Home To Daddy 1

It was what I'd always wanted, but never could say. It was a horrible, nasty dirty thing. It was also a thing I'd been craving since I was oh-so young, and something I'd been acting out time and time again with way too many older men. It was what destroyed my first engagement, and then after I got engaged to another wonderful man, it destroyed my marriage after only two years.

I lost everything. I was the cheat. I was the slut. I was the wrong-doer. I didn't contest anything about the divorce. So, at age 24, I was left with an old car that I'd been driving since I started college, a bunch of boxes, and no place to live. What did I do? I moved in with my widowed dad.

Daddy and I were close – he was my mentor in so many things, but there were things I couldn't talk to him about because they came too close to my truths. I couldn't talk about what kept breaking my relationships, and I certainly couldn't talk about anything related to sex. Just being around him made me wet and tingly enough. I didn't need to sprint down any slippery slopes.

I'd been home a month and was as thoroughly moved in as I was going to get. I assured him it was temporary, so my stuff was pretty much contained in my room and in the garage. He said it was fine and I could stay as long as I wanted, and everything in the house was mine, too, as far as he was concerned. Red flag; slippery slope. He didn't know what that conjured up in my head. So, I kept my stuff in my room, other than a few kitchen gadgets I put out.

We had made pizza that night, back and forth and around each other in the kitchen, taking turns at the counter, at the butcher block, at the stove, squeezing by each other, brushing flour off each other as we worked on crusts, dabbing spattered tomato sauce off each other, sharing nibbles of cheese and sausage and pepperoni. I went to the bathroom twice and made myself cum and cum before I was ready to go out. And, as soon as I was out, there was another glass of wine, and more squeezing past each other, and more tingling. So what, I decided. I was being silly. The wine and I were sure I could stay in control of my impulses and yearnings.

When dinner was ready, we ate our pizza at the couch, watching some kind of cop show. There are like fifty, and I lose track of which is which. After we ate, I snuggled against him and we kept watching. Soon, my head was in daddy's lap. We watched perps come and go, and at one point they hauled some streetwalkers into the office to be booked or interrogated or whatever. The wine told me it didn't really matter. One had big boobs with cleavage showing. No, great big boobs with LOTS of cleavage. Dad's hand dropped down to my head and his thumb ran across my hairline.

"Ooops – sorry, princess. Must've dozed."

Didn't seem like it – we'd been making smart-ass comments right up until about a minute before. It was then I noticed something pushing my hair up from the underside. I thought maybe I'd shifted, so I reached down to brush it back and my fingertips ran into something hard, covered in denim.

Daddy's cock was hard. Not only that, it was big. Those were my first two thoughts, followed by wondering if he always grabbed his dick when he saw a hot woman on TV. The next thought was disappointment. Daddy had a thing for women with big tits – bigger than mine. Mine were C cups, just shy of D's. Not tiny, but not as big as that actress'. The next thing was to remember to say I was sorry for poking his dick with my fingers. "Oops ... sorry."

"Huh? Oh, uh, no harm, no foul, Cindy"

We sat quietly through the rest of the scene, then as she was being walked out to her cell, I blurted out "So – you like her, huh? Find her attractive?"

"What? Oh, I've never seen her before. She seemed okay, though."

"Well, something – ahem – gave me that impression. Maybe you just like big boobs."

"Heh ... well, not really. I mean, not especially. I like them all sizes. I mean ... it all depends."

He was vaguely drunk, but I was specifically drunk, so I pressed for more.

"She's young, too. Is that something you like ...?"

"Heh-heh ... umm ... did I mention I picked up ice cream, Cindy?"

I poked him in the thigh. "*bzzzt! Answer the question."

"Well, you know ... I'm just a guy ... draw your own conclusions."

I rolled over to my back, with his big cock pressed into the back of my head now.

"Are you one of those guys who likes young girls with my size boobs?"

He looked in my eyes and I could tell he wanted to shift his gaze down my body. I looked downward at my breasts, and his eyes stumbled that same direction, too

"Do you like them, daddy?"

"They look ... I mean ..."

I took the hand that had been hovering in mid-air since he'd reached down and found my head in the way of his crotch. I pressed it hard against my left breast.

"Do you like them, daddy ...?"

He looked at me and made fish moves with his mouth, like there were all kinds of words almost coming out.

"Your hand feels good there, daddy."

He looked back down at his hand on my tit and started kneading slowly.

I let him do it for a moment, then said "That's no good, daddy" and his hand sprang back. I unbuttoned my top and undid the clasp at the front of my bra, and suddenly both were out in the open.

"Love them for me, daddy." I scooted up until the middle of my back was across his lap. His cock poked into the middle of my back. I propped my head in top a couch pillow. "Daddy, love them please. They belong to you – they always have."

Then, both his hand were on my tits, kneading them, his thumbs playing across my nipples and making them as hard as his cock.

His hands were getting me insanely wet, so it was only fair for me to tell him, right? "Daddy – put your hand in my pants and see how wet your making your little princess."

He did, feeling all the heat and moisture coming off my pussy. His finger ground between my lips and against my clit and I shuddered. "Daddy, you're going to make me cum if you keep that up. Then what will we do?" He wriggled his fingertip against my clit and my knees popped up. He couldn't have forgotten much in the five years since mom died or maybe he stayed in practice.

I moaned and tried to reach behind my back to touch his cock, when his fingers shifted and he did something I'd never felt before. He plunged two fingers straight up my cunt to my g-spot, and tucked his thumb underneath to press and caress my clit. I was too far gone and exploded against him, rolling into a ball against him, hugging his magic arm with my arms and shuddering through one orgasm after the next. Again and again, my cunt contracted and squeezed his fingers, and the moment I thought I was done, it hit me again. Those slow circles against my g-spot, more than anything else, were driving me on and on.

Finally, he let up, and I gradually unlatched from him.

"Oh, my god, oh fuck daddy, oh god that was ... I've never ... I always imagined – always, but never thought ... and it was so ..." It was all gibberish, but I hoped he understood a little of what it was supposed to mean.

I looked up at him, and he just smiled. It was a soft smile, but there was a certain hungry squint to his eyes. Aside from his lack of orgasms, he had enjoyed it as much as me. He knew it was bad and wrong and twisted, but he loved it as I'd loved it. Maybe he'd even been imagining it for as long as me.

I tried to sit up and put my weight on my legs. I was going to take his hand and walk him to the bedroom – either bedroom – and have him fuck his baby girl endlessly, fuck us both into a brand new world. I was too far gone, though. It wasn't the wine, but the cumming. My legs were like rubber and they folded under me. Next thing I knew, I was squatted between his legs. I couldn't get him to the bedroom, but I could help him like he'd helped me.

He watched as I unzipped his pants and popped his big cock free of his precum soaked boxers.

It waved in the air. I grabbed it one hand to stop it, then grabbed it with the other hand, too. Two hands were on it and the head still stood out above everything. I used it to drag myself forward and engulf the head in my mouth.

His hands went to my hair, lightly holding and caressing, as my head bobbed up and down the two inches not contained in my hands. I swirled my tongue around the head, and flickered it on the underside that I knew from experience with other men was so very sensitive. His cock twitched. Yeah, he was loving in. I wrapped my lips around and bobbed up and down some more, then I kept alternating for a while – bobbing, swirling, flickering. My hands were busy, too, barely reaching around his shaft, they turned side to side around his rippled, veiny hardness.

His hips rose and fell a little, slow and small thrusts. I dropped my highest hand and let him thrust further into my mouth and he immediately took the hint. His fingers tightened in my hair and he thrust up. I licked and swirled, but mostly he was in charge. He held my head steady and fucked back and forth in my mouth, lips to throat, back and forth, the hard underside of his cock gliding against my tongue.

"Oh, baby, oh princess ... you're so good – I don't know where you learned, but holy jesus fuck, you're a miracle worker with your mouth. God, your tongue, your lips ... I can't remember ever having such an amazing mouth on my cock, not even your m~ ... not anyone."

My hand, low on his cock, kept in time with his thrusts, and when he drove hard into my mouth, touched my lips. He had a good five inches in my mouth and my hand had the last three or so. I was drooling like a madwoman, my saliva slicking his shaft and my hand. It had to feel to him sometimes that it was all one deep, wet mouth.

He raised his hips and arched his back as his thrusts got more frantic, banging again and again at the back of my mouth. Even while I was licking, I was reminding myself to breathe in between strokes. His hands shuddered and my whole head shook, and I thought he was about to cum, but then he just stopped. The only thing in the room was his harsh, ragged panting, then he said. "Baby – just relax and it'll be fine." I didn't know what he meant until he slid his cock back in, but then, instead of a stroke back out, he held it firm at the back of my throat, and in his tight grip, tilted my head to get a better angle.

Daddy was going into my throat with his long cock. I helped by tilting my head just a bit more, and that's all that it took. My own daddy's big cock was all the way in, and my nose was down at the base. I couldn't breathe, but the sheer exhilaration of taking him all the way, so suddenly, was incredible. Part of me wanted it to stay there until I passed out. Part of me wanted air, though, which he sensed. He drew back and I gasped. He made several short strokes in my mouth again, fucking just to the back, and I thought maybe he was done, and then on the fifth stroke, he drove like a train into my throat and held there for a moment before drawing back out.

Over and over – a series of short strokes, then his hard cock all the way back in my throat, then repeated. I was drooling and starting to get light headed when he change once more. There was a deep plunge into my throat, two short and trembling strokes in and out, never leaving my throat, then just as greyness started filling my vision, his cock throbbed and spurted again and again and again. Seven spurts and he was done, yanking my head off his cock and letting me catch a breath – a gasp, another gasp, and then longer, deeper gulps of air.

I wasn't completely wasted before – just enough, but now I was more than enough. I suckled his cock a little as it soften, and gulped a little at the still-tightness and soreness in my throat, as though that would help, then let his cock slip from my mouth.

I fell asleep between daddy's legs, my face just inches from his softened, shiny cock.

When I woke, hours later, I was spooned inside his arms, in his room, in his bed. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep until he called me out for breakfast the following morning.

Breakfast is another story. Actually it's only one of a lot of other stories that came after.