Ch 1
I’ve always been Daddy’s babygirl. Not the fake, giggly kind. Real. Bone-deep. The kind that makes my chest tighten the second he walks into a room, like every part of me already knows exactly where it belongs, pressed tight against him, safe and owned.
I’m nineteen, still at home, glasses, soft voice, the cute nerdy virgin everyone underestimates. The idea of packing up for college next year knots my stomach hard. How am I supposed to sleep without hearing Daddy’s low laugh drifting from the other room? How am I supposed to wake up without the smell of his coffee pulling me straight toward him like a magnet?
Mom has known for years. I see it in the tight line of her jaw whenever I crawl into his lap or beg him to brush out my wet hair after a shower. She watches us too closely, eyes sharp with something ugly and jealous. She suspects. She knows something’s off between us. But Daddy still looks at me with that warm, clueless pride, like I’m still his sweet, innocent princess who can do no wrong.
Afternoon light pours through the big windows, warm and golden, catching on the half-packed suitcase lying open on the living room floor. Mom moves through the house with sharp, efficient movements, folding clothes, checking her bag again and again, as if she can delay the inevitable. Her jaw stays clenched tight. She keeps glancing toward me and Daddy, her eyes narrowed with that familiar ugly suspicion.
I’m the perfect babygirl today.
I bring her a fresh cup of coffee, made exactly the way she likes it, and offer it with a sweet smile. “Here, Mom. You don’t want to be tired for the drive.” My voice is soft and innocent, the one I’ve perfected my whole life. She takes it without a word of thanks, her gaze dropping to where my hand rests lightly on Daddy’s shoulder.
Daddy sits at the kitchen island, relaxed in his gray t-shirt and sweatpants, scrolling through his phone. He looks so big and solid, the fabric stretched across his broad chest and powerful thighs. I lean into him a little more, letting the soft swell of my breast press warmly against his arm as I reach for a piece of fruit from the bowl in front of him. My fingers brush his deliberately, lingering just a second too long.
I felt him shift on the stool. Just a small adjustment, but the muscle in his thigh went tight against mine and stayed that way. He kept scrolling on his phone like nothing was happening, but he didn’t move away.
Mom’s eyes catch it. Her mouth presses into a thin, bloodless line.
“You’re really going to wear that all weekend?” she asks, voice clipped as she zips her suitcase. “One of your father’s old shirts again?”
I tilt my head, all wide-eyed sweetness. “It’s comfy. And it smells like Daddy. Makes me feel safe when you’re gone.”
Daddy chuckles warmly and wraps a heavy arm around my waist, pulling me closer without thinking. “She’s always been like that, honey. Let her be.” I felt his thumb move once, slow, almost like he was tracing the edge of the shirt I was wearing, his shirt, before he caught himself and let go.
I nestle deeper into his side, turning my face into the warm curve of his neck so Mom can’t see the hungry little smile tugging at my lips. His scent surrounds me, clean skin, warm man, with faint traces of the cologne he saves for work. My thighs pressed together under the counter and I felt the sudden damp spot where they met. I shift my weight, pressing my bare thigh more firmly against the solid muscle of his leg, hidden beneath the island counter.
Mom watches us. Her fingers tighten on the suitcase handle until her knuckles turn white.
“I’ll be back Sunday night, ” she says, the words sharp. “Try not to let her eat junk all day. And don’t stay up too late watching those movies she likes.”
She speaks to Daddy but stares straight at me. Jealousy rolls off her in waves. She knows something is wrong. She has for years. But she still can’t prove it. And tonight, she’s leaving us alone.
I give her my sweetest smile. “I’ll miss you, Mom. Drive safe.”
She doesn’t hug me. Instead, she pulls me into a stiff, brief embrace, her fingers digging into my shoulder a little too hard. When she pulls back, her eyes lock onto mine with a long, cold stare.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she says quietly, voice low enough that Daddy doesn’t hear.
I blink at her with my sweetest, most innocent smile. “I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”
She holds my gaze a second longer, then turns to Daddy. He stands and pulls her into a quick kiss. I watch them, my hand still resting lightly on his lower back, fingers tracing small, secret circles.
Before stepping out, Mom hesitates at the door, glancing back at us standing too close together. She forces a tight, brittle smile.
“Be good while I’m gone.”
The front door closes behind her with a heavy, final click.
The house suddenly feels different.
Quieter. Warmer. Ours.
Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance, the storm still hours away but already promising.
And now… she’s gone.
Daddy still had his arm loosely around me. Neither of us moved for a few seconds. I could feel the exact moment the air changed between us, the way his breathing slowed, the way his hand rested heavier on my lower back. He didn’t say anything. He just kept me there against his side, staring at the closed door like he was waiting to make sure she was really gone.
I was the one who finally pulled away.
The moment I close my bedroom door behind me, the mask drops. I lock it, lean back against the wood for a second, and let myself feel how wildly my heart is racing.
My secret diary waits in the bottom drawer. I pull it out, climb onto the bed, and open it to a fresh page. Late afternoon light glows soft and golden through the curtains. Thunder rumbles far away. My hand trembles slightly as I click the pen.
I start slow.
Mom just left. The house is finally ours for the whole weekend and I can barely sit still.
The pen scratches across the paper. I pause, bite the inside of my cheek, then keep going.
I’ve always been Daddy’s babygirl. Not pretend. Real. It started when I was tiny and he would carry me up the stairs after I fell asleep on the couch. I remember pressing my face into his neck, breathing him in, feeling so safe I never wanted him to put me down. His arms were so big around me back then. They still are.
My thighs slid together, and I heard the faint sticky sound they made. I keep writing.
Tonight that same memory keeps twisting in my mind. I want him to carry me upstairs again, except this time my legs are wrapped tight around his waist and his thick cock is already buried halfway inside me. I want every step to jolt him deeper while I whimper into his neck the way I did when I was little. I want him to lay me down on his marital bed and finally finish what he started years ago without even knowing it.
The same arms that used to make me feel safer than anything in the world. I want to ruin that safety and live inside it at the same time.
Then I’m going to wrap my lips around that thick daddy cock and taste him for the first time. I want to choke on him. I want to look up at him with tears in my eyes while I drool all over the cock that made me.
The words make my stomach clench. I’m taking every gentle memory he gave me and turning it into something filthy. My hand shakes as I write, but I can’t stop.
My nipples had already tightened into stiff, aching points under my tank top. I press my forearm against them without thinking, desperate for even a little pressure, then force my hand back to the diary.
Another memory surfaces and I let the pen linger.
Last summer when I was sick, he sat on the edge of my bed for hours brushing my damp hair after my shower. His fingers were so gentle, carefully untangling every knot while I pretended to be sleepier than I really was just so he wouldn’t stop. I kept stealing glances at the front of his shorts, wondering what it would feel like to reach out and touch him. Wondering if he ever got hard being that close to me.
I squeeze my thighs together harder. Another slow clear bead slipped free and ran down toward the sheets. I don’t wipe it away. I like how messy I’m getting just from writing this.
The pen keeps moving, slower now, almost frantic.
I want to ruin him for Mom. I want to make him addicted to his own daughter’s tight virgin pussy. I want to feel him lose control and fill me up again and again, until his cum is dripping down my thighs and I’m carrying what’s his. And the worst part is I know it would break something in him too. I just can’t stop wanting it anyway.
This is going to destroy my family, and the thought only makes my pulse throb between my legs.
My breathing has gone shallow. Between my legs the crotch of my shorts was dark and clinging. I can hear the faint wet sound every time I shift my weight to turn the page.
I set the pen down for a second and press the heel of my hand against my mound through my shorts, just feeling the heat. My outer lips parted under the fabric when I rocked once, slow and deliberate, I snatched my hand away. Not yet.
I’ve been obsessed with him for years. Every time I hear the shower running, I get wet. Every time Mom’s away and he walks around the house in just sweatpants, I have to go to my room and hump my pillow like a desperate little slut. I’ve listened to them having sex through the wall more times than I can count. I hate the sounds she makes. I hate that she gets to have him. I lie there with my fingers inside me imagining it’s me moaning his name instead.
I want so much more than just his cock. I want to crawl into their bed while Mom’s gone and suck him awake. I want to ride him slow and deep while he’s still half asleep, then watch his eyes fly open when he realizes it’s his own daughter’s tight pussy wrapped around him. I want him to flip me over and fuck me like an animal, calling me his good girl while he breeds me.
God, I’m so wet just writing this. I want him to own every hole. I want to taste his cum, wear his cum, sleep with his cum leaking out of me. I want to ruin sex for him with anyone else forever.
I pick the pen back up and finish in a desperate rush.
And when he finally snaps… I want him to ruin me. I want him to hold me down and fuck me so deep I feel him in my stomach. I want to milk every drop of his cum into my womb and whisper “thank you, Daddy” while he’s still pulsing inside me.
By the time Mom comes back Sunday night, her husband is going to be addicted to his own daughter’s tight virgin pussy. She’ll never understand why he can’t keep his hands off me anymore.
My hand is cramping. My cheeks are burning. The pages are full of raw, obsessive want, little girl memories soaked in filthy new need. I love him so much it scares me. That’s why the pages look like this. I close the diary, hug it to my chest for a moment, then hide it away again.
For a few seconds I just sit on the edge of the bed, heart pounding, the golden light warm on my skin. The words I wrote are still burning behind my eyes. My body feels electric, too sensitive, too ready. I strip out of my tank top and shorts, pull on Daddy’s old gray t-shirt, and nothing else.
I stand up and peel off the shorts I’d been wearing underneath, kicking them toward the pile on the floor. The soft gray fabric falls loose around my bare thighs, the hem barely covering my ass. Nothing underneath now. The cool air touched my exposed skin as I stood there.
I’m already trembling with want.
I caught my reflection in the dresser mirror and forced myself to really look, no hiding, no quick glance away. Daddy’s old gray t-shirt hung loose from my collarbones, the sleeves swallowing my upper arms, the hem barely skimming the curve where my hips flared out. My thighs looked so soft and pale in the rich golden light. My hair was a wild, frizzy mess, my lips already flushed a deeper pink. But it was the shirt itself that sent that first hot shiver racing through me. The scent clinging to it, faint detergent mixed with his sweat and that deeper, animal musk of him still trapped in the fabric near the collar, made my head spin. I pressed my nose to it and inhaled slowly, deeply, letting it fill my lungs until the room seemed to tilt.
The late afternoon light outside had deepened into molten gold, softening every edge of the room and painting my skin in warm, glowing tones. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
I bunched the front of the shirt up under my breasts and stared harder. When he sees me like this. The thought settled heavy and certain in my chest. Not if. When. I pictured swinging my leg over his lap, the shirt falling open around my shoulders, nothing between his rough hands and my bare skin.
My nipples had already tightened into thick, dark points, poking shamelessly against the thin cotton. I’d always hated how obvious they became, how quickly they betrayed me. Tonight it was so much worse. The longer I looked, the tighter they drew, the more desperately I needed something, anything, on them. I licked my thumb, pressed it firmly to one stiff peak, then rolled it slow and hard between my fingers. The sharp spark of pleasure shot straight down my spine and pooled low in my belly, hot and molten. My knees wobbled before I could lock them. I held my breath, listening past the pounding in my ears for any creak on the stairs, any sign Daddy was coming up. Nothing. Just the faint murmur of the TV drifting up from downstairs. Safe. The heat in my belly only thickened, slow and insistent.
Guilt hit when I saw the little scar on my knee in the mirror, the one he kissed when I was seven. That same mouth I now picture stretched around his cock. This is the same body he used to carry up the stairs when I was little. Now I’m trying to get it ready for him.
I dragged the shirt higher until it bunched under my chin. I looked like one of those shameless girls I pretended to scoff at online, the ones I watched with my hand buried between my legs night after night. I pushed my breasts together, pinched both nipples at once until the sting made my eyes water, then let go. They bounced softly. A helpless little smile tugged at my mouth. He’d stare. I knew exactly how his eyes would darken.
I climbed onto the bed, pulling the shirt along with me, and dropped onto my back. The golden light continued to deepen as I let my thighs fall open, then spread them wider until the cool air kissed my exposed pussy. My outer lips were puffy and flushed a deep, glossy pink, already far wetter than I expected. A few pale curls clung to the folds. I traced one fingertip lightly along the seam, feeling the silky heat, then yanked my hand back just to watch the way my body responded, another slow, glistening bead of arousal slipping free and trailing down toward my ass.
I refused to touch my clit yet. Instead I drew my knees up tight to my chest, arched hard until my hips lifted off the sheets and my pussy became the highest point of my body. I turned my head and watched in the mirror as my ass flexed, round and full, the muscles tightening under my skin with every squeeze. I imagined Daddy’s strong hands locking around my thighs, holding me wide open, his low voice rumbling, “Look at you, baby. Already making such a mess for me.”
My face burned with shame and lust. This is so wrong. He used to tuck me into bed and read me stories. Now I’m lying here with my legs splayed like a whore, aching because I can’t stop thinking about his cock stretching me open. The thought should have made me sick. Instead it made my thighs tremble and another clear bead slid down my skin.
The pressure kept building, heavy and insistent, like my whole body was coiling tighter and tighter around an invisible center. I rolled onto my stomach, pressed my thighs tight together, and started grinding my pussy against the sheet. The wet spot beneath me grew quickly, the friction dragging perfectly against my folds. I pictured his thick thigh instead, hard muscle, warm skin, his big hand pressing between my shoulder blades to hold me down while I humped him like a desperate, needy animal. I rocked faster, hair sticking to my sweaty face and neck.
The orgasm swelled up fast this time, a deep rolling wave that made every muscle in my body go rigid. I forced myself to stop completely, chest heaving. My pussy squeezed rhythmically around nothing and more wetness leaked out in a steady trickle. I lay there gasping, heart hammering against the mattress, fighting the overwhelming urge to just let go.
He carried me on his shoulders at the fair. He kissed my scraped knees. And here I am, finger-fucking myself while fantasizing about his cock destroying me. I keep thinking about how careful he’s always been with me. And how badly I want him to stop being careful.
In my head I saw him standing at the foot of the bed, one hand slowly stroking that heavy, veiny cock I’d only ever caught secret glimpses of. His eyes locked on me. I wanted to crawl across the sheets, kiss his knees, bury my face in his lap and breathe in the warm, musky scent of his balls and the salty bead already leaking from the tip. I wanted to wrap both hands around the thick shaft, feel it pulse hot against my palms, then open my mouth and take as much as I could.
I flipped onto my back again, legs spread wide, staring at the ceiling while the need gnawed even deeper. I raked my nails up my inner thighs, leaving faint red trails that stung in the best way, then pressed my palm flat over my mound. The heat radiating against my hand was almost unreal. I could feel the steady flutter deep inside me.
I sat up, reached for my backpack, and dug out my phone and earbuds. The secret folder opened with a tap. I chose the video I’d worn out months ago, the one where the girl’s voice went all soft and broken: “Daddy… it’s so big. Are you really going to fit it all the way inside me?” I slipped the buds in, kept the volume barely above a whisper, and tucked the phone under the pillow.
With two fingers I parted my outer lips and stared. Clear strings of arousal stretched and broke as I held myself open. My hole looked tiny and flushed, twitching visibly with every heartbeat. I circled one fingertip around the tight rim, teasing without pushing in, then dragged the slick upward in one slow stroke. The lightest brush over my clit made my hips jerk so hard the bed creaked. I snatched my hand away immediately.
I wanted to stay right here on this edge for as long as possible. I reached under the bed and pulled out the small, discreet vibrator I’d bought with my allowance months ago, the one I only used when the need for Daddy became unbearable. I wiped my messy fingers across the front of Daddy’s shirt, then lifted the fabric to my face and inhaled the filthy blend of my own scent mixed with his. My tongue darted out, tasting the sharp tang. Another pulse of heat rolled through me.
Minutes blurred as the golden light slowly dimmed and the thunder grew closer. I kept bringing myself right to the edge with slow, deliberate touches, fingers inside, grinding against the pillow, the low buzz of the vibrator against my clit, circling with my fingers, then forcing myself to stop, shaking and leaking, over and over again. Each time the storm outside grew louder, matching the storm building inside me.
The girl in the video kept whimpering softly. I kept thinking about every time he’d walked past my door while I was doing exactly this, legs open, biting my pillow, terrified and thrilled he might hear. Maybe he did know. Maybe he’d been waiting for me to finally snap and come to him.
I pictured him right there at the end of the bed, arms crossed, just watching. Calm. Hungry. Not angry. Just… waiting for his good girl to admit what she needed.
This is so fucked up, I thought, even as I eased one finger inside, then worked a second in beside it, stretching myself open with slow, careful thrusts. The slight burn felt perfect. I curled my fingers, found that spongy spot, and stroked it until my breath hitched. Wet, obscene sounds filled the quiet room with every shallow pump. I wanted to be ready, tight enough to make him groan when he first pushed in, open enough that he could sink deep without hurting me.
He still calls me his little princess when I have nightmares. Right now I’m knuckle-deep inside myself picturing the day I make him forget that name.
I stopped moving, just held my fingers buried inside, feeling the way my walls kept trying to pull them deeper. Then I rolled onto my side, shoved a pillow between my thighs, and ground down hard against it. The firm pressure against my clit built fast again. I clamped my legs shut and froze right on the brink, refusing to tip over. I wanted to stay this desperate. Wanted him to find me soaked and shaking so the moment his hands finally touched me I’d fall apart instantly.
I love him more than anything, yet I’m deliberately turning that love into something sick and addictive. Every twist of it only makes me grind harder. If he walked in right now I don’t think I’d even try to cover myself. That’s how far gone I already am.
I buried my face in the bundled shirt and bite down hard, smothering the broken whimper that tried to escape. His smell surrounded me completely. My pussy kept fluttering and squeezing, leaving the pillow darker with every shift. When the shaking finally eased, I wiped my flushed face with the back of my wrist. My hair was damp with sweat. The shirt, the sheets, everything felt sticky and ruined. I felt exposed, raw, aching so deep it almost hurt.
Lightning flashed bright outside the window. Thunder cracked a second later, rattling the glass. I shivered, but the cold had nothing to do with it.
Downstairs Daddy was still watching TV, completely unaware. Or maybe he wasn’t. I closed my eyes and pictured him sitting there, cock straining hard against his pants, as needy for me as I was for him.
I curled onto my side, knees drawn tight to my chest, Daddy’s oversized shirt still bunched around my waist. One arm hugged the damp, cum-scented fabric to my face like a security blanket while the other slipped between my thighs, cupping my soaked pussy protectively. My swollen folds were burning hot against my palm, still twitching and leaking in slow, lazy pulses. Every tiny shift made my slick inner lips slide together with a quiet, filthy sound.
The rain hammered harder against the window now, a steady roar that matched the heavy thud of my heart. I pressed my face deeper into the shirt collar, inhaling that warm, masculine scent until my head swam. My clit throbbed against the heel of my hand, begging for more, but I refused. I wanted to stay like this, desperate, dripping, aching for him.
He used to carry me to bed when I fell asleep on the couch… now I want him to carry me while his thick cock is already buried inside me.
The thought sent another heavy trickle of warmth sliding over my fingers. I squeezed my thighs tighter around my hand, trapping it there, and let out a tiny, broken sigh.
My eyes grew heavier. The storm outside faded into a distant rumble. All I could feel was the sticky mess between my legs, the scent of Daddy wrapped around me, and the deep, constant throb of need that refused to leave.
I whispered into the shirt, voice barely audible. “…love you, Daddy.”
I pressed my face deeper into the collar and breathed him in until my chest felt tight. Downstairs the TV was still on. He was right there, so close, and I was up here leaking into his shirt like the secret I couldn’t keep much longer.
Then I drifted off just like that, curled into a tight little ball, bare ass peeking out from under his shirt, thighs clamped around my soaked hand, pussy still leaking slowly onto the sheets, already half-aware that something had shifted and I wasn’t going to be able to pretend much longer.
I was floating in that warm, hazy place between sleep and waking when I heard the soft creak of my bedroom door.
“Em? Sweetheart, you still asleep?” Daddy’s deep, familiar voice drifted in, low and careful. “I was gonna order pizza and wanted to know what you, ”
The words cut off.
For a second there was only silence. Then the soft click of the door closing behind him. Footsteps, quiet, hesitant, crossing the room toward my bed.
I was still curled on my side, knees drawn up tight, Daddy’s big gray shirt rucked up around my waist. My bare ass was completely exposed, one thigh draped over the other, my hand still trapped between my legs, fingers resting against my sticky, swollen pussy. The sheets beneath me were dark and damp in a messy patch. The whole room smelled like warm girl and sex.
I felt the mattress dip slightly as he sat on the edge.
“Jesus, babygirl…” he breathed, so quiet I almost thought I imagined it. His voice sounded different. Lower. Rougher. Like something had caught in his throat and he couldn’t quite clear it.
A big, warm hand gently tugged the hem of his shirt down, trying to cover my ass and thighs. The fabric dragged softly over my skin, but it was too short to do much good. His fingers brushed the back of my bare thigh and I felt him hesitate, like he didn’t know whether to pull away or keep going. The heat of his palm burned against the back of my thigh. I felt the exact moment he realized what he was touching and still didn’t take his hand away.
“Emily…” His voice was rougher now, lower. “Em, wake up, sweetheart. It’s getting late.” There was something strained under the gentleness. Like he was trying very hard to sound normal.
His hand settled on my shoulder, warm and heavy, giving me a gentle shake. Then another, a little firmer. His thumb stroked slow circles against my skin like he used to do when I was little and having a nightmare.
I stirred with a soft, sleepy sound, eyelids fluttering open. My body was still heavy with arousal, pussy throbbing lazily against my own fingers, the scent of my wetness thick in the air between us.
Daddy was right there, close enough that I could see the slight flush on his neck, the way his jaw flexed. His eyes flicked down for half a second to where the shirt had already ridden back up, exposing the curve of my ass again, before snapping back to my face.
He looked like he was fighting himself. The flush on his neck, the tight line of his jaw, the way his eyes kept wanting to drop again. For the first time I wasn’t sure which one of us was more dangerous in that moment.
“Hey…” he murmured, voice gentle but strained. “You okay, princess? Dinner time.”
I blinked up at him, still half-dreaming, my hand still cupped possessively between my slick thighs.
I blinked slowly, still floating in that heavy, syrupy space between sleep and waking. Daddy’s face was inches from mine, his hand still resting warm and heavy on my shoulder. The scent of him, real, not just from the shirt, filled my head and made my pussy give one slow, lazy throb against my fingers.
“Pepperoni and mushroom…” I mumbled, voice thick and raspy. “Extra cheese. And… can we get the cheesy crust?”
He let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and familiar. “Yeah, baby. I can do that.” His thumb brushed my shoulder again, almost absentmindedly. “You gonna come down soon?”
“Mhm. Few minutes, ” I whispered, eyes already drifting shut again. “Promise…”
I felt the mattress shift as he stood. The soft sound of his footsteps retreating. The quiet click of my door closing behind him.
Then silence.
My eyes snapped open.
For a long second I just lay there, heart suddenly hammering. The shirt was still bunched uselessly around my waist. My bare ass was exposed to the cool air. My hand was still wedged between my thighs, fingers slick and shiny, resting right against my puffy, leaking folds. The wet spot beneath me had grown even bigger.
Oh my god.
He saw.
He had to have seen.
I sat up slowly, thighs sticking together with a faint, embarrassing sound. The room smelled like sex, my sex. Sweet, musky, unmistakable. Daddy’s shirt clung to my skin, damp in places from my sweat and the steady leak between my legs.
I pressed both hands to my burning cheeks.
He walked in and found me like that. Curled up like a little slut, ass out, no panties, fingers tucked against my dripping pussy, sheets ruined. How long was he standing there before he tried to cover me? Did he stare? Did he see how swollen and shiny I was? Did he smell me?
A sudden shiver rolled through me. Fresh warmth trickled out of my hole and ran down toward the sheets again.
Part of me wanted to die from embarrassment.
The bigger part, the dark, hungry part, loved it.
I imagined him standing in the doorway, eyes locked on my bare ass, watching the slow twitch of my pussy as I slept. Maybe his cock got hard. Maybe he had to adjust himself before he came closer. Maybe he stood there breathing in the scent of his own daughter’s cunt while I dreamed about him fucking me.
I hugged my knees to my chest, burying my face against them, torn between shame and a fresh rush of filthy heat.
He saw me like that… and he still covered me gently. Still called me princess. Still touched my shoulder like I was his innocent little girl.
The contrast made my stomach twist in the sweetest, sickest way.
I stayed curled there for another long minute, heart racing, pussy still aching and leaking, letting the realization sink in deep.
Daddy saw.
And he didn’t run.
He stayed. He covered me. He tried to wake me gently.
I bit my lip hard enough to sting.
This weekend just got so much more dangerous.
I waited until my legs felt steady enough. Then I stood, tugged the shirt down over my hips, and left everything else off, no panties, no bra. Just his scent all over my skin and this deep, hollow throb between my thighs that refused to fade.
I walked to the top of the stairs and stood there for a moment, heart hammering against my ribs, one hand resting low on my belly. Another clear bead escaped and slid slowly down the inside of my thigh. My legs shook before I could steady them. I could hear how soaked I was every time I shifted my weight, a faint, embarrassing, slick sound that made my cheeks burn. The cool wood under my bare feet felt shocking against the burning heat between my thighs.
What if I drip on the floor? What if he smells exactly how depraved his little princess has become? He taught me how to ride a bike with training wheels. Now I’m walking downstairs with his shirt sticking to my soaked pussy and hoping he notices.
God, I love him in the filthiest, most tender way possible. He’s my safe place and my darkest craving all at once. The fact that Mom has been watching us with that narrowed, bitter stare for years only makes the secret burn hotter. She can suspect all she wants tonight. She’s not here to stop me.
I take a deep breath, soften my expression into that sweet, innocent smile I’ve perfected over years, and step into the soft glow of the living room.
There he is.
Daddy’s stretched out on the big sectional couch, legs spread wide in that relaxed way he always sits. He’s wearing nothing but those soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and cling to every inch of him. My eyes lock straight between his thighs. That thick, heavy bulge rests against one muscular leg, the fabric molded perfectly around the shape of his cock. Even soft it’s impressive.
My tongue presses to the roof of my mouth as I stare. I can practically feel the warmth coming off it. A faint masculine musk drifts up from him, mixing with the clean scent of his skin and the distant rain. My breath catches. I bite my lower lip hard, fighting to keep my sweet, innocent expression while fresh heat pulses between my legs.
Daddy looked up from his phone the second I appeared. His eyes caught on me and stayed. Something sat behind the usual warmth, heavier, quieter, like he still hadn’t shaken the upstairs image loose. They flicked over me, Daddy’s old gray t-shirt hanging loose on my body, the hem barely covering the tops of my thighs, my nipples pushing obviously against the thin fabric. I felt that look land low in my stomach. It wasn’t the soft proud one he always gave me. It carried the upstairs with it, and he didn’t look away fast enough.
For half a second his gaze stayed, then he cleared his throat and pushed the warm smile back into place.
“Hey, princess. Pizza should be here in about twenty minutes. I got the extra cheese and cheesy crust like you wanted.”
I padded over to the couch on bare feet, the cool air kissing my slick thighs with every step. I could feel a fresh trickle of wetness threatening to escape as I moved. I climbed onto the sectional right beside him, closer than I probably should have. I tucked my legs underneath me and leaned into his side, resting my cheek against his broad shoulder like I’d done a thousand times before.
The shirt rode up dangerously high in the back. I didn’t fix it.
“Thanks, Daddy, ” I murmured, voice still a little sleepy and soft. “I’m starving.”
He draped his arm around me automatically, his big hand settling on my waist. The heat of his palm burned through the thin shirt, but the way he held me felt a little heavier than usual, like he was being careful without even realizing it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from squirming.
We waited.
The storm raged outside, rain lashing the windows in heavy sheets while some baseball game played low on the TV. Daddy’s thumb moved in slow, absent circles against my hip. Every stroke made the hem of the shirt creep higher up my bare thigh. I kept my eyes on the screen, pretending to watch the game, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
I kept replaying the moment he found me upstairs. The way he’d gone quiet. The way he’d gently tugged the shirt down over my ass. Had he seen how wet I was? Had he smelled me? Was he thinking about it right now while his hand rested so gently on my waist, the same hand that had already touched my bare skin?
My pussy gave a slow, deep throb. Another warm rush of slickness slipped out of me and trailed down the inside of my thigh. I pressed my legs tighter together, trying to hide the evidence, but the movement only made my swollen folds slide together with a quiet, wet sound I was terrified he might hear.
Daddy shifted slightly, his thigh brushing against mine. The thick, heavy shape in his sweatpants was right there, so close I could almost feel its warmth. Even soft it looked massive. The outline of the fat head and the long shaft pressed against the gray fabric made my mouth water.
I wanted to crawl into his lap. I wanted to grind my bare, dripping pussy against that thick bulge until he finally snapped and did something about it.
Instead, I stayed curled against him like the perfect, innocent babygirl, breathing in his scent while my heart hammered and my pussy leaked steadily onto the couch cushion beneath me.
The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.
Daddy gave my waist a gentle squeeze before standing up. “Stay put, I’ll get it.”
I watched him walk away, eyes locked on the way his sweatpants hugged his ass and the heavy swing of what hung between his legs. The second he disappeared around the corner I let out a shaky breath and slipped my hand between my thighs, pressing two fingers against my soaked folds just to feel how messy I’d gotten.
When he came back with the pizza boxes, I quickly pulled my hand away and gave him my sweetest smile, cheeks flushed, thighs sticky, heart racing with filthy, desperate need.
The real game hadn’t even started yet.
We ate pizza on the couch, the storm raging outside like it was trying to tear the house down. Daddy had two big slices on his plate, relaxed and focused on the baseball game. I sat curled up beside him with my own plate, legs tucked under me, the hem of his shirt barely covering anything.
Every time he looked over at me, I gave him that sweet, innocent smile I’d perfected. But inside my head it was pure filth.
How far can I push tonight?
I imagined scooting closer until I was in his lap. I imagined “accidentally” letting the shirt ride all the way up so he could see how bare and wet I was. I wondered what would happen if I reached over and rested my hand on that thick bulge I couldn’t stop staring at. Would he freeze? Would he finally stop pretending?
I took another bite of pizza, cheese stretching long and gooey, while another clear bead slid down the inside of my thigh and soaked into the cushion beneath me. I was making a mess on the couch and the thought only made me wetter.
Daddy glanced at me again, eyes soft. “You okay, princess? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
There was a tiny tightness in the way he said it, like he was checking more than just my mood. I wanted him to already know. I wanted the one who saw me upstairs to stay, not the one still trying so hard to act normal.
I swallowed and smiled, cheeks warm. “Just tired from my nap. And the storm makes me feel… cozy.”
He nodded, satisfied, and went back to his pizza and the game.
When we finally finished eating, he leaned back against the couch with a content sigh, one arm stretched along the back cushions. His eyes stayed on the TV, watching the game without much real interest. I stayed right where I was, pressed lightly against his side, legs still tucked under me, heart hammering.
The shirt had ridden up again. I didn’t fix it. I could feel cool air on the lower curve of my bare ass and the constant, slow drip of my pussy onto the cushion.
I waited until the silence between us felt heavy and perfect.
Then Daddy stood up, stretched, and walked over to the big dark leather armchair in the corner, the deep, high-backed one with the worn arms and the soft black leather that always smelled faintly of him. He dropped into it with a low groan, legs spread wide in that relaxed, powerful way he always sat, one hand resting on the armrest while the other scratched lightly at his beard. The TV light flickered across his face as he settled in.
My heart slammed harder.
That chair.
The one I’d pictured a hundred times while writing in my diary. The one I’d imagined straddling him in while he watched the game, my bare pussy grinding against the thick bulge in his sweatpants while he pretended not to notice.
I slipped off the couch and padded over on bare feet, the oversized shirt brushing the tops of my thighs. I stopped just in front of him, twisting my fingers in the hem of his shirt.
“Daddy?” My voice comes out soft and sweet, almost shy. “The storm’s getting really loud… Can I sit with you?”
He glances at me, and that warm, easy smile spreads across his face, full of love and pride. The same smile he’s given me since I was little. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Of course, babygirl. Come here.”
I climbed into his lap without hesitation, swinging one leg over his thick thigh and settling myself against his chest exactly the way I’d fantasized. My bare, soaked folds pressed against the hard muscle of his leg through the thin fabric of his pants. The second my weight settled, I felt him stiffen under me, just a small catch in his breath, his hand landing on my waist a beat slower than it should have. I rested my hand on his chest, right over his heart, and looked up at him through my glasses, cheeks already flushed.
Daddy’s arm came around my waist, heavy and warm, pulling me closer.
That smile hits me hard. I have to press my thighs together for a second just to steady myself. The man who walked into my room upstairs is still here, sitting under the smile, and I don’t want him to disappear.
I nuzzle into the warm curve of his neck, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. “I’m cold, Daddy. Warm me up?”
I roll my hips in one slow, careful glide. The wet sound is soft but unmistakably filthy. I keep my face tucked against his neck so he can’t see the way my eyes flutter and my lips part in a shaky exhale. Every tiny roll drags my sensitive skin against the firm muscle, leaving more slickness behind. The intimate, wet sounds of my pussy sliding on his thigh grow louder in my ears, even over the rain.
Daddy’s hand keeps those slow, lazy circles on my thigh. He chuckles softly, the sound warm and affectionate against my hair. “You really are cold tonight, huh, princess?” His voice is so gentle, so full of pure protective love it makes my chest ache.
I’m secretly grinding my bare pussy all over him like a needy little slut while he holds me like I’m still pure. The power of that contrast, his love and my hunger, makes everything feel more intense. I love him so much it hurts. I also want him to wreck me.
I stay pressed close, heart hammering, already hungry for more.
I start with tiny circles, slow and careful, like I’m just getting comfortable. Then I let the rolls grow a little longer, a little bolder, pulling back until I open wider before sliding forward again. Each movement sends fresh sparks racing through me. I have to bite my lip harder to stay quiet. My breath comes out in soft, shaky puffs against his neck as I fight the urge to grind harder. The rhythmic, wet sounds of my slickness against the soaked fabric keep getting louder.
Daddy shifted slightly beneath me. “You settling in okay, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and warm.
I nod against his neck, not trusting my voice. His cock is starting to wake up for me. The thought sends another rush through my chest, but it only makes me want him more.
That’s when I feel it.
His cock starts to respond under the soft sweatpants. It twitches once, heavy and alive against the side of my thigh. Then it thickens fast, swelling right there beneath me. The fat head pushes noticeably against the fabric, pressing up firm and hot right under my soaked pussy. I can feel the veiny shape of the shaft now, thick and heavy, the ridge of the head flaring as it grows harder by the second. It jumps against me with every heartbeat, the weight of it impressive and intimidating and so perfectly Daddy.
I can’t stop feeling it. Every pulse makes my breath hitch. The thick vein running along the top of his shaft presses insistently against my clit through the soaked fabric. The fat, rounded head flares wider, nudging right under my slit like it’s trying to find its way inside. A small bead of his precum darkens the material from the inside, mixing with the growing mess I’m making. The combined scent of us, warm, intimate, and completely addictive, drifts up between our bodies.
I press my lips to the side of his neck and suck gently, tasting salt and skin. “I love you, Daddy. More than anything.”
His hand slides higher under the t-shirt, palming my bare ass. His fingertips rest dangerously close to my entrance, so close I can feel the warmth of them teasing my slick skin.
Thunder rolls again. My breathing turns ragged. Every tiny roll of my hips makes soft, filthy wet sounds that feel way too loud. I know how crushed he’d be if he realized his sweet princess is grinding her bare virgin pussy all over him like a desperate little slut. The thought only makes me press down harder, dragging my slick folds along his thickening cock.
His warm, masculine scent fills my head with every shaky breath. Under the thunder and rain are the quiet, obscene sounds of my soaked pussy sliding back and forth on his bulge, sticky, messy, constant. My own breath comes out in hot, trembling puffs against his neck.
This is the same lap I used to fall asleep in after nightmares. The same thighs I climbed when I was tiny and scared of thunder. Now I’m rubbing my dripping virgin cunt all over them like a filthy secret. The shame burns deep, but it twists into something darker and hungrier.
I’m corrupting my own protector, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him into something he never asked to be. And I can’t stop.
Daddy’s hand keeps stroking my bare thigh in those lazy, affectionate circles. His cock is fully hard now, thick and insistent, the heavy shape of it jumping every time I roll my hips just right. I bite my lip hard, fighting the moan that wants to slip out, and let myself grind a little firmer, letting my slick inner petals spread open and hug the rigid outline through the ruined fabric.
Just a little more. Just until I can feel him leaking for me too.
I keep rolling my hips in those slow, dragging circles, lost in the slick heat building between us, when Daddy’s phone lights up on the coffee table and starts ringing loud. The screen flashes Mom. The sharp sound cuts through the storm like a blade.
We both freeze.
My bare pussy stays pressed tight against his now rock-hard cock through the soaked sweatpants. The thick shaft feels massive under me, fully flushed, the veiny length trapped right along my slit. My soft outer lips hug the rigid outline.
I don’t move away. Instead, I give one tiny, secret roll of my hips, rubbing my sensitive clit firmly along that pulsing bulge. The friction sends a sharp jolt through my core.
“Answer it, Daddy, ” I whisper sweetly against his neck, voice soft and innocent even as my bare pussy presses against his pulsing cock. “She’ll get suspicious if you don’t.”
He swallows hard, breath hot against my hair. One hand stays glued to my bare ass, fingers digging in as he grabs the phone. “Hey, honey, ” he says, voice already rough around the edges. His cock jumps hard between my thighs, the thick head nudging right against my entrance.
I stay perfectly still while he talks, short answers about the storm, about work, about how he’s just watching TV. Mom’s voice sounds tiny and far away through the speaker. The second he relaxes into the call, I start moving again. I roll my hips in slow, filthy little circles. My soft outer lips spread around the fat ridge of his cock through the soaked sweatpants. Every tiny glide drags my clit across the swollen head. The wet sounds are quieter now, muffled by his voice and the phone, but I can still hear them, sticky, constant, filthy.
What if Mom hears that sound? What if she realizes her own daughter is grinding her dripping pussy all over her husband’s cock while they talk?
The thought makes my stomach flip, but I don’t stop. I keep my face buried in his neck, lips brushing his skin with every small movement. My breath comes out shaky against his throat. The risk makes my heart slam so hard I’m scared he can feel it.
Daddy’s voice stays mostly steady, but it keeps catching, roughening every time I drag myself over him. His free hand flexes hard on my ass, fingers squeezing like he’s trying not to and failing. He shifts once beneath me, a small, restless roll of his hips that presses his cock harder against my slit. He’s fighting it. I can feel him fighting it.
I drag my pussy lips slowly up and down his entire length, feeling every thick vein and the flared ridge of the head catch on my clit. The fabric between us is completely soaked now, clinging to both of us. Every time I rock forward, my entrance kisses the underside of his shaft. Every time I slide back, my clit gets another firm nudge.
The power rush hits me hard. Here I am, secretly rubbing my virgin pussy all over Daddy’s rock-hard cock while he talks to Mom like nothing is happening. And he already saw too much upstairs. He already knows something is wrong with the way he looks at me, and I’m still doing this under her voice. Shame burns up the back of my neck. I know how devastated he’d be if he knew what his sweet princess is actually doing. But that same shame only makes me grind a little firmer, spreading my folds wider around him.
Mom’s voice stays tinny and distant. She has no idea. She has no clue her daughter is smearing her slick all over her husband right now, marking him while she’s miles away.
I keep the movements small and steady so he can still talk. My thighs tremble from holding back. I want to slam down on him so bad, but I force myself to stay controlled. Every roll makes fresh wetness coat his sweatpants. The heavy musk of us mixes together under my shirt, warm skin, precum, and my own desperate scent.
Daddy clears his throat twice when Mom asks him something. His hips twitch upward once, pressing his cock harder against my slit. I bite my lip to stay quiet, eyes half-closed, lashes fluttering as the pressure builds deep in my core.
The call drags on. Every second feels dangerous and perfect. I’m corrupting him right under her nose, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him on, and the worst part is he already saw me ruined upstairs and still hasn’t pushed me off. The knowledge twists in my chest, sharp and sickening, but it only makes me rock against him harder.
When the call finally ends and he sets the phone down, I smile softly into the curve of his neck, breathing him in. His cock is still rock-hard and denied beneath me, twitching with frustration against my soaked pussy. The front of his sweatpants is a complete mess, dark, wet, clinging to every thick inch of him. I nuzzle closer, hiding the hungry little smile on my lips. His free hand comes up to rub slow, soothing circles on my back like I’m still his innocent babygirl scared of thunder.
He has to know… right?
Daddy’s voice was low and gentle when he finally spoke. “You okay, babygirl? You’re shaking a little.”
I nodded against his neck, keeping my voice small and sweet. “Just the storm, Daddy. Feels better when I’m with you.”
He believed me. Of course he did. His arm tightened around my waist, pressing my aching entrance right against the thick ridge of his denied cock. The heavy weight of him made my toes curl.
We stayed like that for a minute, neither of us moving. His hand just rested on my back, slow and heavy, and I could feel how hard he still was under me. The rain kept hitting the windows. Something quiet sat between us that hadn’t been there before.
He used to check under my bed for monsters. Tonight I’m the monster grinding on his hard cock while Mom’s voice is still in his ear. And the worst part is I don’t think either of us can go back to the way it was.
The weekend is young, and I have so many more ways planned to test just how far I can push him.
But as I settle deeper into his lap, feeling his rock-hard cock throb angrily against my soaked, aching pussy, one final thought burns through me.
By the time Mom comes home on Sunday night, she won’t just suspect anymore. She’ll be able to smell me on him. I want that. I want the man who saw me upstairs, the one who’s hard and leaking for me right now, to stay. I want him marked so deep she can never get the old him back.
Deep down, a small voice whispered that she already suspected more than she let on. The way she looked at me before leaving wasn’t just jealousy anymore. It was something sharper.
But that only made the heat between my thighs burn hotter.
By Sunday she’ll smell her own daughter on her husband’s skin, and that knowledge only makes me want to grind harder, to mark him deeper, to make sure this side of him is mine forever.
-------
Ch 2
I’ve been waiting for this all week.
Mom left for her conference yesterday morning, but she called late last night saying she might have to stay an extra day. Daddy believed her. I didn’t. That’s why I woke up before the sun was even fully up, my body already buzzing with that sharp, sweet ache between my legs. My heart is racing as I slip out of bed, the cool morning air brushing over my naked skin and making my nipples tighten instantly.
I know exactly what I’m going to wear.
I pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser and take out the tiniest white bikini I own. The one I’ve been saving for weeks, hidden under my winter clothes like a dirty little secret. I run my fingers over the thin white fabric, heart fluttering with nervous excitement. This is the one that barely covers anything. The one I tried on in the store and got so wet I had to buy it immediately.
I step into the bottoms first, sliding them slowly up my legs. The material is cool against my warm skin. As I pull it into place, the front panel settles snugly over my smooth mound and presses lightly against my puffy pussy lips. I can already feel myself getting wetter. The back disappears completely between my cheeks, leaving most of my round ass completely exposed. I tug the strings higher on my hips, making the fabric wedge tighter against my clit. A soft whimper escapes me.
I slide the top on next, tying the strings behind my neck and back. The thin white triangles barely contain my breasts. The moment I think about Daddy’s hands on me today, my nipples harden into tight, obvious peaks that poke shamelessly against the fabric. There’s no hiding them. Good.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my room, turning slowly. The bikini looks obscene on me. My hard pink nipples are clearly outlined, begging for attention. The bottoms cling to every curve of my virgin pussy, the thin white material already starting to show a faint damp spot where my slick folds are pressing against it. My swollen clit is visible as a small, needy bulge beneath the fabric. I turn and look over my shoulder. The back is just a string, my round ass almost completely bare, the cheeks full and soft. I squeeze them lightly, watching how they jiggle, imagining Daddy’s big hands gripping them hard.
A shiver runs through me. I can smell my own arousal already, that sweet, intimate scent rising between my thighs. My heart pounds harder.
God, the man who walked into my room last night and stayed is still here. The one who saw me ruined and didn’t run. I want to keep feeding that side of him until the careful one is gone.
Mom suspects something, but she’s not here to stop me. The thought sends a dark, delicious thrill straight to my core. I love him so much it hurts sometimes, but I also love how easily I can make his body react while he still tries to see me as his sweet babygirl.
I run my hands down my sides, cupping my breasts lightly and brushing my thumbs over my stiff nipples. A soft whimper escapes me. I’m already soaked, my puffy outer lips slick and sensitive against the thin bikini. The ache is deep and constant now.
This is going to be a very good day.
I take one last look in the mirror, adjust the strings so everything is barely covered, and head downstairs to wait for him, my bare feet quiet on the cool floor and my pussy throbbing with every step.
I’m already waiting in the kitchen when I hear his footsteps on the stairs. My heart picks up speed. I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, shifting from foot to foot, feeling the cool tile under my bare feet and the way my tiny bikini bottom keeps rubbing against my swollen clit with every little movement.
He comes down looking deliciously rumpled. Sleep-messy dark hair, bare chest still warm from bed, and those low-hanging gray sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. The morning light catches on the defined lines of his chest and stomach, and my eyes drop straight to the heavy outline resting against his thigh. Even soft, it’s thick. The hint of a morning bulge makes my mouth water and my pussy clench hard.
God, he’s so fucking sexy without even trying.
I bounce over to him the second he reaches the bottom step, all sweet energy and bright smiles. “Good morning, Daddy!”
Before he can even answer, I throw my arms around his neck and press myself flush against him in a big, lingering hug. My barely-covered tits mold perfectly against his warm, bare chest. My hard nipples poke obviously through the thin white triangles, dragging against his skin as I squeeze him tighter. I let my body melt into his, hips tilting forward just enough that my barely-covered mound brushes against the front of his sweatpants.
He goes still for a second. Not pulling away, just holding his breath like the contact hit something that was already raw from last night. Then his hands settle on me. One in my hair, the other on my lower back, a little heavier than usual.
He smells like sleep and man and home. I breathe him in deep, my cheek pressed to his collarbone.
“Pool day, Daddy?” I ask sweetly, tilting my head back to look up at him with my biggest, most innocent eyes. “Please? It’s so nice out and I don’t want to waste it inside.”
He chuckles low, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into me, but there’s a tightness under it. “You’re up early, babygirl,” he says, voice still a little rough with sleep. “Pool day, huh? Alright, you win. Let me grab some coffee and we’ll head out.”
He doesn’t pull away right away. He keeps holding me, and I can feel the exact moment his cock twitches against my belly. He’s already compromised, and I’m pressing myself against him on purpose.
He still tries to treat me like his pure, sweet princess who just wants to spend time with her daddy. Meanwhile, I’m rubbing my barely-dressed body all over him, my virgin pussy already aching and leaking just from feeling his morning warmth against me. I love him so much it makes my chest hurt. But I also love this power. The way I can make his cock twitch while he ruffles my hair like I’m still little. The giddy thrill of knowing I’m feeding the part of him that already crossed a line.
I squeeze him one last time, pressing my tits harder into his chest before finally stepping back with a bright, bouncy smile.
“Thank you, Daddy! You’re the best.”
He has no idea how far I plan to take him today.
By the time we got outside, the sun was already bright and hot overhead, burning off every trace of last night’s storm. The pool sparkled like something out of a magazine ad. I kicked off my flip-flops and dipped a toe in, pretending to shiver even though the water was already warm. Daddy trailed behind me, coffee in hand, sunglasses perched on his nose. He slid onto the lounge chair closest to the water, tugging at the waistband of his trunks like it was second nature. The ripple of his thigh muscles was so obvious I almost moaned.
I stretched out on my stomach on the lounger beside him, propping myself up on my elbows. The thin white bikini left most of my ass exposed. If I squeezed my thighs together, the bottoms would disappear completely. I could feel his eyes on me, lingering longer than they used to, carrying the same weight from last night before he cleared his throat and looked away.
I waited a few minutes, listening to the sound of his spoon clinking against his mug and the faint lazy hum of the filter. Then I rolled onto my back and arched, stretching my arms over my head so the tiny triangles of my bikini top barely held in my tits. My nipples were so hard it hurt. I let out a little sigh, basking in the sun.
“Daddy, will you get my back? I don’t wanna burn again. Please?” I said it in my best little-girl voice, sweet and just a little shy. I dangled the bottle of sunscreen toward him.
He grinned, that huge, dorky, uneven smile I loved most, and took it from me. “C’mon, princess. Face down.”
I flopped onto my stomach, spreading my arms above my head, cheek pressed to the towel. The anticipation made my blood fizz. I tried to breathe normal, but my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it between my legs.
The first touch of his hands was cool and clinical. He squirted a long line of lotion down the center of my back and started rubbing it in with big, gentle circles. His palms were so warm compared to the lotion. I tried not to squirm, but every time he slid his hands down toward my hips, the string of my bikini bottom would ride up, wedging tighter between my ass cheeks. I spread my legs a little, arching my back, making my ass rounder and more impossible to ignore.
He finished my back and moved to my shoulders, kneading in the lotion with slow, careful passes. His fingers pressed along the knots at the base of my neck, then down my upper arms, making me shiver. There was a slight tremor in his hands that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Ticklish?” he asked, voice a little lower than usual.
“A little,” I breathed, my voice small and shaky. God, his hands feel so good. So big. So strong. The same hands that already touched my bare skin last night.
He did my arms next. His hands were huge, wrapping easily around my biceps and forearms, sliding over my elbows and wrists with this slow, methodical care. The coconut smell of the lotion mixed with the clean sweat on his skin, and it made me dizzy. I could feel myself getting wetter with every pass of his palms.
This is so wrong. He’s rubbing lotion on his own daughter while I’m creaming myself underneath him.
He tapped my hip. “Flip over, kiddo.”
I rolled onto my back, face hot, arms crossed over my chest as if I was shy. The triangles of the bikini top barely covered my nipples now. I could see the way his gaze darted from my face to my tits, then away again, but it kept coming back, heavier than before. I pretended not to notice, but my pussy clenched up tight and another rush of slickness soaked into the already-damp fabric of my bottoms.
He knelt beside me and poured a careful line of sunscreen down the center of my chest, then across my collarbones. The lotion was cold, but his hands were hot. He started at my shoulders, working down in big, gentle circles. The first time his thumb brushed the side of my breast, he jerked away quick, like he’d touched something electric, but the heat in his eyes stayed.
“Sorry,” he muttered, cheeks going pink under his stubble.
“It’s okay,” I breathed, “I trust you.” I even smiled, all soft and grateful, while my heart hammered with guilt and filthy excitement.
He kept going, hands trembling a little now. His fingers slid under the thin bikini straps as he reached the curve at the top of my chest, thumbs brushing dangerously close to my nipples. Each pass got bolder, the tips of his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the triangles. My nipples were so hard they ached, clearly visible through the damp, stretched white fabric. He tried to avoid them, but the next circle of his hand grazed the left one dead-on, sending a hot bolt of pleasure between my legs.
I let out a tiny, high-pitched gasp and jerked my chest up. He froze. For a second, I thought he might pull away completely.
“You okay, bunny?” His voice was low and thick, almost hoarse, carrying the same rough edge from last night.
“It just tickled,” I lied, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
He swallowed hard, and I saw the big lump move in his throat. He looked down at my tits again. This time, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, dark and conflicted, like he was remembering exactly what he already saw.
He started again, rubbing smaller circles now. His thumbs traced the sharp curve of my ribs, inching closer and closer to my nipples each time. The next time he grazed over the left one, he lingered for a half-second, pressing the lotion in with the pad of his thumb. My whole body jolted. My breath went ragged.
He’s touching his own daughter’s tits. He knows it’s wrong… but he can’t stop looking. And the part of him that already crossed the line last night is the one doing it.
I could smell my own arousal now, sharp and sweet, mixing with the coconut. I was so wet the thin crotch of my bikini stuck to me every time I shifted.
He finished my chest and moved to my stomach. The cold lotion dripped on my belly button, sending goosebumps racing up my legs. He started massaging it in, working from the top down, hands splayed wide. His pinky fingers brushed the lower undercurve of my tits with every pass, but I pretended not to notice.
Then he moved lower, hands skimming the sides of my waist, down onto my hips. The way I was laying, the edge of the bikini bottom barely covered anything. His fingers dipped under the elastic, smoothing lotion into the soft flesh beneath. Every time he slid his hand forward, his knuckles grazed the bare skin right above my slit. The friction was insane. My pussy throbbed, desperate for even a little more.
He did my hips that way, slow and careful, fingers dipping a little deeper each time. The tips of his thumbs pressed right into the crease where my thigh met my mound. Every time he touched there, I had to bite my lip hard to keep from moaning. I could feel the heat radiating off my pussy, the dampness growing with each pass. A fresh trickle of slickness leaked out, soaking further into the already-ruined bikini.
I spread my legs a little wider, like I needed more room. Daddy’s hands froze for a second. Then he cleared his throat and moved down to my thighs, but the tension in his shoulders stayed.
He started with my right thigh, kneading the sunscreen in with slow, gentle strokes. His fingers wrapped fully around my leg, squeezing lightly, rubbing in circles up and down. When he got to the top, his pinky brushed the inner crease, so close to my pussy it felt like a dare. He switched to the left thigh, doing the same, up, up, up, then a tiny, accidental nudge against the edge of my bikini.
I let out a little giggle. “It tickles, Daddy.”
“Sorry, baby,” he said, but he didn’t stop. The circles got smaller, tighter, moving higher until his thumb was tracing the edge of my bikini, dipping under the fabric just enough to spread lotion onto the hypersensitive skin beneath. I could feel my slickness leaking through the thin fabric, probably coating his hand.
He lingered there, thumb brushing closer and closer to my slit each time, until finally he pressed just a little too hard and his hand slipped. The tip of his thumb slid right along the seam, knuckle bumping my swollen clit through the fabric. My hips jerked off the towel. I made a tiny, choked sound, half-gasp, half-whimper.
He pulled his hand away fast, face flushed dark, but I saw the way his eyes darted straight to my crotch. He stared at how the tiny bikini was sticking obscenely to my puffy, swollen lips and how the wet spot on the white fabric had grown even bigger and more obvious. The same look from last night was in his eyes again.
“Does it look okay?” I asked, voice extra small and shy, looking up at him through my lashes. “Did I miss a spot?”
He looked at my body for a long, heavy second. I could see his jaw flex, the tension in his throat, the way his own swim trunks were starting to tent noticeably. “No, baby,” he said, so quietly I barely heard it. “You’re perfect.”
His words settle over me like warm honey, but they twist something deep inside my chest. Perfect. He still says it like I’m his innocent little girl instead of the one who’s been leaking all over his lounge chair for the last fifteen minutes. The contrast makes my pussy clench so hard I feel a fresh gush of slickness soak into the already-ruined bikini bottoms.
I sit up slowly, making sure my wet bikini clings obscenely to every puffy fold as I swing my legs over the side. My nipples are aching, visibly hard against the thin white triangles. When I stand, a thin, glistening string of my arousal stretches between my thighs before breaking. Daddy’s eyes follow it for half a second before he looks away, throat working hard.
The power rush is dizzying. He wants me. He’s fighting it, but he wants me. And I’m going to make it so much harder for him to keep pretending.
He had no idea I’d spent the last ten minutes leaking slick all over the towel, or that my nipples were so sore I could barely breathe. I wanted him to keep going, to push the fabric aside and see how ruined he’d made me, to slide those big fingers back between my legs and feel how soaked his babygirl really was. But I didn’t want to scare him off, not yet. Not when the game was just getting good.
So I giggled and sat up, the sudden movement making my wet bikini cling even tighter to my cunt. “Your turn, Daddy! You’ll burn way faster than me.”
He laughed, but it sounded weird and strained, almost forced. “You’re probably right, kiddo. Go ahead.”
I poured a big glob of lotion into my hands and started on his shoulders. His skin was hot from the sun, muscles tense and knotted under my fingers. I worked the lotion in slow, massaging his traps, digging in with my thumbs the way I’d seen Mom do. Every time he exhaled, his chest expanded, stretching the thin fabric of his swim trunks. I focused on his arms next, running my hands down the hard curve of his biceps and forearms, feeling the strength there.
Then I moved behind him, kneeling on the lounger, and started doing his back. The muscles there were huge and broad, like he was made to hold me, to pin me down. I leaned forward so my tits brushed his skin every time I reached for a new spot, my hard nipples dragging over the bumps of his spine. My bikini top was almost pointless at this distance. The stiff points of my nipples grazed his back again and again, leaving faint trails in the lotion.
I could hear a change in his breathing. It was deeper, heavier, almost ragged. The tension in his shoulders kept climbing. I wondered if he could smell my arousal now, thick and sweet in the warm air, or if he’d noticed the way his own cock was starting to swell under the thin swim trunks. I let my hands wander lower, spreading lotion across his lower back, then down to the top of his trunks. I smoothed the lotion over his hips and, very casually, let my fingertips dip just under the waistband, brushing the warm skin there.
He sucked in a sharp breath and his whole body went tight under my hands. He didn’t pull away, but I felt him fighting it.
“Gotta get everywhere, Daddy,” I whispered, voice as innocent as I could make it, even as my own pussy throbbed with fresh need.
He nodded, not turning around. His jaw was locked.
I did his stomach next, kneeling in front of him. I poured more lotion into my hands and started at his abs, rubbing slow circles over the hard muscle. The movement made my tits bounce in the tiny top, nipples poking straight out. My hands drifted down, gliding over the deep V of his pelvis. I let my pinkies brush the edge of his trunks, barely grazing the skin beneath.
I glanced down. The front of his swim trunks was definitely thicker now, the outline of his cock obvious and heavy. A small, dark wet spot had formed near the waistband. He was fighting himself harder than before. I could see it in the way his hands gripped the edge of the lounger, knuckles white, and in the way he kept staring straight ahead like looking at me would break whatever control he still had left.
I almost whined out loud, wanting to reach out and touch it, to climb into his lap and grind against him until he snapped and finally took what was his.
Instead, I met his eyes and smiled sweetly. “All done, Daddy.”
He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. For a second, I thought he might say something, might admit he wanted me, or just tell me to stop. But then he did the only thing he could: he ruffled my hair, pulled me in for a quick side hug, and said, “Thanks, princess.” His voice was rough, and the hug lasted a beat longer than it should have.
I melted into his touch, my body slick and throbbing. I wanted his hands back on me so badly it hurt. I wanted him to ruin the white bikini and fuck me until I couldn’t walk. But he stood up, adjusting himself as discreetly as he could, and dove straight into the pool.
I watched the water close over him, the sunlight catching on his broad shoulders. My fingers drifted down between my thighs, pressing the soaked fabric tighter against my cunt. I felt so empty, so desperate, so hungry for more.
But I waited.
I waited until Daddy swam a few laps, watching the way the water slid over his broad shoulders and back, the powerful flex of his arms cutting through the pool. My body was still humming, my bikini soaked and clinging obscenely between my legs. When he finally pulled himself out, water streaming down his chest and darkening the front of his trunks even more, I gave him my sweetest smile.
“Come sit with me, Daddy? The sun feels too good to stay in the water the whole time.”
He dried off quickly and dropped onto the wide lounge chair, legs spread comfortably. I didn’t hesitate. I climbed up and settled myself between his thick thighs, leaning back against his bare, sun-warmed chest. His skin felt hot and smooth against mine. His powerful legs bracketed me perfectly, caging me in that safe, possessive way I loved.
At first it was almost innocent. I rested my head back on his shoulder, sighing happily as the sun baked us both. But I couldn’t stay still for long.
I started slow, just tiny shifts of my hips, rubbing my ass back against the heavy bulge nestled right between my cheeks. The thin white bikini bottom was already soaked through, the fabric almost completely see-through now. Every little roll made my swollen clit drag along the thick ridge of his cock through our clothes. Sticky strings of my creamy arousal stretched and broke between my puffy lips every time I lifted slightly.
“Mmm, Daddy… your hands felt so good earlier,” I whispered, tilting my head so my lips brushed his jaw. I kissed him there softly at first, innocent little pecks that quickly turned into slow, open-mouthed sucks along the side of his neck. His skin tasted salty from the sun and pool water. My pussy clenched hard at the flavor.
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest into my back, but it came out tighter than usual. One big arm wrapped around my waist, holding me closer, while his other hand rested high on my bare thigh, fingers idly stroking the sensitive crease where my leg met my pussy. So close. His fingertips were only inches away from my dripping center. I felt the exact moment his breathing changed, deeper, heavier, like he was already losing the fight.
I rocked my hips again, firmer this time, grinding my ass back against his growing cock. I could feel it thickening fast, becoming rock-hard and hot between my cheeks. The heavy weight of it pressed insistently against me, the fat head nudging higher with every roll. His hand on my thigh tightened.
God, I want it inside me so badly.
But more than that I needed him hard for me, fighting himself, already touched places he shouldn’t. I wanted this one. The one who couldn’t look away.
The ache between my legs was unbearable now. I wanted to reach back, pull my bikini bottom aside, and sink down until that thick daddy cock stretched my virgin pussy open for the first time. Just the tip. Just enough to feel how full he could make me.
I turned in his lap, swinging one leg over so I was straddling him properly. My knees pressed into the cushion on either side of his hips. My bikini-covered pussy lips pressed down directly onto his massive bulge. I ground slow, filthy circles, letting my wetness completely soak through his trunks. My hard little nipples dragged against his bare chest with every roll, sending sparks through my whole body.
I needed him to stay like this. Not just hard. The one who already saw too much and still let me climb on him. The one who couldn’t look away.
“Daddy…” I breathed against his mouth, eyes half-lidded, voice shaky with need. “I love you so much.”
His hands gripped my ass, big and possessive, squeezing the soft cheeks and spreading them apart. The tip of one thick finger slipped under the edge of my bikini bottom, brushing right along my slick, puffy outer folds. He still acted like it was accidental, but he didn’t pull away. I felt the exact moment his breathing went rough and the fight in him got harder. He groaned low against my tongue, hips bucking up once, grinding that fat, hard cock firmly against my dripping slit through the soaked fabric. The sound was raw. Like he wanted it as much as I did.
I whimpered into his mouth and kissed him for real — lips parted, tongue shyly touching his.
The friction was perfect. My swollen clit dragged along his thick shaft again and again as I rolled my hips faster. The bikini bottom was ruined — dark, clinging, molded completely to every fold of my virgin cunt. I could feel my creamy juices leaking out around the edges, coating his trunks and making everything slippery and obscene.
He has no idea how close I am to pulling this stupid bikini aside and sinking down on him right here. Or maybe he does.
He still believed I was his innocent little princess just being extra cuddly on his lap. But feeling his thick cock pulsing and leaking against my bare pussy while he fought so hard to stay in control… it made my stomach twist with this awful, delicious hunger. I loved him more than anything. I also needed him to finally lose it and ruin me.
I kept grinding, slower now, savoring every thick inch of him pressed against my aching center. My hard nipples rubbed against his chest. My tongue danced shyly with his. Every tiny movement made wet, filthy sounds between us.
We stayed locked like that for a few seconds longer than we should have, both of us breathing hard, his finger still resting under the edge of my bikini, his cock throbbing under me. Something quiet and raw sat between us. Neither of us moved away from it.
I was so close to begging him to just push the fabric aside and take what we both needed.
But I held back.
The game was too good.
I was lost in the rhythm, grinding my soaked pussy in slow, filthy circles against Daddy’s rock-hard cock when I heard it.
The sliding glass door opened with a sharp scrape.
“What the fuck is this?”
Mom’s voice cut through the sunny afternoon like ice water.
We both froze.
I was still straddling him, knees planted on either side of his hips, my ass completely out with the tiny white bikini bottom wedged deep between my cheeks. My bikini top had shifted, one nipple almost exposed. The front of my bottoms was dark and soaked through, molded obscenely to every puffy fold of my virgin cunt. A huge wet spot stained the front of Daddy’s swim trunks where I’d been grinding my creamy juices all over him. His big hands were still gripping my ass, fingers dug into the soft flesh, spreading me open.
The risk hit me like a second heartbeat. She saw us. She saw the man I’ve been keeping. And somehow that only made me need him tighter.
Daddy’s hands tightened on my ass for one guilty second before he went completely still. “Honey — it’s not — she was just —”
I didn’t move right away. Instead, I turned my head slowly toward Mom, cheeks flushed, lips shiny and swollen from kissing Daddy. I gave her the sweetest, most innocent smile I could manage while my throbbing clit stayed pressed firmly against his pulsing cock.
“Hi Mommy,” I said softly, voice breathy and sweet. “You’re home early.”
At the same time, I gave one last tiny, secret roll of my hips — dragging my slick, puffy pussy lips along the thick ridge of Daddy’s cock one final time.
Mom’s face turned bright red. She stormed inside without another word. I slid off Daddy’s lap slowly, legs shaky. My bikini bottom clung obscenely to every swollen fold. A thin string of my arousal stretched between my thighs as I stood and followed her.
She cornered me in the hallway, away from Daddy’s view, her voice low and venomous.
“I saw how you were sitting on him. Don’t think I’m stupid.”
I blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, biting my lip. “Mommy, I was just cuddling with Daddy. I always sit in his lap like this… You’re making it sound weird.”
My sweet tone only seemed to enrage her more. Her jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack. She opened her mouth to say something else, then heard Daddy’s footsteps approaching and forced herself to step back.
“We’re not done talking about this,” she hissed before turning away.
She saw him with his hands still warm from my ass and his cock hard because of me. That’s mine now.
I bit my lip and looked down, the picture of shy innocence, but inside my heart was pounding with dark, giddy excitement. She caught us. She saw me grinding on him like a needy little slut for her husband.
And the second her back was turned, I was going to do it again.
Much, much worse.
Mom storms upstairs without another word, heels clicking hard on the steps. The bedroom door slams a second later. I hear the shower turn on a moment after that—loud, angry water.
Daddy’s still sitting there on the lounge chair, breathing heavy, his cock straining obscenely against his wet swim trunks. There’s a dark wet spot on the front where my pussy soaked him. He looks dazed, guilty, and still so fucking hard.
I stand in front of him, legs slightly apart, my tiny white bikini clinging to every swollen fold of my virgin cunt. The material is practically transparent now, my puffy outer lips clearly visible, my clit a hard little nub pushing against the fabric.
“Daddy… I’m thirsty,” I say softly, all sweet and innocent again. “Can we get some lemonade and snacks? Please?”
He swallows, eyes flicking down to my soaked bikini bottom before he forces them back up. “Yeah, babygirl. Good idea. Let’s go inside.”
We walk into the kitchen together. The house is quiet except for the distant sound of Mom’s shower running upstairs. I pull out the pitcher of fresh lemonade from the fridge, pour two tall glasses, and set them on the counter. Then I grab a bowl of cut fruit—strawberries, pineapple chunks, melon balls—all juicy and sweet.
I hop up on the counter right in front of him, spreading my legs just enough that my bikini-covered pussy is visible while he stands between my thighs. The cool granite feels good against my hot skin.
“Here, Daddy. Open up,” I whisper.
I pick up a fat, ripe strawberry, hold it to his lips, and let him take a bite. Red juice runs down my fingers. He chews, eyes on me the whole time. I bring my fingers to my own mouth first, sucking the juice off slowly, then offer the rest of the strawberry to him again.
This time when he bites, I let my fingertip slip between his lips. His tongue brushes my skin—warm, wet—and stays there a second longer than it needs to. His hands tighten on the edge of the counter, knuckles going white. He is pulled under with me. My pussy clenches hard.
“Mmm. Messy,” I giggle softly. I dip my finger into another piece of pineapple, coating it in sweet juice, and feed it to him the same way. He sucks my finger clean this time, longer than he needs to, his tongue swirling around it. I feel it all the way down to my clit.
God, Daddy, suck harder. Pretend it’s my virgin pussy you’re tasting.
Juice drips down my wrist. I don’t wipe it. Instead I lean forward, pressing my tits against his chest, and lick the sticky trail right off my own skin, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on his.
“Want another one?” I ask, voice breathy.
I grab a big chunk of melon, bite half off myself so the juice runs down my chin and onto my chest, dripping between my breasts. Then I hold the rest to his mouth. When he leans in to take it, I let my fingers linger, then slide them across his bottom lip, smearing the sweet juice there.
Without thinking, I lean in and lick it off his lip—soft, slow, my tongue dragging over his mouth. He tastes like fruit and sun and man. My hard nipples brush his bare chest through my bikini top. I’m so wet I can feel my creamy juices leaking out around the edges of my bikini, trickling down my inner thighs and onto the counter.
“Daddy…” I murmur against his mouth, feeding him another strawberry, then licking the juice off his chin, his jaw, the corner of his lips. My hand rests on his stomach, fingers tracing down toward the waistband of his trunks where his thick cock is tenting hard again. “You’re all sticky. Let me clean you up.”
I grind my soaked pussy against the edge of the counter, desperate for friction, while I keep feeding him fruit and licking every drop that escapes. My breath is coming faster. My clit is swollen and aching, begging to be touched. Every time I rock forward, the cool granite presses against my puffy lips through the ruined bikini, sending little sparks through me.
Upstairs, the shower is still running, but I know it won’t be forever.
I don’t care. I want him to taste how sweet his babygirl is. I want him to feel how bad I need my Daddy’s cock stretching my tight little virgin hole.
I pick up one more strawberry, crush it gently between my fingers so the red juice runs down, and smear it slowly across his lower lip.
Then I kiss him again—deeper this time, sucking the juice straight from his mouth while my dripping pussy throbs against nothing but the counter. My tongue slides against his, sharing the sweet taste as I grind harder against the edge, leaving a wet spot on the granite.
Come on, Daddy… touch me. Just a little.
Upstairs, Mom’s shower was still running loud and angry, the water pounding against the tiles like it was trying to drown out what was happening down here. The sound gave me a wicked little thrill — she had no idea her husband’s cock was rock-hard and leaking because of me, or that I was seconds away from making him lose control right on the kitchen counter.
Dad’s breathing is heavier now. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter on either side of my thighs, knuckles white. That massive bulge in his swim trunks is throbbing visibly, the fat head outlined perfectly against the wet fabric, a tiny wet spot of his own precum darkening the front.
“Babygirl…” he says, voice low and rough, almost strained. “We should… we should cool off. Let’s go back in the pool for a bit.”
I tilt my head, licking the last bit of strawberry juice off my bottom lip, pretending to be all innocent. But I know exactly why he wants to get back outside. His cock is rock-hard for his own daughter, and he’s terrified Mom’s going to come downstairs and see it.
“Okay, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly, sliding off the counter so my body drags against his on the way down. My hard nipples scrape his chest. My soaked bikini bottom presses right against that thick bulge for one delicious second, and I feel his cock twitch hard against my puffy pussy lips.
Mom walked into the kitchen at that exact second.
She stopped in the doorway. The air went dead silent. I was still pressed against Daddy, my tongue just pulling away from his bottom lip, a thin string of saliva connecting us for half a second.
Mom’s eyes flicked from my flushed face to Daddy’s guilty expression, then down to the obvious bulge in his swim trunks.
“You two seem awfully… close lately,” she said coldly, her voice sharp enough to cut.
A quiet fear slid through me. What if he tried to pull away later? What if he decided the risk was too much? I couldn’t let that happen.
I smiled sweetly, licking the last bit of strawberry juice from my lips. “We’re just having fun, Mommy. Daddy was all sticky from the fruit.”
The loaded silence stretched. Mom stared at us for another long beat before turning to the counter, her back rigid.
I bit my lip, trying to look innocent, but the dark thrill in my chest only grew. She was starting to see it. And I loved it.
We head back outside, the afternoon sun still warm on my skin. The pool water looks inviting, but I’m way hotter between my legs. Daddy walks a little ahead of me, trying to hide how obscenely his trunks are tenting. I can see the heavy swing of his hard cock with every step.
He drops into the water first, submerging up to his chest like he’s trying to hide. “Come on in, sweetheart. Water feels good.”
I stand on the edge for a second, stretching slow, pushing my tits out, then dive in gracefully. When I come up right in front of him, I’m smiling, water dripping down my face and chest. My white bikini is basically see-through now. My pink nipples are stiff and obvious, and the bottom clings tight to every fold of my virgin cunt, showing the shape of my swollen clit and the puffy lips.
I swim straight into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist under the water like I’ve done since I was little. Only this time I’m nineteen, dripping wet in every way, and pressing my aching pussy right against his hard cock.
I needed him hard. Fighting himself but not pushing me away.
The cool water embraced us, but it did nothing to quench the fire between my thighs. I locked my ankles behind his back, pressing my body flush against his. The bikini bottom shifted slightly in the water, the thin fabric sliding to the side just enough that my bare, creamy pussy lips kissed the thick, hot length of his cock through his trunks. The water made everything impossibly slicker. Every tiny movement created silky, slippery friction as my swollen folds dragged along his shaft.
“Daddy,” I breathe against his neck, kissing him softly there while I rock my hips. The water makes everything slippery. My bikini bottom shifts aside just enough that my bare, creamy pussy lips kiss the thick shaft of his cock through his trunks. I grind slow, letting my slick folds drag up and down his length. “You’re so warm… even in the water.”
He groans quietly, hands automatically gripping my ass under the surface, holding me tight against him. His cock is pulsing, thick and heavy, trapped between my pussy and his stomach. Every little movement makes my swollen clit rub along the ridge of his shaft. The sound he almost swallows is low and hungry. He is seeking the contact too.
“Fuck, baby…” he mutters, then catches himself. “I mean… you feel nice and cool now?”
I giggle softly, all sweet, and suck on his neck while I keep grinding.
The pool water swirled around us, cool against my overheated skin, but it only heightened every sensation. My bikini bottom had slipped further to the side now, the soaked fabric no longer a real barrier. I could feel the fat ridge of his cock gliding directly against my bare, puffy lips, the water making every slide smoother and more obscene. His low groan vibrated through his chest and into my body as I rocked against him. The sound was deep and hungry, traveling straight down to my throbbing clit.
Every roll of my hips sent fresh creamy arousal leaking out of me, mixing with the pool water and coating his thick shaft. My swollen clit dragged perfectly along the underside of his cock, sending sharp sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine. I buried my face deeper into his neck, sucking and licking at his sun-warmed skin while the water lapped gently around us.
My creamy juices are mixing with the pool water, making everything even slicker. I can feel how my tight little hole is fluttering, aching to stretch around him. I want to pull his trunks down, line up that fat daddy cock, and sink down until he pops my cherry right here.
But I hear the sliding door again.
Mom’s voice cuts through, sharp. “I thought you two were getting snacks.”
She’s standing at the edge of the pool in a robe, hair wet from her shower, eyes narrowed at how I’m wrapped around him in the water. She can’t see under the surface, but she can see my arms around his neck, my legs locked around his waist, my face buried against Daddy’s shoulder.
I don’t let go right away. I give one last secret roll of my hips, dragging my dripping virgin pussy along his throbbing cock, then turn my head and smile at her with big, innocent eyes.
“We were, Mommy. But Daddy said I needed to cool off. I was getting all sticky.”
Look at him, Mom. He’s so hard for me. And you can’t do a damn thing about it while I’m right here.
Daddy’s hands are still squeezing my ass under the water, his cock pressed tight between my folds like it belongs there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… just cooling down, honey.”
“Dinner in forty-five minutes! Both of you—shower, change, and come down. I’m not cooking for ghosts.”
I feel Daddy tense under me, his thick cock still trapped between my slick pussy lips under the water. He clears his throat. “Okay, honey. We’re coming.”
I unwrap my legs slowly, letting my swollen clit drag one last time along his shaft before I swim to the edge. My bikini bottom is completely ruined—dark, clinging, creamy strings of my juices stretching when I climb out. Daddy follows, trying to adjust his massive erection so it’s not so obvious. It doesn’t work. The wet trunks cling to every vein and ridge.
For a few quiet seconds we just stand there dripping on the concrete. Neither of us says anything about it. We both know something has shifted again and neither of us is ready to name it yet.
We head inside. Mom’s already in the kitchen chopping vegetables, back to us. She doesn’t turn around. “Go on. Upstairs. Separate showers.”
Daddy heads straight for the master bathroom. I pretend to go to my room, closing the door loud enough for her to hear. Then I wait.
Thirty seconds. One minute. I hear the master shower turn on—steady spray.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my clit. I slip out of my room, still in my soaked bikini, and tiptoe down the hall. The cool air on my wet skin makes me shiver, but the heat between my legs only burns hotter. I quietly push open the master bathroom door, steam already thick in the air.
Through the foggy glass I can see Daddy’s big silhouette. He’s standing under the spray, head tilted back, one hand braced on the tile. His other hand is wrapped around that thick cock, slowly stroking like he’s trying to calm it down.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
God… he’s so beautiful like this. Even through the steam I can see every detail — the heavy, veiny shaft pulsing in his fist, the fat head flushed a deep, angry purple, leaking a steady bead of precum that washes away under the water. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched, like he’s fighting with himself. The conflicted expression on his face makes something twist deep in my belly.
He’s stroking his cock because of me.
The sight makes my knees feel weak. His hand moves in slow, almost reluctant strokes, like he’s ashamed but can’t stop. I watch the way his thick fingers wrap around that heavy shaft, the way the fat purple head swells every time he squeezes. A fresh bead of precum leaks out and gets washed away instantly by the water. My own pussy clenches hard at the view, sending another trickle of slickness down my inner thigh.
He’s touching himself because of what I did to him on the lounge chair… because his babygirl made him so desperate he couldn’t wait. Shame burns through me, sharp and hot. I’m the reason my Daddy is in here jerking off like a guilty man.
The rush of lust hits me like a wave, making my pussy throb and leak fresh cream down my thighs. But right behind it comes a sharp, guilty pang. He’s in here trying to get control because his innocent little princess made him so hard… and here I am, about to make it so much worse.
I should feel bad. I should turn around and give him some peace.
Instead, I peel off my bikini top and bottoms, leaving them in a wet pile on the floor. My virgin pussy is puffy, shiny, dripping.
“Daddy?” I whisper, voice all soft and sweet as I slide the glass door open just enough to slip inside. “I need help with my hair. The chlorine always tangles it so bad… please?”
He jerks hard, eyes flying open. His hand drops from his cock like it burned him, but it’s too late — I already saw everything. That thick, veiny shaft, heavy and flushed dark, the fat head swollen and leaking a steady bead of precum. His chest is heaving, water streaming down his muscles, and his face twists with shock and something deeper, something guilty.
“Babygirl — what the hell are you doing?” he hisses, voice low and strained. But his eyes betray him. They drag slowly down my naked body — over my hard pink nipples, my smooth mound, the way my creamy juices are visibly coating my inner thighs.
I don’t answer with words. I step under the hot spray with him, the water cascading over my tits and running down my stomach in rivulets. I turn around slowly, pressing my bare, soapy ass back against his throbbing erection. His fat cock nestles instantly between my cheeks, hot and heavy, pulsing against my skin.
I’m doing this on purpose. I want him messy and hungry for me, not careful.
He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest.
His big hands come up anyway, working shampoo into my long hair like I asked. At first it’s almost innocent — his fingers gentle on my scalp, massaging slowly. But I push back firmer, grinding my soapy ass up and down his length in slow, deliberate rolls.
“Mmm… your hands feel so good, Daddy,” I whisper, voice breathy.
He’s trying so hard to resist. I can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his hips twitch like he wants to thrust but won’t let himself. His thick cock is rock-hard between my cheeks, the fat head bumping against my lower back with every movement. He’s leaking steadily now, the precum mixing with the soap and water.
He’s in here stroking his cock because of me… and now I’m forcing him to feel my naked ass grinding all over it. Shame burns hot through my chest, sharp and twisting. I’m making my own Daddy lose control. I’m corrupting the man who still thinks I’m his sweet, innocent princess. But that same shame only makes me wetter, only makes me grind harder against him. The overwhelming power of it mixes with this deep, aching love that makes my heart hurt. He’s trying to resist… but his cock is so fucking hard for me.
I moan softly and roll my hips again, sliding my soapy ass up and down his throbbing length.
I shivered under the spray, leaning forward just enough so the water poured straight down my back and between my cheeks. Daddy’s hands were careful at first, working shampoo through my hair in long, gentle strokes. Even then, his cock stayed rigid and heavy between the globes of my ass, pressed so tight it throbbed with every pulse of his heart. I felt every twitch. Every hot little spurt of precum that mixed with the water and ran slick down my thighs.
“Can you get my neck too? I’m so soapy everywhere,” I said, voice soft as I let my head loll forward.
He hesitated, but then his big hands slid down, working over my neck, then my shoulders, then lower. He started with my upper back. Slow circles. Then down, soaping between my shoulder blades, then over the small of my back where his fingers lingered just a second too long. I pushed my ass back against him, grinding his cock right between the soft cheeks. The heat of him made my whole body tingle.
He cleared his throat. “Babygirl, you need to… you should shower by yourself. I can’t—” His voice broke off in a strained, shaky growl.
“Please, Daddy. I can’t reach everywhere. I’ll be good.” I pressed my hips back against his cock, slowly grinding up and down the shaft so the fat head slipped between my cheeks and nudged my tailbone every time.
“Mmm… your hands feel so good, Daddy,” I whisper, voice breathy. “Can you wash me everywhere? I’m all sticky from the pool and the fruit… please?”
He groans low, the sound rough and broken. His big soapy hands slide down my spine, leaving trails of bubbles. He pauses at the small of my back like he’s fighting some internal battle, then keeps going. His palms cup my ass cheeks, squeezing the soft, wet flesh gently at first, then firmer. I push back against him, moaning softly as I grind my soapy ass up and down his throbbing cock.
“Daddy… don’t stop.”
His thick fingers glide between my cheeks, soaping the sensitive skin there. He circles my tight little asshole with one slippery fingertip, slow and careful, making my breath hitch. Then lower. His hand cups my pussy from behind, rubbing my puffy outer lips in broad, teasing strokes. He washes over and around everything, never pushing inside, never parting my swollen folds. Just tormenting me.
I reach back, grab his wrist, and guide two of his thick fingers to my virgin hole.
“Wash me properly,” I beg softly. “I ache right here.”
“Fuck… you’re so slippery here, babygirl,” he mutters, voice hoarse and strained. His fingers press against my slick folds, still hesitating, but I rock back and they slide inside me.
The stretch is perfect — a deep, burning fullness that makes my knees shake. I whimper and push back harder, fucking myself on his thick fingers while I keep grinding my soapy ass against his cock. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of my creamy pussy mix with the shower spray. My juices are thicker than the water, coating his hand down to the wrist.
His fingers curl on their own, rubbing that spongy spot deeper because he wants it too. Not just because I guided them.
“Oh god… Daddy, your fingers are so big,” I whimper loudly, the sound echoing off the tiles.
The hot water beats down on my back as I rock back onto his thick fingers, fucking myself slowly at first, then faster. The wet, filthy squelching sounds of my creamy pussy taking him are unmistakable even over the shower. Every thrust makes my inner walls flutter and squeeze around him, coating his fingers in more of my slickness. The burn fades into pure, overwhelming pleasure that makes my toes curl against the wet tile.
He’s breathing raggedly against my neck now, his cock sliding between my soapy ass cheeks in time with his fingers. I can feel how badly he wants to replace them with his cock.
I reach back between my legs, wrap my small hand around as much of his throbbing cock as I can, and start stroking him — slow, tight, twisting at the head just the way I practiced on my dildo while thinking about him.
“Babygirl… we can’t—” he groans, but his fingers curl inside me, rubbing that spongy spot that makes my vision blur.
“Daddy, please,” I whimpered. “Do it more. I need it.”
He started to move his fingers in and out, slow at first, then faster. The stretch made my whole body tense and shake. I could hear the wet squelch of my pussy over the sound of the shower. I was so loud, so messy, my tight little hole sucking him in and begging for more.
He added a third finger. The burn doubled, but so did the pleasure. I bit down on my fist to keep from screaming. My clit throbbed with every thrust, desperate for more friction. He worked me open, gentle but relentless, his cock still grinding hard between my ass cheeks as he fingered me.
He’s fingering his own daughter in the shower while his wife is downstairs… and I’m the one making him do it. Shame crashes through me, hot and sharp, twisting in my chest. I’m corrupting him. I’m forcing my innocent Daddy to touch me like this. But that same shame melts into something darker and sweeter — overwhelming power and love. I love how hard he is for me. I love how desperately his cock leaks in my hand while he tries to fight it. I love being this filthy for him.
I stroke him faster, then slow right down when I feel his cock swell like he’s about to cum. “Not yet, Daddy. You have to save it. I want you aching all through dinner.”
Mom’s voice suddenly cut through the door.
“Everything okay in there? You’ve been in the shower a long time.”
I froze, Daddy’s thick fingers still buried deep in my dripping pussy. My walls clenched hard around him in panic and arousal. I had to swallow a moan before answering in my sweetest voice.
“I’m fine, Mommy! The chlorine got my hair all tangled. Daddy’s helping me.”
Mom’s voice sounded tighter, more suspicious. “Helping you…? Hurry up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
I bit my lip hard as Daddy slowly curled his fingers again, rubbing that perfect spot inside me. “Yes, Mommy,” I called back, my voice slightly breathless. “We’ll be right down.”
We heard her footsteps retreat down the hall. The danger made everything hotter. I ground down harder on his hand, chasing the edge even more desperately.
I ride his fingers harder, grinding my swollen clit against his palm until the pressure breaks. My orgasm crashes over me — long, shattering, my walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick fingers as fresh cream gushes out in hot pulses...
“Oh god… Daddy, I’m—”
My entire body seizes up hard, back arching sharply as my pussy clamps down around his thick fingers like a vice. Fresh, hot cream gushes out in powerful pulses, soaking his hand and wrist. My legs shake violently, knees buckling so badly I would have fallen if not for his strong arm holding me up. My vision whites out completely for several long seconds, stars exploding behind my eyelids as wave after endless wave crashes through me. I bite down hard on my fist to keep from screaming, but broken, high-pitched whimpers still escape around my fingers.
My legs are still shaking so badly I can barely stand. Small aftershocks keep rolling through me, making my pussy flutter and squeeze around his fingers even after he’s stopped moving them. Fresh cream leaks out with every twitch, mixing with the shower water running down my thighs. I feel oversensitive and raw and so fucking full of him.
Look what I made him do… I came so hard on my own Daddy’s fingers while his wife is right downstairs. The fresh wave of shame is almost dizzying. But it’s mixed with a deep, addictive rush of love and power. I did this to him. I made him finger his virgin daughter in their own shower. And he’s still rock-hard for me.
I keep grinding weakly back on his hand through it all, riding out every last pulse until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess against him.
He groans again, low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re so tight, babygirl. So fucking perfect.”
When the waves of my orgasm finally fade, I’m trembling, my knees weak under the hot spray. But I don’t let go of him.
For a few quiet seconds we just stand there under the water. His fingers are still inside me, soft now. My forehead rests against his wet chest. The only sound is the spray and our breathing. Something heavy and real sits between us. I can feel how far we’ve already gone and how neither of us is ready to step back from it. I don’t want to.
I keep my small hand wrapped tightly around his thick, throbbing cock, stroking him in long, slow, torturous pulls. My thumb swirls over the swollen, leaking head, spreading his precum, twisting gently at the sensitive ridge just beneath it. I can feel how dangerously close he is. The heavy shaft pulsing wildly in my fist, veins bulging under my fingers, his balls drawn up tight and full.
“Babygirl…” he groans, voice low and broken, hips jerking forward like he can’t stop himself. “Fuck… I’m so close…”
I smile against his wet chest and deliberately slow my strokes even more, edging him mercilessly. “Not yet, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly, my voice shaky with leftover pleasure. “You have to save it for me. I want you aching and leaking all through dinner while you sit right across from Mommy.”
He curses under his breath, a strained, desperate sound that makes my pussy flutter again. His cock jerks angrily in my hand, the fat head flaring, leaking another thick bead of precum that I smear over him.
The delicious cruelty of it sends a fresh thrill through me. I love him so much it hurts, but I also love this — keeping my strong, loving Daddy right on the edge, denied and throbbing because of his own babygirl.
I give his pulsing cock one last firm, twisting squeeze from base to tip, feeling it throb violently in my palm. Then I let go. It slaps wetly against his stomach, angry, purple, and completely denied.
I step out of the shower, water and my cream still running down my thighs. I grab a towel and wrap it around my body, turning to look at him one last time.
He stands there breathing hard, rock-hard and leaking, with the scent of my pussy all over his fingers and the taste of my cum still on his tongue.
I’m not handing this desperate, leaking man back to Mom. He’s mine like this.
The thrill of leaving him like this, desperate, aching, and mine, mixes with a deep, tender wave of love that makes my chest tight.
I want him sitting across from Mom at dinner with his cock throbbing and his mind full of me.
“Time to get dressed, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly, giving him my most innocent smile. “Don’t be late.”
I grab a towel and slip out of the shower, leaving Daddy standing there under the spray. Rock-hard, dripping precum, his thick cock angrily twitching against his stomach. The scent of my pussy is all over his fingers and probably still on his lips. I can’t help the wicked little smile that tugs at my mouth as I wrap the towel around my body and glance back one last time.
He looks wrecked. Breathing heavy, jaw clenched, eyes dark with lust and guilt. Exactly how I want him.
I pad quietly back to my room, my thighs still slick with my own cream, my pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks.
Tonight at dinner I’m going to sit right across from him, sweet and innocent like always, while he tries to hide how desperately his cock is throbbing for me. While Mom talks about her conference, completely unaware that her husband is sitting there edged and aching, still smelling like his babygirl’s cunt on his fingers.
The thought sends a fresh pulse of heat through me.
I can’t wait to watch him struggle. I can’t wait to push him even further.
Dinner is pure torture.
Mom sits at the head of the table, going on and on about her conference — some big deal she closed, how exhausted she is from traveling, how impressive her boss said she was. Her voice fills the room, sharp and self-satisfied. I barely hear a word.
Daddy sits directly across from me. He’s trying so hard to look normal, but I can see the strain in his jaw, the slight flush creeping up his neck. His cock is still rock-hard from the shower, trapped in his shorts, aching and leaking because I left him edged and desperate. Every time he shifts in his chair I catch the tiny wince, the way his knuckles whiten around his fork.
I sit there in a tiny tank top and soft cotton shorts with no panties underneath, my virgin pussy still creamy and puffy from cumming on his fingers. I’m so wet I can feel my slickness slowly leaking onto the chair beneath me.
I keep “accidentally” brushing my bare foot up his leg under the table, sliding my toes along his calf, then higher, smiling sweetly at Mom the whole time. My foot finds the massive bulge in his shorts and presses against it lightly, rubbing slow circles while Mom talks about her boss.
A quiet fear slips through me while I touch him. What if he disappears after tonight? What if he decides he can’t risk it?
“Pass the salad, babygirl,” Daddy says, his voice a little rougher than usual.
I lean way over the table to hand it to him, letting my hard nipples poke obviously against the thin fabric of my tank top. “Here, Daddy,” I say innocently, holding his gaze for just a second too long while my foot continues its secret stroking under the table.
Under the table his cock twitches hard against my toes. He draws a sharp breath through his nose and his eyes flick to mine for half a second, dark and shared. He is right there with me.
Mom doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to. She just keeps complaining about her boss, completely unaware that her daughter is rubbing her bare foot against her husband’s throbbing cock right under her nose.
I spear a piece of chicken on my fork and hold it up. “You look hungry, Daddy. Want a bite?” I lean forward and feed it to him right in front of her, my fingers lingering near his lips. He takes the bite, eyes dark with heat and memory. I know he’s thinking about my pussy juice on those same fingers less than an hour ago.
The whole meal I tease him mercilessly — little looks, little foot strokes up his thigh, soft whispers when Mom turns to grab the salt. Every time Mom looks away, I press my foot harder against his bulge, feeling it twitch and throb under my toes. By the end of dinner his face is flushed, his breathing slightly uneven, and there’s a tiny damp spot forming on the front of his shorts again.
I feel powerful. Guilty. Horribly, wonderfully turned on.
Mom is sitting right here talking about work while I’m secretly foot-fucking her husband under the table. If she looked down even once…
After dinner I clap my hands together brightly. “Movie night? Please? We haven’t done one in forever.”
Mom sighs, clearly exhausted. “Fine. But I’m probably going to fall asleep.”
Perfect.
Neither of us can go back to the way things were before this weekend. The thought settles heavy and certain in my chest while I clear the plates. We both already know it.
I bounce up from the table as soon as we’re done, brushing past Mom and Daddy with my empty plate and a syrupy, “I’ll get the popcorn!” I want to keep the momentum — the secret, filthy tension coiled in my belly, and the knowledge that I have Daddy wrapped around my cum-slick little finger.
Mom just groans and mutters something about “ruining her diet” as I dump the plates and run water in the sink. I can feel Daddy’s eyes on my ass the whole time, even now, with his wife in the room, he can’t stop staring. My shorts are so thin they might as well be panties. I’m not even wearing those. I keep my back to him and pretend to struggle with the microwave, arching my spine and poking my ass out as far as I can.
“Popcorn’s almost ready!” I trill, turning around to catch him staring. His eyes snap back to a neutral point on the counter, but there’s no missing the heavy, guilty flush on his neck. I want him to be so desperate for me he can’t even think straight. I want him to be so ruined from what I did in the shower that he’ll take whatever I give him, whenever I give it.
Mom grabs a wine glass and fills it to the brim. “Let’s pick something fun tonight,” she says, stumbling into the living room with a sigh. She sprawls out on the biggest part of the sectional and tucks her bare feet under Daddy’s thigh like she always does, even though I know the gesture is more about marking her territory than comfort.
I barely wait for the popcorn to finish before I tear open the bag and dump it in the bowl. I can already feel my clit swelling again, my pussy creamy and hungry from being teased all through dinner. The electricity between me and Daddy is so thick I can practically taste it.
We settle on the big sectional couch. Lights off. Daddy picks some loud action movie, the kind with explosions and car chases. Mom sits on the far end, already looking drained from her trip. Daddy is in the middle, and I curl up against his other side like I always do, tucking myself under his arm and pulling the big throw blanket over us.
At first it feels almost innocent. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, tangling my legs with his under the blanket. His big arm wraps around me, warm and protective, his hand resting lightly on my hip. The movie plays, bright flashes lighting up the dark room, but I’m barely watching.
Mom’s head starts tilting after ten minutes. Her breathing gets deeper, slower. Soon she’s out cold, mouth slightly open, soft snores mixing with the explosions on screen. Exhausted from traveling, just like she said.
My heart starts hammering.
I stay perfectly still for another minute, listening to her steady breathing, feeling the rise and fall of Daddy’s chest beneath my cheek. The memory of the shower flashes through me. Leaving him rock-hard, edged, dripping precum, my scent still all over his fingers. I can still taste myself on my tongue from when I kissed him.
The risk makes everything sharper. Mom is right here, sleeping just a few feet away, while I’m pressed against the man whose cock I left throbbing and denied. The thrill of it sends fresh heat flooding between my legs. My pussy is already getting wet again, aching, remembering how full his fingers felt inside me.
I wanted the one who was already hard for me and still letting me push.
I love him so much it hurts. But I also love this — knowing I can push him further while she sleeps right beside us.
I stay curled against him for now, breathing him in, heart racing with dark, giddy anticipation.
I wait another minute, listening to Mom’s soft, steady snores. The movie explosions rumble through the speakers, masking every small sound. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat… and between my legs.
Then I move.
I slide quietly under the big throw blanket, swing one leg over Daddy’s lap and straddle him, facing him in the dark. My shorts come off in one quick, silent tug and I drop them on the floor. The moment my bare, dripping virgin pussy presses against the front of his shorts, I have to bite my lip to stay quiet. I’m soaked. My puffy outer lips part naturally around the thick bulge, my swollen clit already dragging along the hard ridge of his cock through the fabric.
“Babygirl…” he whispers, eyes wide with shock as he glances toward Mom sleeping just a few feet away. “We can’t—”
“Shhh, Daddy,” I breathe against his ear, my voice soft and sweet like always. “Mommy’s sleeping so deep. She won’t know her little princess is rubbing her wet princess parts all over Daddy’s big cock.”
I reach down between us and pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his thick, throbbing dick to spring free. It slaps hot and heavy against my bare pussy lips. God… he’s so hard. The thick, veiny shaft pulses in the dim light from the TV, the fat head flushed dark and already leaking precum. I wrap my small hand around him for a second, feeling the heat and weight of it, then press my slick folds along his entire length.
I moan softly into his neck as I start grinding — slow, filthy rolls of my hips. My puffy outer lips spread open around his thick shaft, hugging him tightly. My swollen clit drags along every ridge and vein as I rock, leaving a shiny trail of my creamy juices all over him. The wet, sticky sounds are quiet but obscene under the blanket. Soft, slick sounds every time I move.
“Feel that, Daddy?” I whisper in my sweetest baby voice, lips brushing his ear. “That’s your babygirl’s slippery little princess pussy kissing your cock… she’s so creamy for you.”
He grips my ass hard under the blanket, fingers digging into my soft cheeks. He does not push me off. His whisper is strained and rough. “Fuck, sweetheart… you’re dripping everywhere.”
I keep grinding, slow and filthy, savoring every thick inch pressed against my aching center.
His cock feels massive under me, the thick veiny shaft pulsing hot and heavy against my bare folds. I can feel every ridge, every throb as I drag my slick pussy up and down his length. The fat head is leaking steadily now, smearing precum mixed with my cream all over my swollen clit. “Daddy… your cock is so big and hard for me,” I whimper softly against his ear. “I can feel it twitching every time I grind on it.”
He lets out a low, strained groan, his hands squeezing my ass tighter. “Babygirl… you’re going to make me lose my mind,” he whispers, voice rough and barely controlled.
I grind faster, rolling my hips in tight, needy circles so my swollen clit catches perfectly on the fat, leaking head of Daddy’s cock again and again. Every time the smooth, spongy tip bumps my sensitive little nub, sharp sparks shoot straight up my spine. I’m getting louder under the blanket — soft, wet, filthy sounds that feel deafening to my own ears.
“Feel that, Daddy?” I whisper right against his ear, my voice shaky and breathy in my sweetest baby tone. “That’s your babygirl’s slippery little princess pussy kissing your cock… she’s so creamy for you. Listen.”
The slick, sticky schlick-schlick-schlick under the blanket is obscene. My juices coat his entire thick shaft, dripping down over his heavy balls and soaking into the couch cushion beneath us.
Mom snores softly just a few feet away, completely unaware. The danger of it makes everything ten times hotter. If she woke up right now she’d see her own daughter straddling her husband, bare virgin cunt grinding desperately all over his cock while he lets me.
The thought sends a fresh rush of shame and lust through me. I’m doing this right next to her. Guilt burns hot in my chest — I’m corrupting Daddy, making him cheat on Mom with his own babygirl. But that same shame twists into something darker and sweeter. I love how much power I have over him. I love how desperately his cock throbs for me while his wife sleeps beside us. I love him so much it hurts, and I love being this filthy for him.
My hard pink nipples drag back and forth against his chest through my thin tank top, the friction making them ache. Daddy’s hands grip my ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he spreads my cheeks wider. One thick fingertip brushes dangerously close to my tight little hole, teasing me.
I kiss and suck on his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, whimpering softly into his ear. “Your cock is so hot and hard against my princess parts, Daddy… can you feel how slippery I am? My little pussy is drooling all over you.”
I press down harder, dragging my slick folds from the base of his shaft all the way up until my clit kisses the leaking tip again and again. The pressure builds fast — hot, heavy, aching deep in my belly. My puffy lips are glossy and swollen, wrapped tightly around his thick cock like they’re trying to suck him inside. Every drag makes my tight virgin hole flutter and wink against the underside of his shaft.
“Oh god… oh god, Daddy—” I whimper, burying my face in his neck.
Suddenly Mom stirred.
She let out a sleepy mumble and turned her head toward us. Her eyes fluttered open. In the flickering light of the TV, she saw the movement under the blanket — my hips rolling slowly, the obvious rhythm of me grinding on Daddy.
For one terrifying, electric second, her eyes met mine. She stared directly at us, fully awake, watching the way the blanket shifted between my legs.
My heart hammered wildly. I froze, Daddy’s thick cock pressed right against my soaked entrance under the blanket.
Mom said nothing. She just stared for a long, heavy second, her expression unreadable in the dark. Then she sighed, turned her head away, and pretended to fall back asleep.
The paranoia hit both of us like a drug. Daddy’s cock twitched hard against me. I waited until her breathing deepened again before I started grinding once more — slower, filthier, knowing she might still be listening.
The orgasm hits me like a punch.
My entire body seizes up hard, back arching sharply as my pussy clamps down and explodes. Fresh, hot cream gushes out in powerful pulses, soaking his cock completely. My legs shake violently, thighs trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave crashes through me. I bury my face in his neck and bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle my cries, broken whimpers escaping anyway while my cunt keeps pulsing and squirting little bursts of girl-cum all over his throbbing dick. The pleasure feels endless. Even after the peak, smaller aftershocks keep rolling through me, making my oversensitive clit twitch and my walls flutter around nothing. My toes curl so hard they cramp. I can’t stop grinding weakly through it all, smearing my warm cream all over his pulsing cock.
Daddy’s cock twitches hard between my soaked folds, like it’s dying to push inside me and fill me up. But I don’t let him. I just keep riding out the aftershocks, smearing my warm cream all over his throbbing dick while Mom snores softly beside us.
When the waves finally slow, I stay pressed tight against him, breathing hard, my body still trembling with aftershocks. I reach between us, slide two fingers through my soaked folds, and scoop up a big, warm glob of my creamy cum. It’s thick and shiny on my fingers, still warm from deep inside me.
I bring it up between our faces, holding it right in front of his mouth. “Look what you made me do, Daddy,” I whisper, voice soft and sweet. “Open for me.”
His eyes are dark with lust and conflict. He glances toward Mom’s sleeping form, hesitation clear on his face, but then he parts his lips. I push my fingers inside, letting him taste his own daughter’s pussy — sweet, tangy, virgin cream straight from the source. He sucks greedily, tongue swirling around my fingers, groaning low and deep around them. The vibration travels straight through me.
The sight of him sucking my cum off my fingers while Mom snores softly just feet away sends a rush of delicious cruelty mixed with overwhelming love through my chest. He’s tasting me right next to her. Shame burns hot and sharp. I’m making my Daddy eat his babygirl’s cream while his wife sleeps beside us. But that same shame melts into something darker and sweeter. I love how greedy he is for it. I love how hard he still is for me. I love being this filthy for the man I adore more than anything.
I pull my fingers out slowly, strings of spit and my cream connecting them to his lips. Then I lean in and kiss him passionately — deep, hungry, tongues sliding together so he can share my taste with me. The kiss is wet and filthy, full of months of aching need. I moan softly into his mouth as I taste myself on his tongue.
When I finally pull back, strings of spit and my own cream still connect our lips.
I can feel the warm, sticky mess I left all over him — my thick cream coating his cock, dripping down his balls, soaking into the couch cushion beneath us. The scent of my pussy and his precum is thick under the blanket, musky and sweet and filthy. Every small shift makes me feel how wet and messy we are.
My heart is still racing, my pussy still fluttering with aftershocks.
For a few quiet seconds we just stay like that under the blanket. Mom is three feet away. His cock is still hard and covered in me. Neither of us moves to fix it. Neither of us wants to.
Next time I won’t stop until you’re inside me, Daddy.
The thought sends a fresh pulse of heat through me. I can already imagine it; pulling my panties aside and sinking down on that thick cock, letting him stretch my virgin hole and fill me completely while Mom is somewhere else in the house. The risk, the love, the filthy need… it all twists together until I can barely breathe.
I nuzzle deeper into his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his skin, and whisper so quietly only he can hear.
“I love you, Daddy. More than anything.”
This weekend is only getting started.
And I’m nowhere near done pushing my loving, clueless Daddy to his limits.
Something has already broken open between us and there is no putting it back.
-------------------------------
Author's note
Thanks for reading, make sure you register your vote, that helps me a lot and it keeps me motivated to post new stories.
This was a short, the whole book incl rest of the long messy dirty weekend and then some more is available on my store.
You will find it here: payhip.com/LilaHartBooks
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