Daughter's Slut - S01 E03

Story 1 week ago

Daughter's Slut - S01 E03

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 3

Mrs. Umayyah

I came home early, Leyla's old, faded-blue Toyota Camry in the driveway. I should have stayed at the college and finish my work, but I couldn't. Temptation burned too hot. I wanted to find a stud, any stud, and have him fuck me. But I refused to violate my marriage. I loved my husband. He was a good man. A good provider.

I was the terrible wife. Bad enough I squandered our savings on my poker addiction and then spent my lunch breaks masturbating to Clint committing incest with his sisters and aunt. I wouldn't be a whore like Vicky and her daughters.

I wouldn't ever cheat on him.

I was a good woman. A proper Muslim. Yes, I had my sins, and I prayed to Allah for forgiveness. I strove to rise above my base nature, but my female desires burned through me. They'd only grown as I matured while my husband, exhausted from working hard all day, could hardly muster the energy most nights to satiate me.

Only on the weekends did my pussy get the true satisfaction she craved.

I entered the house.

It was strangely silent. I knew Leyla and my baby boy Jalal were home. Usually, Jalal played video games, the sounds echoing through the house. I moved to the second floor, a strange energy in the air. I felt...like I intruded.

I frowned, reaching the carpeted stairs, moving up them.

I heard heavy breathing. And a rhythmic slap. I furrowed my brow, the sound...familiar. I couldn't quite place it. Flesh slapping flesh. Not quite the sound of two people having sex, but similar. A hot itch formed in my pussy.

Had Jalal brought a girl home? Had my shy baby boy blossomed like my eldest son? It couldn't be Leyla. She was a perfect girl, not a slut. She'd never sneak a boy into the house.

I crept up the stairs.

I spotted the crown of my son's head just over the top of the stairs. I climbed higher. Jalal knelt before his sister's door, peering through her keyhole. We had an old house, built over a hundred years ago, with locks that used skeleton keys on all the bedroom doors. His arm moved like he was...

Masturbating.

My pussy became molten.

I crept up another step. Then another and shuddered, witnessing his hand flying up and down his eighteen-year-old cock. I fought the urge to moan, my eyes so wide, witnessing him pounding his dick. I licked my lips, realizing he neared the size of his father's. He let out another groan, peeping on his sister.

Then I heard a different moan, feminine. My eyes widened. No, that couldn't be Leyla masturbating. She was too young to discover sex. Only eighteen. She never dated. She saved herself for marriage. We were still looking for the perfect, young man to be her husband. Someone to care for and love her, to give her wonderful children and make her happy.

She couldn't be rubbing her pussy like a slut. Like a whore. Like Lee.

Jalal licked his lips, muttering, “Yes, yes, finger that pussy.”

My eyes widened. Leyla was masturbating. That little whore. And her poor brother had grown hard because of it, realizing what his naughty sister was doing in her room. He couldn't help getting an erection, forced to pleasure himself to make it go down.

“That little tramp,” I whispered beneath my breath, my son jerking his dick faster and faster.

“Oooh, you want him to fuck you in the ass?” groaned Jalal. “Such a slut.”

I shivered, my hijab swaying about my shoulders. Anal? She was such a slut.

My fingers crept down my body, wanting to rub my hot pussy. I shifted my feet, spreading my legs wider and—

A low groan creaked from the stairs.

Instantly, Jalal bolted from his feet, darting for his bedroom and vanishing into it.

I shuddered, my pussy still burning. I had to see what sort of slut my daughter was. I had to witness for herself what she did to drive my baby boy to masturbate his dick in the hallway. I moved as quietly as I could, not wanting to startle her like I did Jalal.

I reached her door, crouched down, and peered through my second peephole of the day.

“That little slut,” I hissed, my pussy clenching.

Leyla perched on her hands and knees, her pussy and dusky ass pointed right at the door. She knew Jalal watched her. Why else would she point her cunt right where he could peek? What a whore! She rubbed her fingers up and down her snatch and...

She had no pubic hair.

I stared at my daughter's bald twat, her dusky fingers sliding through her folds, exposing the pink flesh of her depths. Her juices coated her fingers as my hand shoved beneath my skirt. I slid up it, finding my panties. I thrust the gusset to the side, rubbing on my hot snatch.

“You're just masturbating like a wanton slut,” I groaned. “So filthy!” She had no self-control.

“Oh, fuck me,” panted Leyla, rubbing her pussy faster and faster.

My digits buried into my snatch. I let out a sighing moan, my hot flesh embracing my digits. The two of them felt so amazing in me. I pumped them in and out of my pussy, the pleasure coursing through me, making me quiver and shake.

My daughter's hips wiggled more and more, her round breasts swaying beneath her, nipples so hard. Her slutty juices dribbled down her dusky thighs. Her ass clenched. Black hair swung as she threw a look over her shoulder.

Staring right at me.

“Yes, yes, yes, you love my pussy,” she moaned, thinking her little brother still watched. My poor son was helpless against this temptress. “Just love being in me. But I know what you really want.” She let out a throaty moan. “My asshole!”

I gasped, watching Leyla's fingers sliding up from her pussy, through her taint, and between the cheeks of her ass. She found her sphincter, pressing her pussy-lubed digits into her asshole. Her back arched.

“Make me your slut!” she howled.

My fingers plunged wildly in and out of my pussy, watching my whore-daughter finger her asshole, begging to be her little brother's slut. I shivered, licking my lips, realizing my daughter was lost to her whorish pussy.

A slut.

A teasing whore.

I brushed my clit and came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~