Page 11 of Daddy's Girl


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I carefully touch it again. It rears up a little when I touch it, and leaks a little more. It’s smooth and silky. I feather my fingers along its length and Daddy groans again, like it’s painful.

“Does it hurt, Daddy?”

“No, baby. It feels good.”

I like that I can make my Daddy feel good. He makes me feel good all the time. And here’s something I can do for him.

I touch him some more and squeeze my hand around him lightly.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Daddy,” I scold him gently.

“If you keep doing that, sweetheart, Daddy’s going to come.”

“Come? What’s come?”

“You know how Daddy makes your tingles turn into pleasure waves?”

“Yes.”

“Daddy comes, too, but it’s … wetter.”

“What happens when you come, Daddy?”

“Well … liquid comes out.”

That’s so weird. “What kind of liquid? What does it look like?”

“Like cream, sort of.”

“Does it taste like cream?”

He laughs again. “I don’t think so.”

“What does it taste like?”

Daddy thinks my questions are funny. “It’s salty, so I’m told.”

“Salty?”

“Yes. And milky.”

“How much comes out?”

“A lot.”

“I want to see it come out. I want to taste it.”

Daddy stares down at me sort of sternly.

“Don’t you want me to, Daddy?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do I make it come out?”

“There are lots of ways.”

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