Daughters Are For Fucking Ch 02

In Chapter One of this story Josephine told us about her and her best friend Salma's plan to show Salma's father what Jo's father already knew, that daughters are for fucking. In Chapter 2 Salma takes over as the narrator and lets us know how it works out.

I appreciate the comments about the propriety of using the singular "Daddy's" regardless of whether I was speaking about one or both of Josephine and Salma's fathers. My aim was to treat "Daddy's" as a title, the way the two daughters talked about their fathers, sort of an honorific. It felt sexier to me. Feel free to let me know if you think I succeeded.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

On the way home from watching the soccer match with Jo and Mr. Robertson I lay my hand on Daddy's thigh, as if unaware of his erection inches away. What would happen if I touched it? Would it scare him off? I was tempted, but I wanted Daddy for the rest of my life, best to be patient.

"Daddy, I was having trouble with a couple of problems in calculus, can you help me when we get home?"

"Of course Princess."

"I like it when you call me that Daddy. That's what I want, to be your Princess."

"That's what you are, my forever Princess."

* * * * *

I pushed my tablet and calculator across the coffee table to Daddy; his eyes flickered briefly on my breasts, braless in my sun dress. We discussed my homework, I occasionally leaned forward and entered data in my tablet or calculator, giving him plenty more opportunities to look; his glances grew more frequent, less furtive. Aroused, my breasts flushed, my nipples became erect. Daddy responded, his stomach growled, his cock hardened. Finally I told Daddy I understood, walked around the table, thanked him, hugged him, pressing my body to his, then hurried to my room to masturbate.

Later I checked Daddy's waste basket, he had also.

* * * * *

"Daddy, Jo and I found a place in the back of the state park. It's private, perfect for a picnic. She's going to ask Mr. Robertson, would you like to go?"

"Of course Princess."

* * * * *

Jo and I packed lunch, grapes, cole slaw, and our awesome Thai Chicken Salad, and the four of us rode our bicycles to the park. The nearby stream was clean and secluded - there'd be no unwanted eyes on us - and Jo and I peeled off our shorts and tee-shirts, revealing our tiny bikinis, got into the water, swam a bit, splashed each other, talked our fathers into joining us. They took off their shirts to my and Jo's delight - they were well built and nicely muscled - waded into the water; the four of us explored, played, laughed.

Afterwards, settled on our blankets, we let the sun dry our bodies, then Jo and I broke out lunch, insisting our Daddy's play sultan, lie on the ground, heads on our laps, as we dropped grapes into their mouths.

That night we watched a movie in Mr. Robertson's home theater, Jo and I cuddled in our fathers' arms.

I was jealous. Jo was playing with her father's thing.

* * * * *

Daddy and I were going to the movies. He came downstairs, stopped when he noticed my discriminating look.

"What is it Princess?"

"With those pants, I'm thinking either your maroon or teal shirt."

"You mean the red and green ones?"

I nodded.

"I wondered if one of them would look better."

I said, "Let's see."

Daddy no longer thought anything of me entering his bedroom while he pulled a shirt off his magnificent chest, of my commenting on how much I liked its light smattering of hair, then trying on several things as I watched and choose his clothes.

It was a guy movie, but I didn't mind. I liked sitting in a dark theater with Daddy, leaning my body into his, our intertwined hands resting on a thigh. Afterwards we went out for coffee, shared a slice of cheesecake. At home I kissed him goodnight, let my lips open a bit, move against his, enough so he'd notice, not so much that he couldn't rationalize it. When he turned on the shower I cracked open his door, heard him masturbating, returned to my room, did the same.

* * * * *

"Princess, would you pick a tie out for me?"

Daddy was nervous. He had a big presentation, it could mean millions of dollars for the company. Last night he'd practiced, we'd polished it together, I'd assured him how good it was. Tonight, whether he got the account or not, we had plans for dinner.

I tied his tie, slipped his jacket over his shoulders, fixed his hair, straightened his collar, stood on my toes, kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "You're going to knock 'em dead."

Daddy kissed my forehead and said, "You take such good care of me Princess. I'm a lucky man."

"I'm the lucky one Daddy, and this is what daughters are for, to take care of their daddies anyway they can."

* * * * *

Wearing a knee length red and black dress with a plunging neck line and matching heels, I re-read Daddy's text: "Princess, I wanted you to be the first to know, we got the account, I couldn't have done it without you," then entered the restaurant and saw him, so handsome in his blue suit. I told the lady at the desk that my date was already here, moved towards his table; his (and the other men's) eyes lighting up when he saw me. Daddy stood, took my hand in his, kissed my cheek, held my chair for me. We toasted his triumph, ate, celebrated and laughed, he reached across the table and held my hand; I ran my thumb on the back of his hand.

Later that night, at home, as we sat on the couch drinking coffee, I leaned my back against him, he wrapped his arms around me, and I said, "I had so much fun tonight, congratulations again, I love you Daddy."

"I love you too my sweet Princess, y'know I couldn't make it without you."

* * * * *

Daddy didn't blink when I suggested a double-date with Jo and Mr. Robertson to the local comedy club, he'd long ago gotten used to the term. He also didn't blink when I sat close to him, touched him, left my hand on his arm or leg. After all, Jo and her Daddy were doing the same. This night, however, there was a new thing. When Jo and I headed for the bathroom Mr. Robertson leaned over and said, "Carlos, do you find yourself attracted to Salma," the question leaving no doubt that was how Mr. Robertson felt about Jo.

Relieved to hear he was not alone, Daddy said, "Yeah, you too?"

"Yeah. I've read about it, it's apparently common, still, it's good to know I'm not alone."

* * * * *

Daddy was sitting at his desk when, carrying my tablet, wearing a loose-fitting white button-down shirt (two buttons undone) and no bra, I said, "Daddy, can you help, calculus again."

"Of course Princess."

Leaning forward, I placed my computer on his desk, giving Daddy a view of my breasts, the dark areolas, the erect fat nipples, then leaned further forward and logged in, my breasts swaying with my motion.

I guess I could have already logged in, but what's the fun in that?

I stood, Daddy's eyes flicked back to the computer, and he said, "What's the issue Princess?"

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I moved behind him, then leaned forward, flattening my left breast on Daddy's shoulder, and pushed a button on the computer. Knowing he could feel my nipple, fat, firm, and erect, through his light cotton shirt, I shifted position, caressing him with it as I explained my problem.

Daddy answered my question.

You had to admire Daddy.

Saying, "Yes, I see know. Okay Daddy, how about this," I moved to the left, dragging the fingers of my right hand across his shoulders, reached over Daddy's left shoulder, pressing my right breast to his body, entered something in the computer, then lay my open right hand on his chest and in a voice close to a purr asked another question. Despite his rapid heart beat and deep breaths, Daddy answered it.

Daddy's amazing.

Moving directly behind him I ran both hands down his chest, stopping at his waist, inches from his erection, studied the screen, leaned into him from behind, flattening my breasts on his back, said, "Yes, I understand," kissed the side of his head, hugged him, kissed him again.

"Thank you Daddy."

"You're welcome Princess, I'm glad I could help."

Still hugging him I said, "I have the smartest sweetest handsomest Daddy in the world."

He asked if there was anything else, I said no, he said he had to go to the bathroom. When he did I pressed my ear to his door, listened to him masturbate, fingered my clit, hurried to my room to do the same.

* * * * *

The next day we were grilling by our pool, Jo and I looking very hot in our bikinis, our Daddy's very handsome in their swim trunks, when Jo said, "Daddy, y'know what I'd like to do for Thanksgiving, go back to the hotel where we went for my birthday, dance, spend the night."

It was the place they'd become lovers.

Mr. Robertson said, "That would be fun. Carlos, why don't you and Salma join us? A double-date, us and our sweet ladies."

Daddy looked at me, saw my happy face.

"We'd love to Bob."

* * * * *

Salma and I were shopping. We'd scoped out what we wanted on-line, but, taking no chances, were trying them on, making sure they were perfect. When we knew they were Jo said, "It's time to buy our Daddy's presents."

We picked out ties, then Jo stopped before the men's boxers.

I giggled, "Do we dare?"

"Of course we dare. Better get used to it, I buy all of Daddy's underwear. Plus think about it, you in that dress, your Daddy's erection caressed in silk, he'll be putty in your hands."

We gave them the gifts before we left for the hotel. As he pulled the underwear from its box Daddy glanced at Mr. Robertson, saw no discomfort on his friend's face, accepted the gift in the spirit he imagined it'd been given.

* * * * *

I was in the hotel shower, taking my time, enjoying the endless hot water. Over the last months I'd become Daddy's confidant; we'd sit together at the end of each day, vet our difficulties, celebrate our successes. Daddy included me in all household decisions and when I asked him to run an errand on the way home I always got a happy, "Yes dear." I made sure to always look my best around him and while Daddy's compliments had not yet gotten to "sexy" and "hot," they'd moved past "sweet" and "nice." When I leaned forward and exposed my breasts or crossed my legs and moved my short skirt higher on my thigh, Daddy had forgotten to pretend not to notice. When I placed my hand on his while we talked and left it there, or dragged a nail on it, he accepted it as natural. When, cuddling on the couch, when I pressed my breasts to him, he no longer moved away. Our public behavior mirrored our private, we held hands, leaned into each other, touched each other. When people we met on the street - a store clerk, a police officer, a waiter at a restaurant - referred to us as a couple, Daddy no longer bothered to correct them.

Weekend nights were reserved for Daddy, or the four of us, to do something.

Tonight would not be a new thing, it would be the coda confirming what already existed: I was the woman in Daddy's life.

* * * * *

Helping with my make-up, getting it just right, Jo gave me some last minute advice.

"I know your nervous, but that's good. When your Daddy senses you're feeling vulnerable he'll only want to take care of you more. Remember, you're a beautiful woman and your Daddy's a handsome man. Tonight you will become one, just like me and my Daddy; if you keep that in your mind, know it's true, it will become true."

"I will, but you're right, I'm nervous and excited. I can't believe it, tonight Daddy and I will finally be together."

"Yes honey, tonight your Daddy will join his body to yours. When you're dancing with him think about how he'll soon be inside you. If you think about it real hard I promise he will too. Now let's take a look at you."

I stood, moved to the mirror. The red spaghetti straps and scooped neck-line of my bright red dress exposed the upper half of my full firm breasts. I wore my hair down, my gold earrings were small and understated; my lipstick matched my dress and my make-up was perfect: sultry sexy sophisticated. I was available, but only to an exceptional man, a man of class and maturity, a man just like Daddy.

I stepped forward; a red thigh-high stocking clad leg and five inch stiletto heel moved gracefully through the slit that ran half-way up my thigh. All my practice had paid off.

Jo said, "Oh honey, you look amazing."

"Thanks, now let's check you out."

Jo took my place in front of the mirror. Deciding not to compete with me in the eye-popping department, her long silver sleeveless dress was classy, elegant, sexy but restrained. Exposing one shoulder it angled across her chest, clinched at the waist, hung to the floor; a slit ran up her thigh. She slid her leg out of it, showing off a silver stiletto heel held to her foot by three thin straps, one above the toe, one across the middle of her foot, the other above her ankle. Her silver and emerald earrings were long and dangling, her make-up understated. She was breathtaking.

I said, "Jeez, are you beautiful."

She smiled and, it not being the time for false modesty, said, "Yes, our Daddy's will be sporting two very hot ladies, which will turn them on even more."

* * * * *

Jo's phone pinged. "It's Daddy, he's heading for the lobby. I'll let him know we'll be ready in ten minutes."

I said, "But we're ready now."

"I know, but it's best to make men wait. It focuses their attention."

* * * * *

When we emerged from the elevator Daddy, who was talking to Mr. Robertson, stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fixed on me. I locked my eyes on him, let him know he was the only man in the room who mattered, moved effortlessly across the lobby, leaned into Daddy, kissed his lips. A peck, but not a daughter's peck.

I slipped my arm around his waist.

Everyone there thought we were lovers.

He said, "Salma, you look amazing."

There was true appreciation in his voice, for Daddy was a mature man, a man who not only knew his date was lovely, but understood the effort she'd made to look her best for him. There was a time, not too long ago, that he'd been bothered that I was dressed like a sexy young woman, that my dress, my shoes, my make-up, all said this older gentleman was going to get very lucky tonight. But the work of the past months had paid off; tonight he saw me as a woman, his for the evening. He was hooked; all I had to do, with Jo and Mr. Robertson's help, was reel him in.

* * * * *

The maitre de scanned the reservation list and said, "Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson. Your table is ready."

Our Daddy's pulled our chairs out for us. We thanked them, kissed their cheeks, sat down, glanced at the menus, laid them on the table, asked our Daddy's to order for us. Mr. Robertson said, "Carlos, I think our ladies are old enough for a glass of wine."

Daddy, his eyes locked on me, said, "Yes, of course."

We chatted, we ate; I leaned towards Daddy, asked if I could to taste his redfish. When he said, "Yes," I ran my neatly trimmed fingers on the back of his hand, took the fork from his fingers, speared the fish, brought it to my mouth, slid the fork back out between my lips, chewed, said, "Thank you darling, it's delicious," then reached across the table and fed him a slice of my veal.

After reviewing the dessert menu I said, "Daddy, let's share the Chocolate Gooey Pie, it sounds delicious."

"Of course Princess."

Jo and her Daddy ordered pecan pie.

Being time to turn it over to Mr. Robertson, I reached over, showing Daddy my bosom, touched his hand, and said, "If you'll excuse me darling, it's time to powder my nose."

Jo said, "I'll join you."

Mr. Robertson, watching Daddy's eyes feast on my departing form, said, "I don't think our daughters have ever looked more beautiful, we're the envy of every man here."

"What would they think if they knew they're our daughters?"

"From the way they're dressed, they way we've been behaving, no one is thinking that."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, sometimes Salma acts like she has a crush on me."

"She's a woman Carlos, it's not called a crush. Oh, here they come..."

Daddy and Mr. Robertson stood, held our chairs for us. We placed our hands on their shoulders, brushed our lips on their cheeks. When dessert arrived Jo and I slid over to share it with our men. When Daddy smeared chocolate goo on his upper lip I caught it with my finger, brought it to my mouth, licked it off, said, "Delicious."

The band took the stage. On the dance floor I nuzzled close to Daddy, whispered, "Hold me, hold me like you'll never let me go," and he moved his hand from the middle of my back to my hip, pressed me to him.

When Jo glided past us she winked; things couldn't be going better.

* * * * *

When the band took its break Jo, her Daddy's arm on her shoulder, said, "Let's go out on the balcony, I could use some fresh air."

I said, "Sounds perfect."

Nodding towards the facilities, Daddy said, "I'll catch up with you guys."

My open palm on his chest I kissed his cheek and said, "Okay, but don't be long, it's chilly outside. I need your arms around me."

The crowd had congregated by the doors, so Jo, Mr. Robertson, and I moved to the end of the balcony, where Jo hugged me, told me everything would work out, moved into her father's arms. I took several steps back, watched their mouths and bodies meld together, stopped I had to stare to discern who they were. Daddy, you see, was too much the gentleman to stare, but he'd peek.

I was leaning on the balcony, my arms folded across my chest, when Daddy wrapped his arms around me from behind and said, "You look cold Princess, do you want to go inside?"

I took his hands in mine, kissed them, dropped my head back onto his shoulder, and said, "No Daddy, hold me and keep me warm; I want to be here with you with no one else around." He nestled his body to mine, sharing his body heat, carefully keeping his erection from touching me.

You had to admire his self-restraint.

"Daddy I love it when you hold me, I love your strong sexy body. I've had so much fun tonight, I love going on dates with my Daddy."

"Is that what this is, a date with your Daddy?"

"Yes Daddy, Jo and I have dated boys, but we prefer our Daddy's. They're smarter and more handsome and sexier and treat us better and aren't all hung up on themselves."

At the mention of Jo's name Daddy glanced at the couple at the end of the balcony; on some level had he made the connection?

I brought his attention back to me.

"Do you like my dress, do you think it's too much?"

"It's wonderful, you're wonderful. When I see you in it, well, my little girl's a woman."

I turned in his arms, dragging my breasts on his body, ran a finger the length of his mouth.

"That is what I want to be Daddy, your Princess and your woman."

"Of course, you're my forever Princess, and my woman."

It was time. I slid into him, pressed my leg to his erection, closed my lips on his; they moved against mine. His hand tightened on my back and while he didn't press his penis into my leg, he didn't pull away. For Daddy, in those seconds, reality and fantasy merged and he found himself acting out the lust and desire he'd tried to bury, hoping they'd never see the light of day.

Daddy and I have often talked about that night. I was surprised when he told me what went through his mind. I'd never been ashamed of my desire for him, it felt natural, perfect; I dreamed of telling Daddy about it. But it was different for Daddy. As he'd come to see me and want me as a woman, he was afraid I'd find out. So, as I kissed him, as he looked in my eyes and understood my kiss was real, that what I said was real, he felt relief. I was not repulsed by his unspoken desire for me, instead I welcomed it.