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I’m not even sure what’s going on any more.
It just feels too good.
Something trickles down my legs and on the bed.
Is it him? Did he finish?
No. He would have stopped. It’s my juices that I’m feeling.
“We didn’t… put anything on,” he mutters in my ear, his voice thick with lust despite the forces he’s exerting on my lower half, keeping my body in his complete and utter control. “Are you sure you want me to keep going?”
I smile, my brain only lightly able to process what he’s saying. He, clearly, is still capable of having rational thoughts while all of this is going on. I’m not so lucky as to have my brain running in two different spots at once.
“J-just… hah… finish, damn it!” I groan out, my voice being overtaken almost immediately by a much louder, near squeal as he thrusts deeper, harder, slamming himself inside of my tightness, my juices covering the both of us as he continues with his actions. I can’t help but feel as if this is exactly what I’ve been missing my whole life, alongside the life that he afforded me but also a much bigger portion of what’s to come for our future.
I’m still high from the orgasm, but I’m already craving for more. I want more of this, this moment of him holding me, keeping my weight up while also inside of me. I want more of this sensation of my own fluids dripping down my legs.
I want to be his. I am his. I will be his.
He lets me go with both hands as I fall flatly into the pillows once more, the squish beneath providing more than enough for me to have the blow reduced to nothing but an incredibly soft impact, the significantly harder impacts occurring on my backside, taking the bulk of the award as my face gets repeatedly shoved into the pillow, his hands shifting to my love handle with one, the wrist of my hands with another. He grabs at the belt, digging his finger between them to pull both of my arms back at the same time.
Fuck. This feels incredible.
He lets out a quick groan, followed immediately by a rapid exit, feeling his member quickly ride up my backside, pressing up against me as his ropes of seed spew across my back, some getting on my fingertips with no room for it to go anywhere else. His breaths are deep, strong, aware that even though he just finished, he’s more concerned about how I’m doing as I slump forward, sated but happy.
My stomach churns slightly. The inside of my thighs hurt leading up to my middle. I feel all kinds of stretched out for the first time, a strange sensation gripping my core, but still feeling incredibly sore on the inside. It takes a moment to readjust myself and get in a more comfortable position, only for there to be…
Blood.
Shit. I forgot that’s how that works.
“Daddy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make such a mess,” I stammer, trying to figure out the best way to clean up. Underneath where we are, there’s a small bit of my seepage, the fluid having dripped down my legs the entire time we were going at it, and even so, the comforter is lightly dotted with the fluid at the very surface, something I’m certain that neither one of us would want to sleep next to.
I feel my face redden a bit as his hand gently rubs the back of my neck, gently guiding me over the edge of the bed and into the kitchen, both of us as naked and nasty as the day we were born. I try to match his pace on shaky legs, nearly tripping over the partition between the rooms as my footing remains unsteady. He releases the back of my neck, frowning as he disconnects from my skin. After all that time of being as one, we’re two different parts once again, only for it to resume at another time. A less dirty time, next, I hope.
“Is my little one feeling okay?” He grabs some paper towels, handing them to me. I look down, noting that my insides had left quite a bit of residue on him as well, something that, surprisingly, he looks unbothered with.
“Mhm,” I hum, not opening my mouth as I take the paper towel from him, wiping off the inside of my legs and nearly using it to clean myself, but rather opt to use something a little less coarse to clean my delicates. I can only imagine what it looks like from where he rubs my backside, knowing already that some of the blood from my first sexual experience has already sunk into my skin and left a light red twinge. Not that there’s much.
“Good.” Daddy polishes off his member gently with the paper towel, taking off the fluids that serve as reminders of our shared intimacy. “Stand up straight for me, will you?”
I do what my Daddy asks of me, standing up straight. His hands gently grab at my middle, his grip forming almost right away just as he lifts me up almost effortlessly onto the counter, putting my butt on top of the cold marble. I giggle a bit at the shock, the cold stone much more intense across my behind compared to the warmth that he provided me earlier.
“Spread.” He’s still standing over me slightly. His hulking, muscled and toned form is always a welcome sight, although it takes a moment for me to understand quite exactly what he’s speaking about. Our eyes lock for a moment as his hands rest on the countertop, only then realizing that he’s going to provide me with yet another form of pleasure. As much as I’m tempted, it’s too much.
“Daddy… can we please… just take a break for tonight?” I question, slightly afraid of his reaction, still fully looming over me, as if he’s forgotten what we had just finished a few moments before. I feel as if his pleasurable manipulation is something that I want to avoid after such a… strong endeavor and expenditure of effort. My insides are still raring to go, but even so, they pulse repeatedly with a gentle soreness. Heat still radiates around the edge of my lips.
Maybe I’m just sore from what Daddy has done to my body. The gentle, dull pain seems to be always present around what feels like a gentle, more loose interior, having stretched me out from the length and girth of his manhood—the very same that hangs semi-limp now, not as prepared as it was before to go, relaxing after his release.
“You don’t want me to?” His voice is low and calm, a certain smoothness that’s incredibly pleasant to my ears. He looks at me, then down at my legs, before realizing exactly what I’m talking about—both for the residue as well as the idea of his tongue entering me… a bit too much to handle for now, until I clean up first.
“Y-yeah,” I stammer, barely able to try to explain it, feeling my face burn red with a gentle embarrassment from declining his advances. He steps forward, putting his arms around me at the edge of the counter as he hoists me up once more, giving me a tight squeeze with his arms before placing me back down on the cold, tile floor with care.
“I think I get it.” He nods, understanding vaguely of the points I’m making to only myself, daring not to share those inner embarrassments with him. The point is well beyond clear. We have to clean up before doing anything else, even if it means just sleeping in that bed after changing the comforter.
The next few moments pass in a blur. We gather the toiletries from within the large bathroom—a regal-looking shower in black tile at the opposite end of the room is more than welcoming after such a day. I hesitate to join my Daddy inside, only taking a moment before resolving to shower together, understanding that he’s one of the few that I can trust, even in my naked glory. He tries nothing as we bathe, washing ourselves and exchanging in and out of the stream of hot water we both use to clean our whole bodies, making a particular effort to make sure nothing is left behind from the day’s events.
I finish cleaning well before he does, watching for just a moment as he methodically washes himself, quickly but assuredly making special care to make sure that every part of himself is clean before leaving the shower. That process has to have been part of what’s expected of him, not wanting to deal with any semblance of impurity during some of his familial meetings.
