Catwoman and her father

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

In many societies, incest is a taboo, but the origin of this taboo is difficult to pinpoint. Some argue from a eugenic perspective that the taboo of incest actually safeguards the survival of humanity, which makes sense. However, regardless of its original meaning, in contemporary society, it manifests as morality. Is morality innate or acquired? I recall

a philosopher named Kant saying that morality is an innate "supreme imperative," which no one can instinctively violate unless they are excessively immersed in human desires. Perhaps this is similar to Mencius's concept of the inherent goodness of human nature? I'm not sure.

However, many moral principles are not universal. I do know that, for example, incest, in some places and eras, the relationship between siblings is considered reasonable. I've also heard of a case in America where a grandson married his grandmother. Therefore, I've always believed that so-called moral laws are acquired.

Desire, on the other hand, seems to truly belong to the innate level. Didn't Freud talk about Oedipus and Electra complexes? I think I might be one of them.

Incest is immoral, yet it subtly resonates with a certain demonic force within my nature, often providing a stronger thrill and satisfaction amidst guilt.

If they were to actually break in, I would agree, and the more time passed, the more I realized I was actually hoping for it.

But they never came in—moral barriers are incredibly difficult to overcome, they were, I was, and I suppose you were too?

The whole thing started completely unexpectedly; I don't understand how I ended up attending that masquerade ball.

It was called a ball, but it was actually a promiscuous event. I got there, and only after a while did I realize I'd been tricked.

At that time, I was dressed as Catwoman, in a black bodysuit with a long tail trailing behind me.

I knew I had an extremely hot body, so I was constantly surrounded by all sorts of people, vying to dance with me and pressing their bodies against my chest and abdomen; when I wasn't dancing, a bunch of people relentlessly toasted and chatted with me—the music was cacophony, and their speech had lost its normal intonation. A group of big ghosts, little ghosts, magicians, and Robin Hoods took turns swirling around, making me dizzy and disoriented; I must have drunk quite a bit.

But I kept noticing a Batman figure always by my side. Batman and Catwoman, well, they were always a couple, weren't they! And this guy was tall and handsome; although I couldn't see his face, I still found him quite appealing.

There were so many people, and we didn't really exchange many words, just some pointless small talk and jokes. I had no intention of getting to know him; I was just there to dance, I thought.

However, just as I was getting quite drunk and my mind was starting to wander, I saw a witch pick up a microphone and announce, "The party is officially starting!" As she spoke, she began to remove all her clothes, leaving only her mask.

As I stood there in surprise, I turned to ask the friend who had brought me there—he was actually disguised as the Mystery.

Ah! I'd been kept in the dark all along! Now I knew this was a mixed-gender party! This friend had planned it all along.

Although I'd never tried mixed-gender sex before, I knew I wouldn't be averse to it, but I was furious that he hadn't told me beforehand. So, somewhat dazed, I followed the crowd and took off my clothes. He was the first to try and have sex with me, and I was determined to teach him a lesson.

Just as he grabbed me, I pulled away forcefully and saw the Batman. I grabbed him and led him intimately to the room where they were going to have sex alone. I knew my friend must be very surprised, but I wasn't going to let him have his way. If I'm going to be fucked, it's not your turn!

I glanced back at him triumphantly, my eyes filled with men's naked penises and women's dark, fleshy openings. Only then did I get a chance to see the Batman's genitals.

And what I saw surprised me; he wasn't even hard yet, but he was already on par with the guys there.

It hung there, heavy and drooping like a wooden stick, giving me a vague sense of familiarity. As we walked, I couldn't help but stroke it.

He turned to me, pulled me into his arms, and began to play with my breasts and vulva, then lowered his head to kiss me.

My God! He was such a master of seduction; in that short distance, I was practically paralyzed. You know what? We practically went into the room

, body to body. Once inside, we locked the door, shutting out the noise from outside. We could feel each other's heavy breathing. Without a word, we instinctively settled into a 69 position. His tongue began to lick my vulva, and for the first time, I was giving a man oral sex, lovingly playing with his gradually swelling penis, sucking and swallowing until my mouth was full.

His tongue, like a nimble little snake, darted in and out of my wonderful opening, making my whole body unbearably itchy. My slender waist twisted and turned, and I unconsciously let out moaning sounds of enjoyment. My mouth, in turn, intensified its caress of that eight-inch-long, cup-thick thing. I felt my lower body was already wet, and my face and mouth were sticky with saliva and the mucus seeping from his thing.

Then, he stood up and straddled me, his penis pressed tightly against my opening, rubbing eagerly.

I was already overwhelmed with lust. I suddenly grabbed his shoulders with both hands, thrust my lower body forward, and wrapped my legs around his waist. I adopted a posture of complete submission, waiting for his thick penis to plunge into my thirsty flesh.

I felt a tingling sensation at my opening, as if my long-awaited emptiness had been filled in an instant. It had entered, so bravely and fearlessly invading!

Then, and then, just as I was bracing myself for the most intense and stimulating attack, I heard a familiar voice—"Baby, how do you want me to pamper you?"

This voice was as familiar as the affectionate call I heard at home, a voice I'd almost grown accustomed to over a decade, especially the word "baby." Whenever I heard that word, I knew perfectly well what would follow—something that would satisfy me completely! He whispered in my ear, gentle and tender, like a father making a promise to his spoiled daughter.

I even doubted if I'd misheard, but when I heard "baby" again and again, I had no doubt. It was him, it was him, no doubt about it. Oh! He truly satisfied me once more. My father, who had always doted on me, was now using his thick, hard penis to "pamper" me—his daughter!

Can you imagine such a scene? An unsuspecting father, in a chance encounter, violently thrusts his virile phallus into his daughter's wetness, "loving"

her in a way that brings her immense pleasure, making her wish he would "love" her more. What should the daughter, knowing the truth, do to show it?

Honestly, I don't know what the right thing to do is. The stimulation and excitement emanating from my genitals screams in my heart: "Fuck me! Daddy, fuck your daughter! I really want you to fuck me!" But a sudden shock prevents me from remaining silent, and I instinctively utter a coquettish, slightly surprised "Daddy."

He chuckles, saying, "No need to call me Daddy, I'm not that lucky," while continuing his relentless thrusting, leaving me barely time to speak.

But I call out again.

Suddenly, he freezes, his entire movement ceasing in an instant. Then, in an incredulous tone, he asked, "You, you, you're Xiao Mei?"

Ironically, at that moment, he was carrying my legs on his shoulders, his enormous penis still inserted in my vagina.

I suppressed a laugh and softly murmured, "Mmm."

That "Mmm" was so low it was like a mosquito buzzing; I didn't really expect him to hear it clearly.

But he seemed utterly shocked, quickly lowering my legs, withdrawing his still-erect penis, and reaching to remove my mask. Although the room was dark, eyes accustomed to darkness should have been able to see very clearly. Yes, it was Xiao Mei, his own daughter!

He leaned quietly against the corner of the wall, while I lay curled up beside him, my alluring body exposed. Sometimes he looked up at the ceiling, sometimes he glanced at me.

I didn't know what he was thinking, especially when he saw me—his daughter's alluring body, which he had just been so passionately ravaging. What was he planning?

I noticed his penis hadn't softened; he must still be unsatisfied! In the darkness, I could vaguely see it still glaring angrily, standing erect, the glans glistening with his own fluids mixed with the wetness inside me.

Did he still want to have sex with me? "Come on, Daddy! My pussy is still itchy, it desperately needs your big cock to soothe it!" I screamed inwardly, but dared not say it aloud. I could only writhe my body, offering a silent temptation.

I know what you're thinking, you've been thinking about it for a long time. Maybe when you're with other women, you're thinking about me and calling out my name!

He stared at my body again, and I felt a surge of excitement. My lower body involuntarily parted, my vulva wide open.

He didn't come over, but stood up and left the room.

I was a little disappointed and stood there for a while, disheartened. When I got up and went out, it was still noisy outside. A group of men and women were interspersed in a circle, engaging in orgy. I had

no desire to linger. Catwoman's cat-like eyes searched, but she couldn't find her Batman anymore. I quickly put on my clothes, leaving my friend who was engrossed in orgy behind, and stepped out of this lewd mansion.

The night wind blew, and I suddenly felt a chill, and my heart was filled with a sense of bewilderment.

A black Ponchi sedan pulled up and stopped beside me. He was waiting for me. I got in and sat next to him. The car started, and we didn't exchange a single word the entire way.

(IV)

You can probably imagine what happened when we got home. Many things are like this: the first hurdle is the hardest to overcome, but once you overcome it—regardless of the circumstances—the second, third, and countless more times will naturally follow. Our situation was the same.

That night, after returning home, I went into the room first, and he followed. We were still dressed as Batman and Catwoman, except we removed our masks.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. He seemed to have something to say and something to do, but hesitated for a moment.

I knew what my father meant, and I understood my own desires. Actually, we already had a tacit understanding; it was just a matter of who would break the deadlock first.

Action was the most effective way to break the deadlock. My unfulfilled lust in the brothel made it impossible for me to delay any longer, and besides, hadn't I already wanted my father to rape me?

Thinking of this, I let out a soft moan and collapsed into my father's arms. My burning body writhed against his, as if trying to burrow into him; my luscious red lips pressed against his, our tongues searching for each other; my hands roamed over his genitals, quickly finding the familiar thing that had once entered me.

My father welcomed me, kissing me passionately like a lover, and began to grope for my catwoman clothes. We entangled ourselves, quickly returning to the scene in the dark room, our two pale bodies rolling on the bed, seeking satisfaction of desire in the dim light.

"Baby, how do you want Daddy to pamper you?" he whispered in my ear again.

This time, however, I wasn't surprised, nor did I fall silent. Instead, I said in a seductive, wanton voice, "Love me, Daddy, love me like you just did!"

The word "just did" shortened the time and space gap, bringing us back to the passion in the brothel. Only, back then, it was father and daughter unknowingly indulging in lust; now, it was a father and daughter eager to enjoy their passion, disregarding the sin of incest and reveling in this immense stimulation.

I saw my father smile ambiguously, his fingers slipping between my bent legs, gently teasing my already wet vulva.

He was truly a master at playing with my vagina; with just a few gentle touches, my entire vagina was overflowing with desire, and I couldn't help but twist my waist, moaning softly.

Then, he whispered in my ear, "Little Mei, you're so wanton. Have you been wanting Daddy to fuck you for a long time?"

Hearing this, my face flushed red. Yes, I had long wanted my father's big cock to fuck my cunt, but I couldn't say it out loud, could I?

I silently watched him wink at me, reaching out to pull his already swollen, club-like penis towards my opening.

My meaning was clear, and he understood. Just like "just now," he lifted my legs onto his shoulders, preparing for a fierce assault.

But he didn't, didn't immediately insert his large penis as I expected. He was mischievous; he actually just stood there, squinting at my vulva in the bright light, even parting my labia with his hands, pinching and touching my clitoris.

I was extremely embarrassed, and of course, incredibly itchy. My vagina was already soaking wet, and my vulva had never been spied on like this before, especially by my father!

I couldn't help but say, "Dad, don't look! It's so embarrassing!"

But I knew my vagina must have opened even wider, because I couldn't help but twist my hips and legs, anticipating his entry. Of course, this only made him more engrossed in watching.

Later, he told me that he had long wanted to see my pussy properly. Because when he had spied on me showering or masturbating before, he had always kept a distance. So, peeping at my pussy, like playing with it, became his long-cherished desire.

In countless subsequent sexual encounters, I let him see me to his heart's content—this was voyeurism—and then he began to rape me to his heart's content. This made me enjoy voyeurism, just like being actually raped.

Don't be afraid to tell you, my father was truly a master of penetration. For the next ten years or so, I fully enjoyed the pleasure of being raped by him. In recent years, although he has become somewhat less capable, he can still make me feel like I'm in heaven.

On one hand, he uses some stimulant drugs to compensate for his lack of virility; on the other hand, he is indeed a master in bed. Just his verbal teasing is enough to arouse me and make me incredibly wet. He likes to make me moan, and I enjoy expressing my desire through moaning—I like the way he teases me; I've liked it since the first time.

I was surprised that he didn't tease me that time in the brothel. Later I learned that firstly, the occasion wasn't right, and secondly, he didn't know I was his biological daughter.

Perhaps you're wondering what the connection is between moaning during sex and our father-daughter relationship?

Well, he liked me calling him "Dad"—during sex. He seemed to particularly enjoy the guilt of incest.

And to be honest, when I referred to myself as his daughter and called him "Dad," I actually experienced greater pleasure.

Clearly, he was eager to rape me—his daughter—and I, too, reveled in the exhilaration of being raped by my own father.

It was this time that he let me experience that pleasure.

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Catwoman and her father

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