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Anais wasn't afraid of the spotlight.

She wasn't perturbed by standing in front of a crowd and performing; she lived for the chance to take a step toward the batter's box and hurl a ball, and with every satisfying paf of the ball landing in the web of a catcher's mitt, she could feel her adrenaline building.

"Wasn't quite your best game of the year, was it?"

Some nights, things just didn't go her way. It wasn't the public, nor the pressure of performing in front of them.

As well as she knew the game, as long as she'd been pitching, she knew that it didn't matter how dominant you were in your previous start, your previous month, or even your previous season.

Every girl that stepped into the batter's box had the same mentality: that they were the best player on the field and the best hitter in the league, and sometimes, they were right.

Anais was frustrated to watch her ERA climb through that evening, and though it stayed under 2--a respectable mark to say the very least--she was hoping that she'd be able to wash away the frustration of a poor outing under the warmth of a shower.

"Definitely missed a couple spots," she agreed. "Breaking ball wasn't moving how I wanted it to, fastball felt a little sluggish...just wasn't my best effort."

When her manager was standing in the shower with her, overanalyzing the performance and nitpicking all the little things that she could have done differently, relaxation seemed like a pipe dream.

"We'll work on your grip next week during practice," he said. "And we can keep a closer eye on your follow through during your next simulated game."

Being the manager and the coach came with some special privileges, but there was no special privilege that would allow a man to take a shower in the women's locker room after the game.

It was a hidden rendezvous, but their relationship as a coach and his favorite player wasn't the most scandalous thing about his presence.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but...can we just get to the part where I get on my knees and suck your dick?"

It was a tradition that went back far enough to feel routine: after every game, when Anais threw a losing effort, she knelt in the warmth of the shower after the rest of the players left...and even though she was frustrated with the loss, she usually had a smile on her face when her father's cock pressed against her lips.

Whenever she won, she was fortunate enough to feel his paws grabbing her hips from behind as she received the special treatment, with his digits massaging her thighs and his tongue brushing up and down along the path of her womanhood...but it didn't stop at a mere taste of her flesh.

To reward her for such behavior, Malcolm was the source of her first orgasm, aside from her own digits...and the peak of that pleasure, coming with the suckling of his lips against the delicate nub of her clit, was forever impressed into her memory, such that she could feel a hint of that bliss when she was nearing the final out of a winning effort.

It was kinky, to say the least, but it was an incredible motivator.

"Don't even want to talk strategy? You must be pissed off," Malcolm replied.

"Or...did you ever consider that I don't want to talk about softball when I'm about to have sex with someone?" Anais posited. "Just a thought, but we could always talk about something else."

That they were so sexually comfortable as a couple would have been odd, if anyone was keen on their secret.

The father of a young softball prodigy, Malcolm didn't originally intend for things to unfold the way that they had, and for her part, Anais would have entirely different thoughts about their relationship if she hadn't started them off, herself.

She was younger, vulnerable and frustrated the first time that she threw herself at Malcolm--of age to make such decisions, but it was in a similar moment, just after a difficult loss, that she was in search of the ultimate distraction.

She wanted to make her father proud. She still didn't know why her mind shifted to such a twisted offering, and only moments into the act, Malcolm could tell that she was entirely inexperienced...but when she knew it was wrong to keep going and he knew that he could have tried harder to stop her, he only gave the slightest of efforts.

He was a better coach than a father, and he would have been one of the first to admit that...but as long as no one knew what they were up to, he was perfectly fine doing his best to guide his daughter along the path of a star athlete, while satiating her oral fixation.

"I guess we don't have much else that we talk about, do we?" Malcolm finally replied, the older tiger trying to hide a forlorn gaze from his daughter.

"Probably because only one of us is ever talking at a time," Anais said. "And we're not really doing much talking in the first place...sucking you off is just the easiest way to get you to stop talking about how much...well...how much I sucked on the field."

It was the closest Anais ever came to humor, when her father was involved.

Malcolm, in turn, was terrible at making Dad jokes, and he never felt like Anais was in the mood for them in the first place.

When it came down to it, Malcolm wasn't great at cheering her up, as far as he was concerned. She was a little upset after one of her first wins, but that was the very time she'd offered herself up again, deciding that there had to be a way to turn her mood around...and even thinking about the usual postgame tradition ended up breeding a new one.

That very first time, when a skilled, bristled tongue pushed in and gently penetrated the opening of Anais' womanhood, Malcolm wasn't sure that she was actually happier, but he knew she felt better, in the aftermath of a hollow victory on the field; a fulfilling orgasm in the locker room was better than that.

"Guess we could flip the script a little?" Malcolm suggested. "Flip tradition, anyway?"

"I haven't earned that kind of treatment."

Basking in the steam of a pleasant shower, her stark, white hair unleashed from a ponytail and the dirt of her post-game efforts washed away, Anais couldn't help her narrowed glare, nor the gentle scowl that held her lips with an impossible, ethereal strength.

"You know, we...w-we don't have to keep up with the tradition, if you aren't in the mood," Malcolm suggested. "Your mood does matter, Anais."

"What did I just say?"

Pushing her father on the way to her knees, Anais dropped slowly enough that she wouldn't injure her knees when she hit the tiles, and her actions held a secondary purpose, pushing Malcolm far away enough from the water that she wouldn't have to struggle with it when she went after his cock.

"Anais-

"If I let you keep talking, you'll just turn back to strategy, or softball, or...fuck...you might actually try to be a father again," she muttered. "This is easier...we might as well keep it this way."

There was such passion in her approach that Malcolm couldn't ignore it; when she reached around the backs of his hips and cupped his backside, he couldn't help jumping toward her face.

When her breath replaced the warmth of the showerhead, offering a visceral steam that no amount of running water could ever replace, he felt powerless to control his own flesh...and every slow, bumping throb of his cock told Anais that he was going to give her what he wanted, if she was sure that it was what she wanted in the first place.

"It's really not too late to try and change things," Malcolm told her. "Whatever part of this is a problem-

"The whole fucking thing is a problem, Dad. Just depends on which part of it you want to get into, but if I have to tell you again that I don't want to get into it, you're not getting your dick sucked tonight..."

It was rare that Anais gave Malcolm such an easy opportunity to do the right thing, but anymore, his mind was torn by what society might have considered to be the right thing, and what his daughter actually thought about the matter.

When she was younger, he was sure he'd done the right thing by encouraging her to chase her dreams and become a better ball player, but as she matured, things became as complicated as one could expect.

He'd learned to be a great coach, and in her childhood, a great coach was good enough to double as a great dad.

"...Fine, Anais. Gobble it all down, then; at least we know you don't need any pointers on that."

As she grew older and life threw more complicated problems at her, Anais didn't find the same solace in her father that she once had. Some of it was just growing up and becoming her own person, as natural as that was...

"Fucking knew you'd say that."

...Some of it was Malcolm's answer for everything coming back to that sport; he'd never learned much of anything else about his little girl, and now that she was a full grown woman, she didn't know any other way to seek the approval of a potential mate.

She didn't feel comfortable sharing her talents with anyone else, knowing that the subject of where she'd gotten all her practice would eventually come up in conversation--she was a terrible liar--and coming up with a lie on the spot was never easy for her.

She only found some solace in the twisted pleasure on her father's face when she leaned in, capturing the underside of his cock on her lower lip. Smooth, tender lips closed around the head of Malcom's tool as she welcomed it further into her maw, and all the while, she did her best to lock eyes with her father, knowing how much he enjoyed it when she stared him down.

He didn't know when the vibrant, crystal ice of her eyes had faded to such a forlorn shade of steely blue, but there was still some life in them; he wanted to pretend he was the source of that life, rather than the very thing that was sapping it away.

"Not like you've left me much else to say anymore," Malcolm groaned, taking the last shot and letting the words sting his daughter.

She wouldn't let him see how much it frustrated her that he could be so cruel in the throes of passion, but in turn, she wouldn't let him have the good grace of a long, drawn out process, either.

"Every time I try to say something different, something better, y-you just...shove my fucking cock in your throat and try to shut me up," he groaned. "What the hell am I supposed to do but enjoy the ride and give you what you want?"

Anais was a sexual creature: she enjoyed the physical act of a blowjob, and the presence of something warm and soothing against the deeper reaches of her throat, but the first one she'd given was to the wrong person, as far as society was concerned.

She wasn't sure if it was wrong for her , but that little bit of juxtaposition lingered as she worked her way down the shaft, slicking it with the flat of her tongue.

"Besides, you've got a point: all I ever do with my voice is upset you, but when I just let you do what you want...this is always what you come back to."

Their relationship wouldn't be fixed by the barbs of his cock, as they tickled against the roof of her mouth and moved toward the opening of her throat.

It wouldn't be enough for Anais to simply pump her mouth against her father's shaft and bump her nose against the base of his crotch, either: physical actions, pleasurable as they were, would never prove enough to fix whatever was broken within the pair of lusty tigers.

You don't give me anything else to come back to,_Anais thought. _This is the only way you ever showed me to handle loss...and it's not just this fucking game. Any trouble I have in life, all I can think about is trying to make you happy...because that's the only thing that ever really made me happy.

Such a twisted line of thinking wouldn't be undone by one conversation, but Anais couldn't bring herself to have even the first one. She didn't care to start that emotionally jarring discussion when she could just lean forth and open her throat, welcoming the feline nature of her father's member as far in as her throat would allow.

"Guess it's lucky that I'm such a simpleton," Malcolm suggested. "I should probably try harder, but what the fuck am I supposed to do...w-when you're sucking it so f-fucking tight like that?"

Giving her best efforts wasn't quite enough to get the job done.

Anais hoped that suckling tighter at the base and working the flat of her tongue against her father's balls might finally shut him up; the sound of the water splashing against the tiles behind her was a far more soothing sound than the ongoing platitudes of his voice, but without the warmth and weight of his flesh in her throat, some part of her, forbidden or not, would have felt incomplete for it.

It was a package deal, but that was one thing that she and Malcolm had in common: he, too, wished that he could just sit and enjoy the silence of the locker room, but he believed as much as Anais did that he wouldn't be able to just sit and enjoy the rain with her.

He didn't want to call their relationship broken, because of that, but their frustration with each other created a vicious cycle...one that was only reconciled by the forbidden pleasure they shared.

"Fuck...y-you haven't lost a game in such a long time, I almost forgot how talented you really were."

Anais tried her best not to bite down on the base of her father's cock, but he was digging himself a deeper hole, every time he opened his mouth.

"Can't f-fucking take it much longer, Anais...k-keep...keep going," Malcolm groaned aloud, and as his head tilted back, his palms came to rest on her shoulders, as they had dozens of times before.

She knew what was coming, whether she liked it or not: if she tried to recoil, she knew her father's claws would dig into her flesh and leave her with marks that would be nearly impossible to explain to her teammates. If she was a better liar, she could have easily claimed that her new boyfriend was a passionate man, but if they dug too deep, the lie would come unraveled; the future of the entire team would be in jeopardy.

Putting that responsibility on her back, Anais bucked her throat against the shaft as rapidly and faithfully as she could, letting errant strands of spit pour from the end of her muzzle. Dangling juices made their way to the floor of the shower, and between her legs, a similar glisten was starting to gather, dripping away from sexually frustrated flesh.

Not in front of him...I won't dare do it in front of him...

Her palms were still busy working her father's backside, kneading his flesh and holding his rump with a commanding grip, but the temptation was there to let them drop, sliding down the backs of his thighs so that they could be put to better use.

The familiar buzzing was already gathered at her clit, but as Malcolm finally gave himself over to the act, she didn't have the luxury of pleasuring herself, any longer.

Instead, she was forced to clutch at her father's body to handle the deeper reaches of his cock: the tip was thrusting just far enough that she wouldn't have been able to control her gag reflex, without a little distraction from the firm, satisfying hold of his flesh.

"I know, I know...g-gotta warn you before I do that," Malcolm half-apologized, but there was no sincerity in his voice, no remorse for nearly forcing his own daughter to gag on his cock.

That she was purring quietly around her mouthful betrayed the way that she felt, but then, she was honest with herself: forbidden, twisted and the deepest of all secrets, her relationship with her father was arousing in ways that it never should have been.

They didn't have to like each other, it turned out, to desperately need each other.

"Guess I should be nice and warn you to b-breathe," he opened his maw again, but this time, his jaw hung and his cock pulsed with even greater intensity.

Leaning in close and bobbing her head rapidly, Anais took the bait and worked her throat against her father's member with all the effort she could manage. Spittle poured down her chin and made a new trail in the fur upon her neck as she worked, showing the same intensity and effort on every bob of her head that she gave on every pitch that left her paw.

Those same paws were digging their claws into the taut, well-trained flesh of her father's ass as she felt the first gush of his cum against the roof of her mouth, an instant before the final warning was given.

"Fuck...t-that's the way, Anais...y-you know just what it takes to make...y-your Daddy... cum!"

A second bolt of the warm, slick mess sprayed from the tip of his cock, splashing against the roof of her maw and smearing back down, right into her tongue.

Every thrust of his cock pushed the mess around, forcing Anais to work that much harder to contain it, but she swallowed faithfully...albeit begrudgingly; she'd never quite gotten used to the taste of cum, as many times as she'd tasted it.

"Not wasting a drop...at least that lesson made it through to you," Malcolm teased, a rare thing for him to offer to anyone, much less his own daughter in the midst of the act. "You might actually avoid cramping up for once...if you...s-swallow all that protein."

And he's right back to talking about the game, Anais thought. Mother fucker...I'm gonna make him pay for this.

She would have given anything for her father to offer a different kind of compliment, right then.

Instead, he fell right back into the sporting trope, and the words that fell from his mouth made it that much harder for Anais to keep the treat to herself.

When she felt the telltale calm in her father's cock, she pretended to swallow at his flesh a final time...and as she pushed herself up from her knees, she did something that she knew Malcolm never would have expected from her.

"Just gonna suck and run, then?"

Standing before her father with a furious, knowing grin on her muzzle, she wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and tugged him in close, pressing her cum-soaked lips firmly upon his own.

The shock of that contact was such that Malcolm wasn't sure how to react. The taboo of the act was never lost on him, no matter how many times he and his daughter engaged in their forbidden dalliances, but there was something utilitarian about the act--not quite mechanical--but something as passionate and romantic as a kiss was never part of the equation.

He didn't want to think about the sudden bloom of feelings that welled up within him. It was impossible to ignore the sparks, the sheer flood of endorphins that came as his lips began moving back against her own on a silent instinct...but the flavor of his own seed spoiled the moment just enough to keep him from leaning into romantic affection.

"Mn...nnf...mrnf! W-what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, finally pushing back enough to pry his daughter's muzzle away from his own.

Strands of his own cum were mingled with her saliva, dangling from his own lips, even after he'd nudged Anais toward the wall.

"Just giving you a taste of your own medicine," she claimed, her voice radiating the sort of confidence that only ever came after she won a game. "And your own cum, since you seem to think it's my favorite dessert or something."

Malcolm wasn't so full of himself that he'd make such a claim, but he couldn't help feeling insulted to think that his own daughter was just placating him, every time she swallowed one of his loads.

"So what; you don't like what I've got on tap for you?"

"Do you really care if I like it or not?"

"If you hate the taste that much, I could always put it somewhere else," he said, his voice bordering on a threat, but the change in his tone only sharpened his daughter's gaze. "Just pin you down and pump it all into your cunt..."

If not for their previous dalliances, Anais would have been too shocked to reply, and too nervous to hold her ground.

Wanting to prove herself to her father in all the wrong ways, however, she had no problem standing in place and spitting the last of his seed to the floor of the shower, making a stand out of her defiance.

"Seriously? That's where you're gonna take this?" she asked, her paws on her hips as she waited for an answer.

She only gave her father a few seconds to consider what he'd say next--Malcolm didn't think she'd call his bluff like that--but just before his mouth opened to form that reply, she turned away from him, dropped to her knees, and lifted her tail high into the air, revealing a pair of options to a man that shouldn't have had either choice in the first place.

"Put it in me then, Coach...you always think you know what's best for me, right? Why don't you pick a hole and put your money where your mouth is?"

Something about their relationship felt very fitting, to that point: a man that had never grown beyond his own college glory days and a woman that was right in the middle of them were sensually inclined to each other, treating their antics as a form of twisted competition...but other than his own marriage being at risk, Malcolm didn't have to worry much about consequences.

Seeing the way that his daughter's womanhood dripped with something more than the last, soaking drops of her shower, he couldn't believe that she'd ever make such an offer in earnest, but if she was going to call his bluff, he wasn't going to back down from that challenge.

"Just be glad I'm not shoving the whole thing in your ass," he answered, a lower growl thickening the tone of his voice enough that Anais _almost_regretted her decision.

She didn't think he'd actually go through with it, but the sound of water splashing below his knees told her that she only had one chance left to change her mind, and her tail couldn't lower fast enough to keep the tip of his cock from kissing against her sensitive, delicate folds.

Damn it...that does feel good, she thought, but pride wouldn't allow her to vocalize anything of the sort, just yet. Am I really about to let my own dad fuck me, though? Am I...am I really about to fuck back into him?

There was only the littlest bit of shame the first time Anais won a pitching matchup.

She could still remember just how careful her father was with her petals, that first time: tracing his tongue up one side of her mound and running the tip back down the other, swirling the flat of that warm, wet muscle around the hood of her clit every time her passed it, and only ever suckling it when she'd been properly warmed up...

...Anais hated to admit it, but her father had been brilliant with his mouth; she only hoped that his skill with his hips would bring her to the same peaks.

"Just be glad that your daughter is willing to keep a secret for you," she snapped back at him, though the force of the words softened as she felt the messy, soaking tip of her father's cock teasing past her first resistance. "Just imagine w-what Mom would say if she had...any idea...w-what you were doing to me right now..."

Lowering her head just slightly, Anais didn't want to show any signs of weakness or submission, but there was a gravity to the act that she couldn't ignore, no matter how many times she'd gone down on her father, or how many times he'd brought her to orgasm with his own tongue.

There was something more to it, that time, as she felt the unique bristling of barbs against her folds, and then, just inside of her warm, welcoming passage.

_He's actually doing it...my dad is actually fucking me! _

"Your mother probably wouldn't give a shit about this anymore than she gives a shit about your softball career," Malcolm replied, saving the harshest barb for her ears, instead. "At least I care enough to coach you up and give you a fighting chance at something more than a scholarship."

"That's...s-so fucking low," Anais growled, moving her hips away from her father. She started to scowl, but seeing what she thought was regret on his face as she turned to look at him, a grin took her lips, instead. "Just what I'd expect from the coach of a losing team."

"...You little bitch."

"Hell of a way to talk to your own daughter."

"Says the girl that's bent over in front of me, dripping wet at the thought of being fucked by her own father."

She wanted to argue, but Anais was forced to suck in a breath, just to stifle herself: she didn't anticipate Malcolm grabbing her around the stomach and pulling her back toward his length.

There was no proper struggle about her, even as her clouded mind continued a silent argument with her needy, physical form. She knew it was wrong to let her father go any further than that, but after crossing the line of taboo with him so many times before, she didn't have that mental barrier to worry about, anymore.

It was more about teaching him a lesson in respect than it was about stopping him from doing something so forbidden, but Anais couldn't deny the surge of earthly delight that filled her body when her father pinned her down proper and pumped the entirety of his length inside of her.

"Fucking...w-warn a girl before you just s-shove it all in like that!" she howled back at him, but the discomfort that came with a lack of experience was rapidly fading behind the sheer pleasure and satisfaction of such a fulfilling cock: girthy without being too thick, long without being uncomfortable, Anais refused to say it out loud...but her father seemed to be a perfect fit for her womanhood.

"You're the one who called me your Coach, now of all times," Malcolm noted. "So that's how I'm gonna treat you, Anais...g-gotta be ready for anything at anytime, right? Doesn't just apply to the playing field."

Bracing her palms against the floor and scraping her claws along the grout in the tiles, Anais was taking that advice to heart from the very beginning, but it was harder than ever for her to believe what was happening.

The very first time she'd found herself squirming around her father's face and gripping his cheeks with her thighs, the tigress struggled to come to terms with what was happening, but the shock of it all was what kept her from going down the rabbit hole of what he'd done to her.

It was the first time in years that she was feeling that same level of shock, and further, the unbridled thrill that came with doing something entirely forbidden...and not just doing it, but absolutely loving it, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

"Way to take all the intimacy out of sex," Anais continued to dig her heels in, refusing to answer her father with the pleasure that was flooding her body. "Had to pull the sports r-right back into it, didn't you?"

"You're the one who called me Coach," he reminded her again, all without breaking his stride: instead of pausing to reflect on the fact that he was deflowering his own daughter, he was pumping right along into his next thrust, meeting her vocalized ire with silent frustrations of his own. "So that's h-how I'm gonna treat this...h-how I'm gonna treat you."

"Hmph. Better than that acting like my father for the first time ever."

Malcolm couldn't help being spurred on by her voice, but he wasn't ignoring the fact that her hips were starting to bump back against him. There was a little inexperience, just as he would have expected, but the fact that she was trying her best to meet his pace was arousing in ways that he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages.

Her mother never moves back against me like this. She says she loves me, but then she just lays there and looks distant...but Anais...she's impassioned, thrusting at me; angrily, but she really wants this, doesn't she?

"Keep up that kind of talk and I'll show you that I can be both , Anais."

At first, it seemed a hollow threat from the older tiger, but everything thereafter was an open, unwritten book.

There was no script, like the postgame ritual of Anais kneeling before her father and sucking him off to earn his approval and satisfy her latent curiosities.

This was something new and organic , sending thrills into her tummy before she ever felt the pressure of her father's cock bumping against the deepest reaches of her womanhood.

"Could always t-try being good at one or the other," she said, trying to cling to the little bit of venom that was left in her voice, only to find that that the physical bliss of being taken with such eager force was making it difficult to cling to anything, save for the little bit of purchase she found on the floor. "Don't t-try to do too much at once, now..."

"You're just asking for it at this point, aren't you?"

"Any excuse to fuck me harder, right?"

It was hard for Malcolm to believe that he was matching wits better with his own flesh and blood than he ever had with his own wife, but Anais was keeping up with him every step of the way.

Fatherly instinct, a coach's mentality, and a growing, burgeoning lust wouldn't allow that any longer.

"I don't need an excuse to put you in your place, or an excuse to teach you to watch that smart fucking mouth of yours," he said, the growl filling his voice again and leaving such a rumble in his throat that Anais could feel it, right against the back of her skull. "But you clearly need something more than I'm giving you..."

He hadn't said it out loud, but some part of Malcolm was still being fatherly in the way that he held back and took an easier, slower pace to start with. Unconsciously, he wanted to work his daughter into the process of being taken from behind, but her attitude was too frustrating, too polarizing...too thrilling to resist any longer.

Clutching tightly at her stomach and mounting her more like a canine than a feline, he pounded his hips into the taut, athletic curve of her backside, burying his length inside of her with a greater force and a deeper thrust--he thought it might silence her--but it only brought greater volume to her voice.

That voice was no longer bratty and resistant, but overwhelmed_by what she suddenly felt. "Fuck...t-that's...that feels _incredible," she tried to stifle herself, wishing she could do more to keep her father from knowing her pleasure, even as inner muscles began working and milking at his cock without her conscious encouragement. "Can't believe you're d-doing this...fucking your own daughter like this, you fitlhy, twisted tranf...mnf! Mrnf!"

With one arm wrapped around her body, holding her smaller, slimmer frame in place against his own, Malcolm was forced to bring the other around her cheek, capturing her muzzle with a paw wide enough to silence the melting of her sexual frustrations.

He wanted to hear every moan, every cry at the top of her lungs...but there was always the risk that someone might be lingering, listening in on their forbidden dalliance; he didn't care much about his own life, but he refused to risk his daughter's future at the behest of his own arousal.

Of course, he wasn't thinking at all of the other way that he could have been risking her future, even as he was pounding the source of it into her womanhood, forcing her flesh to stretch and yield around it with every pass of his hips.

"Keep g-grabbing it," he whispered, but the mechanical, practical tone of his voice was gone. He wasn't speaking to her like a coach anymore, and his voice was far from the sort of tone a father should have taken with his own daughter. "Just listen to w-what your body tells you to do, sweetie...if your hips want to move, buck them. If your pussy wants to milk me, just...j-just trust yourself."

There was too much passion in his voice to be paternal, too much pleasure in the depths of his throat to be a guide...it was carnal , forbidden delight that kept his body crashing down upon her own, his sack swinging up into the soaking gap of her thighs, his claws raking across the slim, toned valley of her abdomen, leaving marks deep enough that a thin shirt would struggle to hide them.

Every pain that came thereafter was laced with such pleasure that Anais wasn't sure when she started cumming, but she could already feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building. Like a spark that jumped over sections of a fuse, she thought she had more time to prepare for the sudden gripping and fluttering of her inner walls, but she couldn't predict a thing about her father's movements.

He was still pumping faster when she offered the first quivering of her orgasm to his flesh, but as she did, she could feel his body taking a pace that was sporadic and uneven; he was coming right up to the edge of his own release, and yet, he wasn't stopping...

...He wasn't even slowing down, despite the lack of protection between them.

"Mrnnn...nafdy..."

"Good girl...k-keep moaning like that," Malcolm groaned along with her, allowing the ecstasy of the act to pull him in and keep him right in place, as the first strand of his seed threatened to leap from the tip of his cock.

" Nmno! Pumnf ort!"

With his paw there, he never would have understood what she said, but desperation took creative form as she forced her maw open and bit down on her father's finger, her fangs proving sharp enough to draw blood from the spot...but the shock of it all brought him back from the edge and stopped the hammering drive of his hips.

The stillness of the barbs on his cock kept Anais flowing through the river of her release, but without his thrusting efforts, she found her climax was stilted, having taken her to a new, unattainable peak, but only for the briefest instant; the memory of it was already a haunting thing.

I really would have let him cum inside of me, if it meant I could feel that way for another instant, she thought. And he was ready to fill me...to breed me...what was he thinking?

" Pull out , you idiot!" she finally cried, her voice dancing gracefully between rage and release as the presence of her father's cock kept her on both edges. "I'm not on the pill, remember?"

Hearing that and realizing the implication was all it took to push Malcolm over the edge.

Good fortune was the only thing that recoiled his hips in time, and the grip of his own palm finished the job as he reached down, gripping his throbbing length with a tight, controlling palm.

It failed to come close to emulating his daughter's passage, but looking down at her trembling form and her taut, round backside as a target, he couldn't help but be inspired to cross the finish line with her.

"Good s-save," he murmured, his voice fading under the rapid panting of his breath. Lower, thicker groans escaped his lips as he knelt there and stroked hard, spraying the first string of cum across the small of her back. Milky, warm droplets landed as far as the gap between her shoulders blades, but by the time he was done, a small river of the mess had formed along her spine, dripping back around the base of her tail.

Tickling the softer fur around her asshole as it spilled back, Anais let out one more unconscious whimper, just to know the unique warmth of her father's seed against her flesh...and in the aftermath of it all, she held back one more gasp, as reality settled in, post orgasm.

I hope he's not gonna expect this kind of treatment after every game, she thought. But...what if I do?