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Good parenting means knowing what makes your daughter cum. At least, that was Faith Jameson's perspective. The modern age meant sex toys were no longer strictly for adults, if they ever were. Wasn't the electric toothbrush invented so that little girls could buzz their clits in secret? Clitoral hygiene. She felt proud to be one of those parents who oversaw their child's sexual development, and in the case of little Jenny, that took place early and often. Kindergarten was old enough to teach her why she was rubbing on furniture and stuffed animals and anything remotely phallic. Mom encouraged her nudism, her wild sex drive, a kid who practically begged to be molested. A pedo mom, one of the best, with a daughter so cheerful about learning the acts and the words for them, the practice of multiple orgasms. When the girl—hair so blonde it was almost white, and an ass so fat you wanted to take a bite—was only eight years old, Faith had been blessed with Jarrod coming home from jail, coming to her apartment, and making a cum-smeared travesty out of her little girl. Ever since that first time, they had experienced days and nights of domestic bliss, a family unit in which the child was the aphrodisiac. Jenny represented not only a playful, well-behaved girl (if you approved of child nudity) but also the most adorable piece of tight pink pussy on her block, a kid acquainted with having her ass eaten by a man, by Mommy too, then getting fucked through her tears to the top of some heavenly mesa, free solo. It didn't make her eyes glaze over—it didn't make her a victim. It made her brighter, wiser, in touch with her preteen sluttiness, and who are we to pass judgment?
Let us just observe—jack and jill—in the full knowledge that all three participants were consenting, the pursuit of happiness even (or especially) when that meant busting nut across an eight-year-old's face, or getting her help in gaping that young butt, Christmas memories, stocking stuffers, a bevy of vibrators and dildos and plugs for a child, let her enjoy herself. She was a grateful girl, and Mom knew just which patterns she liked best on the Lush. More often than not (let's set the scene properly) Jenny went to school with “Nubian” cum leaking from one hole or both, soaking her little Disney panties, and more than once they had dared to send her with a remote-controlled vibe stuck in place, quietly buzzing at the lowest setting, making her squirm in her seat and make faces that a few of her friends knew how to interpret.
Jenny grew up, obsessed with sex, privy to knowledge that other parents might cruelly keep secret. Her body came alive with the promise of pedo sex, like a reward for good grades—extra orgasms tonight if you're well-behaved in school. Freedom of religion, Jerrod and Faith had their own church, and thousands of followers all over the world, stochastically carrying out the same tenets. It may have been a crime to watch it, but who could come away unaffected by the smiles on her face, the willful way she guided Daddy's Black cock to her holes or rubbed on it, humping not because she was “groomed” or “coerced,” let alone forced, but simply because it felt good? She made for a good teacher of other kids, showing them how to get impaled, how to open wide and to droolingly suck on the big python, make nice with what might seem scary at first. This was a girl with a strong itch, a heightened instinct for sex, and with so much daily and nightly practice, she became a neat little prodigy, giggling at her own inventiveness when it came to draping Daddy's dick over her face, or tonguing his balls, his taint, his ass, his everything.
Fuck a topic sentence—this is a tableau. School was merely an interruption for the private academy she went to at home, a kid who was a natural stripper, taking her clothes off long before Mommy set up the face-time with Daddy at work. He took his lunch break at the warehouse and there was his white daughter, eight years old and naked, except maybe for her little swan-print socks. There was Mommy playing with their shared sexdoll, a girl so gratefully transformed into a toy, an entertainment system sticking her tongue out and spreading her legs, asking if Daddy could see her, if he liked it.
“I love it, baby girl. Show me that butt again. Spread it open.”
He jerked off routinely in his truck, one hand holding the phone and the other beating meat, watching as Faith laid her pierced tongue down into the child's crack, licking her from tailbone to clit and back.
“See that? She gapes so easily now.”
“Well-trained little whore.”
“We ain't charging, Daddy! She's a slut!”
“Yeah, I'm a slut!”
“A little eight-year-old slut. You want me to use that hole tonight, baby?”
“Uh huh! It's your cum-hole, right, Daddy?”
“That's right. Stick something in there, Faith. I want it ready the moment I walk in.”
“You got it.”
Faith wound up inserting toys in both of her daughter's primary holes, having long since graduated her from the slender beaded toys to proper plugs and vibrating indulgences. Today she worked a lubed-up black cone through that violated muscle-ring, opening her daughter up anally first. Then she teased her little girl's vaj with a pink latex vibe, leaving it off, but linking it up to the app that Jarrod controlled. He switched over the moment it was in, and started working the patterns, dialing it in to a low-intensity wave at first. Jenny giggled, then went quiet, swaying her hips and breathing more heavily. Then came the angel-speak, the moans of a child, made aware of her own arousal and altogether happy to exploit it, to ride the sensations that the toys (parentally administered) brought to her. It didn't take long at all to work up a telltale cream, this pedophile joy, the blushing red excitement of a kid's pussy in bloom, well-travelled capillaries rushing blood to the site of the fun.
“You like that, baby? How's that feel?”
The distraction was answer enough, this faraway look in Jenny's eyes when she was focusing on the feeling itself, rather than the description of it. Made to think about it, what more could she say? She confirmed the obvious, that having her grade-school holes occupied and vibrated was a keen pleasure for any kid lucky enough to feel it.
“Y-yeah! I like it. Feels good, Mommy.”
“Fucking yum. Little girls are the best, huh, Daddy?”
“Fuck yeah. What a good little fucking slut.”
“Want a treat while we play with you, baby girl?”
“Yeah! Is it Daddy's milk?”
“That's right.”
“Mmn-hmm!”
It had taken a while, but they'd managed to save up several ounces of Jarrod's copious nut—either directly from the source, or gathered up from the runoff, the serial creampies he'd given the child. It meant that during special occasions, or simply whenever they felt like it, they could pour out some for Jenny to slurp up. By now she had more than acquired the taste. Her body had a kind of dependency going, to where she'd experience actual withdrawal symptoms if she went too long without. As such, the anticipation of her fix made for another spike in dopamine, Daddy's nut treated like the hard-earned reward that it was. She'd been such a good girl lately, who'd be so cruel as to deny it to her?
Faith left her to her own devices, so to speak, as she went to the kitchen and fetched the bottle—and a doggy dish. True to form, Jenny reached down to keep the vibe inside, gripping it and humping, little contractions of her sphincter and her kiddy vaj visible around both toys. Jarrod cracked the window of his truck, so as not to fog them up too badly, given how much his own breath accelerated. Here he was in relative public, watching on his phone as his caucasian stepdaughter fucked herself in his absence, anally occupied and going nuts on the toy in her tiny cunny. The swollen condition of that eight-year-old pussy, the give of it, and the oversized quality of her clit, made it obvious to anyone who even glanced at her videos that she'd been busy, playing with that pleasure-center all through her youth. Now she'd come into her own, and there seemed no extreme of hedonism that disagreed with her, no extent to which Mommy couldn't bring her with a smile. To wit, there Faith was, pouring out a generous portion of Daddy's load, and setting the dish right before her daughter's face.
They didn't need to tell her what to do—she wanted it. If it made them proud to see the child with cum dripping from her chin, that was just a bonus. With both her little fuckholes filled, Jenny put her face down in the pool of cum and slurped it up, lapped it up like a cat, laughing when it resisted her efforts to pull it up into her mouth. So thick, so viscous, cooled to the temperature and consistency of chocolate milk (if not the colour), several liquid ounces of semen worked like icing on the cake of welcome abuse.
“What a good girl. I love you so much, baby girl.”
“I love you too, Daddy!”
“You wanna cum now? Should I up the buzz?”
“Yeah, yeah!!”
“What do you say?”
“Please!”
That's what he did, at a distance. With Mommy helping, he pleased her, turning up the intensity of the pink toy in her cunny. Faith re-secured the butt plug, then graduated her daughter to an even bigger one. Jenny sought out every last morsel of Jarrod's saved-up nut, and when she turned over the girl bore a mess of it on her face, clinging to her nose and cheeks and chin. Faith set a third toy down and manually controlled it, rolling another little vibe over her daughter's straining clit, and that's when Jenny started losing it. Her shaky moans were adorable, some strain in her peaking singsong voice as the combined stimulation brought her to a powerful O.
Of course, a kiddy orgasm started the chain reaction of two adults cumming too. Jarrod stared at the quivering set of holes, little Jenny gripping the plug and spasming around the vibe, listened to her divinely blissed-out cries (“Hnnnh! Nnnnh, unnnh, mmn-ahh!”) and that was all he needed. His grunts formed the bass line to her piping aria, a confirmed pedo fuck just cruising to cumshots, blasting nut to the sight of the sweet eight-year-old girl he got to fuck—as often as he liked, as frequently as she needed. Hypersexual nothing, this was the way it ought to be, no fault in his upbringing, no shame to deflect, he saw a child cumming and thought I need to be there, bringing that cock that would make her cum even harder.
Once Faith realised that Jarrod was cumming to her daughter yet again, that set her off too. The whole place smelled of kiddy sex at this point, the pedo cum her daughter had been slurping up, the peach juice of a child's cunny squirting, that's what she loved to breathe in. How long had she waited for a proper daddy for her little girl, and now the love suffused the air at all times, this charged environment for raising a baby slut. Steeped in the taboo of it, lost in the sheer heat, Faith practically set fire to her clit by means of friction, quickly rubbing off to climax. She knew her daughter slept best when she'd been fucked, and as such the anticipation kept rolling, a sense that Daddy Jarrod would come home and gape little Jenny some more.
In that way, they served to ritualise and celebrate what had brought them together in the first place. Daddy's homecoming wasn't about punishment—it was happiness, a joy for Mommy and Daughter alike, the impending lovemaking, sticky, sweaty, hard and hot, soft kiddy cunny yielding to a thick black hammer, lube to make it work, showering Jenny with praise for learning the ropes. Waiting for his shift at work to end, they played games and cleaned the place up together—believe it or not, Faith instituted good habits in her daughter, helping her to organise her room and make it pretty. Everything had this air of unreality, or incompletion, a holding pattern until the magic number formed again: just the three of them. Jenny ran around naked more often than not, and in the nearness of her ninth birthday she was feeling especially grown up. A big girl, if still completely undeveloped, no hair like Mommy's on her pussy, nothing but the softest promise of fat on the symmetrical mounds on her chest, kiddy tits. Being indirectly dosed with sex hormone, however, being activated so early, there was a good chance that Jenny would develop early, and she had that tempting bit of thickness that some children have. This comprised just one more reason that Jarrod got so damn hard at the sight of her, this touch of the teenage, the juiciness of fuckability in a child, like the perfect bait.
No surprise, no plot twist—Daddy got home and who was there to greet him except his pedo-mom girlfriend and her naked, prime little daughter. He kissed them both, grabbing Faith's ass, then sweeping Jenny up into his arms while she giggled in the suspense. Imagine the love—underscored by humidity—of an eight-year-old French-kissing her daddy, this interracial harmony, across the gap in age. She peppered him with kisses then opened her mouth, tilted her ponytail back, and he was warming her up, holding her tight, tasting her little tongue, first thing after getting home.
“Mm. There's my little Creampuff. Still got it in...?”
“Yeah! Wanna see?”
“Uh huh. I'm set to replace that fucker, so take it out.”
“Okay!”
Jenny bent over the arm of the couch and showcased the base of the fat black plug still stuck in her ass. Carefully, she reached back and eased it out, giving a little yelp as the widest part of it slipped through her rosebud hole. A glistening remainder of oil stayed on her skin, soaking the gape, this clean and promising pliability to her tiny, preteen hole. He'd cum once today but now the second round would take longer, and he was set to work it out through that well-trained piece of cake.
“Good girl.”
“Yeah, we've been good, Daddy,” Faith intoned. “Horny as fuck. Let me hold her for you?”
“Go on, then. Ankles up, Jenny. Let Mom spread your—yeah, like that.”
The offer was irresistible. Mom took daughter on her chest, and while Jenny lifted her feet—cute toes wiggling in the air—Faith was there to manually spread her doughy little mounds apart, further widening the hole. He lost his boots and jeans, and his cock was already twitching, flexing up to full-stroke stiffness. Jarrod greased it with the same baby oil they'd been using all day, then lined up to penetrate. When he teased the hole, who begged except young Jenny, asking him plainly to put it in.
“Daddy, please?”
“Please what.”
“Put it in my butt!”
“You want Daddy to fuck your little ass, is that it?”
“Yeah! C'mon, I been waiting! Fill it, fuck it, please please please?”
“Hear that, Mama? You raised a fine little slut.”
“Don't I know it.”
He gave in and shoved into place, watching Jenny's face as he worked the tip into her yielding little hole. Then he looked at Faith with her impish grin, the satisfaction of a vibrator mom getting her young daughter sodomised. They'd play-acted while they were apart, and she'd been the one to extend the tease for years while he'd been locked up, and now in the full enjoyment of his freedom here he was, working several inches of cock up the little girl's ass. Her cries turned squeaky, then decadent, to a point that others might disbelieve: a child moaning, in reception of such a fat cock, plowing through her ass. The slow gush of cream returned, this arousal that always seemed to lurk right at the surface, so ready to be tapped. He fixed the position and held Jenny by the hips while her mother stroked her hair, encouraged her, or reached to toy with her little fuckbunny clit.
Surface area, well-greased, the unspeakably hot constriction of preteen ass wrapped around his cock, the satisfying fullness and joy-bringing piston wreckage of her ass, it all made both partners ride toward tension relief. Jenny's breath quickened as he jammed in even deeper, and when she turned her head she could see the stream of herself on the screen, the shots from above and from the side as Mommy held her for the assfucking.
“That's me!”
“That's right. Don't you look good, too. Daddy's sweet little slut.”
It made her feel a sense of belonging, of stardom, she and all the other girls her age she had witnessed taking on cock. Some couldn't take it as well as she did, and it gave her this juvenile pride in her ability. From that point on the hole-swapping started, with Jarrod indulging Faith by shoving into her mouth—making (letting) her taste her daughter's broken-in ass—then working her pussy, then spiking back into Jenny's ass yet again, from above. The child gave these deliriously happy sounds every time he re-inserted, and he never stayed out long. Even when he pulled her hair, Jenny showed off what she'd learned, how well she'd been trained: the pressure, the tension did not result in pain but rather a spiky amplification of the bliss, a kid brought into sub-space by his pounding and the grace of his control. Just like Mommy, it was exactly where she wanted to be, made to horizontally bounce on the spear.
Next, Jenny went on it vertically, with Daddy holding her under her arms and guiding her progress. He got into the tiny thimble of her pussy, this hot child sex, having learned how to take it there by ample practice and Mommy's instruction, the toys just a training course for what Jarrod could do to her. The squishy occupation made her legs shake, this rolling ecstasy that good dick brought her to, a sweet carnal joy she felt lucky to accept. Her itch, her addiction, her favourite activity, Daddy's love in the form of an after-work fuck, and something oral too: she found herself face-to-cunt, dizzily smothered by Faith standing above her, guiding her clit across her lips, her outstretched tongue.
This was the child at her most thrillingly objectified, a living fuckdoll, coasting from one orgasm to the next and utilised for her parents' pleasure too. Mommy and Stepdaddy fed her on praise and the grunting, moaning, panting sounds she'd come to recognise as the equivalent, the work of a good girl, doing what they wanted, getting what she loved. She looked up to Faith in that moment and her eyes were twinkling, the flavour of her mother's pussy associated in her mind with this very same intense pleasure, the waves that kept rolling higher and higher until they exploded through her mind. It could feel good to drown in that place, to lose consciousness through the total immersion, deep muscles getting tapped as Jarrod impaled her again and again.
“Think it's time we stuff both, Mama?” Jarrod threw the question to Faith, checking her status.
“Wait, wait. I'm about to cum again.”
“Do it. Cum in your little daughter's face. Look how good a fuckdoll you raised for me. Pedo mom. Cumhole daughter. Give it to her, then let's both wreck her little holes.”
“Yes...!!”
Faith looked to be in her most savage mode, eyes wide as she regarded the way Jenny bounced so feverishly, gleefully, and opened her mouth to give illegally good cunnilingus, an eight-year-old licking clit. She gyrated, masturbating through her daughter's mouth, then it all clicked past the critical point. She moaned through a fiery climax, cumming in a sloppy profusion of juice, all over her “little angel,” her little slut. Jarrod hit it even harder as Mommy came, churning the little girl's cavity until it was squelching for him, his black tool throbbing in the tight pink confines. All that oil and cream, all her nectarine squeeze, that was his to exploit and he did so, pumping the eight-year-old pussy on his kiddy-wrecker cock.
For the first time, Faith brought out her strap-on to join the fun. Such may be the reason for the telling of this particular tale, when so much of their story remained the same, effective formula. This day marked the first time Faith joined Jarrod in penetrating her daughter, set to work both holes at once. For her part, Jenny seemed characteristically eager to try. She fell into the new position with her legs open, feeling secure in Jarrod's arms as he rammed her from underneath, re-inserted in her ass. The way her cunny felt in the aftermath—or interlude—was both tender and needy, not exhausted but rather disappointed that it wasn't still occupied. As such, Jenny was primed for the next step up. She played with herself in waiting, a delirious smile on her face, this brave girl at the prospect of having both her kiddy holes drilled. Her parents made sure to get this moment on video, coverage by three cameras, and the edit promised to be savage—joining the exclusive club of group sex kiddy porn, a child not even into double digits taking on a double fuck.
Still, to see the fuck-ready drool of her cunny, and the truly obscene gape of her ass, its wide reception of Jarrod's cock, there could be no question in anyone's mind of her preparation for this event. Like a child gymnast, Jenny had stretched and practiced, day after day, until the biggest ask could be answered with a resounding yes.
“You want us to fuck that little pussy too? You wanna try Mommy's cock?”
“That big thing—okay! Yeah, we can, let's try. I wanna try.”
“Say why. What are you?”
“Uhh—I'm a good little slut!”
“Our little fucktoy, aren't you? Are you proud to be such a good cumdump?”
“Yeah! Show me, let's try, okay? I want more. Fuck me more! Fuck both, Daddy, I like it!”
Her improvising pleased them both, surprised them a little, when by now they ought to know. Jarrod had seen a thousand kids fucked, and scored with a few dozen himself. Faith had been one of them, and in reclaiming her own rape fantasies at twelve and thirteen, she knew how good it could feel to accept it on her own terms, to chase older men and get all the illegal dicking she could. Now here was her daughter practically begging for it, happy to take dick in both holes.
They did not deny her.
Jarrod remained anchored in her ass while Faith moved into place, harness on, slipping the pink dildo into her daughter's impatiently-waiting slit. Jenny squealed, but soon she was taking it bravely, reclining against Jarrod's bulk and spreading wide, pounded front and back. They went slowly, but Jenny's undeveloped hips proved to be the dynamo of the action, edging lower and then swirling in receipt. She fought to secure the double-fuck, reaching out for Mommy or reaching down to guide the toy back into place whenever it slipped. Seeing the kid's consent writ through her actions, to say nothing of her elevated pitch, Jarrod felt a massive nut coming on—and Faith's clit was raging. They held off long enough to carry Jenny into a series of peaks, her eyes rolling back, this wanton refrain of moans that she kept returning to, like the soundtrack alone would prove legendary. Yes, that was an eight-year-old cumming hard, two times, three times, all from having both her holes ravished at once by her pedo mom and her generous, ex-convict of a stepdad. If making love was a crime, if she were the victim here, then she was happy about it, orgasmically so, hopping like a bunny when they flipped her over and swapped holes.
That's when he lost it—Jarrod buttering up her tiny cunt with his second load of the day. He looked down at her flushed-pink face while he did it, grunting in the act, the rawest and most exquisite bliss just exploding behind his eyes. Faith had fun ramming her daughter's ass and watching the stream as they went at it, this incongruous but deeply erotic pile, the family unit as a threesome. She used the dildo to gather up some of the errant cum and feed it to Jenny, wiping off on her lips and watching her daughter smile and laugh, shivering in the aftermath of all her peaks, all the family fun.
“Mmmn!! That was crazy!”
“Did you like it, sweetheart?”
“Yeah! It felt really good...!”
“Good.” Jarrod merely laughed, moving so that he could clean off through Jenny's mouth at the same time. What she said next was garbled by the effort, both the dick and the toy sharing space in her mouth, taking turns.
“I luth you, Mommy! Luth you, 'Addy!”
“Love you too, cupcake.”