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For a moment, my throat got tight, the hot prick of tears stinging behind my eyes coming so fast and sudden that I thought I might cry. I had no idea if it was because… because wearing pretty panties made for me made it seem okay, instead of like something I had to hide, or if it was because Jackie had gone out of his way to find them, like he saw me—just like Daddy did—the real me, all of me, and still wanted to be my friend.
But then Daddy started whispering wonderful, wicked things in my ear, running his big hands all over my body and fingering the delicate lace like he loved it, too, and I forgot to wonder why I liked them so much or worry about how it made me feel, and remembered something even better.
He’d said he’d fuck me.
“Please, Daddy,” I panted, squirming on his lap as he held me in place. “You said… do you still want to… um, will you…”
“Will I fuck you, sweetheart?” He palmed my locked-up dick again with a low groan. “Will I keep your delicious little cock all tucked away, safe and sound for me in this pretty, pretty package, while I bury myself in your beautiful ass? Is that what you’re asking me, love? Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes,” I gasped, grinding down against his throbbing erection as his hands slid around to my hips and encouraged me, guided me, took over and took charge of me. “Please. Do that. Daddy. Please. I want… I want to feel you inside me.”
Not just his fingers or his tongue. All of him.
“You have no fucking idea how sexy you are right now, pretty baby,” he said in a low, throaty growl, pushing me forward so I had to catch myself with my hands on the bed.
His hands went back around my hips, splayed wide so his thumbs stroked underneath the edge of the panties on either side of my hole.
Then he moved me.
Rocked me over his cock.
Rubbed his shaft against the silky lace, right over my needy hole.
Rolled his hips up, thrusting against me, over and over until I really was crying, the feelings all so good and too big, so they had to come out of me somehow.
Normally, anything that felt this amazing would mean that that “somehow” would include explosive amounts of cum, but since that couldn’t happen, this new kind of desperate, unfulfilled horniness I was feeling—as my dick tested the limits of the cage Daddy had put me in, over and over and over—started to make my head feel fuzzy and floaty again, the way it had when Daddy had let me blow him.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, smoothing his hands over my ass and then pulling the thin material there to one side and stroking my hole. “You’re flying.”
“Yes, Daddy.” And it was the best feeling in the world.
I heard a faint snicking sound, then Daddy’s fingers were back, slick and gentle, and then slick and more forceful, sliding into me and finding that magical spot that made it feel like he was stroking my dick, but from the inside out; fucking me the way he’d promised to really fuck me.
And I wanted that. I did. Desperately. But at the same time, I wanted this to go on forever, too.
“Please, Daddy, don’t stop,” I gasped.
“Still green, sweet baby?” he asked, his voice ever so slightly strained, as if he was feeling all the big feelings, too.
“Yes, I… I want more, I want you, I want… I want…”
I didn’t know. I knew, but I didn’t know.
I needed him to know.
“Daddy,” I whimpered as his fingers made all the magic happen.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, pushing another one into me, stretching me until I gasped and making it burn so beautifully that everything else disappeared. “Daddy’s got you,” he murmured. “I’m going to take care of you.”
He kept promising that.
And he kept doing it.
How could I not fall for him?
And then his fingers were suddenly gone, and I needed them. “Daddy.”
“Settle,” he whispered, adjusting the pretty panties over my butt again. He fingered the material, then smoothed it over my cheeks with a little groan, framing my rear with his big hands like maybe he liked the look of them that way before tapping lightly over my hole. “Mine.”
