My Beloved Angel,
Daddy just had to say thank you for the wonderful image you sent him today. He was so thrilled with the image marked Tease2.jpg in his e-mail this morning. His eyes opened wide, smiling hard, staring at the perfect firm tits, the amazing C-cups standing like fleshy-cupcakes, the perfect pink nipples hard and tasty like ripe, round cherries on the icing that is your smooth, perfect flesh.
Or, are they D-cups my angel? No matter: Daddy still loves them (and you) with all his wicked, perverted heart, and SO enjoys the delight of your gorgeous figure.
I was breathing fast, staring at the screen, hoping, aching for the breast to move, to suddenly inflate and rise, and fall, shaking softly like peaches on a tree branch. He hoped to see their ripeness jumping slightly, but knowing it was your desire to tease him frozen, made him smile. A unique, captured image; a very personal image. It was something not on your personal website or anywhere else you posted your smile, your figure or anything for anyone else to see. This was something to only share with a lover, with an inflamed passion, or with Daddy.
As the printer in his office came up with your image, the perfect symmetry of your breast evident on your ribcage, the chin and lower lips showing in the picture, the only parts Daddy could identify you with, he smiled. He shivered, wishing he could see your blue eyes, the smile reaching from ear to ear, proud to show Daddy the amazing figure that every young man swoons for when you walk by at college. He knows you are always going to have suitors, young men dying to touch you, to embrace you, to kiss you, to run their hands over your figure and posses that delicate and curvaceous shape for a moment, a night or forever.
Yet, somehow, you are always going to want Daddy to have those same pleasures. No denial, no hesitation, no fear or reproach -- Daddy will always want his little angel teased, delighted, pleased and aching for his touch, his needs and his desire to meet the heat radiating from your heart and soul. Daddy knows you were biting your lower lip, wondering if he would be pleased with the image you sent to him alone.
He is, completely floored and thrilled with the sweet, hard nipples, the peaked breast standing proudly, not one bit of blush covering your skin. You are not embarrassed or nervous, and you know Daddy will love this picture. And as the ink dried on your picture, Daddy was breathing faster, unconsciously undoing the buckle of his belt, thinking of you seeing the image of a partial smile and a frozen capture breath in your stunning tits. He stood over his desk, laying the picture at the edge, feeling his knees soften, his heart beating a jackhammer of lust and desire for you, licking his dry lips, a lump caught in his throat and in his shorts, the slacks around his ankles and over his shoes.
Daddy could see the camera phone in your hand, your blouse partially open, exposing yourself by lifting the outstanding breast from your sports bra, shivering as you possibly looked in the mirror, making sure to tease me with the abundance of breast and the lack of face. Nevertheless, the sliver of your smile made me sure of this action. My fist slowly enveloped my cock, squeezing it, feeling it pulsing, wishing you were closer, maybe to watch Daddy jacking off over your picture. He groaned, remembering his favorite image of you: ass-up over his lap, your shorts down around your knees restraining your legs from kicking, your cheeks bare and smooth. He recalls the cries of your voice, shouting, "Oh FUCK! Daddy! Don't stop! OHHhhhhh jeezus!! Oh fuck, Daddy, don't stop spanking me. Spank your baby-girl. She's been soooo damned bad!"
I could remember the honey pouring out of your pussy, the clitty rubbing against my chinos, your body thrashing, your breast bouncing against my other leg. I can still feel how your breast bounced on my other leg, barely contained in your sports bra, held close to your body, jumping and jiggling as I wished your photo would, you bouncing madly against my leg. I shivered, feeling your figure barely staying on my lap, the hard-on thick inside my slacks, you jumping and still, holding on for dear life, almost as if you WANTED, even needed me spanking you.
My eyes shut, and I could see the handprint on your asscheeks, you breathing fast, shaking desperately. A second later I slid a finger inside the hot, wet pussy, barely able to pry myself inside you, the tight, tiny shorts keeping your legs close together. A little more wriggling and you felt me finger-fucking you, pumping down to the knuckles inside you, one then two sunk inside again and again, the room filling with the scent of your sopping cunt leaking, the creaminess a blissful ride for my fingers again and again inside you, deeper and harder each time.
Finger fucking you was such an amazing delight. Your body heaving like a beached fish, aching to breathe, dying for more MORE lust to course through your body. I can still feel how your desire rose, the nipples perky and rock hard under your skimpy t-shirt. You took every stroke, biting your lower lips, moaning, whimpering, gasping for air and groaning between breaths.
"Ooooooo Daddy," you purred aloud, losing all inhibitions. Another shudder and you exhaled, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum Daddy. Please, please let me cum."
When Daddy recalled that sound, the rhythm of your body on my lap, grinding, fucking the fingers deeper inside yourself, how do you think I felt? Do you think that made me jack off faster looking at your picture with more concentration, wishing for your skin, wanting your sweet velvety cunt wrapped around my fingers again? Do you think Daddy sniffs them for a phantom-smell, wanting to inhale the long-gone aroma one more time, his hard-on jumping at the memory of you?
