Driven Lust Frenzy

There are two things in this world that make Diamond Buttercrack feel alive: her Kawasaki, and her own touch.

On the morning of her nineteenth birthday, she surrenders to a ritual more intimate than any ride. She worships the cold steel of her motorcycle naked, chasing a high only she understands.

But today, she had a witness.

Her father, Andrew, finds her on her knees – bare, glistening, and utterly exposed. The towel drops. The robe parts. And the line between father and daughter is incinerated in a single, hungry look.

What happens next is a collision of blood and lust that neither of them can stop. It is wrong. It is filthy. It is the only thing that has ever felt right.

VERY FEW THINGS brought as much happiness to Diamond Buttercrack as flicking her bean. The intensity she brought to the intimate rubbing could only be matched by a kaiju rampaging through a gothic rave party on the outskirts of Tokyo.

Born British, raised catholic, and dropped in Tokaido after her father won the custody battle and decided that Europe was filled with weirdos. Her dad brought this blonde, blue-eyed angel with enough ethnic features to pass as a native Japanese but with also enough Caucasian DNA shenanigans to be branded a traitor to his hometown in Japan, and believed that she would never experience the same loneliness he did while he was stuck with her insane mother.

Granted, with ancestry like that, Diamond’s mental abilities didn’t match the sharpness that her name suggested. She discovered a few things in life that brought her any sort of pleasure.

Her bike and her fingers lodged between her legs were the only things that interested her. The sexuality oozed from the young woman in waves, and every perv, gentleman, and woman who still had no clear idea of what she wanted, took notice of the girl who only looked Japanese if you squinted enough.

Diamond Buttercrack was celebrating her nineteenth birthday today, and she did it with style.

The house sat on an old road, its dark wood weathered silver by the salt air. The roof tiles were the color of charcoal and curved gently toward the sky.

Past the sliding doors and through a narrow passage of flagstones, there was a small square of land in the back. The grass was short and neat. A single persimmon tree grew in one corner. A motorcycle was parked beside it.

The black Kawasaki Z900RS was polished to a blinding degree. A pattern lay hidden beneath the paint on the tank. The stretch of flames that took the form of a dragon only showed itself when the sun hit it at the right angle.

The motorcycle had four cylinders and a big radiator between the frame tubes. One hundred and sixteen horses was below what the girl could handle, but her father was adamant – either that or a normal bike.

Diamond went towards it. She was wearing only short denim shorts that struggled to keep her juicy ass contained, and a tight tank top, which was doing a similarly poor job of keeping her perky tits at bay. The round flesh was obviously squished inside the grip, and the boobs wanted to be free. Those pointy nipples were not trying to poke their way out for nothing. The young woman was used to walking barefoot across numerous European parks, so she enjoyed the cut grass under her naked soles.

Japan was a strange country. It was hot. People were barefoot most of the time, but they loved wearing their house slippers. When they were out, they would have the local excuse for flip-flops on their feet, but if someone was like her, used to having their bare feet roam the rough ground, she was going to be discussed in length behind her back.

Diamond pulled the tank top over her head. The air touched her skin, and her nipples tightened immediately. She dropped the shirt on the grass and stood before the bike in nothing but the shorts. Her boobs were full and white in the morning light, the nipples hard from the chill. Her buds were dark pink, and now they looked crimson from the rush of arousal.

The bike’s black paint reflected her shape dimly, a ghost of a woman with nothing on top. She ran a hand over her stomach, then up to her left breast, feeling the warmth of her own palm against the cool skin. The nipple pressed against her fingers. She held it there, feeling the beat of her heart…

…

Her ass moved in the air, a slow wave from side to side. The cheeks parted slightly with each shift, and the sun touched her deeper each time. She felt exposed and open, the whole backyard watching her.

But there was another watcher.

Diamond felt them. Those were eyes. Human eyes. They raced across her body and were spying on her most intimate parts.

Fear and excitement fought for dominance in her chest. She didn’t dare move or turn. But this meant she was offering the back view of her pussy and her glimmering asshole unobstructed to the spy.

Diamond turned. Her dad was there. He was fresh out of the shower. His robe was untied, and his cock was visible. And to her surprise, it was quite big and also hard as hell.

‘Daddy?’ She whimpered.