head back down to her convulsing pussy. Her big tits heaved as she smeared my lips against her clit. “Don't stop licking me while your brother fucks that whore-cunt of yours!”

  “Yes, Mother!” I moaned and flicked her clit with my tongue.

  Her fingers became iron talons in my hair, gripping me so hard. She forced my face against her clit. I sucked on it, pumping my fingers in and out of her convulsing pussy. Her juices boiled my digits while I moaned out in desperation.

  Jalal still teased my pussy.

  He ran that thick cock up and down my pussy lips. He brushed my clit, making my hips wiggle. More juices poured out of my snatch. Then his cock pulled back and his fingers parted my pussy lips. I felt his eyes stare into my depths.

  “I can see into her pussy,” Jalal said in awe. “So pink and juicy. And she's clenching, Mom.”

  “She wants your dick in her so bad!” groaned Mom, grinding her hot cunt into my face, her pussy massaging my plunging fingers. “Just fuck her. Pound her. The little whore needs your cock in her right now.”

  “I do, little brother,” I moaned. “I'm such a slut. I need your dick in me so badly. Fuck me!”

  “Fuck her! Be a man and ram that cock into your sister's cunt!” Mom shuddered, her big tits jiggling. “Fuck her like the whore she is.”

  “Yes, Mom!” groaned Jalal.

  His dick rammed so hard into me. His balls smacked my clit. I gasped, pleasure shooting through me. I moaned into my mother's clit. My snatch clenched down on the dick that filled me. Then he drew back and slammed in again. And again. And again.

  He reamed my cunt. He gripped my hips, grunting as he plowed me so hard. Like a jackhammer. He fucked me like a whore. He enjoyed my sisterly cunt on his dick. And I savored his brotherly dick plunging into my depths.

  “Oh, Mother, yes, he's fucking me!” I whimpered. “He's driving that cock into me.”

  “Yes, my baby boy is such a man,” Mom groaned, her hot eyes staring over me at my brother. “Ooh, yes, Jalal, pound your sister's snatch. Enjoy the little slut!”

  “I am, Mom,” he groaned.

  His cock plunged into me so hard, so fast, it was hard to remember my lesson. I knew I had to swivel my hips. To always move them, to dance like a whore. But such pleasure churned through me from the hot friction of his dick and the smack of his balls on my clit.

  Every time his balls smacked my clit, I moaned into my mother's bud. I sucked on hers, my tongue dancing on it as pleasure surged through me. Sparks flared through my cunt. My pussy clenched down on his dick as his nuts thwacked my balls.

  So heavy. So full of his brotherly cum.

  I wanted him to spill in me so badly. I wanted his cum to fill me again and again.

  My fingers pumped hard, plunging into Mom's cunt as fast as Jalal rammed into my snatch. Mom shuddered, her big tits jiggling as she writhed. She had such smoky eyes, staring with such desire at Jalal as he helped me practice my fucking.

  My left hand reached out, grasping Mom's pillowy breast. She groaned her pussy clenching on the digits of my right hand. She shuddered, her snatch growing hotter about my fingers again. Then she gasped and orgasmed a second time.

  “Yes, yes, yes, such a whore daughter!” moaned Mom, bucking. Her pussy massaging my three digits.

  Just like my cunt would massage my brother's cock.

  “Ooh, plow your whore-sister, Jalal,” Mom gasped through her climax. “Fuck her. Make her cum. A man always makes a slut cum.”

  “I will, Mom,” Jalal groaned and fucked me harder.

  I didn't know it was possible. I screamed into Mom's pussy as my orgasm exploded through me. The pounding rapture of my brother's cock sent me over the edge. My clit drank in his thwacking balls. My hot flesh convulsed around his dick.

  He groaned, gripping my hips harder as he plowed into my massaging pussy. Pleasure rippled through me. I gasped and shuddered, wanting to rip my head up from Mom's pussy. But her grip held me in place. I moaned into her clit, stars exploding across my vision.

  “So good,” I moaned, voice muffled by motherly cunt. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “She's so tight, Mom,” gasped Jalal. “Ooh, yes, the little slut's cumming so hard on my dick.”

  “Because your a man!” Mom groaned with such pride, her body convulsing as her orgasm died. “Yes you are. My baby boy is such a stud. Fuck the little slut. Make her cum over and over on that dick of yours.”

  “I am,” he grunted, plowing me. “I could fuck her all night.”

  “You've cum enough. Show me that stamina. Show me your endurance.” Mom licked her lips. “Ooh, yes, keep the slut cumming into my clit because... Yes!”

  Mom came again, set off by my humming passion on her bud. Her pussy convulsed on my fingers, matching the writhing passion of my cunt on Jalal's dick. Her juices flooded out, so tangy and delicious. I drank them down while Jalal's cock stirred my cunt to a froth.

  Orgasms kept pumping through me. My brother's dick kept me cumming. The friction so amazing. I loved him plowing into me. My moans mixed with Mom, mine so much more whorish than hers. I kept my fingers plunging into her depths, stirring her up, thanking her for showing me who I was.

  “I'm a slut!” I screamed as another orgasm rippled through me.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” howled my brother, thrusting so hard. His balls smacked over and over into my clit. “Such a fucking whore.”

  “Cum in her!” hissed Mom. “Just bathe her cunt in your cream.”

  “Yes!” Jalal groaned, ramming his cock into me.

  I gasped into Mom's
pussy at the first squirt of incestuous cum into my depths. I shuddered, my cunt milking his jizz into my fertile depths. I could be bred by my brother. A hot shiver ran through me. My orgasm intensified.

  “Take my cum, slut!” he growled.

  “Yes, yes, yes, in your sister's cunt!” mom howled.

  “He's pumping so much into me,” I moaned.

  My orgasm rippled through me. Such naughty warmth. I loved it. Embraced it. Jalal grunted again as he fired the last blast of jizz into my snatch. I mewled into Mom's pussy, licking her clit while she shivered, my left hand clenching her pillowy mound.

  It felt so nice in my hand.

  Then Jalal ripped his cock out of my pussy. I knew what to do. Like a good slut, I spun around and sucked his pussy-coated cock into my mouth. He groaned, shivering as I sucked him clean. Jizz poured out of my snatch, trickling down my legs.

  Then I groaned as Mom licked at the jizz dribbling down my cunt. She made such a cooing sound as she enjoyed it. She licked up to my pussy. For one moment, her tongue flicked through my folds, gathering the incestuous mix flooding out of me.

  “Mmm, such a good slut,” she purred, giving my ass a squeeze. “Once you're done cleaning your brother's cock, we'll talk about how you'll please your father. He'll be home in an hour.”

  Then Mom rose. I heard her dress behind me, garbing her modesty like a proper Muslim woman. I just sucked happily on my brother's half-hard cock. He stared down at me, such lust in his eyes. He ran his hands through my hair.

  “I'm going to fuck you whenever I want,” he growled.

  A hot shiver ran through me. I popped my mouth off his dick. “Of course. That's what a slutty sister is for.”

  He smiled as he pushed up his glasses. Then groaned as my mouth engulfed his dick, savoring my fresh, tangy musk.

  * * *

  Mrs. Umayyah

  The front door opened. A hot twinge ran through my pussy followed by a nervous flutter through my stomach. I moved from the kitchen, properly clad in my modest dress, my hijab covering my hair. Only face and hands were visible. My big breasts jiggled in my bra. He stood in the foyer, hanging his baseball cap on a peg.

  My big, strong husband dressed in the rough clothes from the construction sight, his blue jeans faded, stained with a white epoxy. His t-shirt faded over the years, a black tar forever embedded in the fabric that I never could get out.

  “There is my lovely wife,” Karim said as I walked to him and greeted him with a chaste kiss, nothing immodest out of our bedroom. His thick beard scratched so deliciously at my face. The one thing Leyla lacked while eating my pussy, her cheeks silky smooth.

  “Welcome home, dear husband,” I breathed, so excited to give him this treat. I'd been so bad by masturbating to Clint fucking his harem and losing our savings to online poker. He deserved such a treat.

  I knew he noticed Leyla. He was a man. More than a few times he demanded I perform my wifely duties after he stared at our blossoming daughter.

  “Leyla is drawing you a bath,” I told him. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. Go and relax. You've earned it.”

  “A bath?” he asked. “Our daughter. Not you?”

  I just smiled at him. “She wants to do something special for her father. You'll see. She's awakened to who she is.”

  My husband frowned. “What is going on?”

  “Just know that I love you, dear husband,” I said and gave him a hotter kiss, my hand rubbing at his crotch. He groaned, his cock responding, hardening. “Now go, our daughter awaits with your bath.”

  Leyla stepped out in a flowery dress Her black hair spilled about her youthful expression, no hijab to make her modest. “Come, Daddy, it's all ready to you.”

  “Isn't she just a naughty tease?” I whispered as my husband stared at her without her hijab for the first time since she started menstruating. “Now go and enjoy her. Leyla will take good care of you.”

  My slutty daughter took her father's hand and led him away, such a beguiling smile on her lips. My pussy clenched, knowing she would take such good care of her father. And learn to be a better slut. Because come tomorrow, that pussy would be for sale.

  To be continued...

  Daughter Trains with Daddy

  Daughter's Slut Training 3

  (An Incestuous Harem Story)

  by

  Reed James

  Daughter Trains with Daddy

  Leyla Umayyah

  My pussy boiled beneath my dress, juices dribbling out of my shaved snatch and down my thighs. I felt Daddy's eyes on my ass as I led him up the stairs, the steps creaking beneath my bare feet. Nervousness twisted about my stomach.

  It was time to put all I learned from Mom with my younger brother Jalal to the test. Time for my nineteen-year-old body to please my father. I wasn't a good, pure Muslim girl. I was a slut. A depraved whore. Mom was so right about me. I was so turned on right now to seduce my father. To satiate him with my body.

  To feel his cum fire into my pussy like my younger brother's did.

  “Did you have a nice day at work, Daddy?” I asked, feeling his rough hands on mine.

  “Long day,” he grunted, hand squeezing mine.

  He worked as a construction foreman. His success combined with mom's professor salary, provided the life for me and my two brothers. He raised me, clothed me, and though my sluttiness would shame him, I would repay that debt by giving him so much pleasure.

  My pussy clenched again, the heat growing, swelling. Such a wanton longing filled me. I threw a coquettish look over my shoulder, smiling at him before purring, “Then let's relax all that stress away.”

  His dark eyes fixed on me, his emotions impossible to read with his thick, black beard, lips tight. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, muscled. The opposite of Jalal's slender frame and almost delicate features. My younger brother had the tendencies of a scholar not a laborer.

  But he learned quickly how to handle a slut. He'd fucked me so hard under Mom's instruction, fucking me from behind as I devoured Mom's pussy. I hoped Daddy would fuck me just as hard.

  “You're not wearing your hijab,” Daddy said, noticing the first of my slutty behavior.

  I felt so exposed without the headscarf covering my hair and framing my dusky face. I'd worn it for eight years since I started menstruating. I felt so wanton to show off my luxurious, black hair to a man who wasn't my husband.

  I'd never have a husband. What man would marry a slut? But I would have so much fun.

  “I guess I forgot,” I giggled, reaching the bathroom. I opened the door, the air steamy with the bathwater. My parents installed a large, deep tub years ago. It was like a hot tub, letting you relax in it, soaking up to your shoulders. Daddy needed it to help with aches from working hard all day. I could smell the slight tang of the Epsom salts. “Now lets get you in the tub and soaking.”

  “Leyla?” he frowned as I led him into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you take a bath, Daddy,” I purred.

  “This isn't—”

  Feeling bold, I put a shushing finger on his lips, feeling the wiry thickness of his beard. I peered up at him, a coquettish smile on my lips. “You heard Mom. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

  Confusion robbed him of his normal dominance. He stood rigid, like he didn't know what to do as I led him deeper into the bathroom towards the hot water. Then I moved around him, reveling in the power I had over him. My body enticed him, my feminine features arousing him to sin.

  Sin I'd have to satiate. It was my fault, so I had to relieve him.

  “Just strip, Daddy, and enjoy,” I purred behind him, my fingers attacking my bodice. I worked fast, exposing my naked, round tits beneath. I let the dress fall off my body, exposing my youthful curves as he stared at the water, unaware that I'd disrobed. “Come on, Daddy. Don't just stand there. I need to take care of you.”

  I untucked his shirt from his blue jeans from behind, pulling it up his body. He had darker-brown skin th
an me, rippling with sexy muscles. My pussy clenched, fresh juices running down my whorish thighs. He turned as I pulled his shirt up his hard body.

  His eyes landed on my naked breasts.

  He froze, eyes widening, mouth opening wide. My nipples ached beneath his gaze. So hard, thrusting from my round, dusky breasts. I struck a pose for him, looking as wanton and slutty, arousing him further, aching to feel his cock in me.

  But fear swelled through me. What if he disowned me? What if he despised me? I was his daughter. I should be pure. I shouldn't be a slut. But I was. I didn't want my daddy to hate me. I wanted him to love me. To fuck me.

  To use me like a whore.

  His hands clenched. I whimpered, my heart exploding in terror as something crossed his bearded face.

  * * *

  Mrs. Umayyah

  I hoped my daughter was taking care of my husband. Karim deserved her barely legal cunt wrapped about his dick for being such a good provider. He had every right to use the little slut. It was a shame she wasn't pure like me. Wasn't a good, Muslim woman. But I would make use of her. She was the key to making back the money I lost to my online poker addiction.

  And to satiate the lusts sparked by watching Clint fuck his sisters, half-sisters, aunt, and others in the classroom next door to mine. Vicky Samuels, his aunt, was also his slut. Like so many other women. By watching them through the peephole I drilled, I learned how to handle my daughter. How to mold her.

  How to turn her into a slut that would please the men I'd sell her body to.

  My pussy grew so hot just thinking about it. My little Leyla, only nineteen, spreading her thighs for her customers. Letting them fuck her for money. And at home, she'd satiate her father and her brothers. She would make sure my sons were pleasured, that my husband received the comfort he needed.