Warning – Copyright

WARNING: 18+. My dark erotic stories blend explicit sexual themes with intense psychological drama, pointed satire, and highly controversial subjects. This work features extreme taboo dynamics, including fictional dub-con or non-con situations, that are essential to character and plot development. All characters are depicted strictly as adults (18+) engaged in fictional role-playing. Reader discretion is strongly advised; if these themes are offensive or triggering to you, please kindly skip my work. Thank you so much!

Note: This is dark fiction. If you or someone you know has been affected by trauma related to these themes and needs support, please consider reaching out to international support networks via the NO MORE Global Directory (nomoredirectory.org) to find confidential, free resources local to your country.

Copyright ©2026 Delisha Keane. All rights reserved.

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Mara Does the Football Team with Daddy: A Daughter's Journal

v1.0

1: Previously in Mara's Life

Although this is a sequel to "Halloween Party with Daddy," you can read it on its own.

Mara is eighteen and lives with her Daddy.

While helping her choose a Halloween costume, he saw her naked, required her to shave her pussy, and bought her a micro red devil outfit. At the Legion Hall party, he had a college boy named Sylvan fuck her on a back-room table so Sylvan could evaluate, out loud, how her body ranked against other girls at school. Sylvan filmed it. The video spread.

A popular girl named Alazne tried to out-slut Mara and reclaim the spotlight. Mara answered by organizing a locker-room gang bang with Sylvan’s friends (and the janitor). Daddy watched and kept the numbers manageable. Alazne’s campaign collapsed. Mara became the most popular girl on campus, won student-council president by a landslide, and grew sharply more self-confident in every part of her life — presentations, hallways, decisions, her own body.

Daddy’s doctor later noted his blood pressure and overall health had improved for the first time in years. Mara put the devil costume back on and took the lead.

Now the football captain has invited her to spend the weekend nude at his parents’ empty house with most of the team. She said yes — as long as Daddy comes too. For safety.

2: Raw Meat: A Father Presents His Daughter’s Body

Marcus’s house looks like someone built it to make the neighbors feel poor. Two stories. Stone facade. A three-car garage with doors that probably cost more than Daddy’s annual bonus. The lawn is the kind of green that only exists when you pay another man to water it.

Daddy parks his sedan behind a row of trucks and SUVs that line the curb. Big vehicles. Football-player vehicles. Vehicles that carry bodies built for hitting other bodies at full speed, which is relevant to my weekend plans in ways I’m trying not to overthink.

I check my phone. 6:14 PM. Friday. Marcus texted the gate code twenty minutes ago. Sylvan forwarded it to me with a single emoji. The flexed bicep. His way of saying good luck.

‘Sylvan’s not here. Not on the football team. Probably sitting in his apartment right now eating cereal and refreshing his phone, waiting for updates like a fan watching a game he can’t attend.’

We walk around the side of the house. Daddy in his jeans and grey sweater. Me in a tank top, denim miniskirt, sneakers. No bra. No panties. Traveling light because most of my outfit is about to become unnecessary.

The backyard opens up like a resort brochure. In-ground pool lit turquoise from below. A patio with outdoor furniture that has actual cushions. A built-in grill the size of a small car. And boys. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty years old. Big ones. Thick necks and wide shoulders and legs like tree trunks stuffed into shorts and joggers. A dozen of them scattered across lawn chairs and the pool edge, beers in hand, phones out.

Marcus spots us first. He stands up from a patio chair. Braids. Arms like he stores extra muscle in them just in case. He crosses to us and does that handshake-to-hug thing with Daddy. The man-to-man greeting. Two guys who have already spoken on the phone and sorted out the details.

“Mr. Landry.”

“Marcus.”

One nod. The transaction is confirmed. The merchandise has arrived.

The Appraisal

Daddy’s hand lands on my lower back. That familiar steering pressure. He turns me to face the pool. The boys.

“All right, girl.”

Low voice. Just for me. But everyone can hear because twelve pairs of eyes are already locked on, and the backyard has gone library-quiet.

“Shoes first.”

I toe off my left sneaker. Then the right. Set them aside near the patio table.

Daddy looks at the boys. His hand gestures toward my feet.

“Size seven. Sexy arches.”

He taps my hip.

“Top.”

I pull the tank top over my head. My boobs drop into view. Heavy. Full. That familiar bounce when gravity reclaims them. The boys closest to us stop breathing. A couple of them shift in their chairs like they need to make room in their shorts for what’s happening below their belts.

Daddy cups my right breast from the side. Lifts it. Shows the room.

“These are the real deal. No surgeon. No filler. Just eighteen years of genetics. I heard you’ve all seen them on a screen by now.”

He lets my boob drop. Catches the other one. Same presentation. Same angle.

“But the screen doesn’t tell you what they weigh. Doesn’t tell you how they bounce back when you squeeze them. You’ll find out.”

His thumb grazes my nipple as he releases. My skin prickles, and I watch his crotch.

A Father’s Pride

There it is. The ridge forming in his jeans. Slow. Steady. Like a tent pole being raised by invisible hands. He’s not even touching himself. He’s not even being touched. He’s just watching me stand topless in front of a bunch of strangers, and his cock is responding like it got a direct invitation.

‘He gets hard watching other men look at my body. Not from ...