Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

They drove for miles, but James still couldn't find his way out of his own head. It was early morning and the highway was a long, gray stretch of emptiness leading to a muddled horizon. It seemed too much like a metaphor for his own life: no exits, no endings, just infinite nothing.

James took so much pride in his ability to roll with the punches. Even when he'd gotten Christine pregnant back in high school, James didn't remember feeling so lost. Now he had an amazing family, an incredible career, all because when things went wrong, he knew the right thing to do. He'd built his whole life around the idea that success was simply a matter of working hard and following the rules. But now...

James knew that none of what had happened was his fault. But it had happened, and the results were catastrophic. What if his story didn't have a happily ever after? What if his life was a tragedy and there was nothing he could do to change it?

James looked over at the passenger seat, to his wife, searching for reassurance. Again, though, it was his sexpot daughter staring back at him. God, if that wasn't a metaphor for everything right there.

"Are you OK, Daddy?" Molly asked. Her face screwed up with genuine concern. James was so wrapped up in Molly the sex-idol he'd almost erased the idea of his daughter, the human being.

His baby girl was probably the smartest one of them all, the prettiest, the one most likely to succeed. Yet Molly was also the one who seemed to have the least confidence in herself. She had this frustrating knack for finding the dark clouds on a sunny day. Molly could cure world hunger and cry herself to sleep because she didn't also create world peace.

And yet, Molly was also the sweetest, kindest person he knew. When Molly asked, 'how are you?' in the morning, she actually meant it -- she legitimately wanted to know how you were doing. For all that she beat up herself, Molly was always smiling. Sunny. She had a way of making the people around her happy just by being herself. What was all this doing to her?

James straightened up in his seat. He was so busy throwing himself a pity party, he'd forgotten that the rest of his family was falling apart, too. He resolved to be stronger for them.

"Yes honey, I'm fine," James said, reaching over to squeeze Molly's shoulder, "Sorry. I'm just a little, you know, on edge."

Molly nodded and beamed. She reached over and stroked the back of her father's head.

"It's going to be OK," Molly said. And just like that, James felt better. Words were meaningless -- Christine had told him that many times. But maybe, sometimes, words were enough. Even words that were clearly a lie, it still felt better to hear someone say them.

James glanced to the backseat and saw the rest of his family had settled in. Lexi and Austin were both staring out the window, distracted. Christine gave him a wispy grin, then pointed him back to the road with her chin.

James wanted to say something to her, but Molly was still stroking his head and her light, affectionate touch was very distracting. The way she ran her fingers through his still-thick, only slightly silvery hair -- it was hard to form a complete thought. Then she kept going, tracing her thin, pink fingers behind his ear. Down his neck. Nails tickling at his arm. God, when had the silly little kid gone away and this succubus shown up?

James felt a stirring in his pants. It was all too familiar now. James didn't even have the heart to fight it anymore. He looked at his daughter, almost pleading. Molly glowed back. The blonde girl ran her hands lower. Over her father's trim stomach than down to his khaki shorts.

"Oh!" she said as her hand touched his hardness. Her voice was a mixture of delighted surprise and genuine excitement. James started to raise his hand, to push Molly back. To be strong like he'd swore he would be a moment before. Didn't he owe it to his girl to at least try for propriety? To attempt to protect his sweet, innocent (ok, maybe not so much anymore) daughter? James heard a gasp come from the back of the car.

Instinctively, he looked in his rearview mirror. Had someone caught him and Molly? Had they seen that her hand was now massaging his aching cock through his shorts? Then the family patriarch saw what was going on and he let out a gasp of his own.

Where, before, the family had appeared like perfectly normal passengers, a very different sight now greeted him. His wife of twenty-one years -- a serious, proper woman who'd never been with anyone besides her husband before that weekend -- was luxuriating in the middle seat, completely topless. Her children, Lexi and Austin, were both leaning over her from either side. Suckling at her tiny teats like they were newborns all over again.

In return, the athletic blonde woman had a hand in each of her kids' crotches. Pumping up and down on Austin's exposed erection. Stroking back and forth in Lexi's bare snatch. James watched, transfixed, as his family strained and groaned like some singular, sexual creature.

James felt his zipper slide down and his focus ripped back to the front of the car. Molly reached into her father's pants and pulled out his penis. She smiled and almost clapped, like she'd unwrapped her dream Christmas present. The curvy blonde leaned over and lowered her mouth over James' dick. The warm wetness of Molly's mouth surrounded his cock as she engulfed him.

James gripped the steering wheel like holding on for dear life as his whole body fell under the thrall of his daughter's thick lips and pink, little tongue. If he'd had any thoughts of stopping his daughter before, they were abandoned far behind them on the blacktop.

Despite her complete control over her Daddy, Molly was not an expert at oral. She was slobbery, and combined not enough suction with way too much teeth. But it didn't matter because James' baby girl sucked his cock like she needed it. Like this was worship and her Daddy's cock was her god. All the skill in the world couldn't compensate for that. "That's so good, sweetie," James said.