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“You’re so sweet,” I said, “yes, if you don’t mind. That’d probably help me get my mind off school. Help me to relax a little. Thank you so much – I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“All’s I know is that without you, I’d still be lonely and feeling trapped and miserable. I owe you the world, baby girl.”
My daddy always knew exactly what to say.
***
Not five minutes later, I was sinking into a steaming bath. The lavender-scented bubbles and six massaging jets were nice, but the dim lights and comfortable aromatherapy candles that Peter set up made the whole thing perfect.
Still sore from my run earlier in the day, my toes prickled with pins and needles when I teased the water’s surface and swirled them through a little mountain of bubbles that piled up where Peter poured the bubble bath. The scented steam off the water had already opened my sinuses and started to relax me. Not only does he always know what to say, Peter somehow always knows exactly what to do. I dragged my foot across the surface of the water, watching the little ripples follow.
Except for the pair of candles on either side of the tub, the whole room was coated in a grey, hazy light. Orange from the candle flames bounced off the water and reflected off the tile giving just enough light to find the hamper, into which I tossed my shirt, socks and pajama pants. After undressing and taking a few deep, lung-filling breaths, I felt the tension in my shoulders drip down my back and puddle up around my feet.
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I swished my foot back beneath the surface and all the way down to one of the jets at the bottom. As every part of my leg – ankle, tight calf, knee and thigh – went beneath the water, the deep, penetrating warmth invited me to put my other leg, and finally the rest of me, inside.
Purposefully, I lowered myself into the tub with exaggerated slowness, enjoying the sensation of water caressing every single part of my body. When I bent my knees and the water’s intense, scent-filled heat tickled my pussy lips I unconsciously let out a shudder and rubbed one of my hands down my body and between my legs. The tuft of hair above my cleft caught one of my fingernails and the tug shot a thrill down my mound that made me take a breath.
My hand cupped around my sex-and-water-slicked pussy and I squeezed. Two fingers dragged along my slit and pushed apart my lips, dancing around my entrance. So badly I wanted to cram them in, wrench those fingers inside my pussy and grind until I was a quivering puddle of jelly, but I knew that was not really what I needed. Slow, I knew, I needed to take my time and just let myself drift.
Up and down I slid the tip of my middle finger until finally I let myself indulge in pushing it inside. “Just a little,” I whispered to the empty bathroom, “just a...mmm...”
The wet warmth in my pussy, the tantalizing, slightly intoxicating aroma wafting off the bath and mixing with the candles, it all hit me at the same time, and my knees buckled just a little. I giggled to myself, gave my lip a little pinch between my teeth and reminded myself “slow, Liz, take it slow this time.”
I slid down until my water came up to my chin and put my feet on two of the jets. The pressure rolling down my arch, over my heel and Achilles almost immediately lulled me into a stupor. A stupor I desperately needed. For a moment I slipped all the way beneath the water, allowing myself to be completely enveloped in the dark, inviting, secure warmth.
When I came back up, pushed my hands over my hair and rubbed my eyes, I opened them to a very welcome surprise. Peter, who I thought was on his way to bed, stepped into the tub and sat down behind me. A soft little cooing sound came from the baby monitor he set on the floor beside us.
As Peter wrapped his arms around me and put a hand down between my legs. He squeezed, a finger on either side of my sex, and slid the middle one barely inside my hole.
No sound interrupted the patient, rhythmic drip-drip of water falling out of the faucet and breaking the still-again surface of the bath. My feet, propped up against the two jets opposite where I reclined against Peter’s powerful chest pulsed with each burst of relaxing water pushing on my heels, then my arches.
A second finger joined in beside the first, and I just melted.
Not only did my daddy always know what to say and what to do, he actually did exactly what I needed. There was not a single time that I depended on Peter and he let me down. He was forever making me safe, making me secure.
Lavender floated to my nose as his fingers filled my pussy and spread out in slow, curling circles. Every time I made a little noise or wiggled, he lingered on the spot that did it – always, always, always that tiny spot barely inside and on my front wall. And then, of course, every time he took an extra second there, I made more noise and pushed backward harder against his chest.
To get into the position he’d taken, Peter had to slouch low in the water, so low that his cock’s tip rubbed between my ass and the bottom of the tub when I moved. That gave me an idea.
With his fingers turning those deliciously slow circles inside me, it took some doing, but I managed to shove myself upward just a bit – just so that my his rod slid between my legs far enough to reach down and hold him there, stroking and pleasing him just as he did me.
I might be a princess, but at least I’m not greedy!
One handful of cock was just not enough. I spread my legs out as wide as I could manage and squeezed his tip with one fist as I rubbed him between my cheeks, tickling his favorite place with the pad of my thumb at the end of each twist.
The first noise that my daddy made was to groan my name.
“Liz,” he whispered, “Jesus Liz, you feel so good. So, so good.”
Peter shifted his hips so I was almost sitting on him, and buried his fingers the rest of the way in my pussy, and the second his palm touched my clit, I felt little charges squirm up my belly.
He grunted again as I pumped my ass up and down on his shaft and squeezed his tip so hard that my fist slipped off the end. Again, I clamped my fist around his head and milked it over, and again he moaned out my name and took a deep breath.
Peter pushed harder against my sex, driving his fingers deep, and... I must have needed his attention way more than I realized, because within seconds, I felt my cunt start to squeeze his fingers at just about the same time as he announced, “Baby girl, oh my God, you’re making me come!”
It was all I could do to grit my teeth and hope that I could last the few seconds more it would take to make all that hot, sticky juice shoot out of my daddy’s cock. He always made me feel so good, and I needed to do the same for him.
With his fingers churning inside me, and his palm grinding hard on my clit, I raised up on him as best I could and grabbed his shaft with both hands, pumping up and down under the water, stroking his tip between my cheeks.
