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“Father, please don’t!” Joy cried, not realizing that her protests only entrenched her fate. She squirmed atop me, each shift causing our connected slits to rub and stimulate, coercing the nectar from our flushing buds to mingle in a stickily. She was aroused and ready despite herself, and the escalating screams she delivered in her panic only readied her father more. There was a moment where I remembered who she was, and who I was. I remembered that these skins we wore were just indulgences we took in lesser pleasures, and that the people we were outside of them would regret this forever. For I know that a person is more than their darkness, but Corruption knows not. Petra wanted Joy to be pure and wonderful, but Corruption wanted to see that purity tainted and ravaged. The moment passed, and I angled my daughter’s pelvis upward, relishing the sweet song of her fear. Vita shared a megalomaniac look with me, then buried himself to the hilt. Joy’s scream sputtered to a breathless. Her actions on the other hand scream of boredom and disinterest. We started kissing slightly when I asked if we could have sex. It has been five days since I was last inside her for only a short time, finishing with my hand which has been the norm for years. “Yeah we can for a minute,” She replied as if it were her duty. We both walked into the house leaving the summer evening sunset.Once in the master bedroom the faint sounds of the television filtered throughout the room as Entertainment Tonight was gossiping about Michelle Bachmann. My wife nonchalantly discarded her shorts and climbed on the bed doggie style, looking over at the TV. I slid down my gym shorts which got caught on my five fully erect inches. Taking myself in my hand I crept closer. My hand at the base I attempted to put myself inside my wife. She was dry. I tried again, without avail. “Here…,” My wife reacted, changing her position from prospering her head up with her hands, and sliding both of them.
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