Daddy Bends His Daughter Over and Breeds Her All Weekend in the Storm Cabin

The power failed at the remote mountain cabin during their private weekend. Rain hammered the roof. The daughter stepped out of the bathroom in only a towel, hair dripping. Her father stood by the fireplace in open flannel and jeans, firelight cutting across his chest and the gray at his temples.
She let the towel fall. His eyes dropped with it. She walked straight to him, took his hand, and pressed it between her legs. She was already wet.
“I’ve wanted this,” she whispered. “Don’t stop being my father. Just fuck me like you’ve been thinking about it.”
He spun her, bent her over the arm of the couch, and pushed two thick fingers into her from behind while his other hand tangled in her wet hair. She pushed back onto them, moaning. When he finally freed his cock and pressed the fat head against her, she was shaking.
He entered her in one long, slow thrust. The angle was deep; she felt every ridge. He fucked her hard and steady, one hand on her hip, the other reaching under to rub her clit in tight circles. Every time she came he kept going, using her orgasm to slide even deeper. When he finished he stayed buried inside her, breathing against the back of her neck.
They didn’t leave the cabin for three days. He took her bent over the kitchen counter, on her back on the rug in front of the fire with her legs over his shoulders, and once on the porch in the rain while she gripped the railing and cried out into the storm. Every time he called her “baby girl” while he came, and every time she came harder because of it.