“An American Tradition“, by Paul D. Ryan.
Chapter 1: The Awakening
I never really considered my 11 year old daughter, Elizabeth, as an object of sexual desire. It is my honest opinion that I am and have always been a caring, available, Christian, benevolent, feminist, anti-racist and protective dad. In short, a model modern father free of toxic masculinity 👌.
I considered her a sexless being… just as I consider my wife.
It was not a woman but a daughter.
Or so I thought.
My wife is very busy with both her professional life and her numerous sexual partners, and even during her free time she is very rarely at home.
Such was the case of this Saturday of June.
On this particular weekend, my wife Janna had taken our two other children, Charles and Sam, to visit the sidewalks of Detroit.
For real estate prospecting 😕.
Elizabeth had refused to follow along, claiming her “holes were still sore” from last time.
Perhaps they were playing golf 🤔?
As always, I was sitting on an armchair in the living room browsing my favorite porn website, the DailyStormer, on my iPad.
The front page was occupied by a 4K HD video of what appeared to be my wife Janna 😚 being taken from being by four college-aged African-American males 🐵. I wondered if they were Christians.
Amongst the erotic moans of my wife, I reflected for a long time on the nature of the scene I was witnessing… These boys were not much older than Trayvon Martin, the innocent African-American child atrociously murdered by the White Hispanic Iranian Muslim KKK Russian NRA terrorist George Zimmerman.
Perhaps if Trayvon Martin was still alive he would be ravaging my wife alongside his brothers. The mere thought of what could have been brought tears to my eyes. Tears of guilt. White male guilt.
Naturally I was also caressing myself while watching my wife being boned by Natural Conservatives in the making.
As I was approaching orgasm, I heard Elizabeth exiting her room upstairs on the second floor. She was coming down the stairs. She would inevitably pass next to me in a matter of seconds.
All she had to do to see her father both hands in his pants on a neon-Nazi porn site was slightly turn her head to the left.
Strangely, I was not disturbed by the thought of my 11 year old daughter watching me ejaculate in my $5 jeans. On the contrary, I felt aroused ♥️.
But she didn’t turn to face me. She continued walking towards the front door without a glance in my direction.
I felt a slight tinge of disappointment 😠 watching her pass a few feet by my erect cock 💪.
This morning she had told me that she would be seeing a few “friends”.
From where I was seated, I had a direct view of our front door. I saw Elizabeth go down the stairs and proceed towards the small entrance table on which the keys to the front door were lying.
As she grabbed the keys, she turned to me and said:
– “Ok, dad, I’m going out.”
No you little slut. You’re going back in your room like the dog whore prostitute you are.
Don’t think that just because your mother is out you get to call the shots here. This is my house!
And even the DNA tests did show that none of my wife’s children were genetically related to me, I’m still your FUCKING DAD as long as you live in MY HOUSE you cunt! Get it?
– “Y-Y-es”, I replied. “Have f-f-fun with your f-friends. And be careful of b-black people.”
She opened the door and it was then that she dropped the keys she had just taken. My daughter is particularly awkward and often drops whatever she is holding.
– “Shit!” she exclaimed.
She bent down by bending her knees to pick them up. And that’s the moment when something changed in my mind. I could see her from behind as she was lowering herself, the skirt she was wearing went up as her knees bent down. This action allowed me to see her light blue panties 😵 gently covering the prize that cost my wife 15K to surgically repair 🤔.
Elizabeth was going on her twelfth birthday in the Summer and she probably wore panties for a long time now, but I somehow had just never noted.
It only lasted a moment, she picked up the keys and left without saying a word.
It was well after she left that I noticed something peculiar… without conscious thought, I had nevertheless allowed myself to cream my pants while leering at my daughter’s preteen ass 😱.
I felt guilty for having this orgasm partly caused by my daughter. I tried not to think about it any more, but without success. Seeing that tiny bit of protruding fabric had turned my entire world upside down.
I spent the next 10 minutes browsing through the rest of the DailyStormer without succeeding in thinking of anything other than this piece of cloth.
And then my mind began to go into overdrive and drift toward something that I did not like either. I saw my daughter’s tight rectal hole beautifully caressed by my tongue.
My erection was back.
I told myself I had to stop thinking about Elizabeth in such as way.
Now it became serious.
I frantically scrolled through the DailyStormer porn categories to my favorite section, Black on Mentally Retarded Blonde.
I started to relieve myself in order to stop thinking about my daughter’s panties and butthole.
It worked. I masturbated successfully without any unwanted incestuous thoughts. I was reassured.
I’m still a good Christian feminist father.
Chapter 2: Tyrone J. Drumpff
A few days passed.
On some days I saw Elizabeth as a daughter and nothing happened but on others, I simply could not do otherwise than consider her as an infantile piece of unripe meat… which inevitably provoked immediate erections.
However, unlike the first time it happened to me, I managed to control this influx of blood in my phallic sausage, repressed by my feminist morals. And I was happy like that.
Happy not to have any impure thoughts tainting the image I had of my daughter.
Certainly, I sometimes got hard while fantasizing about her various preadolescent orifices, but nothing that couldn’t be cured by frenetic masturbation to Black on Retard neon-Nazi hardcore pornography 💪.
And yet, I nevertheless perceived a change in mood when she brought a boyfriend home to introduce him to the family. We learned that they had been together for a few months. I knew she had had boyfriends in the past but never anything serious.
Moreover, this was the first time she officially presented someone to us, tending to make us think that this time it was serious.
Tyrone was a nice guy, a little older than my daughter. Darker too.
I didn’t find him very elegant, nor particularly handsome either.
My wife Janna of course disagreed, she was ostentatiously turned on 🤤 by his Simian features and Section 8 accent.
As the days passed and I got to know him more, I realized that he was not very bright either, even for a Welfare-American.
He dropped out of elementary school and spent his days smoking crack paid for with Elizabeth’s weekly allowance.
It got to the point where I wondered how he could bang my daughter.
I thought he had nothing going for him and could not help but think that my princess deserved so much better. I had talked with the other children and they too did not quite understand what she was doing with him.
I once asked him if he was mentally retarded.
He answered with the enigmatic “fiki fiki heil Hitler” which I interpreted as a call for limited government and a repeal of state-run healthcare 👌.
Gradually Elizabeth started asking her mother if Tyrone could come for dinner. Janna obviously agreed. Afterwards it was to know if he could stay for the evening. And then about him spending the night at our home.
Yes. On that night, I had trouble falling asleep.
While my wife sleeps on the ground floor with her multiple sexual partners, mine is on the second floor right next to my daughter’s.
We share a wall in common and the head of our respective beds lay against this wall so I have no trouble hearing what is going on in the other room.
When the TV is on I can easily hear what’s being said.
Consequently, I had no difficulty in detecting whispers without however succeeding in understanding them.
Then nothing. Silence. Then muffled groans. The sound of choking. Periods of silence interspersed by deep gasps for air. I could not believe it.
They were doing it despite knowing how thin the walls were. I found it very disrespectful of him.
How dare he desecrate my princess.
At first spaced, the groans became more and more frequent and less and less stifled. She took a delight in letting herself go, thinking I was probably asleep.
I even heard the sharp periodic impacts of what I assumed was her head banging against the wall. I heard her bed crack and break as her groans turned to deafening cries. All this time I could not think of anything else 😣 and the unavoidable erection naturally followed 😖.
And even if it was morally disgusting, I touched myself while imagining it. Was she for example on her knees and him behind? I imagined her face red with pleasure, eyes closed, biting her lower lip to try to contain her groans. I did not hear her boyfriend and it was unfortunate because I masturbated ferociously thinking of my daughter and her eardrum-piercing screams.
Suddenly she went silent. I wondered what was happening.
Faintly, I could hear the sound of running water. Was he ejaculating? No, it was too prolonged.
Then she choked… the volume was too consequent for her to swallow.
Even from the other room I could discern the vulgar smell of urine.
He started riding her again.
When she orgasmed, I came as well 🤤.
I had crossed the line.
I had masturbated thinking of my 11 year old daughter Elizabeth getting urinated on by a Welfare Dindu in her room.
But how could I have done otherwise?
At ejaculation, I thought it was the best handjob of my life.
The next moment I felt ashamed, dirty and disgusting.
This moment marked the beginning of a perversion already well begun.
I prayed to Anne Frank and asked for forgiveness.
I couldn’t call myself a feminist dad anymore 😣.
Chapter 3: Family Values Don’t Stop at the Lingual Tonsils
My fetish quickly led me to delve into the underwear of Elizabeth.
At first it was rather innocent, I found myself masturbating while covering my dick with her XS sized panties.
Subsequently, the simple titillation of wearing her clean underwear proved insufficient. I started searching for her used panties.
Always with a surging sense of excitement at the start but a deep disgust of myself at the end.
Yet, no matter the shame and disgust, nothing could have prevented me from starting over again and again.
And let’s not forget the intense masturbatory sessions I indulged in each time she was getting boned by Tyrone, her bonoboyfriend.
That lasted until Tyrone got arrested on charges of public exhibitionism in a kindergarten, Islamic DUI, assault and battery, first degree murder, homicidal necromutilation, torture and hate speech on the internet 😦.
I wondered one night, while listening to her increasingly frequent moans, how she managed to give herself pleasure alone.
Nowadays, with the democratization of sex, I could hardly imagine my daughter using her sole fingers to pleasure herself.
So one day, while she was gone, I decided to search her room a bit to find a dildo for example. I found what I was looking for in the bottom of a drawer. A simple pink dildo in the shape of a phallus and a vibrating plug.
I was getting hard just imagining how she was using them.
I ended up on my bed masturbating with one of her used panties and the dildo I was sucking, tasting her vaginal secretions. I performed several sessions of the same genre going a little further each time, when there was no one at home.
If there’s one thing that qualifies as one of my fantasies, it’s the use of dildos and more specifically strap ons.
And the one thing that makes me really really hard is to imagines my wife being fisted by an African-American male while she penetrates me with a dildo. Of course, she would never agree. To the latter.
I did not see anything gay because the anus is a sexual organ and as long as it is penetrated by a woman, I see no problem.
Besides, if it’s gay then sodomy on a woman is equally gay.
I had fingered myself a few times in the shower using the same logic.
As I was laying there jerking off with my 11 year old daughter’s undergarments, the idea of penetrating my own anus with her toys became an inevitability.
I started slipping the vibrating plug inside my body.
It felt good and I was already very hard.
When I turned on the vibration function, it did not take me long to ejaculate. Always in my little daughter’s panties.
I came again and again in her panties, taking great pleasure in imagining myself getting ravaged by this preteen whore.
Ever since I started exploring the inside of my body, I began to let out cries of ecstasy, something I did not do before.
And all this, relieving myself in the underwear of my Elizabeth and using the objects of her orgasms.
But at least I did not think about her anymore.
On the following morning, as I was leaving the shower I passed in front of the door of my daughter’s room. She was just coming out.
She was going jogging.
She was wearing bright red mini-shorts that highlighted her rebounding ass and a tight little top which contained her chest with difficulty. She was horny.
“I’m going”, she said.
I tried to think of something else. It didn’t work.
I was getting worked up again.
I know my daughter’s schedule pretty well.
Her morning jogs usually last between 45 minutes and an hour.
More than enough time to take care of business.
My wife had taken the other children out for a walk again.
It was all that slut’s fault, she had unnerved me with her underage ass.
The entrance door had just barely been closed that I was already in her room, looking for her dildo.
So excited, I did not even take out her panties but instead decided to penetrate myself right here on her bed.
I stripped naked, lay down on her bed and began to masturbate.
I then used the dildo in a long and fast back and forth motion.
It was intense. I felt myself close to breaking point, my dildo thrusts getting faster, deeper and more pleasurable at each plunge.
I closed my eyes and groaned in pleasure. I was getting very close to the danger zone.
This was the most intense sexual experience I ever had in my life, and my throbbing cock was about to let out 47 years of repressed sexuality.
I ejaculated letting out a manly cry of anal rapture.
My daughter’s bed is in front of her bedroom door, right in the center.
As I finally opened my eyes, I saw the door… open.
And standing in front of me was Elizabeth, looking stunned, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
My cock suddenly relaxed and I started ejaculating small bursts of cream on my naked stomach, the pink dildo still protruding rather pathetically from my asshole.
– “I… I forgot my HRM watch”, she stammered.
Chapter 4: I’m a Very Gay Republican
I did not know what to do, lying on my daughter’s bed, my dick in my hand, her dildo in my ass, semen puddles on my stomach, looking completely bewildered and surely blushing with shame.
I cursed myself for having bought this stupid watch on her birthday. I was perhaps experiencing the worst shame of my life.
She walked over to her desk, took her watch and left, completely dazed, without looking at me.
Once she left, I went to wash myself as well as the dildo, covered in both my shit and semen.
I got dressed and stayed in my room, crying.
I couldn’t not think about my career… what would happen to me, if word were to get out that I used my 11 year old daughter’s sex toys to pleasure myself on her bed?
I heard Elizabeth come back after a half an hour, perhaps. I had not moved, I was sitting on my bed. I heard her go upstairs and take a shower.
Then she went back down and I heard her preparing food. At the end of another half-hour I heard her tell me to come to the table.
I executed myself and went down sheepishly.
We ate without ever looking at each other. The atmosphere was more than heavy.
I felt the need to explain myself.
– “Look, Liz, I’m sorry, I-”
– “Sorry! Sorry about what? Sorry to believe that I’m not open-minded?”
– “What… What?”
– “I’m your daughter! How could you not tell me you were gay!” she cried with tears in her eyes.
I was shocked. How could she think I was gay? Oh wait! The fact that she surprised me with a dildo in my ass made it obvious.
I was about to dispute her claims when the words of my mentor, Mitt Romney, echoed eerily in my head… “better be a faggot, a cuck and a loser than a racist“. That was his motto.
It was the perfect opportunity to save my career.
I was saved. By Mitt Romney’s ghost.
The very one I masturbated to earlier.
– “Ha-ha-ha, y-yes I’m a very g-g-gay Republican. But you know, it’s not s-something you can confess easily. And I d-discovered it not l-long ago.”
– “Yeah but to do it with MY dildos, in MY room, on MY bed… you’re disgusting!”
– “I know, but I was too ashamed to b-buy them myself. And I washed them w-well enough every time and…”
– “Every time? Since when have you been using my stuff? Answer, pervert, or I’m telling mom!”
– “I-i-it was the first time on your bed. I was g-getting out of the shower, I was excited, I saw you were l-leaving, I did not want to w-waste time…”
– “And the fact that you did that with my dildos means that you searched through my things.”
– “Yes, I l-looked through your stuff, I’m s-sorry…”
– “It’s ok. I guess I just feel ashamed that you found my dildos.”
– “Ha-ha-ha, the o-o-one who should be a-ashamed here is me…”
– “Can you keep that a s-secret and not tell your m-mother? Or anyone?”
– “I can’t unsee it. But I don’t imagine talking about this with mom.” She said, laughing, her eyes still wet.
YES! I got out of it.
I’m a genius moderate conservative.
What started out as a misunderstanding became my biggest asset in saving my career.
All thanks to Mitt Romney’s homoerotic Mormonism.
A week passed… Elizabeth was as distant as ever. I did not know what to tell her.
I had been calm and during this week, no frenetic handjobs, no dildos, nothing. Not even simple masturbation.
One evening Elizabeth knocked on the door to my room. She was holding a small cardboard box.
– “I made ordered some stuff that I received today… I bought a new one… you know, because I could no longer use… well, you get the point.”
I understood, barely concealing my disappointment.
Masturbating with objects that had produced father’s rectal jubilation did not excite her as much as it excited me.
– “And since I couldn’t see myself giving you the old ones, well… here you go, dad!” She said blushing as she handed me the box.
I opened it and inside was a dildo of the same shape as the one I had used, not the same color though. And a plug. The same by size and color.
– “It also vibrates”, she said.
– “Ah, g-great, thank you.”
She then wanted to talk about my experiences.
I had to talk for about an hour. I made up stories as I went.
That I had already kissed a man, that I had already practiced oral sex, that I had already been sucked but that I had never gone to really serious things, that it was hard to meet gay men where we lived, etc. I felt bad about telling her these lies.
Not for lying itself but for these kinds of lies.
At the end of our discussion she consoled herself by hugging me. I felt her chest on me and the week of abstinence that I had just endured provoked in me an instantaneous reaction.
– “Mom is making pizza, we’ll call you when it’s ready”, she said.
I heard her go down the stairs.
It was risky but I did not care.
With her chest glued to me, she had given me the pole, and the fact that she had bought this for me on an adult site (with my credit card) made me even harder.
I was naked in no time, laying on my bed as the toys were unpacked from their cardboard box.
I masturbated thinking of her, grabbing her barely visible breasts, licking her hairless pussy, imagining that it was her hands sinking the dildo in my rectum and going back and forth to the sounds of my moans.
I turned on the vibrator and it took me little time to cum.
The sensations were too strong.
My load soared across the room and much of it landed ostentatiously on the face of my Martin Luther King statue, the African-Republican Founding Father.
My last conscious thought was of boning my 11 year old daughter Elizabeth.
As I mentally saw myself ejaculating on her face and her fifth grade homework, I passed out naked, on my bed. Covered in cum.
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