Preacher’s Sinful Daughter Chapter 5: Sinning with a Woman

Becoming Daddy’s Good Girl
Chapter Four: Sinning with a Woman
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2016

“You take care of your father,” Mother said as she stood in the foyer of our house, the summer heat spilling in through the open, front door.

“Of course I will,” I said, trying to keep the naughty smile off my lips. I would take care of him so well. A weekend without Mother. She was about to leave on her annual women’s retreat. It was every July. I have been waiting for this weekend.

Tomorrow night, Daddy promised me a treat. Finally, he had found the woman who would have a threesome with us. I shuddered, anticipating the wicked, sensual delight of being with a woman, to hold her breasts—I loved squeezing my Double D’s—kiss her stomach, and to lick her pussy.

Especially that.

I loved tasting my own tart musk. After masturbating, I would always lick my fingers clean of my juices. And after a man has cum in my pussy, I had the salty treat to clean up, mixing both naughty flavors together. A hot shiver ran through my eighteen-year-old body.

Was there ever a preacher’s daughter more sinful than me?

I gave blowjobs to my classmates for a dollar, I sold my pussy for $5, and my ass for $7. For the last three Fridays, I’ve danced at the Pink Velvet, an all-nude go go dancing club. I strip naked before the men, then work the room, giving intimate lap dances all while Daddy watches.

And even he pays for my pussy. The right, honorable Reverend Gary Powell, shepherd of Thousand Oaks Methodist, decrier of all manner of sexual immorality, fucked my cunt. My body was too tempting for him to resist.

I made him sin over and over in my sucking mouth, my wet cunt, and my tight asshole.

“You are growing up into such a fine, young woman,” Mother said, a big smile on her lips. She looked around, then bent in, whispering, “So I want you to be extra careful this weekend while I’m gone. I know the summer heat will drive you to the public pool. The boys will be there, their lecherous gazes trying to see your flesh. Be as modest as possible and don’t let them excite you into sinning. You have to be a pure, young woman. Only in marriage, and then only for procreation, is sex permitted.”

“I’ve heard all of Father’s sermons,” I said, trying not to crack a smile. Daddy was such a hypocrite. He could lecture on sexual immorality to the congregation while his dick was still wet with my barely legal cunt.

If Mother wasn’t such a prude, Daddy might have all the sexual satisfaction he could need from her. He wouldn’t be tempted by Donna Paxtor or me or the other sinful ladies of our church. He wouldn’t cheat on Mother.

But then I wouldn’t have learned the joys of being a whore. I would still be repressed by my mother’s lectures and my father’s sermons. I would love to seduce Mother, to show her how wonderful sex truly could be. As she hugged me, her large breasts pressing into mine, separated by our blouses and bras, I imagined kissing her, guiding her, seducing her.

Maybe it was a project I should consider after I’ve been with a woman.

As she went to kiss my cheek, I turned my head. Our lips brushed, warm and wet. My mother froze for a moment, then she pulled back, spots of color dancing on her cheeks. “Alexandra, why did you turn your head?”

“Sorry, Mother,” I said, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I hope it wasn’t a boy making you spacey,” she said, shaking her head, her blonde hair—styled like Jackie Kennedy’s, who Mother thought embodied the modern woman—dancing about her neck. “That can lead to the sinful act of self-pleasure. Even that will ruin you.”

I gave a big smile. “No, no, just thinking about the ministering Father and I have been doing on the Sunset Strip. All those men I’ve helped.”

With my cunt. Ministering to the homeless on Sunset Strip was the excuse Daddy gave to cover our trips to the Pink Velvet Club.

“I am so proud of you,” Mother gushed. “You are turning into a fine, young, Christian woman. You’ll make your husband very happy.”

“She will,” Daddy said, announcing his present with a booming voice.

Mother and I both turned. Daddy wore a black suit, looking so handsome and authoritative. His face chiseled and strong, his shoulders broad. Even the wings of gray streaking back from his temples through his dark hair made him seem so experienced, so sexy. He moved with confidence. It was no wonder my pussy clenched and my nipples hardened at the sight of him. I gave him a smile, hoping he loved how innocent I looked in my conservative dress and pigtails. I even wore white, knee-high socks that just reached the hem of my skirt.

“Well, it is time for me to go,” Mother said, embracing Father. “I see Suzette is pulling up. Take care of yourself, darling.”

Daddy embraced mother, and she planted two chaste kisses, one on each of his cheeks, her hands resting lightly on his hips. Then she broke away, snagging her blue, hard-sided suitcase in a tight grip.

“Take care, dear,” Daddy said as she strode out.

“I will,” she nodded.

Then she was marching out to Suzette Donnar’s car, two other ladies already crowded into the Studebaker. They were off to the retreat. I should go, too. At eighteen I was old enough. But Mother didn’t press it, and I wasn’t about to volunteer. The Studebaker trundled off, the women off to their conference at the Millennium Biltmore in LA. I shuddered, watching them vanish.

And then Daddy handed me the silver dollar. I clutched the coin tight as he lifted my skirt, already tempted into sinning with me. I closed the door and shuddered as he pressed me up against it. He ripped down my panties and found me wet and dripping.

As Daddy fucked me, I imagined who we would have a threesome with tomorrow. Redheaded Donna Paxtor, the woman who I had spied Daddy fucking and led to my sexual awakening; the flirty Missy D, a busty brunette dancer at the Pink Velvet I had such a crush on; or another woman; blonde and busty Mrs. Carpenter, my Sunday School teacher; one of my teachers from school, like Miss Wendal, seduced at a parent/teacher conference; another housewife from church bored in her marriage; one of the girls from church, girls who were no longer my friend because they knew the rumors of my schoolyard blowjobs; or someone I didn’t even know. I knew Daddy had other lovers besides me and Donna Paxtor.

He was such a virile man. But he never revealed them to me. Just like he didn’t reveal my existence to them.

As I came on Daddy’s cock, such wonderful, wicked thoughts shot through my mind. What would it be like to have a threesome with another woman and Daddy? I had enjoyed Daddy and another man several times. Last Friday, at the Pink Velvet, I had Daddy in my pussy and Emmy, the club’s owner, reaming my ass.

Emmy loved my asshole.

“Sinful harlot,” Daddy grunted in my ear as he pulled out of me. “Mmm, you need to get ready for ministering tonight.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I shuddered. Tonight, I could leave in my go go dancer outfit. No changing to keep Mother from finding out. I loved being a wicked whore.

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Dancing at the club helped to control my eagerness. Last night, I was too busy giving lap dances to be excited for tonight. I savored men squirting their cum into me as I writhed on them to the beat of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Four Tones, the Turtles, and more. I had my best night, walking out with seventy-three dollars after Daddy’s and Emmy’s cut. I was so exhausted, I slept until noon.

And only then did my excitement really crash through me. Daddy was gone, heading to his office at Church preparing for Sunday’s sermon—just because we were having a wild night with a woman didn’t mean he couldn’t slack on his duties as a preacher. He had a flock to lie to.

And I hoped his sermon was on the evils of homosexuality, particularly between women. I wanted to listen to it tomorrow while remembering the taste of my first female lover.

Since I had the house to myself, I put my record player on its loudest setting, the Beach Boys booming through the house as I did my chores, doing all of Mother’s normal chores plus my own. I didn’t even wear clothes. I was so wicked, running around the house naked, my large breasts bouncing and heaving.

I really wished someone had come to the door, a handsome man, maybe delivering a package or a salesman needing to please me to win a sale. My pussy grew so juicy with all those naughty possibilities when I wasn’t thinking about licking a woman’s pussy or sucking on her nipples.

Oh, I was so ready for tonight.

As evening approached, and my chores were finished, I readied myself for tonight’s fun. I had a brand new outfit purchased. I bought a pair of silk, black panties that hugged my rear and cupped my pussy in sensual caresses. Then I had a new garter belt, dark-red with black laces, to hold up my first ever pair of thigh-high stockings. My bra was also black, with dark crimson lacing circling the cups and boning to lift my breasts into lush mounds. My dress was a sleek evening gown, red and tight, hugging my body like a sheath with a wonderful, low-cut bodice.

I showered then began my beauty regimen. I styled my hair into a wonderful, bouncing delight of blonde curls and applied my makeup. I had learned a lot from Missy D. Mother didn’t believe in wearing much makeup. “Just enough to enhance what God has given you, and not to accentuate your features in selfish vanity like a cheap whore.”

My lips were bright red, my eyeshadow dark, making my blue eyes pop. I rouged my cheeks, highlighting my cheekbones. I applied perfume, a dab on my wrists, on my neck, between my breasts, and a dab each on my inner thigh. And then I dressed, garter belt on first—Daddy suggested I wear my panties over my garter belt.

That way my thigh-highs didn’t have to come off to remove my panties. It was so smart of Daddy.

Bra fastened, I pulled on my dress just as Daddy walked into the house, calling for me. I had the bathroom door opened, so I shouted back. He followed my voice and paused in the doorway as I adjusted my gown.

I smiled at him, turned away, and asked, “Zip me up?”

“You are radiant,” he said as he stepped in and pulled up the zipper.

It rasped up so slowly. I shuddered, savoring the sound. I felt so grown up, a woman instead of a girl. I had a sexy dress and a sexy man to wear it for. He looked so sharp in his tuxedo. He had changed at church. I turned, staring at him and shivering at how handsome he was. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Tonight was about more than me being a whore.

He was taking me an a date. It was almost like he was courting me. My heart fluttered as he offered me his arm.