Though she doubted Lucus was aware of it to any degree, Sherry knew without a doubt that she enjoyed the sessions far more than her sister Carrie.
Carrie's awakening years had come at a point when Lucus was still quite virile and Sherry was sufficiently matured that their sessions were both involved and frequent. As a result, Carrie was not brought into their special relationship until later in her life than Sherry.
She had never evolved into her father's instrument to the extent that Sherry had.
Which was fine with Sherry, because even though she may not exactly look forward to their fucking sessions, she never failed to find them exciting once she was involved in one.
Lucus was just standing watching her. She was beautiful. Long brown hair that hung straight to her waist in a thick cascading mane (Carrie's hair was as thick and long, but much curlier and a brilliant summer blonde in hue)… breasts as full and ripe as the honeydew melons they grew in their greenhouse… beautiful long slender legs with perfectly curving thighs…
He would sometimes simply watch her asking her finally to remove perhaps her shirt, her pants, sit in front of him dressed perhaps only in her panties…
Lucus made certain that his daughters had the proper apparel when he so desired it.
His favorites were the flimsy crotchless panties that split right over those juicy pink slits, so hot, so heavy with musk, so inviting…
He could never control himself when he stood in front of his daughters. Either of them could reduce him to jelly.
He stood now, transfixed and Sherry slowly unraveled herself from the dress she wore. It was a wrap-around style (he made certain they had access to moderately current fashions), a loose fitting piece of cloth that gently molded itself to the delicious curves of her young body, not glued itself to her, but simply suggesting the shape of that pliant flesh beneath.
She was his release. The safety valve that kept him sane, sane to continue his work, sane to keep them protected… and yes, sane enough to stay his hand in those awful early morning hours, when the urge would creep onto his soul like a black fog. When the pressure in his temples would flare, press outward against the inside of his skull, when he could think only of one thing, the small tender bodies, their warmth, their innocence, their need. OH GOD their fierce overwhelming need!!
And he would wake from a soiled sleep.
He would call for his Sherry and she would be there, and as he would gently stroke her smooth young skin, running his fingers over her face, her slender throat, her soft breasts, down into the wet folds of her youthful pussy, he would forget, he would block the past from his mind, he would return to the present, to his new life… to his new destiny…
He wanted her now. So gracefully she moved! Like smoke, only with structure, coherence.
She turned to him now, nipples flaming a deep crimson against the backdrop of the two dark eyes of her aureole.
Her breasts were perfectly round, perfectly tight, firm and taut so that they merely rippled when she moved.
It never ceased to amaze him the way those two huge globes of flesh could simply hang there exactly in place and simply ripple. It never struck him as being short of miraculous.
He reached for her now, saw her weave her way through the space that separated them, approaching, coming closer, closer, closer…
Her lips were on his mouth, her hands on his body, reaching between his legs, cupping his balls through his trousers, squeezing. Them gently, more firmly, hard…!
He let out a gasp of pleasure mixed with pain. That too was perfect. She knew exactly what he liked, what he wanted. They thought as if with one mind.
She unzipped his trousers and as they slid down his legs she circled the suddenly exposed head of his cock with her thumb and forefinger, forming a ring only slightly larger in diameter than the head of his swollen shaft.
She slowly started to slide the ring up and down, focusing mainly on the bottom ridge of his glans at the point where it flares then curves sharply back into the main shaft. He loved it there, claiming it to be the most sensitive part of a man's cock.
She stroked with these miniature strokes for as long as it took him to start drooling from the tiny mouth-like opening at the center of his cock.
As soon as the first clear droplet appeared, she began to rub it into the deepening purple colored head, enjoying the sound of his throaty moans as she did so.
Again stroking his cock, back and forth, back and forth until again a crystal droplet appeared, oozing slowly out and down.
This time, she lowered her body just enough for her breasts to hang down on either side of his prick.
She took one in her hands and guided the hard red nipple to the collected liquid.
Cock against nipple, the friction of each spreading through both their bodies.
Sherry felt a tingling in the deepest portions of her cunt, felt her body gather itself for an explosion of orgasmic fury, still distant but unmistakable even in its earliest stages.
She spread his juice all over her nipple, her aureole, down between her breasts…
Then she squeezed both fleshy mounds against his cock burying it in the folds of her thick breasts. She squeezed hard into him, felt his hips begin to move in and out against her in response and then start to get faster.
But she wanted to make sure that wouldn't come too fast. On the drug, he was able to come several times without getting soft, but it was still best for them both if she could stretch it out a little.
Which sometimes could mean hours!
She got down on her knees and began to feed the stiff piece of meat before her straight into her mouth. All the way in, till it pressed against the back of her throat, her hungry throat that had swallowed enough of her father's cum over the years to fill a bath tub… her sweet hot throat that waited for this next load to come shooting out of his cock, splash against her tonsils and slowly slither down the pink walls, down her throat into her stomach.
But again, Sherry was only building him up. Tension, release. That was the key.
Play with him, get him hot, fill his balls, wait till he's just about to blow his entire load, then pull back, leave him hanging, frustrated, unfulfilled…
Until the process starts up again, this time taking him just a little bit further, leaving him dangling from an even higher position.
Tension.
Release.
Tension.
Release.
Except that as each pause builds upon the tension that proceeded it, they too merely contribute to the gathering pressure in his balls, his cock, his thighs.
Until at last, there is no line left to cross. He is standing directly on it. Poised right at the brink of orgasm, yet still, somehow, not coming.
That was her style with Lucus, one she had never wavered from. She'd learned to read her father, to interpret his body language, his non-verbal cues, the noises he made. She knew when he was going to come and she knew at any moment exactly how much it would take to make him spill over.
And always, she could withhold just that last tiny bit, keep him in limbo with a cock so hard it could cleave a diamond and oozing so much juice that she would feel almost that he had come in her mouth after all, so much of it did she have to lick off.
But yet, not coming. Still with the tortured balls, filled to bursting.
It was an agony for him, one that he gladly endured, but the strain was obvious from his face.
He could only remain standing for a short while. Once the session got under way seriously the only thing he could do was to lay back and let her do whatever she desired.