Inspecting My Sleeping Daughter's Pussy After She Fucks The Gardener
T. A. BEAU
Inspecting My Sleeping Daughter's Pussy After She Fucks The Gardener
T. A. BEAU
A NONCON Dad/Daughter Somnophilia Erotica Short Story with breeding and voyeurism.
Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.
WORD COUNT: 4500 words
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I step through the quiet villa, heading toward the pool, feeling a bit lighter than I have in months. The stillness wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I let myself breathe out all the tension from back home. This vacation in Marbella is supposed to be a family break—a chance to escape the chaos of my usual life and maybe rediscover some parts of myself that have been buried under work.
The open doors of the villa let in a soft afternoon breeze, and I catch a whiff of the ocean air mixed with the faintest hint of chlorine from the pool outside. I can feel the anticipation buzzing in my veins as I make my way through the house, ready to dive in and let the water wash away everything.
I’m halfway to the pool area when I hear a faint noise. It's distant, like a low murmur of voices or maybe someone laughing. I figure it's just someone from a neighboring villa, maybe having a good time by the pool. It’s nothing worth my attention; I’m here to relax, not to get involved in anyone else’s business. With a shrug, I head to my room to change.
Moments later, the towel slung over my shoulder, I make my way downstairs, ready for a long, quiet swim. I step outside and begin to turn toward the pool, a small smile on my lips.
But then I stop. My gaze lands on the poolside, and my smile freezes.
It takes me a second to register what I'm seeing. My daughter, my own daughter, is on her hands and knees at the pool’s edge. Her head is thrown back, her eyes shut in pleasure, and the gardener—the burly, muscular guy who barely speaks—has his hands firmly on her hips, moving against her with force and intensity that makes my stomach twist.
“Holy… what the…” I whisper, a shudder running through me as I stumble back a step. My breath catches, and I feel my hand fly up to cover my mouth as if it could somehow block out the scene in front of me.
A mix of emotions crashes over me—shock, disbelief, betrayal, and something darker that I can’t even name. I try to look away but find myself glued to the spot, unable to tear my eyes from the sight of them tangled together, oblivious to my presence.
My mind races. When did this happen? How long has this been going on? I can’t recall a single moment when I saw them even acknowledge each other. And yet here they are, right under my nose, wrapped up in something that’s both intensely raw and deeply wrong.
A sudden wave of anger surges through me, hot and sharp. My fists clench, and I feel my jaw tighten as I fight the urge to charge over there and rip them apart. But something holds me back, some twisted part of me that doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want them to know I’m there.
As I watch, the gardener reaches out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze as she moans. My stomach flips, the sound ringing in my ears, drilling deeper and deeper into my skull. I feel sick—angry, betrayed, humiliated. But I’m also aware of a pulse of something else, something darker and deeply uncomfortable, stirring in the pit of my stomach.
The scene continues for another breathless moment, and then, just as I see them nearing the edge of their orgasms, something I can’t bear to witness, I spin around, heart pounding, and bolt back into the villa.
I race up the stairs, hardly aware of my own movements. My mind is a chaotic mess of rage and confusion. The door to my room slams shut behind me, and I lock it with trembling fingers before stumbling to the bed, my heart still hammering.