Daddy nudged me awake for breakfast, then vanished back to the kitchen.
For a moment, I thought about the wild, crazy, dirty dream I'd had about fucking my own father. I thought about how I might act around him with such images in my head. Then I thought about the fact that the window in front of me wasn't in my room. It didn't look out at the side yard and the fence down the length of the yard. It looked out into the back yard at the koi pond daddy and mama had built by hand. If I was looking at the koi pond, then I was in daddy's bedroom. In his bed. On mama's side of the bed -- or what had been hers.
I was half naked. And sticky from sweat. And my throat was sore.
It wasn't a dream. Well, the part about actually fucking him was ... I thought. Giving him a blowjob on the couch. Having his cock pound into my throat. That was suddenly all very, very real. Too vivid not to be true. The fucking, well, it happened in the yard and in an elevator, and in the garage, and in a bank, and in Aunt Jean's swimming pool in the middle of the day. Evidently everywhere my dream self went during the night, daddy was there.
I reached down and touched my panties -- they were there and they were sort of dry. They were the kind of damp I usually found when I'd been dreaming or fantasizing. They weren't the kind of wet that I would've found had I been fucking. Not once, not eight times. And, from the dreams in the bank and in the elevator, my ass would have had to have been sore, too -- and it wasn't. Sore throat, dry-ish panties, and no sore ass -- so I'd blown my daddy and he'd ended the blowjob by fucking my face and driving into my throat, but that's as far as we'd gone. I was pretty sure, anyway.
I propped myself up in bed. The bed he'd carried me in to. The bed he'd undressed me on. I had nothing to throw on and for just a moment, I was embarrassed. How could I go out to breakfast in just my panties? Then I realized. If daddy can stick his cock down my throat, it's probably okay if he sees his little girl's perky C cup tits.
I came around the corner into the kitchen and said "Hey, daddy."
He said, "Hello, kitten" as he turned around with a skillet full of scrambled eggs. When he saw my boobs, he said, "Well ... hellooooo, kitten ..." and turned back and just put the skillet on the countertop.
He walked toward me saying "I wasn't sure what you'd be thinking or feeling this morning" and wrapped me in his arms. "I'm pretty sure I know now, Cindy."
I leaned into the hug and felt daddy's hairy chest tickle my boobs. It felt so good in his arms that I didn't immediately notice his cock already pressing into my thigh. "Uhh -- daddy -- I'm pretty sure I know what you're feeling this morning, too." I pressed my thigh back and he chuckled. "Can't help it, baby."
I reached down and took his shaft in my hand. Big shaft. If I learned one thing last night, it was that daddy had a big cock. If I learned two things, it was that daddy had a big cock and that he wasn't reluctant to use it on his little girl.
I stroked his hardness up and down and it grew in my hand. He leaned down and started kissing my neck. Soft little kisses that turned my knees to butter. We just played for a moment, getting our bearings. He kissed and nibbled. I stroked. My thumb dragged across the head, dipping into the precum oozing out of my daddy's cock, and it throbbed. He moaned, "Oh, baby" into my neck and the hum from that made me even wetter than I already was.
He started squeezing my tits, kneading them, and I love the pain he's squeezing into them. All my nerves are firing as he starts to bite his way down my neck to my tits.
