Author's note: This is a very short, very silly story, that is absolutely made up and certainly did not happen. All characters involved are far, far over the age of 18.
==0=0==
I can feel my morning wood pressing against the mattress as I slowly awaken to the rain pattering on the window. Relaxing in bed I slide my boxers off under the covers. I take my glasses from the counter and open my laptop, loading the story file I've been working on for the past day or two. I feel my cock harden as I write. I reach down to give my aching balls an idle rub as I hammer away at the keyboard.
I feel her wiggle next to me at the sound of the keystrokes. "Mmm..." she moans, rolling over to face me, her eyes slowly opening. She smiles softly as her eyes come into focus. "Hmmm... sexy writer man." She giggles. "I love it when you put your glasses on in the morning and type in bed, I know you're writing something nice."
She gasps as she reaches down between my legs, "That's a hard penis!" She giggles.
"Hmm... watch it little one," I give her my best menacing growl, "or that penis'll be right down your throat."
"Oh no Papa!" She squeaks, wiggling against me under the covers. She gently strokes my cock as I write, her phone in her free hand. "Mmm, your cock is so hard..." she coos.
Looking away from her phone she worms herself up near my laptop, her little face framed by her messy blonde bedhead. "No peeking or you're getting punished." I scold her.
"No Daddy!" She squeaks, retreating back under the covers. "No peeking, I'll be good!"
Soon I feel her hands again, cupping my asscheeks and slowly stroking my shaft. "Mmm... Papa's butt's so nice, Papa's cock so hard..." I hear a tiny voice from under the covers.
I tap Ctrl-S to save the story I'd been working on and open a fresh page on my laptop, starting on a new story about a certain little troublemaker.
I see her tiny face peep out again, trying to get a look. "No peeking until I'm done and it's your turn to proof-read." I reach out touching her chin with my fingers. She squeezes her eyes shut, knowing what her punishment will be. I give her a firm but gentle slap on each cheek. Her little smile as I slap her betrays her excitement from my punishing attention. "I'm sorry Papa." She whispers. She once again retreats under the covers, running her fingers through my shorn pubes, playing with my foreskin, making soft cooing noises all the while.
"Are you writing a story about me?" She asks.