Tweakers part 4

19 year old Mia comes home tweaking and needing cock. Her dad is waiting for her.

3:17 AM. The living room smells like stale beer from Dad's one-can nightcap. The TV flickers silently on some infomercial. Dad's still in his grease-stained work jeans and faded flannel, boots kicked off, sitting like a statue of barely contained rage.

The front door bangs open. Mia staggers in, 19, once the girl who hugged him goodnight every evening. Now she's a walking skeleton wrapped in slut rags: black micro-skirt so short it doesn't even pretend to cover her ass cheeks, ripped fishnet stockings laddered from knees to thighs, cropped tank top clinging to tiny tits with hard nipples poking through like they're begging for attention. No bra, no panties, her pussy lips are visibly swollen and glistening under the hem, fresh from whatever back-alley or motel cock she took last. Her face is wrecked: hollow cheeks, scabby sores dotting her jaw and upper lip, eyeliner smeared into raccoon rings, glitter lipstick dragged across her chin and neck from sloppy blowjobs. Pupils huge black voids. She's tweaking hard, fingers twitching, jaw grinding, clit throbbing so bad she keeps squeezing her thighs together as she walks.

She spots him and grins, wide, feral, teeth slightly yellowed already. "Heyyy Daddy," she slurs, voice raspy from screaming orgasms and pipe hits. "Miss me?"
Dad shoots up. "Fuck sake, Mia. Look at yourself. You're dressed like a fucking crack whore. Your mother's upstairs sleeping with the kids, get your ass to bed before I lose it."

She doesn't stop. She sways closer, hips rolling like she's already fucking the air. The meth has her wired to the point of insanity, every nerve ending is screaming for dick, for friction, for anything to stop the burning itch inside her cunt. Family? Taboo? Doesn't register. All she sees is a hard cock that can make the screaming stop for a few minutes.

"Shhhh," she purrs, voice dripping honey and filth. "Don't yell. You'll wake Mom. And you don't want her seeing what a nasty little cum-dump her baby girl turned into, do you?" She reaches him, small hands pressing flat against his chest, shoving him back down onto the worn sofa cushions. He lands with a grunt.

"Mia—stop this shit right now...."

She climbs on fast, knees straddling his thighs, skirt flipping up completely to expose her bare, dripping pussy, lips puffy and red, clit engorged like a tiny cockhead, inner thighs shiny with old cum and fresh arousal. The smell hits him full force: musky, tangy, used. She grinds down immediately, smearing her slick cunt along the thick ridge growing under his zipper.

"Fuck, Daddy," she moans low, rolling her hips in slow, nasty circles. "Feel how wet your little meth slut is? Been fucked raw all night, three guys in a car, then some tweaker in the alley bent me over his hood, but it's not enough. Never enough. I need your big daddy cock to stretch me proper. Please… I'm so fucking empty without it."

He grabs her wrists hard. "This isn't you. Get the fuck off me"

But she's already yanking his zipper down with shaking fingers, freeing his cock, thick, veiny, half-hard from the forbidden friction despite his horror. She spits into her palm, smears it sloppily along his shaft, then lines him up. No hesitation. She drops hard, taking every inch in one brutal, wet plunge. Her tight walls clamp down like a vice, spasming around him instantly from how spun she is.

"Ohhh fuuuck yes," she gasps, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream of relief. "So thick… filling your dirty daughter's cunt so good… been dreaming about this fat cock since the first time I got high and realized how much I love being stuffed."

She starts riding, hard, sloppy, no rhythm at first, just frantic bouncing. Her small tits jiggle under the thin top, nipples scraping fabric. Wet slapping sounds fill the room, her ass cheeks smacking his thighs, pussy squelching obscenely with every downstroke. Cum from earlier loads leaks out around his shaft, creamy white rivulets running down his balls and soaking into his jeans.
"Look at me, Daddy," she pants, grabbing his face, forcing him to meet her glassy, desperate eyes. "Watch your little girl turn into a total cock-sleeve. I used to be your princess, now I'm just a gaping meth whore who needs cum to sleep. Fuck me like the trash I am. Pound this sloppy pussy, make it hurt so good."

His hands betray him, gripping her bony hips, fingers digging into bruised skin. He thrusts up involuntarily, meeting her slams. The sofa groans under them. She leans forward, grinding her clit hard against his pelvis, smearing her juices everywhere.

"Harder, fuck yes, wreck me, Daddy," she whines, voice cracking. "Choke me while you breed your own daughter. I want your load so deep it'll drip out for days. Imagine Mom finding your cum leaking from my used-up hole tomorrow morning, knowing her baby girl's nothing but a breeding bitch now."

She rides faster, manic, nails raking his shoulders through his shirt, leaving red lines. Her pussy flutters wildly, milking him. "Gonna cum, gonna squirt all over your cock.......fuckfuckfuck....."

She arches back suddenly, body convulsing. A gush of clear fluid sprays out around his shaft, soaking his lap, the cushions. Her walls clamp down in rhythmic pulses, dragging him over the edge. He growls, low, animal, hips jerking as he unloads. Thick ropes of cum blast deep inside her, flooding her spasming cunt until it overflows, bubbling out with every twitch, running in sticky streams down her thighs and his balls.

She keeps grinding through it, milking every drop, whimpering. "Yesss… fill me up… breed your meth-slut daughter… so warm… so full…"

Finally she collapses against his chest, panting, still twitching around his softening cock. Cum oozes out steadily, pooling on the sofa. Her breath is hot against his neck.

"Mmm… thank you, Daddy," she murmurs, kissing his jaw with cum-smeared lips. "That hit the spot. Don't tell Mom, 'kay? She'd never understand how good it feels to be this filthy."

She slides off slowly, his cock slipping free with a wet pop, followed by a thick glob of mixed cum that splatters onto his thigh. She stands on shaky legs, skirt falling back (barely), pussy gaping slightly, red and wrecked, leaking steadily down her inner thighs. She scoops a finger through the mess, brings it to her lips, sucks it clean with a satisfied hum.

"See you tomorrow night," she whispers with a wink, then pads barefoot upstairs, leaving him frozen on the couch, jeans open, cock glistening, staring at the dark wet spot spreading beneath him, the house silent except for the faint creak of her bedroom door closing.

The daughter he knew is dead. What's left is a insatiable, cum-hungry shell that will keep coming back for more, family or not.

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