The car kept trying to drive itself and Stephen struggled with it for several minutes until finally the controls relented and recognized his authority.

This whole world had gone crazy and out of his control, by god, but he could at least control a car! He drove deliberately, focusing on the street and the machine only. Just the feeling of the wheel under both palms, eyes attentive to upcoming traffic lights, ears listening to the sound of the engine.

Over time, it calmed him. But he was so focused on these small sensations that it took him about halfway to his office before he started to notice some other pertinent factors.

For one, he was hard.

He was really hard. He had just cum—god help him—deep down the throat of his spectacularly gorgeous daughter. His refractory period had gotten worse over the years, as he expected it did with any man, and the drinking certainly didn’t help. In fact, getting hard at all was something of a rare occurrence, more like once a week or even bi-weekly.

Now, his cock strained, pushing at his pants. Attentive, urgent, needy. Beads of precum seeping through his trousers. Every time he stepped on the gas or brakes, it shifted his leg, and the sensation of his clothing against the suddenly-sensitive, throbbing head of his cock made him groan in a wave of need and pleasure.

Trying to take his mind off that, he looked around once more at the town around him. What he saw was odd, to say the least. For the most part, the streets were empty. That in itself was odd, as usually this time of day he had to fight traffic to get to work. But instead of busy streets, he saw busy cafes and parks, and busied particularly by women.

Beautiful women.

Women, beautiful women, dressed in tiny form-fitting dresses and skirts and sweaters and blouses and high heels, with long gorgeous shining hair and smiling and giggling.

A gaggle of them at a small ice cream parlor saw him and waved. One winked. Their smiles were brilliant.

Of course, he assumed they were mistaken, or he was, and that there was someone else they were waving at. He didn’t even think these women lived here. He had a general sense of the overall attractiveness level of the town, men and women included, and it was a steady four, four and a half maybe, out of ten. These women were all colossal beauties, each one—every manner of complexion and hair color and height—outstanding thirty-fives out of ten easily.

He was at a stop light, just staring. His cock twitching. His hips had started gyrating unconsciously, and consciously trying to stop himself had a limited effect. A dark town car pulled up to him, driven by a sickly-looking man in a chauffeur’s outfit.

That was odd in and of itself, but not as odd as when the back window opened up to reveal a woman in a fur coat and diamonds. She winked and licked her lips at Stephen, and—startled—he slammed on the gas and ran the light. Luckily, no one was coming.

Her tits. God, her tits. They had been nearly popping out of her tiny dress.

When he drove into the garage, he was relieved by the normalcy of its drabness. It was just a huge, brutalist chunk of stained concrete. Nothing strange, nothing out-of-the-ordinary. Whatever else was happening in his life, he could at least rely on his empty office full of his own quiet desperation to do anything at all that mattered in the world.

That wasn’t exactly a huge comfort, but that desperation was his, by god, and after waking up how he had, he wanted to recognize the qualities of his world for what they were.

This was all shattered, of course, when he opened the doors to his fourth-floor office and saw Abigail waiting there with a cup of hot coffee just beside her.

The office was small. There was a front room with Abigail’s desk and a small waiting area, and then a backroom where he worked—or, more usual lately, worked off hangovers—and that was all.

His heart sank at the sight of Abigail. First of all, she wasn’t even supposed to be here. She had threatened lawsuits against him. Several lawsuits, actually, starting with sexual harassment and going all the way up to withholding pay from her. And yes, he had done all of those things, but they had all seemed like they were done for very good reasons at the time.

“Abigail?” he could scarcely believe it. The last time he saw her, the only reason she hadn’t slapped him silly was because she didn’t want to be counter-sued for assault.

“Oh, lovely!” she clapped her hands. “Marisa called ahead. We weren’t sure where you went to. She was very concerned about how upset you were after that terrible blowjob this morning. Would you like me to have Addalyn have a talk with Gale?”

This Abigail looked twenty years younger than the one he knew; she looked much closer to her stepdaughter Addalyn’s age, or Gale’s, in point of fact. She was smiling brightly at him, blue eyes shining, wearing a tight pencil skirt and a blouse that threatened to unbutton from the pressure of her heavy, perfectly formed breasts.

“No,” Stephen shook his head. “I mean, it wasn’t terrible, it was—”

“Oh yes, of course, we don’t want to insult the poor girl.” She nodded sagely. “It was her first time and everything, just so freshly eighteen. And who could blame her if she wasn’t as good as her mother? Do you think she’d receive the advice better if it came from me?”

“From you?”

He could barely tear his eyes away from her sumptuous cleavage. Abigail was so definitely filled out now. Her tits invited staring. She noticed and played with her jewelry there.

“Yes! I mean, it might hit wrong from a friend or her mother, but from a friend’s mother, it could be a little more formal and so a little less invasive, you know? She’ll be sucking you off right in no time.”

“No, the blowjob was amazing. I mean, no, no—”

Stephen threw up his hands and rushed to his office, closing the door behind him.

This was insane. Abigail as well. What the fuck was happening?

Maybe there was some kind of clue on his computer. Certainly there seemed to be a time lapse he wasn’t aware of. Again, he suspected the bender to end all benders. Like most drunks, he danced with the idea of becoming suicidally drunk from time to time, though usually after tying one on he felt well enough to just have a blackout and be done with the night. But today felt like his life was drunk.

Plus he was hard. All the time. God.

He’d been hard since he’d heard Marisa begging for a blowjob and now from seeing Abigail his cock was only more insistent. Offering to teach his daughter how to suck his cock! What was even the appropriate reaction? Outrage? Police?

His cock had decided the correct reaction was yes, harder, more of that, do it now.

Feeling exhausted with this day already, he sat down in a heap and powered up his computer. Immediately, a pair of nimble young hands unzipped him and began stroking his shaft and slurping softly at his cockhead.

“What the fuck…?” he groaned.

He pulled away from the desk and the girl followed him out, obediently crawling and sucking and slurping as she went, whining softly as he continued sliding out of reach of her insistent lips.

“Addalyn?”

It was Addalyn, his daughter’s best friend. The one he had hit on so clumsily, the one who had tattled on him.

Abigail walked in just as he had his hands all over Addalyn’s skull. Originally, they were there to push her away. But in seeing Abigail, Stephen yelped and felt instinctively the need to hide, and drew his arms to his sides. But he still held on to Addalyn’s gorgeous head, and so this just meant he fucked her throat harder than before. His cockhead pressed against the soft flesh of her esophagus, suddenly deep-fucking her like her face was a cunt.

“Fu-oh fuck…”

Abigail’s eyes lit up at what she saw. “I just noticed you forgot your coffee outside, sir.”

She strutted toward him, deliberately swaying her hips. God she looked amazing in that skirt, the way it hugged her long, long legs. Her hair, brilliant and brown and shining, hung down one side of her face in a thick gorgeous pile. It was no mystery at all to Abigail what was happening, no secret, and certainly no scandal. Her luscious lips parted, her eyes sparkling with desire. She walked all the way up until her hand clasped on top of Stephen’s on top of her daughter’s thrillingly hot skull.

“I was wondering where she had gotten to,” she whispered.

She pushed in harder, her crotch cinching tight around the back of Stephen’s hand and so also her daughter’s head.

“Is she doing it right, sir? It’s so important to me to have raised a quality daughter for you. I need to raise her correctly.”

“Correctly…?”

He groaned, feeling trapped. One beautiful woman on his cock, and another—apparently her mother but looking gorgeous enough to be her sister—pushing in and eagerly encouraging him to do more.

“To suck your cock.” Abigail’s voice was a sultry whisper. “A good girl needs to serve her man correctly. It’s so important. And you’re her man…if she’s good enough, I mean.” She smiled, biting a bottom lip. She looked at him like a teenager wanting to ask out a crush to a dance. “I don’t want to presume. I just want my daughter to impress you.”

“Impresss…” he gulped, struggling to stand. Addalyn hummed with pleasure on his cock. His eyes feeling like they would roll in the back of his head. “Impress me…”

For a moment—well, to be honest, for several moments—he just enjoyed the moment. His cock was in charge, demanding he take more and more from the willing, wet-mouthed Addalyn. The thought of her in that tiny, skimpy swim-team uniform flashed before his eyes. She was so fucking young, just barely eighteen just like his daughter.

But…no! Christ, no. This was wrong; this was all wrong. He had been drunk when he made those idiotic comments, and he was dry as a bone, and he couldn’t blame his lack of willpower here on anything but himself. He had to stop this.

He stood up completely, but Addalyn kept sucking, and Abigail pushed harder against them both, rubbing her hands up and down Stephen’s chest. He backed into the nearby bookshelf. His degrees knocked against the wall. Addalyn’s skirt and heels shuffled as she slid forward. He noticed for the first time that she was fingering herself with her free hand while she sucked. A puddle followed on the floor behind her.

“Yes, that’s it, dearie,” urged Abigail. He didn’t know if she meant Addalyn or him. “I mean, she’s wanted you for so long. It would break her dear little heart to disappoint you now, don’t you know? All those times she wore those skimpy, teeny, tiny swim suits, she was just thinking about you. She and Gale having all those sleepovers, and the whole time she just wanted you. Both of them just needing you, dreaming of you, wishing somehow they could please you. Look at her, darling.”

All he had to do to look at Addalyn was glance down, but that would be acknowledging a level of reality to this situation that was hard to take. He’d have to look at the way Abigail ground her hips into her daughter’s head into his cock, guiding her as she sucked him dry. Abigail’s lips, so glossy and plump, were inches away from his own. The only thing keeping him from kissing her madly was air resistance and his evaporating willpower.

But he didn’t even need to look down that far. Abigail had brought up her phone—showing him pre-loaded images of Addalyn in bikinis. Curated photographs, professionally done, showing off her own daughter in provocative poses.

“I took them myself,” she whispered. “It’s just you, me, and her who have seen them. Not even Gale knows.” She giggled. “Addalyn wanted a competitive edge over her. She figured Gale’s going to be on your mind all the time with you living with her and all.” Her hips fucked insistently now into Addalyn, into him, skullfucking her own daughter against her boss’s cock. “Did it work? Do you like it? Do you like her?”

Addalyn moaned, needing to know that he thought she was pretty, even as he fucked her throat with his harder-than-ever cock.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Abigail asked. Her lips brushing against his chin now. “Is my daughter fuckable?”

She showed him a picture of Addalyn in a red bikini.

“Won’t you cum in my pretty, pretty daughter?”

Addalyn in a pink bikini, eyes smoldering.

“She’s pretty just for you.”

Pink bikini, biting her lower lip, cupping her breasts.

“She needs to be fucked just by you.”

Kneeling down, hands holding her heels tight with chest up. Topless with a white bikini bottom.

“Please won’t you show her how pretty she is and cum in her throat? She won’t know otherwise.”

A gif of Addalyn mouthing please.

“There’s no way to know for sure unless you cum in my daughter’s throat.”

A close-up of Addalyn’s profile, eyes full of want.

“Look at how pretty she is. She told me she thought about you in every photo. Just thinking of her new Daddy and his big cock and how much she needed him—”

That was it, that was too much. Calling him her new Daddy.

Cumming heatedly, he grabbed both of them—taking Abigail in his arms with a long kiss and wrapping one leg around Addalyn’s slender back. He came as hard as he ever had—losing himself in the sensation, dumping load after load of hot, virile cum down Addalyn’s eighteen year-old throat. She was so wet, willing, and able, taking him with orgasmic glee. As his thrusting pulses slowly subsided, she became gentler as well—slowly sucking and kissing to make sure she milked everything.

His mind came back to him. Fucking shit, what had he done? This was insane. There was no way to explain this to Marisa or Gale. He had to get away.

He extricated himself slowly. As soon as he tried, though, they were at it again—Abigail leaning down to kiss Addalyn.

“I want to taste him,” she purred, licking Stephen’s cum off of her daughter’s lips. “I want to taste Daddy with you…”

Their lips met, sharing his cum between them in thick, gooey trails. They giggled and slid the excess over their necks and cleavage, making their skin even shinier than before.

Holy christ, he could not watch any more of that.

“I-I’ve got to get out of here.”