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Introduction:

Dark, taboo, and emotionally messy.

If that isn’t your thing, please move along.

This is a standalone short based on my novel Babygirl.

You can find it on my store here: payhip.com/LilaHartBooks

I’ve been wet for Daddy like this for the past year.

Not the soft, pretty kind of wet. The messy, aching, can’t-think-straight kind that leaves a dark spot on my sheets and makes my thighs stick together when I walk. “Ughhhh….” The kind that starts the second I hear his footsteps in the hallway and doesn’t stop until I’m shaking and biting my pillow so Mom won’t hear.

I’m nineteen. Still living at home. Glasses. Soft voice. The cute nerdy virgin everyone underestimates. The idea of packing up for college next year knots my stomach so hard I can barely breathe. How am I supposed to sleep without hearing Daddy’s low laugh from the other room? How am I supposed to wake up without the smell of his coffee pulling me toward him like a magnet? How??? Can’t be done!!

Mom has known something for a while. I see it in the tight line of her jaw whenever I crawl into his lap or beg him to brush out my wet hair after a shower. She watches us too closely. She suspects. But Daddy still looks at me with that warm, clueless pride, like I’m still his sweet, innocent princess who can do no wrong. “That’s right…”!

This weekend she’s gone.

Mom left for her 2-day conference. The door clicked shut behind her and the house went quiet. Different quiet. Like it was finally just ours.

I locked my bedroom door and leaned back against it. My heart was racing so hard I could feel it in my throat. My secret diary waited in the bottom drawer. I pulled it out, climbed onto the bed, and opened it to a fresh page. Soft light was coming through the curtains. My hand was already shaking when I clicked the pen.

I started slow.

Mom just left. The house is finally ours for the whole weekend and I can barely sit still.

I’ve always been Daddy’s babygirl. Not pretend. Real. It started when I was younger and he would carry me up the stairs after I fell asleep on the couch. I remember pressing my face into his neck, breathing him in, feeling so safe I never wanted him to put me down. His arms were so big around me back then. They still are.

Tonight that same memory keeps twisting. I want him to carry me upstairs again, except this time my legs are wrapped tight around his waist and his thick cock is already buried halfway inside me. I want every step to jolt him deeper while I whimper into his neck. I want him to lay me down on his marital bed and finally finish what he started without even knowing it.

I want to wrap my lips around that thick daddy cock and taste him for the first time. I want to choke on him. I want to look up at him with tears in my eyes while I drool all over the cock that made me.

The words made my stomach turn. I was taking every gentle memory he gave me and turning it into something filthy. My hand shook, but I couldn’t stop.

I want to ruin him for Mom. I want to make him addicted to his own daughter’s tight virgin pussy. I want to feel him lose control and fill me up again and again until his cum is dripping down my thighs and I’m carrying what’s his. And the worst part is I know it would break something in him too. I just can’t stop wanting it anyway.

This is going to destroy my family, and the thought only makes my pulse throb between my legs.

By the time I set the pen down my cheeks were burning and the crotch of my shorts was dark and clinging. I could hear the faint wet sound every time I shifted. I stripped out of everything, pulled on Daddy’s old gray t-shirt, and nothing else. The soft fabric fell loose around my bare thighs. The hem barely covered my ass. His scent clung to the collar, clean skin, warm man, faint cologne. I pressed my nose to it and inhaled until the room tilted.

I caught my reflection in the dresser mirror. Daddy’s shirt hanging loose. My nipples already tight, dark points pushing against the thin cotton. Thighs soft and pale. I bunched the shirt up under my breasts and stared. When he sees me like this. Not if. When.

I licked my thumb and rolled one stiff nipple between my fingers. “Ahhh…” The spark shot straight down. My knees wobbled. I climbed onto the bed, let my thighs fall open, and watched in the mirror as my pussy lips parted, glossy and flushed. Clear slick slipped free and trailed down toward my ass. I refused to touch my clit just yet. Instead I drew my knees to my chest, arched until my hips lifted, and imagined Daddy’s strong hands locking around my thighs, holding me wide open.

This is so wrong. He used to tuck me into bed and read me stories. Now I’m lying here with my legs splayed like a whore, aching because I can’t stop thinking about his cock stretching me open. The thought should have made me sick. Instead it made my thighs tremble and more slick run down my skin.

I rolled onto my stomach and started grinding against the sheet. “Mmmhh..!” The wet spot beneath me grew fast. I pictured his thick thigh instead, hard muscle, warm skin, his big hand pressing between my shoulder blades while I humped him like a desperate animal. The orgasm swelled up quick. I forced myself to stop completely, chest heaving, pussy squeezing around nothing, more wetness leaking in a steady trickle.

I eased one finger inside, then a second. “Ahhh… so wet.” The slight burn felt perfect. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. I pumped them slow, then pulled them out and brought them straight up to my face. The smell hit me first. Sweet. Thick. Me. I licked them clean, tasting myself, and the filthy little sound of it made my stomach twist. Then I shoved them back in and kept going.

Minutes blurred. I kept bringing myself right to the edge. Fingers deep, the low buzz of the vibrator on my clit, circling, then forcing myself to stop, shaking and leaking, over and over. Every time I stopped I pulled my fingers free and sucked them again, smelling how much wetter I was getting. The storm outside grew louder, matching the one inside me. I wanted to be ready. Tight enough to make him groan when he first pushed in. Open enough that he could sink deep without hurting me.

I stopped moving and just held my fingers buried inside, feeling my walls try to pull them deeper. Then I shoved a pillow between my thighs and ground down hard. The pressure on my clit built fast. I clamped my legs shut and froze right on the brink. “I need him so bad…” I wanted to stay this desperate. Wanted him to find me soaked and shaking so the second his hands touched me I’d fall apart.

I buried my face in the bundled shirt and bit down hard. His smell surrounded me. My pussy kept fluttering and squeezing, leaving the pillow darker with every shift. When the shaking finally eased I wiped my face with the back of my wrist. Everything felt sticky and ruined.

Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked right after. I curled onto my side, knees drawn tight, one arm hugging the damp shirt to my face while the other slipped between my thighs, cupping my soaked pussy. My swollen folds burned hot against my palm, still twitching and leaking. Every tiny shift made my slick inner lips slide together with a quiet filthy sound.

I whispered into the shirt. “…love you, Daddy.”

Then I drifted off just like that, curled into a tight little ball, bare ass peeking out from under his shirt, thighs clamped around my soaked hand, pussy still leaking slowly onto the sheets.

I was floating in that warm, hazy place between sleep and waking when I heard the soft creak of my bedroom door.

“Em? Sweetheart, you still asleep?” Daddy’s deep, familiar voice drifted in, low and careful. “I was gonna order pizza and wanted to know what you…”

The words cut off.

For a second there was only silence. Then the door closed behind him. Footsteps, quiet, hesitant, crossing the room toward my bed.

I was still curled on my side, knees drawn up tight, Daddy’s big gray shirt rucked up around my waist. My bare ass was completely exposed, one thigh draped over the other, my hand still trapped between my legs, fingers resting against my sticky pussy. The sheets beneath me were dark and damp in a messy patch. The whole room smelled like warm girl and sex.

The mattress dipped when he sat on the edge.

“Jesus, babygirl…” he breathed, so quiet I almost thought I imagined it. His voice sounded different. Lower. Rougher.

A big warm hand tugged the hem of his shirt down, trying to cover my ass and thighs. The fabric dragged over my skin but it was too short. His fingers brushed the back of my bare thigh and he hesitated. Like he didn’t know whether to pull away or keep going. The heat of his palm burned there. He realized what he was touching and still didn’t take his hand away.

“Emily…” His voice was rougher now. “Em, wake up, sweetheart. It’s getting late.”

His hand settled on my shoulder, and he gave me a gentle shake. Then another, firmer. His thumb stroked slow circles against my skin like he used to when I was little and having a nightmare.

I stirred with a soft, sleepy sound, eyelids fluttering open. My body was still heavy with arousal, pussy throbbing lazily against my own fingers, the scent of my wetness thick in the air between us.

Daddy was right there, close enough that I could see the slight flush on his neck, the way his jaw flexed. His eyes flicked down for half a second to where the shirt had already ridden back up, exposing the curve of my ass again, before snapping back to my face.

He looked like he was fighting himself.

“Hey…” he murmured, voice gentle but strained. “You okay, princess? Dinner time.”

I blinked up at him, still half-dreaming, my hand still cupped possessively between my slick thighs.

“Pepperoni and mushroom…” I mumbled, voice thick and raspy. “Extra cheese. And… can we get the cheesy crust?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, baby. I can do that.” His thumb brushed my shoulder again. “You gonna come down soon?”

“Mhmm. Few more minutes,” I whispered, eyes already drifting shut again. “Promise…”

I felt the mattress shift as he stood. The soft sound of his footsteps retreating. Then my door closing behind him.

Then silence.

My eyes snapped open.

He saw.

He had to have seen.

I sat up slowly. Thighs stuck together with a faint embarrassing sound. The room smelled like sex. My sex. Sweet. Musky. Unmistakable. Daddy’s shirt clung to my skin, damp in places from my sweat and the steady leak between my legs.

I pressed both hands to my burning cheeks.”OMG…!!!”

He walked in and found me like that. Curled up like a little slut, ass out, no panties, fingers tucked against my dripping pussy, sheets ruined. How long was he standing there before he tried to cover me? Did he stare? Did he see how swollen and shiny I was? Did he smell me?

A sudden shiver rolled through me. Fresh warmth trickled out of my hole and ran down toward the sheets again.

Part of me wanted to die from embarrassment. The bigger part, the dark hungry part, loved it.

I imagined him standing in the doorway, eyes locked on my bare ass, watching the slow twitch of my pussy as I slept. Maybe his cock got hard. Maybe he had to adjust himself before he came closer. Maybe he stood there breathing in the scent of his own daughter’s cunt while I dreamed about him fucking me.

I hugged my knees to my chest, burying my face against them, torn between shame and a fresh rush of filthy heat.

He saw me like that… and he still covered me gently. Still called me princess. Still touched my shoulder like I was his innocent little girl.

The contrast made my stomach twist. Sweet and sick at the same time.

I waited until my legs felt steady enough. Then I stood, tugged the shirt down over my hips, and left everything else off, no panties, no bra. Just his scent all over my skin and this deep, hollow throb between my thighs that refused to fade.

I walked to the top of the stairs and stood there for a moment, heart hammering, one hand resting low on my belly. My legs shook before I could steady them. I could hear how soaked I was every time I shifted my weight, a faint, embarrassing, slick sound that made my cheeks burn.

What if I drip on the floor? What if he smells how filthy his babygirl is right now? The same man who used to tuck me in is about to see me like this, shirt sticking to my wet pussy, and I’m hoping he does.

I took a deep breath. Softened my face into that sweet innocent smile I’ve perfected. Then stepped into the living room.

There he was.

Daddy stretched out on the big sectional, legs spread wide in that relaxed way he always sits. He’s wearing nothing but those soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and cling to every inch of him. My eyes lock straight between his thighs. That thick, heavy bulge rests against one muscular leg, the fabric molded perfectly around the shape of his cock. Even soft it’s impressive.

My tongue presses to the roof of my mouth as I stare. I can practically feel the warmth coming off it. Faint masculine musk drifts up from him, mixing with the clean scent of his skin and the rain outside. My breath catches. I bite my lower lip hard, trying to keep the sweet innocent face while fresh heat pulses between my legs.

Daddy looked up from his phone the second I appeared. His eyes caught on me and stayed. Something sat behind the usual warmth. Heavier. Quieter. Like he still hadn’t shaken the upstairs image. They flicked over me. Daddy’s old gray t-shirt hanging loose, hem barely covering the tops of my thighs, nipples pushing against the thin fabric. That look landed low in my stomach. It wasn’t the soft proud one. It carried the upstairs with it. He didn’t look away fast enough.

For half a second his gaze stayed. Then he cleared his throat and pushed the warm smile back into place.

“Hey, princess. Pizza should be here in about twenty minutes. I got the extra cheese and cheesy crust like you wanted.”

I padded over to the couch on bare feet. Cool air on my slick thighs with every step. Fresh trickle of wetness threatening to escape. I climbed onto the sectional right beside him, closer than I should have. Tucked my legs under me and leaned into his side, cheek against his broad shoulder like I’d done a thousand times.

The shirt rode up high in the back. I didn’t fix it.

“Thanks, Daddy,” I murmured, voice still a little sleepy and soft. “I’m starving.”

He draped his arm around me. Big hand on my waist. I felt the heat of his palm through the shirt. The way he held me felt a little heavier than usual, like he was being careful without realizing it. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from squirming.

We waited. The storm raged outside. Rain against the windows. Baseball game low on the TV. Daddy’s thumb moved in slow absent circles against my hip. Every stroke made the hem of the shirt creep higher up my bare thigh. I kept my eyes on the screen pretending to watch, but my mind was somewhere else.

I kept replaying the moment he found me upstairs. The way he’d gone quiet. The way he’d tugged the shirt down over my ass. Had he seen how wet I was? Had he smelled me? Was he thinking about it right now while his hand rested on my waist? The same hand that already touched my bare skin.

My pussy throbbed. Another rush of slick slipped out and ran down my thigh. I pressed my legs tighter trying to hide it, but it just made my folds slide together with this quiet wet sound I was scared he’d hear.

Daddy shifted. His thigh brushed mine. The thick heavy shape in his sweatpants was right there, so close I could almost feel its warmth. Even soft it looked massive. The outline of the fat head and the long shaft against the gray fabric made my mouth water.

I wanted to crawl into his lap. I wanted to grind my bare, dripping pussy against that thick bulge until he finally snapped and did something about it.

Instead I stayed curled against him like the perfect innocent babygirl. Breathing in his scent while my heart hammered and my pussy leaked steadily onto the cushion under me.

The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.

Daddy gave my waist a gentle squeeze before standing up. “Stay put, I’ll get it…”

I watched him walk away, eyes locked on the way his sweatpants hugged his ass and the heavy swing of what hung between his legs. The second he disappeared around the corner I let out a shaky breath and slipped my hand between my thighs, pressing two fingers against my soaked folds just to feel how messy I’d gotten.

When he came back with the pizza boxes I pulled my hand away fast and gave him my sweetest smile. Cheeks flushed. Thighs sticky. Heart racing with filthy desperate need.

We ate pizza on the couch. Storm raging outside like it was trying to tear the house down. Daddy had two big slices, relaxed and focused on the game. I sat curled beside him with my own plate, legs tucked under me, hem of his shirt barely covering anything.

Every time he looked over I gave him that sweet innocent smile. Inside my head it was pure filth.

How far can I push tonight?

I imagined scooting closer until I was in his lap. Imagined “accidentally” letting the shirt ride all the way up so he could see how bare and wet I was. Wondered what would happen if I reached over and rested my hand on that thick bulge I couldn’t stop staring at. Would he freeze? Would he finally stop pretending?

I took another bite of pizza. Cheese stretching. Fresh wetness slipped out and wet the cushion under me. I was making a mess on the couch and the thought only made me wetter.

Daddy glanced at me again, eyes soft. “You okay, princess? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

There was a tiny tightness in the way he said it. Like he was checking more than just my mood. I wanted him to already know. I wanted the one who saw me upstairs to stay, not the one still trying so hard to act normal.

I swallowed and smiled, cheeks warm. “Just tired from my nap. And the storm makes me feel… cozy.”

He nodded and went back to his pizza and the game.

When we finished eating he leaned back with a sigh, one arm along the back cushions. Eyes on the TV. I stayed right where I was, pressed against his side, legs still tucked, heart hammering.

The shirt had ridden up again. I didn’t fix it. Cool air on the lower curve of my bare ass. Constant slow drip of my pussy onto the cushion.

I waited until the silence between us felt heavy.

Then Daddy stood up, stretched, and walked over to the big dark leather armchair in the corner. The deep high-backed one with the worn arms. Soft black leather that always smelled faintly of him. He dropped into it with a low groan, legs spread wide in that relaxed way he always sat. One hand on the armrest, the other scratching lightly at his beard. TV light on his face.

My heart slammed harder. That chair. The one I’d pictured a hundred times while writing in my diary. The one I’d imagined straddling him in while he watched the game. My bare pussy grinding against the thick bulge in his sweatpants while he pretended not to notice.

I slipped off the couch and padded over on bare feet. Oversized shirt brushing the tops of my thighs. Stopped just in front of him, twisting my fingers in the hem.

“Daddy?” My voice came out soft and sweet. Almost shy. “The storm’s getting really loud… Can I sit with you?”

He glanced at me. That warm easy smile spread across his face. Full of love and pride. The same smile he’s given me since I was little. Eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Of course, babygirl. Come here.”

I climbed into his lap without hesitation. Swung one leg over his thick thigh and settled against his chest exactly the way I’d fantasized. My bare soaked folds pressed against the hard muscle of his leg through the thin fabric of his pants. “Mmmhh…” The second my weight settled he stiffened under me. Small catch in his breath. His hand landed on my waist a beat slower than it should have. I rested my hand on his chest right over his heart and looked up at him through my glasses. Cheeks already flushed.

Daddy’s arm came around my waist. Heavy and warm. Pulling me closer.

That smile hits me hard. I have to press my thighs together for a second just to steady myself. The man who walked into my room upstairs is still here under the smile and I don’t want him to disappear.

I nuzzle into the warm curve of his neck, breathing in his clean masculine scent. “I’m cold, Daddy. Warm me up?”

I roll my hips in one slow careful glide. *Aahhh…* The wet sound is soft but filthy. I keep my face tucked against his neck so he can’t see the way my eyes flutter and my lips part. Every tiny roll drags my sensitive skin against his thigh muscle, leaving more slickness behind. The wet sounds of my pussy sliding on his thigh grow louder even over the rain.

Daddy’s hand keeps those slow lazy circles on my thigh. He chuckles softly, warm against my hair. “You really are cold tonight, huh, princess?” His voice is so gentle. So full of protective love it makes my chest ache.

I’m secretly grinding my bare pussy all over him like a needy little slut while he holds me like I’m still pure. The power of that contrast, his love and my hunger, makes everything feel more intense. I love him so much it hurts. I also want him to wreck me.

I stay pressed close, heart hammering, already hungry for more.

I start with tiny circles, slow and careful, like I’m just getting comfortable. Then I let the rolls grow a little longer, a little bolder, pulling back until I open wider before sliding forward again. Each movement sends fresh sparks racing through me. “Mmmphh…” I have to bite my lip harder to stay quiet. My breath comes out in soft, shaky puffs against his neck as I fight the urge to grind harder. The rhythmic, wet sounds of my slickness against the soaked fabric keep getting louder.

Daddy shifted slightly beneath me. “You settling in okay, princess?” his voice low and warm.

I nod against his neck, not trusting my voice. His cock is starting to wake up for me. The thought sends another rush through my chest, but it only makes me want him more.

That’s when I feel it.

His cock starts to respond under the soft sweatpants. It twitches once, heavy and alive against the side of my thigh. Then it thickens fast, swelling right there beneath me. The fat head pushes noticeably against the fabric, pressing up firm and hot right under my soaked pussy. *Oh so hot….* I can feel the veiny shape of the shaft now, thick and heavy, the ridge of the head flaring as it grows harder by the second. It jumps against me with every heartbeat, the weight of it impressive and intimidating and so perfectly Daddy.

I can’t stop feeling it. Every pulse makes my breath hitch. The thick vein running along the top of his shaft presses insistently against my clit through the soaked fabric. The fat, mushroom head nudging right under my slit like it’s trying to find its way inside. His precum is already darkening the front of his pants, mixing with how wet I am. The combined scent of us, warm, intimate, and completely addictive, drifts up between our bodies. “Mmmhhn..”

I press my lips to the side of his neck and suck gently, tasting salt and skin. “I love you, Daddy. More than anything.”

His hand slides higher under the t-shirt, palming my bare ass. His fingertips rest dangerously close to my entrance, so close I can feel the warmth of them teasing my slick skin.

Thunder rolls again. My breathing turns ragged. Every tiny roll of my hips makes soft, filthy wet sounds that feel way too loud. I know how crushed he’d be if he realized his sweet princess is grinding her bare virgin pussy all over him like a desperate little slut. The thought only makes me press down harder, dragging my slick folds along his thickening cock.

His warm, masculine scent fills my head with every shaky breath. Under the thunder and rain are the quiet, obscene sounds of my soaked pussy sliding back and forth on his bulge, sticky, messy, constant. My own breath comes out in hot, trembling puffs against his neck.

This is the same lap I used to fall asleep in after nightmares. The same thighs I climbed when I was tiny and scared of thunder. Now I’m rubbing my dripping virgin cunt all over them like a filthy secret. The shame burns deep, but it twists into something darker and hungrier.

I’m corrupting my own protector, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him into something he never asked to be. And I can’t stop.

Daddy’s hand keeps stroking my bare thigh in those lazy, affectionate circles. His cock is fully hard now, thick and insistent, the heavy shape of it jumping every time I roll my hips just right. I bite my lip hard, fighting the moan that wants to slip out, and let myself grind a little firmer, letting my slick inner petals spread open and hug the rigid outline through the ruined fabric.

Just a little more. Just until I can feel him leaking for me too. *OMG… I’m getting so turned on.*

I keep rolling my hips in those slow, dragging circles, lost in the slick heat building between us, when Daddy’s phone lights up on the coffee table and starts ringing loud. The screen flashes Mom. The sharp sound cuts through the storm like a blade.

We both freeze.

My bare pussy stays pressed tight against his now rock-hard cock through the soaked sweatpants. The thick shaft feels massive under me, fully flushed, the veiny length trapped right along my slit. My soft outer lips hug the rigid outline.

I don’t move away. Instead, I give one tiny, secret roll of my hips, rubbing my sensitive clit firmly along that pulsing bulge. The friction sends a spark through my core.

“Answer it, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly against his neck, voice soft and innocent even as my bare pussy presses against his pulsing cock. “She’ll get suspicious if you don’t.”

He swallows hard, breath hot against my hair. One hand stays glued to my bare ass, fingers digging in as he grabs the phone. “Hey, honey,” he says, voice already rough around the edges. His cock jumps hard between my thighs, the thick head nudging right against my entrance.

I stay perfectly still while he talks, short answers about the storm, about work, about how he’s just watching TV. Mom’s voice sounds tiny and far away through the speaker. The second he relaxes into the call, I start moving again. I roll my hips in slow, filthy little circles. My soft outer lips spread around the fat ridge of his cock through the soaked sweatpants. “Unhhh…”. Every tiny glide drags my clit across the swollen head. The wet sounds are quieter now, muffled by his voice and the phone, but I can still hear them, sticky, constant, filthy.

What if Mom hears that sound? What if she realizes her own daughter is grinding her dripping pussy all over her husband’s cock while they talk?

The thought makes my stomach flip, but I don’t stop. I keep my face buried in his neck, lips brushing his skin with every small movement. My breath comes out shaky against his throat. The risk makes my heart slam so hard I’m scared he can feel it.

Daddy’s voice stays mostly steady, but it keeps catching, roughening every time I drag myself over him. His free hand flexes hard on my ass, fingers squeezing like he’s trying not to and failing. He shifts once beneath me, a small, restless roll of his hips that presses his cock harder against my slit. He’s fighting it. I can feel him fighting it.

I drag my pussy lips slowly up and down his entire length, feeling every thick vein and the flared ridge of the head catch on my clit. The fabric between us is completely soaked now, clinging to both of us. Every time I rock forward, my entrance kisses the underside of his shaft. Every time I slide back, my clit gets another firm nudge.

The power rush hits me hard. Here I am, secretly rubbing my virgin pussy all over Daddy’s rock-hard cock while he talks to Mom like nothing is happening. And he already saw too much upstairs. He already knows something is wrong with the way he looks at me, and I’m still doing this under her voice. Shame burns up the back of my neck. I know how devastated he’d be if he knew what his sweet princess is actually doing. But that same shame only makes me grind a little firmer, spreading my folds wider around him.

Mom’s voice stays tinny and distant. She has no idea. She has no clue her daughter is smearing her slick all over her husband right now, marking him while she’s miles away.

I keep the movements small and steady so he can still talk. My thighs tremble from holding back. I want to slam down on him so bad, but I force myself to stay controlled. Every roll makes fresh wetness coat his sweatpants. The heavy musk of us mixes together under my shirt, warm skin, precum, and my own desperate scent.

Daddy clears his throat twice when Mom asks him something. His hips twitch upward once, pressing his cock harder against my slit. I bite my lip to stay quiet, eyes half-closed, lashes fluttering as the pressure builds deep in my core.

The call drags on. Every second feels dangerous and perfect. *I’m corrupting him right under her nose, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him on, and the worst part is he already saw me ruined upstairs and still hasn’t pushed me off.* The knowledge twists in my chest, sharp and sickening.

When the call finally ends and he sets the phone down, I smile softly into the curve of his neck, breathing him in. His cock is still rock-hard and denied beneath me, twitching with frustration against my soaked pussy. The front of his sweatpants is a complete mess, dark, wet, clinging to every thick inch of him. I nuzzle closer, hiding the hungry little smile on my lips. His free hand comes up to rub slow, soothing circles on my back like I’m still his innocent babygirl scared of thunder.

He has to know… right?

Daddy’s voice was low and gentle when he finally spoke. “You okay, babygirl? You’re shaking a little.”

I nodded against his neck, keeping my voice small and sweet. “Just the storm, Daddy. Feels better when I’m with you.”

He believed me. Of course he did. His arm tightened around my waist, pressing my aching entrance right against the thick ridge of his denied cock. The heavy weight of him made my toes curl.

We stayed like that for a minute, neither of us moving. His hand just rested on my back, slow and heavy, and I could feel how hard he still was under me. The rain kept hitting the windows. Something quiet sat between us that hadn’t been there before.

He used to check under my bed for monsters. Tonight I’m the monster grinding on his hard cock while Mom’s voice is still in his ear. And the worst part is I don’t think either of us can go back to the way it was.

The weekend is young, and I have so many more ways planned to test just how far I can push him.

But as I settle deeper into his lap, feeling his rock-hard cock throb angrily against my soaked, aching pussy, one final thought burns through me.

By the time Mom comes home on Sunday night, she won’t just suspect anymore. She’ll be able to smell me on him. I want that. I want the man who saw me upstairs, the one who’s hard and leaking for me right now, to stay. I want him marked so deep she can never get the old him back.

Deep down, a small voice whispered that she already suspected more than she let on. The way she looked at me before leaving wasn’t just jealousy anymore. It was something sharper.

But that only made the heat between my thighs burn hotter.

By Sunday she’ll smell her own daughter on her husband’s skin, and that knowledge only makes me want to grind harder, to mark him deeper, to make sure this side of him is mine forever.

———————

I’ve been waiting for this all week.

Mom left for her conference yesterday morning, but she called late last night saying she might have to stay an extra day. Daddy believed her. I didn’t. That’s why I woke up before the sun was even fully up, my body already buzzing with that sharp, sweet ache between my legs. My heart is racing as I slip out of bed, the cool morning air brushing over my naked skin and making my nipples tighten instantly.

I know exactly what I’m going to wear.

I pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser and take out the tiniest white bikini I own. The one I’ve been saving for weeks, hidden under my winter clothes like a dirty little secret. I run my fingers over the thin white fabric, heart fluttering with nervous excitement. This is the one that barely covers anything. The one I tried on in the store and got so wet I had to buy it immediately.

I step into the bottoms first, sliding them slowly up my legs. The material is cool against my warm skin. As I pull it into place, the front panel settles snugly over my smooth mound and presses lightly against my puffy pussy lips. I can already feel myself getting wetter. The back disappears completely between my cheeks, leaving most of my round ass completely exposed. I tug the strings higher on my hips, making the fabric wedge tighter against my clit. A soft whimper escapes me.

I slide the top on next, tying the strings behind my neck and back. The thin white triangles barely contain my breasts. The moment I think about Daddy’s hands on me today, my nipples harden into tight, obvious peaks that poke shamelessly against the fabric. There’s no hiding them. Good.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my room, turning slowly. The bikini looks obscene on me. My hard pink nipples are clearly outlined, begging for attention. The bottoms cling to every curve of my virgin pussy, the thin white material already starting to show a faint damp spot where my slick folds are pressing against it. My swollen clit is visible as a small, needy bulge beneath the fabric. I turn and look over my shoulder. The back is just a string, my round ass almost completely bare, the cheeks full and soft. I squeeze them lightly, watching how they jiggle, imagining Daddy’s big hands gripping them hard.

A shiver runs through me. I can smell my own arousal already, that sweet, intimate scent rising between my thighs. My heart pounds harder.

God, the man who walked into my room last night and stayed is still here. The one who saw me ruined and didn’t run. I want to keep feeding that side of him until the careful one is gone.

Mom suspects something, but she’s not here to stop me. The thought sends a dark, delicious thrill straight to my core. I love him so much it hurts sometimes, but I also love how easily I can make his body react while he still tries to see me as his sweet babygirl.

I run my hands down my sides, cupping my breasts lightly and brushing my thumbs over my stiff nipples. A soft whimper escapes me. I’m already soaked, my puffy outer lips slick and sensitive against the thin bikini. The ache is deep and constant now.

This is going to be a very good day.

I take one last look in the mirror, adjust the strings so everything is barely covered, and head downstairs to wait for him, my bare feet quiet on the cool floor and my pussy throbbing with every step.

I’m already waiting in the kitchen when I hear his footsteps on the stairs. My heart picks up speed. I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, shifting from foot to foot, feeling the cool tile under my bare feet and the way my tiny bikini bottom keeps rubbing against my swollen clit with every little movement.

He comes down looking deliciously rumpled. Sleep-messy dark hair, bare chest still warm from bed, and those low-hanging gray sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. The morning light catches on the defined lines of his chest and stomach, and my eyes drop straight to the heavy outline resting against his thigh. Even soft, it’s thick. The hint of a morning bulge makes my mouth water and my pussy clench hard.

God, he’s so fucking sexy without even trying.

I bounce over to him the second he reaches the bottom step, all sweet energy and bright smiles. “Good morning, Daddy!”

Before he can even answer, I throw my arms around his neck and press myself flush against him in a big, lingering hug. My barely-covered tits mold perfectly against his warm, bare chest. My hard nipples poke obviously through the thin white triangles, dragging against his skin as I squeeze him tighter. I let my body melt into his, hips tilting forward just enough that my barely-covered mound brushes against the front of his sweatpants.

He goes still for a second. Not pulling away, just holding his breath like the contact hit something that was already raw from last night. Then his hands settle on me. One in my hair, the other on my lower back, a little heavier than usual.

He smells like sleep and man and home. I breathe him in deep, my cheek pressed to his collarbone.

“Pool day, Daddy?” I ask sweetly, tilting my head back to look up at him with my biggest, most innocent eyes. “Please? It’s so nice out and I don’t want to waste it inside.”

He chuckles low, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into me, but there’s a tightness under it. “You’re up early, babygirl,” he says, voice still a little rough with sleep. “Pool day, huh? Alright, you win. Let me grab some coffee and we’ll head out.”

He doesn’t pull away right away. He keeps holding me, and I can feel his cock twitch against my belly. He’s already compromised, and I’m pressing myself against him on purpose.

He still tries to treat me like his pure, sweet princess who just wants to spend time with her daddy. Meanwhile, I’m rubbing my barely-dressed body all over him, my virgin pussy already aching and leaking just from feeling his morning warmth against me. I love him so much it makes my chest hurt. But I also love this power. The way I can make his cock twitch while he ruffles my hair like I’m still little. The giddy thrill of knowing I’m feeding the part of him that already crossed a line.

I squeeze him one last time, pressing my tits harder into his chest before finally stepping back with a bright, bouncy smile.

“Thank you, Daddy! You’re the best.”

He has no idea how far I plan to take him today.

By the time we got outside, the sun was already bright and hot overhead, burning off every trace of last night’s storm. The pool sparkled like something out of a magazine ad. I kicked off my flip-flops and dipped a toe in, pretending to shiver even though the water was already warm. Daddy trailed behind me, coffee in hand, sunglasses perched on his nose. He slid onto the lounge chair closest to the water, tugging at the waistband of his trunks like it was second nature. The ripple of his thigh muscles was so obvious I almost moaned.

I stretched out on my stomach on the lounger beside him, propping myself up on my elbows. The thin white bikini left most of my ass exposed. If I squeezed my thighs together, the bottoms would disappear completely. I could feel his eyes on me, lingering longer than they used to, carrying the same weight from last night before he cleared his throat and looked away.

I waited a few minutes, listening to the sound of his spoon clinking against his mug and the faint lazy hum of the filter. Then I rolled onto my back and arched, stretching my arms over my head so the tiny triangles of my bikini top barely held in my tits. My nipples were so hard it hurt. I let out a little sigh, basking in the sun.

“Daddy, will you get my back? I don’t wanna burn again. Please?” I said it in my best little-girl voice, sweet and just a little shy. I dangled the bottle of sunscreen toward him.

He grinned, that huge, dorky, uneven smile I loved most, and took it from me. “C’mon, princess. Face down.”

I flopped onto my stomach, spreading my arms above my head, cheek pressed to the towel. The anticipation made my blood fizz. I tried to breathe normal, but my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it between my legs.

The first touch of his hands was cool and clinical. He squirted a long line of lotion down the center of my back and started rubbing it in with big, gentle circles. His palms were so warm compared to the lotion. I tried not to squirm, but every time he slid his hands down toward my hips, the string of my bikini bottom would ride up, wedging tighter between my ass cheeks. I spread my legs a little, arching my back, making my ass rounder and more impossible to ignore.

He finished my back and moved to my shoulders, kneading in the lotion with slow, careful passes. His fingers pressed along the knots at the base of my neck, then down my upper arms, making me shiver. There was a slight tremor in his hands that wasn’t there yesterday.

“Ticklish?” he asked, voice a little lower than usual.

“A little,” I breathed, my voice small and shaky. God, his hands feel so good. So big. So strong. The same hands that already touched my bare skin last night.

He did my arms next. His hands were huge, wrapping easily around my biceps and forearms, sliding over my elbows and wrists with this slow, methodical care. The coconut smell of the lotion mixed with the clean sweat on his skin, and it made me dizzy. I could feel myself getting wetter with every pass of his palms.

This is so wrong. He’s rubbing lotion on his own daughter while I’m creaming myself underneath him.

He tapped my hip. “Flip over, kiddo.”

I rolled onto my back, face hot, arms crossed over my chest as if I was shy. The triangles of the bikini top barely covered my nipples now. I could see the way his gaze darted from my face to my tits, then away again, but it kept coming back, heavier than before. I pretended not to notice, but my pussy clenched up tight and another rush of slickness soaked into the already-damp fabric of my bottoms.

He knelt beside me and poured a careful line of sunscreen down the center of my chest, then across my collarbones. The lotion was cold, but his hands were hot. He started at my shoulders, working down in big, gentle circles. The first time his thumb brushed the side of my breast, he jerked away quick, like he’d touched something electric, but the heat in his eyes stayed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cheeks going pink under his stubble.

“It’s okay,” I breathed, “I trust you.” I even smiled, all soft and grateful, while my heart hammered with guilt and filthy excitement.

He kept going, hands trembling a little now. His fingers slid under the thin bikini straps as he reached the curve at the top of my chest, thumbs brushing dangerously close to my nipples. Each pass got bolder, the tips of his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the triangles. My nipples were so hard they ached, clearly visible through the damp, stretched white fabric. He tried to avoid them, but the next circle of his hand grazed the left one dead-on, sending a hot bolt of pleasure between my legs.

I let out a tiny, high-pitched gasp and jerked my chest up. He froze. For a second, I thought he might pull away completely.

“You okay, bunny?” His voice was low and thick, almost hoarse, carrying the same rough edge from last night.

“It just tickled,” I lied, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

He swallowed hard, and I saw the big lump move in his throat. He looked down at my tits again. This time, he didn’t look away. His gaze lingered, dark and conflicted, like he was remembering exactly what he already saw.

He started again, rubbing smaller circles now. His thumbs traced the sharp curve of my ribs, inching closer and closer to my nipples each time. The next time he grazed over the left one, he lingered for a half-second, pressing the lotion in with the pad of his thumb. My whole body jolted. My breath went ragged.

He’s touching his own daughter’s tits. He knows it’s wrong… but he can’t stop looking. And the part of him that already crossed the line last night is the one doing it.

I could smell my own arousal now, sharp and sweet, mixing with the coconut. I was so wet the thin crotch of my bikini stuck to me every time I shifted.

He finished my chest and moved to my stomach. The cold lotion dripped on my belly button, sending goosebumps racing up my legs. He started massaging it in, working from the top down, hands splayed wide. His pinky fingers brushed the lower undercurve of my tits with every pass, but I pretended not to notice.

Then he moved lower, hands skimming the sides of my waist, down onto my hips. The way I was laying, the edge of the bikini bottom barely covered anything. His fingers dipped under the elastic, smoothing lotion into the soft flesh beneath. Every time he slid his hand forward, his knuckles grazed the bare skin right above my slit. The friction was insane. My pussy throbbed, desperate for even a little more.

He did my hips that way, slow and careful, fingers dipping a little deeper each time. The tips of his thumbs pressed right into the crease where my thigh met my mound. Every time he touched there, I had to bite my lip hard to keep from moaning. I could feel the heat radiating off my pussy, the dampness growing with each pass. A fresh trickle of slickness leaked out, soaking further into the already-ruined bikini.

I spread my legs a little wider, like I needed more room. Daddy’s hands froze for a second. Then he cleared his throat and moved down to my thighs, but the tension in his shoulders stayed.

He started with my right thigh, kneading the sunscreen in with slow, gentle strokes. His fingers wrapped fully around my leg, squeezing lightly, rubbing in circles up and down. When he got to the top, his pinky brushed the inner crease, so close to my pussy it felt like a dare. He switched to the left thigh, doing the same, up, up, up, then a tiny, accidental nudge against the edge of my bikini.

I let out a little giggle. “It tickles, Daddy.”

“Sorry, baby,” he said, but he didn’t stop. The circles got smaller, tighter, moving higher until his thumb was tracing the edge of my bikini, dipping under the fabric just enough to spread lotion onto the hypersensitive skin beneath. I could feel my slickness leaking through the thin fabric, probably coating his hand.

He lingered there, thumb brushing closer and closer to my slit each time, until finally he pressed just a little too hard and his hand slipped. The tip of his thumb slid right along the seam, knuckle bumping my swollen clit through the fabric. My hips jerked off the towel. I made a tiny, choked sound, half-gasp, half-whimper.

He pulled his hand away fast, face flushed dark, but I saw the way his eyes darted straight to my crotch. He stared at how the tiny bikini was sticking obscenely to my puffy, swollen lips and how the wet spot on the white fabric had grown even bigger and more obvious. The same look from last night was in his eyes again.

“Does it look okay?” I asked, voice extra small and shy, looking up at him through my lashes. “Did I miss a spot?”

He looked at my body for a long, heavy second. I could see his jaw flex, the tension in his throat, the way his own swim trunks were starting to tent noticeably. “No, baby,” he said, so quietly I barely heard it. “You’re perfect.”

His words settle over me like warm honey, but they twist something deep inside my chest. Perfect. He still says it like I’m his innocent little girl instead of the one who’s been leaking all over his lounge chair for the last fifteen minutes. The contrast makes my pussy clench so hard I feel a fresh gush of slickness soak into the already-ruined bikini bottoms.

I sit up slowly, making sure my wet bikini clings obscenely to every puffy fold as I swing my legs over the side. My nipples are aching, visibly hard against the thin white triangles. When I stand, a thin, glistening string of my arousal stretches between my thighs before breaking. Daddy’s eyes follow it for half a second before he looks away, throat working hard.

The power rush is dizzying. He wants me. He’s fighting it, but he wants me. And I’m going to make it so much harder for him to keep pretending.

He had no idea I’d spent the last ten minutes leaking slick all over the towel, or that my nipples were so sore I could barely breathe. I wanted him to keep going, to push the fabric aside and see how ruined he’d made me, to slide those big fingers back between my legs and feel how soaked his babygirl really was. But I didn’t want to scare him off, not yet. Not when the game was just getting good.

So I giggled and sat up, the sudden movement making my wet bikini cling even tighter to my cunt. “Your turn, Daddy! You’ll burn way faster than me.”

He laughed, but it sounded weird and strained, almost forced. “You’re probably right, kiddo. Go ahead.”

I poured a big glob of lotion into my hands and started on his shoulders. His skin was hot from the sun, muscles tense and knotted under my fingers. I worked the lotion in slow, massaging his traps, digging in with my thumbs the way I’d seen Mom do. Every time he exhaled, his chest expanded, stretching the thin fabric of his swim trunks. I focused on his arms next, running my hands down the hard curve of his biceps and forearms, feeling the strength there.

Then I moved behind him, kneeling on the lounger, and started doing his back. The muscles there were huge and broad, like he was made to hold me, to pin me down. I leaned forward so my tits brushed his skin every time I reached for a new spot, my hard nipples dragging over the bumps of his spine. My bikini top was almost pointless at this distance. The stiff points of my nipples grazed his back again and again, leaving faint trails in the lotion.

I could hear a change in his breathing. It was deeper, heavier, almost ragged. The tension in his shoulders kept climbing. I wondered if he could smell my arousal now, thick and sweet in the warm air, or if he’d noticed the way his own cock was starting to swell under the thin swim trunks. I let my hands wander lower, spreading lotion across his lower back, then down to the top of his trunks. I smoothed the lotion over his hips and, very casually, let my fingertips dip just under the waistband, brushing the warm skin there.

He sucked in a sharp breath and his whole body went tight under my hands. He didn’t pull away, but I felt him fighting it.

“Gotta get everywhere, Daddy,” I whispered, voice as innocent as I could make it, even as my own pussy throbbed with fresh need.

He nodded, not turning around. His jaw was locked.

I did his stomach next, kneeling in front of him. I poured more lotion into my hands and started at his abs, rubbing slow circles over the hard muscle. The movement made my tits bounce in the tiny top, nipples poking straight out. My hands drifted down, gliding over the deep V of his pelvis. I let my pinkies brush the edge of his trunks, barely grazing the skin beneath.

I glanced down. The front of his swim trunks was definitely thicker now, the outline of his cock obvious and heavy. A small, dark wet spot had formed near the waistband. He was fighting himself harder than before. I could see it in the way his hands gripped the edge of the lounger, knuckles white, and in the way he kept staring straight ahead like looking at me would break whatever control he still had left.

I almost whined out loud, wanting to reach out and touch it, to climb into his lap and grind against him until he snapped and finally took what was his.

Instead, I met his eyes and smiled sweetly. “All done, Daddy.”

He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. For a second, I thought he might say something, might admit he wanted me, or just tell me to stop. But then he did the only thing he could: he ruffled my hair, pulled me in for a quick side hug, and said, “Thanks, princess.” His voice was rough, and the hug lasted a beat longer than it should have.

I melted into his touch, my body slick and throbbing. I wanted his hands back on me so badly it hurt. I wanted him to ruin the white bikini and fuck me until I couldn’t walk. But he stood up, adjusting himself as discreetly as he could, and dove straight into the pool.

I watched the water close over him, the sunlight catching on his broad shoulders. My fingers drifted down between my thighs, pressing the soaked fabric tighter against my cunt. I felt so empty, so desperate, so hungry for more.

But I waited.

I waited until Daddy swam a few laps, watching the way the water slid over his broad shoulders and back, the powerful flex of his arms cutting through the pool. My body was still humming, my bikini soaked and clinging obscenely between my legs. When he finally pulled himself out, water streaming down his chest and darkening the front of his trunks even more, I gave him my sweetest smile.

“Come sit with me, Daddy? The sun feels too good to stay in the water the whole time.”

He dried off quickly and dropped onto the wide lounge chair, legs spread comfortably. I didn’t hesitate. I climbed up and settled myself between his thick thighs, leaning back against his bare, sun-warmed chest. His skin felt hot and smooth against mine. His powerful legs bracketed me perfectly, caging me in that safe, possessive way I loved.

At first it was almost innocent. I rested my head back on his shoulder, sighing happily as the sun baked us both. But I couldn’t stay still for long.

I started slow, just tiny shifts of my hips, rubbing my ass back against the heavy bulge nestled right between my cheeks. The thin white bikini bottom was already soaked through, the fabric almost completely see-through now. Every little roll made my swollen clit drag along the thick ridge of his cock through our clothes. Sticky strings of my creamy arousal stretched and broke between my puffy lips every time I lifted slightly.

“Mmm, Daddy… your hands felt so good earlier,” I whispered, tilting my head so my lips brushed his jaw. I kissed him there softly at first, innocent little pecks that quickly turned into slow, open-mouthed sucks along the side of his neck. His skin tasted salty from the sun and pool water. My pussy clenched hard at the flavor.

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest into my back, but it came out tighter than usual. One big arm wrapped around my waist, holding me closer, while his other hand rested high on my bare thigh, fingers idly stroking the sensitive crease where my leg met my pussy. So close. His fingertips were only inches away from my dripping center. His breathing changed. Deeper. Heavier. Like he was already losing the fight.

I rocked my hips again, firmer this time, grinding my ass back against his growing cock. I could feel it thickening fast, becoming rock-hard and hot between my cheeks. The heavy weight of it pressed insistently against me, the fat head nudging higher with every roll. His hand on my thigh tightened.

God, I want it inside me so badly.

But more than that I needed him hard for me, fighting himself, already touched places he shouldn’t. I wanted this one. The one who couldn’t look away. The one who already saw me ruined last night and still stayed.

The ache between my legs was unbearable now. I wanted to reach back, pull my bikini bottom aside, and sink down until that thick daddy cock stretched my virgin pussy open for the first time. Just the tip. Just enough to feel how full he could make me.

I turned in his lap, swinging one leg over so I was straddling him properly. My knees pressed into the cushion on either side of his hips. My bikini-covered pussy lips pressed down directly onto his massive bulge. I ground slow, filthy circles, letting my wetness completely soak through his trunks. My hard little nipples dragged against his bare chest with every roll, sending sparks through my whole body.

I needed him to stay like this. Not just hard. The one who already saw too much and still let me climb on him. The one who couldn’t look away.

“Daddy…” I breathed against his mouth, eyes half-lidded, voice shaky with need. “I love you so much.”

His hands gripped my ass, big and possessive, squeezing the soft cheeks and spreading them apart. The tip of one thick finger slipped under the edge of my bikini bottom, brushing right along my slick, puffy outer folds. He still acted like it was accidental, but he didn’t pull away. His breathing went rough. The fight in him got harder. He groaned low against my tongue, hips bucking up once, grinding that fat, hard cock firmly against my dripping slit through the soaked fabric. The sound was raw. Like he wanted it as much as I did.

I whimpered into his mouth and kissed him for real, lips parted, tongue shyly touching his.

The friction was perfect. My swollen clit dragged along his thick shaft again and again as I rolled my hips faster. The bikini bottom was ruined, dark, clinging, molded completely to every fold of my virgin cunt. I could feel my creamy juices leaking out around the edges, coating his trunks and making everything slippery and obscene.

He has no idea how close I am to pulling this stupid bikini aside and sinking down on him right here. Or maybe he does.

He still believed I was his innocent little princess just being extra cuddly on his lap. But feeling his thick cock pulsing and leaking against my bare pussy while he fought so hard to stay in control… it made my stomach twist with this awful, delicious hunger. I loved him more than anything. I also needed him to finally lose it and ruin me.

I kept grinding, slower now, savoring every thick inch of him pressed against my aching center. My hard nipples rubbed against his chest. My tongue danced shyly with his. Every tiny movement made wet, filthy sounds between us.

We stayed locked like that for a few seconds longer than we should have, both of us breathing hard, his finger still resting under the edge of my bikini, his cock throbbing under me. Something quiet and raw sat between us. Neither of us moved away from it.

I was so close to begging him to just push the fabric aside and take what we both needed.

But I held back.

The game was too good.

I was lost in the rhythm, grinding my soaked pussy in slow, filthy circles against Daddy’s rock-hard cock when I heard it.

The sliding glass door opened with a sharp scrape.

“What the fuck is this?”

Mom’s voice cut through the sunny afternoon like ice water.

We both froze.

I was still straddling him, knees planted on either side of his hips, my ass completely out with the tiny white bikini bottom wedged deep between my cheeks. My bikini top had shifted, one nipple almost exposed. The front of my bottoms was dark and soaked through, molded obscenely to every puffy fold of my virgin cunt. A huge wet spot stained the front of Daddy’s swim trunks where I’d been grinding my creamy juices all over him. His big hands were still gripping my ass, fingers dug into the soft flesh, spreading me open.

The risk hit me like a second heartbeat. She saw us. She saw the man I’ve been keeping. And somehow that only made me need him tighter.

Daddy’s hands tightened on my ass for one guilty second before he went completely still. “Honey, it’s not, she was just…”

I didn’t move right away. Instead, I turned my head slowly toward Mom, cheeks flushed, lips shiny and swollen from kissing Daddy. I gave her the sweetest, most innocent smile I could manage while my throbbing clit stayed pressed firmly against his pulsing cock.

“Hi Mommy,” I said softly, voice breathy and sweet. “You’re home early.”

At the same time, I gave one last tiny, secret roll of my hips, dragging my slick, puffy pussy lips along the thick ridge of Daddy’s cock one final time.

Mom’s face turned bright red. She stormed inside without another word. I slid off Daddy’s lap slowly, legs shaky. My bikini bottom clung obscenely to every swollen fold. A thin string of my arousal stretched between my thighs as I stood and followed her.

She cornered me in the hallway, away from Daddy’s view, her voice low and venomous.

“I saw how you were sitting on him. Don’t think I’m stupid.”

I blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, biting my lip. “Mommy, I was just cuddling with Daddy. I always sit in his lap like this… You’re making it sound weird.”

My sweet tone only seemed to enrage her more. Her jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack. She opened her mouth to say something else, then heard Daddy’s footsteps approaching and forced herself to step back.

“We’re not done talking about this,” she hissed before turning away.

She saw him with his hands still warm from my ass and his cock hard because of me. That’s mine now.

I bit my lip and looked down, the picture of shy innocence, but inside my heart was pounding with dark, giddy excitement. She caught us. She saw me grinding on him like a needy little slut for her husband.

And the second her back was turned, I was going to do it again.

Much, much worse.

Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen a moment later, sharp and final.

“Dinner in forty-five minutes. Both of you, shower, change, and come down. I’m not cooking for ghosts.”

Daddy cleared his throat. “Okay, honey. We’re coming.”

We headed inside in silence. Mom was already chopping vegetables, back to us. She didn’t turn around. “Go on. Upstairs. Separate showers.”

Daddy walked straight to the master bathroom. I pretended to go to my room, closing the door loud enough for her to hear. Then I waited.

Thirty seconds. One minute. I heard the master shower turn on, steady spray.

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my clit. I slip out of my room, still in my soaked bikini, and tiptoe down the hall. The cool air on my wet skin makes me shiver, but the heat between my legs only burns hotter. I quietly push open the master bathroom door, steam already thick in the air.

Through the foggy glass I can see Daddy’s big silhouette. He’s standing under the spray, head tilted back, one hand braced on the tile. His other hand is wrapped around that thick cock, slowly stroking like he’s trying to calm it down.

I freeze, breath caught in my throat.

God… he’s so beautiful like this. Even through the steam I can see every detail, the heavy, veiny shaft pulsing in his fist, the fat head flushed a deep, angry purple, leaking a steady bead of precum that washes away under the water. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched, like he’s fighting with himself. The conflicted expression on his face makes something twist deep in my belly.

He’s stroking his cock because of me.

The sight makes my knees feel weak. His hand moves in slow, almost reluctant strokes, like he’s ashamed but can’t stop. I watch the way his thick fingers wrap around that heavy shaft, the way the fat purple head swells every time he squeezes. A fresh bead of precum leaks out and gets washed away instantly by the water. My own pussy clenches hard at the view, sending another trickle of slickness down my inner thigh.

He’s touching himself because of what I did to him on the lounge chair… because his babygirl made him so desperate he couldn’t wait. Shame burns through me, sharp and hot. I’m the reason my Daddy is in here jerking off like a guilty man.

The rush of lust hits me like a wave, making my pussy throb and leak fresh cream down my thighs. But right behind it comes a sharp, guilty pang. He’s in here trying to get control because his innocent little princess made him so hard… and here I am, about to make it so much worse.

I should feel bad. I should turn around and give him some peace.

Instead, I peel off my bikini top and bottoms, leaving them in a wet pile on the floor. My virgin pussy is puffy, shiny, dripping.

“Daddy?” I whisper, voice all soft and sweet as I slide the glass door open just enough to slip inside. “I need help with my hair. The chlorine always tangles it so bad… please?”

He jerks hard, eyes flying open. His hand drops from his cock like it burned him, but it’s too late, I already saw everything. That thick, veiny shaft, heavy and flushed dark, the fat head swollen and leaking a steady bead of precum. His chest is heaving, water streaming down his muscles, and his face twists with shock and something deeper, something guilty.

“Babygirl, what the hell are you doing?” he hisses, voice low and strained. But his eyes betray him. They drag slowly down my naked body, over my hard pink nipples, my smooth mound, the way my creamy juices are visibly coating my inner thighs.

I don’t answer with words. I step under the hot spray with him, the water cascading over my tits and running down my stomach in rivulets. I turn around slowly, pressing my bare, soapy ass back against his throbbing erection. His fat cock nestles instantly between my cheeks, hot and heavy, pulsing against my skin.

I’m doing this on purpose. I want him messy and hungry for me, not careful.

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest.

His big hands come up anyway, working shampoo into my long hair like I asked. At first it’s almost innocent, his fingers gentle on my scalp, massaging slowly. But I push back firmer, grinding my soapy ass up and down his length in slow, deliberate rolls.

“Mmm… your hands feel so good, Daddy,” I whisper, voice breathy.

He’s trying so hard to resist. I can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his hips twitch like he wants to thrust but won’t let himself. His thick cock is rock-hard between my cheeks, the fat head bumping against my lower back with every movement. He’s leaking steadily now, the precum mixing with the soap and water.

He’s in here stroking his cock because of me… and now I’m forcing him to feel my naked ass grinding all over it. Shame burns hot through my chest, sharp and twisting. I’m making my own Daddy lose control. I’m corrupting the man who still thinks I’m his sweet, innocent princess. But that same shame only makes me wetter, only makes me grind harder against him. The overwhelming power of it mixes with this deep, aching love that makes my heart hurt. He’s trying to resist… but his cock is so fucking hard for me.

I moan softly and roll my hips again, sliding my soapy ass up and down his throbbing length.

I shivered under the spray, leaning forward just enough so the water poured straight down my back and between my cheeks. Daddy’s hands were careful at first, working shampoo through my hair in long, gentle strokes. Even then, his cock stayed rigid and heavy between the globes of my ass, pressed so tight it throbbed with every pulse of his heart. I felt every twitch. Every hot little spurt of precum that mixed with the water and ran slick down my thighs.

“Can you get my neck too? I’m so soapy everywhere,” I said, voice soft as I let my head loll forward.

He hesitated, but then his big hands slid down, working over my neck, then my shoulders, then lower. He started with my upper back. Slow circles. Then down, soaping between my shoulder blades, then over the small of my back where his fingers lingered just a second too long. I pushed my ass back against him, grinding his cock right between the soft cheeks. The heat of him made my whole body tingle.

He cleared his throat. “Babygirl, you need to… you should shower by yourself. I can’t…” His voice broke off in a strained, shaky growl.

“Please, Daddy. I can’t reach everywhere. I’ll be good.” I pressed my hips back against his cock, slowly grinding up and down the shaft so the fat head slipped between my cheeks and nudged my tailbone every time.

“Mmm… your hands feel so good, Daddy,” I whisper, voice breathy. “Can you wash me everywhere? I’m all sticky from the pool… please?”

He groans low, the sound rough and broken. His big soapy hands slide down my spine, leaving trails of bubbles. He pauses at the small of my back like he’s fighting some internal battle, then keeps going. His palms cup my ass cheeks, squeezing the soft, wet flesh gently at first, then firmer. I push back against him, moaning softly as I grind my soapy ass up and down his throbbing cock.

“Daddy… don’t stop.”

His thick fingers glide between my cheeks, soaping the sensitive skin there. He circles my tight little asshole with one slippery fingertip, slow and careful, making my breath hitch. Then lower. His hand cups my pussy from behind, rubbing my puffy outer lips in broad, teasing strokes. He washes over and around everything, never pushing inside, never parting my swollen folds. Just tormenting me.

I reach back, grab his wrist, and guide two of his thick fingers to my virgin hole.

“Wash me properly,” I beg softly. “I ache right here.”

“Fuck… you’re so slippery here, babygirl,” he mutters, voice hoarse and strained. His fingers press against my slick folds, still hesitating, but I rock back and they slide inside me.

The stretch is perfect, a deep, burning fullness that makes my knees shake. I whimper and push back harder, fucking myself on his thick fingers while I keep grinding my soapy ass against his cock. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of my creamy pussy mix with the shower spray. My juices are thicker than the water, coating his hand down to the wrist.

His fingers curl on their own, rubbing that spongy spot deeper because he wants it too. Not just because I guided them.

“Oh god… Daddy, your fingers are so big,” I whimper loudly, the sound echoing off the tiles.

The hot water beats down on my back as I rock back onto his thick fingers, fucking myself slowly at first, then faster. The wet, filthy squelching sounds of my creamy pussy taking him are unmistakable even over the shower. Every thrust makes my inner walls flutter and squeeze around him, coating his fingers in more of my slickness. The burn fades into pure, overwhelming pleasure that makes my toes curl against the wet tile.

He’s breathing raggedly against my neck now, his cock sliding between my soapy ass cheeks in time with his fingers. I can feel how badly he wants to replace them with his cock.

I reach back between my legs, wrap my small hand around as much of his throbbing cock as I can, and start stroking him, slow, tight, twisting at the head just the way I practiced on my dildo while thinking about him.

“Babygirl… we can’t…” he groans, but his fingers curl inside me, rubbing that spongy spot that makes my vision blur.

“Daddy, please,” I whimpered. “Do it more. I need it.”

He started to move his fingers in and out, slow at first, then faster. The stretch made my whole body tense and shake. I could hear the wet squelch of my pussy over the sound of the shower. I was so loud, so messy, my tight little hole sucking him in and begging for more.

He added a third finger. The burn doubled, but so did the pleasure. I bit down on my fist to keep from screaming. My clit throbbed with every thrust, desperate for more friction. He worked me open, gentle but relentless, his cock still grinding hard between my ass cheeks as he fingered me.

He’s fingering his own daughter in the shower while his wife is downstairs… and I’m the one making him do it. Shame crashes through me, hot and sharp, twisting in my chest. I’m corrupting him. I’m forcing my innocent Daddy to touch me like this. But that same shame melts into something darker and sweeter, overwhelming power and love. I love how hard he is for me. I love how desperately his cock leaks in my hand while he tries to fight it. I love being this filthy for him.

I stroke him faster, then slow right down when I feel his cock swell like he’s about to cum. “Not yet, Daddy. You have to save it. I want you aching all through dinner.”

Mom’s voice suddenly cut through the door.

“Everything okay in there? You’ve been in the shower a long time.”

I froze, Daddy’s thick fingers still buried deep in my dripping pussy. My walls clenched hard around him in panic and arousal. I had to swallow a moan before answering in my sweetest voice.

“I’m fine, Mommy! The chlorine got my hair all tangled. Daddy’s helping me.”

Mom’s voice sounded tighter, more suspicious. “Helping you…? Hurry up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

I bit my lip hard as Daddy slowly curled his fingers again, rubbing that perfect spot inside me. “Yes, Mommy,” I called back, my voice slightly breathless. “We’ll be right down.”

We heard her footsteps retreat down the hall. The danger made everything hotter. I ground down harder on his hand, chasing the edge even more desperately.

I ride his fingers harder, grinding my swollen clit against his palm until the pressure breaks. My orgasm crashes over me, long, shattering, my walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick fingers as fresh cream gushes out in hot pulses.

“Oh god… Daddy, I’m…”

My entire body seizes up hard, back arching sharply as my pussy clamps down around his thick fingers like a vice. Fresh, hot cream gushes out in powerful pulses, soaking his hand and wrist. My legs shake violently, knees buckling so badly I would have fallen if not for his strong arm holding me up. My vision whites out completely for several long seconds, stars exploding behind my eyelids as wave after endless wave crashes through me. I bite down hard on my fist to keep from screaming, but broken, high-pitched whimpers still escape around my fingers.

My legs are still shaking so badly I can barely stand. Small aftershocks keep rolling through me, making my pussy flutter and squeeze around his fingers even after he’s stopped moving them. Fresh cream leaks out with every twitch, mixing with the shower water running down my thighs. I feel oversensitive and raw and so fucking full of him.

Look what I made him do… I came so hard on my own Daddy’s fingers while his wife is right downstairs. The fresh wave of shame is almost dizzying. But it’s mixed with a deep, addictive rush of love and power. I did this to him. I made him finger his virgin daughter in their own shower. And he’s still rock-hard for me.

I keep grinding weakly back on his hand through it all, riding out every last pulse until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess against him.

He groans again, low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re so tight, babygirl. So fucking perfect.”

When the waves of my orgasm finally fade, I’m trembling, my knees weak under the hot spray. But I don’t let go of him.

For a few quiet seconds we just stand there under the water. His fingers are still inside me, soft now. My forehead rests against his wet chest. The only sound is the spray and our breathing. Something heavy and real sits between us. I can feel how far we’ve already gone and how neither of us is ready to step back from it. I don’t want to.

I keep my small hand wrapped tightly around his thick, throbbing cock, stroking him in long, slow, torturous pulls. My thumb swirls over the swollen, leaking head, spreading his precum, twisting gently at the sensitive ridge just beneath it. I can feel how dangerously close he is. The heavy shaft pulsing wildly in my fist, veins bulging under my fingers, his balls drawn up tight and full.

“Babygirl…” he groans, voice low and broken, hips jerking forward like he can’t stop himself. “Fuck… I’m so close…”

I smile against his wet chest and deliberately slow my strokes even more, edging him mercilessly. “Not yet, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly, my voice shaky with leftover pleasure. “You have to save it for me. I want you aching and leaking all through dinner while you sit right across from Mommy.”

He curses under his breath, a strained, desperate sound that makes my pussy flutter again. His cock jerks angrily in my hand, the fat head flaring, leaking another thick bead of precum that I smear over him.

The delicious cruelty of it sends a fresh thrill through me. I love him so much it hurts, but I also love this, keeping my strong, loving Daddy right on the edge, denied and throbbing because of his own babygirl.

I give his pulsing cock one last firm, twisting squeeze from base to tip, feeling it throb violently in my palm. Then I let go. It slaps wetly against his stomach, angry, purple, and completely denied.

I step out of the shower, water and my cream still running down my thighs. I grab a towel and wrap it around my body, turning to look at him one last time.

He stands there breathing hard, rock-hard and leaking, with the scent of my pussy all over his fingers.

I’m not handing this desperate, leaking man back to Mom. He’s mine like this.

The thrill of leaving him like this, desperate, aching, and mine, mixes with a deep, tender wave of love that makes my chest tight.

I want him sitting across from Mom at dinner with his cock throbbing and his mind full of me.

“Time to get dressed, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly, giving him my most innocent smile. “Don’t be late.”

I grab a towel and slip out of the shower, leaving Daddy standing there under the spray. Rock-hard, dripping precum, his thick cock angrily twitching against his stomach. The scent of my pussy is all over his fingers. I can’t help the wicked little smile that tugs at my mouth as I wrap the towel around my body and glance back one last time.

He looks wrecked. Breathing heavy, jaw clenched, eyes dark with lust and guilt. Exactly how I want him.

I pad quietly back to my room, my thighs still slick with my own cream, my pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks.

Tonight at dinner I’m going to sit right across from him, sweet and innocent like always, while he tries to hide how desperately his cock is throbbing for me. While Mom talks about her conference, completely unaware that her husband is sitting there edged and aching, still smelling like his babygirl’s cunt on his fingers.

The thought sends a fresh pulse of heat through me.

I can’t wait to watch him struggle. I can’t wait to push him even further.

Dinner is pure torture.

Mom sits at the head of the table, going on and on about her conference, some big deal she closed, how exhausted she is from traveling, how impressive her boss said she was. Her voice fills the room, sharp and self-satisfied. I barely hear a word.

Daddy sits directly across from me. He’s trying so hard to look normal, but I can see the strain in his jaw, the slight flush creeping up his neck. His cock is still rock-hard from the shower, trapped in his shorts, aching and leaking because I left him edged and desperate. Every time he shifts in his chair I catch the tiny wince, the way his knuckles whiten around his fork.

I sit there in a tiny tank top and soft cotton shorts with no panties underneath, my virgin pussy still creamy and puffy from cumming on his fingers. I’m so wet I can feel my slickness slowly leaking onto the chair beneath me.

I keep “accidentally” brushing my bare foot up his leg under the table, sliding my toes along his calf, then higher, smiling sweetly at Mom the whole time. My foot finds the massive bulge in his shorts and presses against it lightly, rubbing slow circles while Mom talks about her boss.

A quiet fear slips through me while I touch him. What if he disappears after tonight? What if he decides he can’t risk it?

“Pass the salad, babygirl,” Daddy says, his voice a little rougher than usual.

I lean way over the table to hand it to him, letting my hard nipples poke obviously against the thin fabric of my tank top. “Here, Daddy,” I say innocently, holding his gaze for just a second too long while my foot continues its secret stroking under the table.

Under the table his cock twitches hard against my toes. He draws a sharp breath through his nose and his eyes flick to mine for half a second, dark and shared. He is right there with me.

Mom doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to. She just keeps complaining about her boss, completely unaware that her daughter is rubbing her bare foot against her husband’s throbbing cock right under her nose.

I spear a piece of chicken on my fork and hold it up. “You look hungry, Daddy. Want a bite?” I lean forward and feed it to him right in front of her, my fingers lingering near his lips. He takes the bite, eyes dark with heat and memory. I know he’s thinking about my pussy juice on those same fingers less than an hour ago.

The whole meal I tease him mercilessly, little looks, little foot strokes up his thigh, soft whispers when Mom turns to grab the salt. Every time Mom looks away, I press my foot harder against his bulge, feeling it twitch and throb under my toes. By the end of dinner his face is flushed, his breathing slightly uneven, and there’s a tiny damp spot forming on the front of his shorts again.

I feel powerful. Guilty. Horribly, wonderfully turned on.

Mom is sitting right here talking about work while I’m secretly foot-fucking her husband under the table. If she looked down even once…

This weekend is only getting started.

And I’m nowhere near done pushing my loving, clueless Daddy to his limits.

Something has already broken open between us and there is no putting it back.

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Author’s Note

Thanks for reading. If you liked it pls give it a positive rating. Next story up in 500 votes.

That was the short. Babygirl is the full thing, the whole weekend and then some more - longer, messier, full of mutual pining and guilt.

You can get it here: payhip.com/LilaHartBooks

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