Warning: This story contains explicit adult content, including graphic sexual descriptions and mature themes. All characters depicted are 18 or older. This is a fictional narrative intended for mature audiences only.
The sun spilled through the curtains of Sally’s small flat, painting her room in a warm golden glow. She bounced out of bed, her heart racing with excitement. Today was the day—her first shift at the massage parlour. At 19, Sally had landed what she thought was a dream job: a chance to work in a sleek, modern spa, helping clients relax. Her blonde hair, tied in a loose ponytail, swayed as she slipped into a tight white tank top and black leggings, the uniform she’d been told to wear. The fabric hugged her curvy figure, her full breasts straining slightly against the top, a hint of cleavage peeking out. She checked herself in the mirror, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Dad, I got the job!” she’d squealed the night before, perched on the edge of their worn leather sofa. Her father, Tom, a broad-shouldered man in his early 40s with salt-and-pepper hair, had grinned, his weathered face softening.
“That’s my girl,” he’d said, pulling her into a quick hug. “You’ll be brilliant, Sal. Just keep that smile on, yeah?”
Now, as she grabbed her bag and headed out, Sally’s stomach fluttered. The parlour was only a short bus ride away, tucked in a quiet street lined with boutique shops. The sign above the door readSerenity Spa in elegant gold letters, and the air inside smelled of lavender and eucalyptus. Sally’s trainers squeaked on the polished floor as she stepped in, her ponytail bouncing.
“Oi, you must be Sally!” A voice called out. A woman in her late 20s with jet-black hair and a sly smile strode over. She wore the same tight uniform, her red lipstick bold against her pale skin. “I’m Beth, your trainer. Ready to get stuck in?”
“Absolutely!” Sally beamed, shaking Beth’s hand. “I’ve never done massage before, but I’m a quick learner.”
Beth’s smile widened, a glint in her dark eyes. “Oh, love, you’ll pick it up in no time. Come on, let’s get you set up.”
Beth led Sally through a corridor lined with soft lighting and closed doors, the faint hum of calming music drifting through the air. They stopped at a room with a single massage table in the centre. Sally frowned, noticing something odd. The table had a large, circular hole cut into it, right around the middle. Her brows knitted together.
“Uh, what’s with the hole?” Sally asked, tilting her head.
Beth chuckled, leaning against the table. “Right, time for the real talk. This ain’t your average massage parlour, Sal. This is amilking table. Our clients—blokes, mostly—come here for a proper release. You get under the table, and while I’m up top working their shoulders, you’re down below… milking ‘em.”
Sally’s jaw dropped, her cheeks flushing pink. “Milking? You mean… like…?”
“Yup,” Beth said, popping the ‘p’. “You wank ‘em off and suck them off if you so shall wish. Nice and slow, till they’re empty. Don’t worry, it’s all professional. They’re limp when they start, but you’ll get ‘em going. It’s easy money, and the tips are cracking.”
Sally’s mind reeled, her heart thumping in her chest. She stood frozen, staring at the hole in the massage table, Beth’s words echoing in her ears. Milking? Wanking blokes off? Her cheeks burned hotter, a mix of shock and curiosity swirling in her gut. She glanced at Beth, who was smirking, clearly amused by her reaction.
“You serious?” Sally squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… like, it was just massages!”
“Oh, it’s massages, alright,” Beth said, winking. “Just with a bit of extra service. Don’t look so panicked, love. You’ll get the hang of it. First client’s in ten minutes. Get under the table, and I’ll talk you through it.”
Sally swallowed hard, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her tank top. The fabric clung to her curves, her breasts heaving slightly as she took a shaky breath. “Okay… I guess I can try,” she mumbled, her green eyes wide.
“That’s the spirit!” Beth clapped her on the shoulder, her red nails glinting. “Pop under there, and stay quiet. Follow my lead, yeah?”
Sally nodded, her ponytail bobbing as she crouched and crawled beneath the table. The space was snug, the underside of the table looming above her. The hole was directly overhead, lined with soft padding. She knelt on a cushioned mat, her knees sinking into it, and tried to steady her breathing. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender, but her pulse raced, drowning out the calming music.
Beth’s trainers squeaked as she moved to the door. “First bloke’s here. Just watch and learn, Sal. You’ll be a pro by lunch.”
The door creaked open, and Sally heard heavy footsteps. A man’s voice, gruff but polite, greeted Beth. “Alright, love. Been a rough week. Need to unwind.”
“No worries, mate,” Beth purred, her tone smooth as silk. “Hop on the table, face down. Let’s get you sorted.”
Sally’s breath hitched as the man climbed onto the table. She couldn’t see his face, but his legs dangled through the hole, thick and hairy, clad in loose boxers. The fabric parted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his limp cock nestled against his thigh. Sally’s eyes widened, her face flushing crimson. Oh my God, this is really happening.
Beth’s hands worked above, kneading the man’s shoulders with rhythmic slaps. “Relax, yeah? You’re in good hands,” she said, her voice dripping with charm.
Sally hesitated, her fingers trembling. She reached out, her hand hovering near the man’s cock. It was soft, the skin warm and slightly wrinkled, resting against his balls. She glanced up, but all she could see was the padded edge of the hole. Beth’s voice cut through her nerves.
“Go on, Sal,” Beth whispered, low enough for only Sally to hear. “Start slow. Tease it a bit.”
Sally bit her lip, her heart pounding. She wrapped her fingers gently around the man’s cock, her touch featherlight. It twitched slightly, and she froze, her breath catching. Okay, just… do it. She began to stroke, her hand moving in slow, tentative pulls. The skin was velvety, warming under her touch. She felt it stir, thickening slightly in her grip.
“Fuck, that’s nice,” the man groaned above, his voice muffled against the table.
Beth chuckled. “Told you we’d take care of you.”
Sally’s cheeks burned, but a strange thrill ran through her. She kept stroking, her fingers gliding along the shaft as it grew harder, the veins pulsing under her touch. It was fully erect now, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with a bead of precum. She tilted her head, her lips parting slightly, her breath warm against it. Should I…? Before she could decide, Beth’s voice came again.
“Use your mouth if you want, love,” Beth murmured. “Makes it quicker.”
Sally’s heart raced. She leaned forward, her lips brushing the tip, tasting the salty precum. The man groaned louder, his hips shifting slightly. She opened her mouth, taking the head inside, her tongue swirling around it. The heat and weight of it filled her senses, and she bobbed her head slowly, her lips stretching around the girth.
“Fuck, yeah,” the man grunted, his voice rough with need.
Sally’s confidence grew, her movements smoother. She sucked harder, her hand pumping the base while her tongue flicked along the underside. The man’s groans grew louder, his cock throbbing in her mouth. She felt a strange mix of power and arousal, her own thighs pressing together under the table.
“Christ, I’m close,” the man gasped.
Sally kept going, her lips slick with saliva, until he tensed, a low, guttural moan escaping him. Hot cum spurted into her mouth, thick and salty, coating her tongue. She swallowed instinctively, her eyes watering as she milked every last drop. The man shuddered, then went limp, panting heavily.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “That was fucking amazing.”
Beth’s laugh was light and teasing. “Glad you enjoyed, mate. Take your time getting up.”
Sally pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face was flushed, her breath uneven. I just did that. Her mind spun, but Beth’s voice snapped her out of it.
“Good job, Sal,” Beth whispered. “Told you it’s easy. Next one’s in five.”
The morning passed in a blur. Sally worked three more clients, each cock starting limp and growing under her touch. One was long and thin, another short but impossibly thick, the head purple and swollen. She stroked and sucked, her hands and lips growing more skilled with each one. The men groaned and cursed, their cum filling her mouth or splattering her chin. By the fourth client, her jaw ached, but she felt a strange pride in her work.
Beth was all grins as they cleaned up between sessions. “You’re a natural, Sal. Keep this up, you’ll be raking it in.”
Sally managed a shy smile, wiping her hands on a towel. “It’s… weird, but kinda fun.”
“That’s the spirit,” Beth said, tossing her a bottle of water. “Next one’s a regular. Bit of a talker, but he’s quick.”
The door opened again, and Sally slid back under the table, her knees sinking into the mat. The man’s voice hit her like a punch to the gut.
“Alright, Beth, love,” he said, warm and familiar. “Heard Sally started today. Where’s she at?”
Sally’s blood ran cold. Dad?! Her heart slammed against her ribs, her hands freezing mid-air. It was Tom, her bloody father, climbing onto the table. His legs appeared through the hole, strong and familiar, his boxers loose. She could see the outline of his cock, soft and heavy, and her stomach churned with panic.
Beth’s voice was smooth, not missing a beat. “Oh, Sally? She’s in the staffroom, taking a break. First day’s a lot, you know?”
Sally’s chest tightened, gratitude flooding her. Thank you, Beth. She stayed dead still, barely breathing, praying Tom wouldn’t suspect anything.
“Right, fair enough,” Tom said, settling face-down. “Proud of her, though. She’s a good kid.”
“She’s a star,” Beth said, her hands already working his shoulders. “Now, relax, yeah? Let’s get you sorted.”
Sally’s mind screamed. I can’t do this. I can’t touch my dad! But Beth’s whisper came, sharp and urgent. “Sal, you gotta. He’ll know something’s up if you don’t.”
Sally’s hands shook, tears pricking her eyes. She reached out, her fingers brushing Tom’s cock. It was soft, the skin warm and slightly rough. She closed her eyes, trying to block out who it was, and started stroking, her touch mechanical. It twitched, growing slowly, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Tom groaned, oblivious.
Sally’s heart broke, but she kept going, her hand moving faster. It was fully hard now, thick and veined, the tip slick with precum. She leaned in, her lips trembling as she took it into her mouth, her tongue moving on autopilot. The taste was familiar yet wrong, and she fought the urge to gag.
“Christ, Beth, you’ve got magic hands,” Tom said, chuckling.
“All part of the service,” Beth replied, her tone light.
Sally sucked harder, desperate to finish it. Her lips stretched around the girth, her hand pumping the base. Tom’s groans grew louder, his hips twitching. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
He came with a low, rough grunt, his cum flooding her mouth in thick, hot spurts. Sally swallowed, tears streaming down her face, the taste burning her throat. She kept going until he was spent, his cock softening against her lips.
“Bloody hell,” Tom panted. “Best one yet.”
“Always aim to please,” Beth said, her voice smug.
Sally pulled back, curling into herself under the table, her body shaking. Tom climbed off, chatting with Beth as he dressed. When the door finally closed, Sally scrambled out, her face streaked with tears.
“Beth, I—I can’t,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “That was my dad!”
Beth’s face softened, just for a moment. “Shit, Sal, I didn’t know. Look, it’s done. He didn’t know it was you. You’re alright.”
Sally shook her head, her hands trembling. “I can’t do this again.”
Beth sighed, pulling her into a quick hug. “Take the rest of the day, yeah? I’ll cover. But you’re good at this, Sal. Don’t let one bad moment ruin it.”
Sally nodded weakly, grabbing her bag and stumbling out of the room. The air outside hit her like a slap, cool and sharp. She walked home, her mind a mess, her body still tingling from the day’s work. When she got to her flat, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
But something stirred in her, dark and forbidden. The memory of her hands on those cocks, the power she’d felt, lingered. And, God help her, the thought of her dad’s groans made her thighs clench, a sick thrill twisting in her gut.
The Next Day
Sally woke with a start, her sheets tangled around her legs. Her dreams had been a mess of hands and mouths, her dad’s voice echoing in her ears. She sat up, her blonde hair a wild mess, her tank top twisted from tossing and turning. Her fanny throbbed faintly, a shameful heat pooling between her thighs.
She shouldn’t go back. Shecouldn’t. But the money… and that strange, twisted thrill. She bit her lip, her fingers brushing her nipple through the fabric, a needy moan slipping out. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?
Her phone buzzed. A text from Beth:You coming in, love? Got a busy day. You were a star yesterday.
Sally stared at the screen, her heart racing. She typed back, her fingers shaking:Yeah, I’ll be there.
An hour later, she was back at the parlour, her uniform clinging to her curves, her ponytail swaying. Beth greeted her with a grin, her red lipstick bold as ever. “Knew you’d be back,” she said, winking. “Ready for round two?”
Sally nodded, her throat tight. “Let’s just… keep it normal, yeah?”
“Normal as it gets,” Beth said, leading her to the same room.
The first client was a stranger, a lanky bloke with a nervous laugh. Sally slid under the table, her knees sinking into the mat. His cock was limp, thin and pale, but it hardened fast under her touch. She stroked and sucked, her lips slick, her confidence returning. He came with a sudden scream, his cum splattering her chin. She wiped it off, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
The day rolled on, cock after cock, each one different. Sally lost herself in the rhythm, her hands and mouth working like a pro. But in the back of her mind, she kept listening, dreading that familiar voice.
It came in the afternoon. Tom’s voice, warm and cheerful, filled the room. “Back for more, Beth. You lot are too good.”
Sally froze, her heart in her throat. Beth’s eyes flicked to her, a silent question. Sally shook her head frantically, mouthing, No.
“Sally’s in the staffroom again,” Beth lied smoothly. “Poor thing’s knackered.” She popped her head under the table and whispered. “You ok.”
I just nod my head, I got this. I took a deep breath and got ready to please him and I was going to put some effort into my job.
Sally’s breath caught in her throat, her body trembling beneath the milking table. The familiar timbre of her dad’s voice—Tom’s warm, gravelly tone—sent a jolt of panic through her, but something darker stirred too. Her fingers twitched, hovering just inches from his boxers as he settled onto the table, oblivious to her presence. The hole above her framed his strong thighs, the loose fabric of his boxers parting to reveal the soft, heavy outline of his cock. Her heart pounded, a sick mix of dread and twisted curiosity swirling in her gut.
“You’re a lifesaver, Beth,” Tom said above, his voice muffled as he lay face-down. “Work’s been a bastard this week.”
Beth’s hands worked his shoulders, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin filling the room. “No worries, Tom. We’ll sort you right out,” she purred, her tone slick with charm. Her eyes flicked down to Sally, a silent nudge to get moving.
Sally swallowed hard, her green eyes wide in the dim light. I can’t do this again. But Beth’s lie had saved her yesterday, and hesitation now might blow her cover. Her dad couldn’t know she was here, under the table, her hands trembling at the thought of touching him. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus. Just do the job. Pretend it’s someone else.
Her fingers brushed the edge of his boxers, the fabric soft and slightly worn. She pulled it aside, her breath hitching as his cock came into view. It was limp, nestled against his balls, the skin warm and slightly wrinkled. Her cheeks burned, but she wrapped her fingers around it, her touch featherlight. It twitched faintly, and she froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.
“Fuck, that’s nice,” Tom groaned, his voice low and rough.
Sally’s stomach twisted, but she kept going, her hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. The skin was velvety, warming under her touch, and she felt it stir, thickening in her grip. Her lips parted, her breath shaky as she watched it grow, the veins pulsing faintly. It was fully hard now, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with a bead of precum. The sight sent a shameful thrill through her, her thighs pressing together under the table.
Beth’s voice cut through the haze. “Relax, yeah? You’re in good hands,” she said, her tone teasing.
Sally’s mind screamed, but her body moved on autopilot. She leaned forward, her lips brushing the tip, the salty taste of precum hitting her tongue. A low, needy moan slipped from her throat before she could stop it, muffled by the table. She froze, praying Tom hadn’t heard.
“Christ, that’s good,” Tom muttered, his hips shifting slightly.
Sally’s heart raced, her lips trembling as she took the head into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it, the heat and weight overwhelming. She bobbed her head slowly, her lips stretching around the girth, her hand pumping the base. The taste was wrong, forbidden, yet her fanny throbbed, a slick heat pooling in her leggings. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Beth’s hands worked above, the slap of skin blending with Tom’s soft grunts. “You’re proper tense, Tom. Let it all go, yeah?” she said, her voice dripping with charm.
Sally sucked harder, her lips slick with saliva, her tongue flicking along the underside. Tom’s cock throbbed in her mouth, the veins pulsing against her lips. She felt his hips twitch, his groans growing louder, more desperate. Her own breathing hitched, her fanny clenching as she fought the sick arousal building inside her.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Tom gasped, his voice rough with need.
Sally’s eyes watered, her lips stretching as she took him deeper. Her hand pumped faster, her tongue swirling frantically. He tensed, a low, guttural grunt escaping him as hot cum flooded her mouth. It was thick, salty, spurting in heavy ropes that coated her tongue and throat. She swallowed, tears pricking her eyes, the taste burning as she milked every last drop. Her dad’s cock softened against her lips, and she pulled back, her body shaking.
“Bloody hell,” Tom panted, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That was fucking unreal.”
Beth’s laugh was light and teasing. “Glad you enjoyed, mate. Take your time getting up.”
Sally curled into herself under the table, her face streaked with tears, her fanny throbbing with shameful heat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her breath uneven. Tom climbed off the table, chatting with Beth as he dressed, his voice warm and oblivious. When the door finally closed, Sally scrambled out, her legs shaky.
“Beth, I—” Sally’s voice broke, her green eyes wide with panic. “That was my dad again. I can’t keep doing this!”
Beth sighed, her red lips pursing. “Fuck, Sal, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d be back so soon.” She pulled Sally into a quick hug, her perfume sharp and sweet. “Look, he didn’t know it was you. You’re in the clear. Why don’t you take a breather?”
Sally nodded weakly, her ponytail limp against her neck. She stumbled to the staffroom, collapsing onto a worn sofa. The air smelled of coffee and cheap air freshener, but her mind was a mess. Her dad’s groans echoed in her ears, and her fanny ached, slick and needy. She pressed her thighs together, a soft, desperate whimper escaping her lips. What the fuck am I becoming?
The rest of the day was a blur. Sally worked client after client, her hands and lips moving with practiced ease. Each cock was different—long and thin, short and thick, veined or smooth—but none carried the weight of Tom’s. She stroked and sucked, her jaw aching, her fanny throbbing with every groan and spurt of cum. By the time her shift ended, her tank top was damp with sweat, her blonde hair sticking to her neck.
Beth caught her at the door, her dark eyes glinting. “You did good, Sal. Proper star. See you tomorrow?”
Sally managed a tired nod, her lips still tingling. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
She walked home, the cool evening air doing little to clear her head. Her flat was quiet, the hum of the fridge the only sound as she kicked off her trainers. She stripped out of her uniform, the tight fabric peeling away to reveal her pale skin, her full breasts spilling free. Her nipples were hard, sensitive, and she bit her lip, her fingers brushing them lightly. A soft, needy moan slipped out, her fanny clenching.
In the shower, the hot water cascaded over her, but it couldn’t wash away the shame—or the heat. Her fingers slipped between her thighs, circling her clit, and she gasped, her knees buckling. The memory of her dad’s cock in her mouth, the way it throbbed, pushed her over the edge. She came with a sudden scream, her fanny pulsing, slick with her own juices.
After my shower I went downstairs and dad was watching tv, “Hey kiddo, hows the new job. Everytime I come you busy somewhere else.”
Sally froze in the doorway, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders, the towel wrapped loosely around her curvy frame. Tom’s voice, warm and familiar, hit her like a punch to the gut. He was sprawled on the sofa, his broad shoulders relaxed, a beer in hand as the TV flickered with some football match. His salt-and-pepper hair caught the dim light, and his easy grin made her stomach churn with a mix of guilt and that sick, forbidden heat.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tom said again, glancing over. “How’s the new job? Every time I come by, you’re busy somewhere else.” His tone was teasing, oblivious to the truth that clawed at her insides.
Sally’s throat tightened, her bare feet rooted to the carpet. Her fanny throbbed faintly, still sensitive from her shameful release in the shower. She forced a smile, clutching the towel tighter, her full breasts pressing against the fabric. “Yeah, Dad, it’s… busy,” she mumbled, her voice shaky. “Lots to learn.”
Tom chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Bet you’re runnin’ rings round ‘em, Sal. You always were a quick learner.” His eyes flicked to her, warm but lingering just a second too long on the curve of her hips. He looked away fast, clearing his throat. “Proud of you, love.”
Sally’s heart raced, her cheeks flushing. Did he just…? No, he couldn’t have. She pushed the thought down, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the towel. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m knackered, though. Gonna head to bed.”
“Night, love,” Tom called, his attention back on the TV.
Sally bolted upstairs, her bare thighs brushing together, the slick heat in her fanny betraying her. She shut her bedroom door, leaning against it, her breath ragged. The memory of Tom’s cock—thick, veined, pulsing in her mouth—flooded her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, a soft, desperate whimper escaping her lips. “Fuck, what’s wrong with me?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
She dropped the towel, her pale skin prickling in the cool air. Her full breasts swayed, the nipples hard and pink, begging for touch. She caught her reflection in the mirror—blonde hair a tangled mess, green eyes wide with shame and need. Her fanny ached, the lips swollen and slick, a faint sheen of her own juices glistening on her inner thighs. She bit her lip, her fingers twitching, but she forced herself to climb into bed, pulling the covers over her naked body.
Sleep didn’t come easy. Her dreams were a haze of hands and mouths, Tom’s groans echoing, blending with the grunts of strangers. She woke with a start, her sheets damp with sweat, her fanny throbbing so fiercely she could barely think. The clock read 6 a.m. Another day at Serenity Spa loomed.
Sally dressed slowly, her hands shaking as she pulled on her tight white tank top. The fabric clung to her curves, her breasts straining against it, the outline of her nipples faintly visible. She tugged on her black leggings, the material hugging her round arse and thick thighs. Her ponytail swayed as she tied her blonde hair back, her green eyes avoiding the mirror. She couldn’t face herself—not after yesterday.
At the parlour, Beth was waiting, her jet-black hair sleek, her red lipstick bold. She wore the same uniform, the tank top stretched tight over her perky breasts, her leggings accentuating her slim legs. “Morning, Sal,” she said, her sly smile glinting. “You alright after yesterday?”
Sally nodded, her throat tight. “Yeah, just… don’t let my dad know I’m here, okay?”
Beth’s eyes softened, just for a moment. “Got it, love. You’re safe with me.” She tossed Sally a bottle of water. “Busy day. You ready?”
Sally forced a smile, her heart pounding. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The first client was a burly bloke, his cock thick and heavy, already half-hard when she slid under the table. Sally’s hands moved with practiced ease, stroking the velvety skin, her lips brushing the tip. He groaned, a low, rough grunt, as she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling. His cum was thick, splattering her chin, and she wiped it off with a smirk, her confidence growing.
Client after client, Sally lost herself in the rhythm. A long, thin cock that twitched wildly. A short, fat one that barely fit in her mouth. Each one started limp, growing under her touch, the groans and curses fueling her twisted thrill. Her fanny stayed slick, her leggings damp between her thighs, but she pushed the shame down, focusing on the power she held beneath the table.
By midday, her jaw ached, her lips tingling with the taste of cum. Beth popped her head under the table, her grin wide. “Fuckin’ hell, Sal, you’re a machine. Fancy a break?”
Sally shook her head, wiping her mouth. “I’m good. Keep ‘em coming.”
Beth laughed. “That’s my girl.”
The next client was Tom. Sally knew it the second his voice filled the room, warm and cheerful. “Alright, Beth, love. Back for another. You lot are too good.”
Sally’s blood ran cold, her hands freezing mid-air. Beth’s eyes flicked to her, a silent question. Sally shook her head frantically, mouthing,No, please.
“Sally’s in the back, sorting towels,” Beth lied smoothly, her hands already working Tom’s shoulders. “Poor thing’s knackered.”
Sally’s chest tightened, gratitude flooding her. She stayed dead still, barely breathing, as Tom settled onto the table. His legs dangled through the hole, strong and familiar, his boxers loose. She could see the outline of his cock, soft and heavy, and her stomach churned.
“Right, fair enough,” Tom said, his voice muffled. “She’s workin’ hard, yeah?”
“She’s a star,” Beth purred, her tone light.
Sally’s mind screamed. I can’t do this again. But Beth’s whisper came, sharp and urgent. “Sal, you gotta. He’ll know something’s up if you don’t.”
Sally’s hands shook, tears pricking her eyes. She reached out, her fingers brushing Tom’s cock. It was soft, the skin warm and slightly rough. She closed her eyes, trying to block out who it was, and started stroking, her touch mechanical. It twitched, growing slowly, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Tom groaned, oblivious.
Sally’s heart broke, but she kept going, her hand moving faster. It was fully hard now, thick and veined, the tip slick with precum. She leaned in, her lips trembling as she took it into her mouth, her tongue moving on autopilot. The taste was familiar yet wrong, and she fought the urge to gag.
“Christ, Beth, you’ve got magic hands,” Tom said, chuckling.
“All part of the service,” Beth replied, her voice smug.
Sally sucked harder, desperate to finish it. Her lips stretched around the girth, her hand pumping the base. Tom’s groans grew louder, his hips twitching. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
He came with a low, rough grunt, his cum flooding her mouth in thick, hot spurts. It was explosive, ropes of it coating her tongue, dripping down her throat. She swallowed, tears streaming down her face, the taste burning. She kept going until he was spent, his cock softening against her lips.
“Bloody hell,” Tom panted. “Best one yet.”
“Always aim to please,” Beth said, her voice smug.
Sally pulled back, curling into herself under the table, her body shaking. Tom climbed off, chatting with Beth as he dressed. When the door closed, Sally scrambled out, her face streaked with tears.
“Beth, I can’t keep doing this,” she sobbed, her voice breaking.
Beth sighed, pulling her into a hug. “I know, love. I’m sorry. Take the rest of the day, yeah? I’ll cover.”
Sally nodded, grabbing her bag and stumbling out. The cool air hit her like a slap, but her mind was a mess. She walked home, her fanny throbbing, her body tingling with shame and need. When she got to her flat, she collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
That night, Tom was out, the flat quiet. Sally paced her room, her tank top and leggings discarded, her naked body prickling in the cool air. Her breasts swayed, full and heavy, the nipples hard. Her fanny was slick, the lips swollen, a faint drip of her juices trailing down her thigh. She bit her lip, a needy moan slipping out.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it—Tom’s cock, the way it throbbed, the way he groaned. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, but her body didn’t care. She climbed into bed, her fingers slipping between her thighs, circling her clit. “Ohh God,” she gasped, her hips bucking. She came hard, her fanny pulsing, a sweet little cry escaping her lips.
The next morning, Sally was back at the parlour, her uniform clinging to her curves, her ponytail bouncing. Beth raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just handed her a schedule. The day was a blur of cocks, each one starting limp, growing under her touch. She stroked and sucked, her lips slick, her fanny aching with every groan.
Then Tom came in again. Sally’s heart stopped, but this time, something shifted. The shame was still there, but so was the thrill. She slid under the table, her hands steady as she pulled his boxers aside. His cock was soft, but it hardened fast, thick and veined, the tip glistening.
“Fuck, that’s nice,” Tom groaned, oblivious.
Sally’s lips parted, a soft, needy moan escaping as she took him into her mouth. Her tongue swirled, her hand pumping the base. Her fanny throbbed, slick and needy, her leggings damp. She sucked harder, her lips stretching, her confidence growing. Tom’s groans were louder, more desperate, and she felt a twisted pride.
“Christ, I’m close,” Tom gasped.
Sally kept going, her lips slick, her tongue frantic. He came with a sudden scream, his cum flooding her mouth in thick, explosive spurts. It dripped down her chin, coating her throat, and she swallowed, her eyes watering. Her fanny clenched, a desperate, filthy noise escaping her lips.
“Bloody hell,” Tom panted, climbing off. “You lot are unreal.”
Beth’s laugh was teasing. “Come back soon, yeah?”
When Tom left, Sally stayed under the table, her body trembling, her fanny dripping. Beth crouched down, her grin wide. “Fuck, Sal, you’re a pro. You okay?”
Sally nodded, wiping her mouth, a dark smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I’m good.”
That night, Sally came home to find Tom on the sofa, a beer in hand. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, grinning. “Good day?”
Sally’s heart raced, her fanny throbbing. She sat beside him, her tank top tight, her nipples hard. “Yeah, Dad,” she said, her voice soft. “Really good.”
Tom’s eyes flicked to her, lingering on her breasts, then away. “Glad to hear it, love.”
Sally’s lips parted, a needy moan caught in her throat. She leaned closer, her hand brushing his thigh. “Dad… can I ask you something?”
Tom froze, his eyes meeting hers. “Yeah, Sal? What’s up?”
Her heart pounded, her fanny slick. “Do you… like the parlour?”
Tom’s face flushed, his throat bobbing. “It’s… yeah, it’s good. Why?”
“Why do you keep coming every day?” Sally’s voice was soft, trembling, but laced with a daring edge. “Is it for… you know, the holes in the table?”
Tom froze, the beer bottle in his hand halfway to his lips. His throat bobbed, his broad shoulders tensing as he set the bottle down on the coffee table with a soft clink. “Sal, what—” He cleared his throat, his voice rough. “What’re you on about, love?”
Sally’s lips parted, a shaky breath escaping. She shifted closer on the sofa, her thigh brushing his, the contact sending a jolt through her. Her fanny throbbed, slick and needy, the memory of his thick, veined cock pulsing in her mouth flooding her senses. “I know what they do at the parlour, Dad,” she whispered, her green eyes locked on his. “I know about the milking tables. I… I’ve seen it.”
Tom’s face paled, then flushed crimson, his jaw tightening. “Sally, how—” He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, his eyes darting away. “You shouldn’t know about that. It’s not… it’s not proper for you to—”
“I work there,” she blurted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart pounded, her fingers trembling as they pressed harder against his thigh. “I’m under the table, Dad. I’m the one… doing it.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Tom’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he stared at her, his expression a mix of shock, shame, and something darker—something that mirrored the twisted heat in Sally’s gut. “Sal,” he croaked, his voice breaking. “You’re… you’re joking, yeah? You can’t be—”
“I’m not joking,” she said, her voice steadier now, though her body shook. She leaned closer, her breasts grazing his arm, a soft, needy moan slipping from her lips. “I’ve been under there, Dad. Every day. With you.”
Tom’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. “Fuck, Sally,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “That’s—fuck, that’s wrong. You shouldn’t… we shouldn’t—”
“But you liked it,” Sally cut in, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and daring. Her fingers slid higher, brushing the bulge in his jeans, feeling it twitch under her touch. “You groaned, Dad. You came so hard. I… I felt it.”
Tom’s eyes snapped to hers, dark and stormy, his chest heaving. “Sally, stop,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction, his hand hovering as if to push hers away but not quite managing it. “This ain’t right. You’re my girl, my—”
“I know,” she whispered, her lips trembling as she leaned in, her breath warm against his jaw. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how it felt.” Her fingers pressed harder, stroking the growing hardness through his jeans, and Tom let out a low, rough grunt, his hips shifting slightly.
“Fuck, Sal,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “We can’t. You know we can’t. I can’t believe your the one whos been… sucking me off.”
“Dad,” she whispered, her voice soft but laced with a desperate edge, “you keep going back. You keep… wanting it.” Her fingers traced the outline of his cock, slow and deliberate, feeling it throb under the denim. “I know it’s wrong, but… I want it too.”
Tom’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark and stormy as they flicked to hers. His hand grabbed her wrist, firm but not rough, holding it still. “Sally, love,” he said, his voice low and strained, “this ain’t just wrong—it’s fucked up. You’re my daughter. I can’t—” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, but his grip loosened, his thumb brushing her skin almost involuntarily.
Sally’s lips parted, a soft, needy moan escaping. She leaned in, her breasts pressing against his arm, the heat of her body radiating. “I know I’m your daughter,” she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “But I felt you, Dad. I tasted you. And… fuck, it made me so wet.” Her free hand slipped to her leggings, cupping her fanny through the fabric, a desperate, filthy noise slipping from her throat as she rubbed herself.
Tom’s breath hitched, his eyes darting to her hand, watching her fingers move. “Christ, Sal,” he muttered, his voice cracking. His hand tightened on her wrist, but he didn’t pull it away, his cock twitching under her touch. “You can’t say shit like that. You’re killin’ me.”
Sally’s heart raced, the shame and thrill twisting tighter in her gut. She tugged her wrist free, her fingers deftly popping the button on his jeans. The zipper rasped as she pulled it down, her hand slipping inside to find his cock, hot and heavy, straining against his boxers. “I want to, Dad,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to make you feel good. Like I did at the parlour.”
Tom groaned, a low, rough grunt, his head falling back against the sofa. “Fuck, Sally, we’re gonna regret this,” he muttered, but his hips lifted slightly, letting her tug his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the tip glistening with precum. It was just as she remembered—hard, pulsing, the skin velvety under her fingers as she wrapped them around it.
“Ohh God,” Sally gasped, her fanny clenching at the sight. She stroked him slowly, her hand gliding along the shaft, feeling it throb. Her thumb brushed the tip, smearing the precum, and Tom let out a desperate, filthy noise, his hands gripping the sofa cushions.
“Sal, we shouldn’t—” he started, but his words dissolved into a groan as she leaned down, her lips brushing the head of his cock. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the salty precum, and she moaned, a sweet little cry that made her fanny drip. She took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around the girth, her tongue swirling along the underside.
“Fuck, yeah,” Tom grunted, his voice rough with need. His hand found her hair, fingers tangling in her ponytail, guiding her gently. “Christ, Sal, your mouth…”
Sally’s confidence surged, her lips slick as she bobbed her head, taking him deeper. Her hand pumped the base, her tongue flicking frantically. The heat and weight of his cock filled her senses, and her fanny throbbed, her leggings soaked between her thighs. She pulled back, gasping, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the tip. “You taste so good, Dad,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire.
Tom’s eyes were dark, his chest heaving. “Fuck, love, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his hand tightening in her hair. “Get up here.”
Sally’s breath caught, her body trembling as she climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Her tank top rode up, exposing the soft curve of her belly, her breasts heaving against the fabric. She ground her fanny against his cock, the wet heat of her leggings soaking through, and Tom let out a low, rough grunt, his hands gripping her hips.
“Sal, we can’t shag,” he said, his voice strained, but his fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her closer. “This is already too far.”
Sally leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. “I don’t care,” she whispered, her voice dripping with need. “I want you inside me, Dad. I need it.” She tugged her tank top off, her full breasts spilling free, the pink nipples hard and begging for touch. She arched her back, pressing them against his chest, a needy moan slipping from her lips.
Tom’s eyes widened, his breath ragged as he stared at her breasts, full and swaying, the skin pale and flawless. “Fuck, Sal,” he muttered, his hands sliding up to cup them, his thumbs brushing her nipples. She gasped, a sudden scream escaping as he pinched them lightly, her fanny clenching with need.
“Ohh God, Dad,” she moaned, grinding harder against his cock. She yanked her leggings down, kicking them off, her fanny bare and glistening. The lips were swollen, pink and slick, her clit peeking out, throbbing with need. A faint drip of her juices trailed down her thigh, and Tom’s eyes locked on it, his cock twitching against her.
“Christ, you’re so wet,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slipped between her thighs, brushing her fanny, and Sally cried out, a desperate, filthy noise as he stroked her clit. Her juices coated his fingers, slick and warm, and he let out a low, rough grunt, his cock throbbing.
“Dad, please,” Sally gasped, her hips bucking against his hand. “I need you to shag me. I need your cock.” She grabbed his shaft, guiding it to her fanny, the tip brushing her slick lips. The contact sent a jolt through her, a sweet little cry escaping as she rubbed it against her clit.
Tom’s resolve crumbled, his hands gripping her hips as he groaned, “Fuck, Sal, I can’t say no to you.” He thrust up, his cock sliding into her fanny, slow and deliberate, stretching her tight, slick walls. Sally screamed, a needy moan blending with the wet squelch of her fanny as he filled her.
“Ohh God, Dad!” she gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders. Her fanny was tight, gripping his cock like a vice, the slick heat overwhelming. Every inch of him stretched her, the veins pulsing against her walls, and she rocked her hips, taking him deeper. “You’re so big… fuck, it feels so good…”
Tom grunted, his hands squeezing her arse, guiding her movements. “Christ, Sal, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “Your fanny’s fuckin’ perfect.” He thrust up, harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her breasts bounced, swaying with each thrust, and he leaned forward, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.
Sally screamed, a desperate, filthy noise as his tongue flicked her nipple, her fanny clenching around his cock. “Ohh God, harder!” she gasped, her hips slamming down, the squelch of her juices loud and obscene. Her fanny was dripping, her juices coating his cock, dripping down his balls and onto the sofa.
Tom’s thrusts grew faster, more desperate, his groans muffled against her breast. “Fuck, Sal, you feel so good,” he grunted, his hands gripping her arse, spreading her cheeks. His fingers brushed her tight arsehole, teasing it lightly, and Sally cried out, a sudden scream as her fanny pulsed.
“Dad, yes!” she moaned, her voice trembling. “Don’t stop… ohhh yesss!” Her fanny tightened, the slick walls gripping him harder, and she felt the pressure building, her clit throbbing with every thrust. She reached down, rubbing it frantically, her fingers slick with her juices.
Tom’s cock throbbed inside her, the tip brushing her cervix, and he groaned, a low, rough grunt. “Fuck, Sal, I’m gonna cum,” he gasped, his thrusts erratic. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside me!” Sally screamed, her voice raw with need. “Cum in my fanny, Dad! Fill me up!” Her fingers worked her clit faster, her fanny clenching as she teetered on the edge.
Tom’s hips bucked, a desperate, filthy noise escaping as he came. His cum exploded inside her, thick and hot, flooding her fanny in heavy spurts. The force of it pushed her over, and Sally screamed, a sweet little cry as her fanny pulsed, her orgasm ripping through her. Her juices gushed, mixing with his cum, dripping down his cock and pooling on the sofa.
“Ohh God, Dad!” she gasped, her body shaking as she rode out the waves, her fanny milking every last drop. Tom groaned, his hands gripping her hips, his cock softening inside her. She collapsed against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her breath ragged.
“Fuck, Sal,” Tom panted, his voice thick with awe. “That was… fuckin’ unreal.”
Sally’s lips curved into a shaky smile, her fanny still throbbing, slick with their mixed cum. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It was.”
They sat there, tangled together, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. Sally’s heart raced, the shame and thrill twisting in her gut. She knew this was wrong, so fucking wrong, but her body didn’t care. She wanted more—needed more.
Tom’s hand brushed her back, hesitant but warm. “Sal, we can’t… we can’t keep doin’ this,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s gonna fuck us up.”
Sally lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his. “I know,” she whispered, but her hand slipped to his cock, stroking it lightly, feeling it twitch. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Tom groaned, his resolve crumbling. “Fuck, love,” he muttered, pulling her into a kiss, his lips rough and desperate. Sally moaned, a needy moan, her fanny clenching as she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his.
The night stretched on, their bodies moving together, the sofa creaking under their weight. Sally’s fanny was slick, her breasts bouncing, her moans filling the flat. Tom’s groans were rough, his hands gripping her, his cum filling her again and again. They fucked until they were spent, collapsing in a sweaty, trembling heap.
The next morning, Sally woke in her bed, her body sore but humming with satisfaction. Tom was gone, likely off to work, but his scent lingered on her sheets. She bit her lip, a soft, needy moan slipping out as she touched her fanny, still slick with his cum. The parlour loomed, another day of cocks and groans, but now, she had something else—something darker, more dangerous.
She dressed slowly, her uniform clinging to her curves, her ponytail swaying. At the parlour, Beth greeted her with a grin, oblivious to the shift in Sally’s world. “Ready for another day, love?” she asked, her red lipstick bold.
Sally nodded, her lips curving into a dark smile. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s do this.”
The clients came and went, their cocks starting limp, growing under her touch. She stroked and sucked, her lips slick, her fanny throbbing with every groan. But in the back of her mind, she waited for Tom, for his voice, his cock, his cum. The shame was still there, but so was the thrill, and Sally was drowning in it.