I shook my head in agreement, I knew I would have to maintain a certain image, but that’s what wives do, and it would all be worth it for my daddy.
“Kitten, maybe we should wait with making love.”
“Daddy I want your cock right now, I can’t wait any longer to be your wife.”
“Baby, tomorrow is a school day, the first time will make you sore and maybe bruised. You don’t want to
be walking around school tomorrow looking like you were screwed the night before. Tomorrow is Friday, we’ll make love tomorrow night, so you have the weekend to recover.”
I wanted to be fucked, I wanted my daddy’s cock buried in my little twat. I wanted to feel him fill me up with cum and then watch as it dribbled out of me. I knew he was right though and agreed to wait until tomorrow night.
Looking at the casket I remembered that night, and the weeks that followed. The joy we’d found in each other’s arms, the gentle love making lessons taught by my daddy, the lingerie, the teasing, the weekend we rented a cabin in the mountains with no one around. We had fucked all weekend, dad saying he thought I was going to kill him with my sweet pussy.
Reminiscing again I thought about the morning after daddy had eaten me for the first time. The day I was to be fucked and made his wife forever.
As daddy woke up I was slurping on his cock, I had just started, he wasn’t fully hard yet. I scooted up, laying in his arms.
“Daddy, will I cum like last night every time you eat me? Will I cum that hard with your cock inside me?”
“Climaxes like the one last night don’t happen every time, they’re usually a little more subdued, however, they can be intense as well. Each one is different, last night yours was very strong I imagine because it was your first by someone else.”
“I’ve played with myself a few times, but it was nothing like last night.”
“Time to get up kitten, wanna shower together? No messing around though, we’re already behind schedule.”
Those words may just as well have been thrown into the trash can. He fingered me to a climax holding me against the wall, I gave him my first, hand job, shooting cum all over myself, giggling all the while. Daddy wondered if his little kitten might be developing into a cum slut, if so he wasn’t sad about it. As we dried each other I asked if dad would pick out my underwear for the day. He looked at me somewhat bewildered.
“Daddy, do you remember when you used to dress me as a little girl, mom was too frickin lazy to get out of bed, but you were always up with me.”
I guess dad felt this was going to take a while because he quickly texted his personal secretary letting her know he’d be late.
“I only remember a little, will you tell me about it daddy?”
“If you had wet during the night I would bath you, dry you and tell you to go get clean panties. You’d stand with your back to me, leaning against my chest and holding my arms. I would hold your panties open, you’d put one leg in then the other, I’d hike them up, you would lift one leg then the other to adjust them. I’d rub the front, ask if you were comfy, you’d nod, I’d pat your little puss and send you to get whatever clothes you wanted to wear that day. You almost always chose dresses.”
“I remembered the part where you patted on top of my pussy, I always liked that. It was as nice as a pat on my bottom when you were pleased with me.”
Dad picked out my panties and a bra, laying them on the bed. A peach colored set, lacy and see through except for a small solid patch on the front of the panties. I stood looking at him.
“Well, aren’t you going to put them on me?” I could see his dick thicken through his pants and I knew it was going to be a battle for him not to fuck me silly before we left the house.
I leaned against his chest and lifted a leg into the panties daddy was holding, then the other. As he slid them up my slender legs I thought about how little material there was to these panties. When he was done he reached for the bra.
“Uhn, uh, you didn’t adjust them or pat me.”
“Baby, this is cruel, I’m in over my head and about to drown in lust for my daughter.”
With my arms reaching back around his neck, he slid his fingers into each leg opening, making sure the elastic wasn’t twisted or rolled, he then ran his right hand down my flat tummy and across my mons, cupping it with his hand, letting a finger slide across my clit. He again ran his hand down the front, smoothing the material, then patted my pussy twice and kissed my neck.
Whispering in my ear he asked, “Will that do, or are they still not comfy.”
I told him another half hour of that might be enough. He slapped my ass and told me to hand him the bra. Once the bra was on and fastened I told him he needed to adjust my breasts in the cups. After 5 minutes of caressing, squeezing and titillating my breasts, I moved his hands, pulled the bra down over my breasts, and adjusted them myself.
“Daddy, why did you stop putting my panties on in the morning? I think I was about six when you did.”
“I loved dressing you each day, it bonded us so closely. There was never anything sexual about it, it was just our daily routine. Then one Saturday you were taking a bath, asking me to wash you. I soaped a washcloth as usual and started scrubbing you. When it came time to wash what we used to call your buttercup, I handed you the cloth, but you handed it right back, asking me to wash you.”
“I was reluctant at first, then decided I was being foolish, this is my little girl. As I was washing your vagina area you pushed into my hand when I swept across your mound. It startled me, and though you didn’t look at me, I could see a faint smile. It scared me, we finished your bath, you dried yourself and came back to me with your panties. We did our normal routine. You spun around, gave me a quick little girl kiss on the lips and told me you loved me as you went to dress for the day.”
“That was the day I knew you owned my heart, it was also the day I knew I needed to stop our morning ritual and me scrubbing you in the bath tub, or things would quickly get out of hand. I remember you crying, asking if you’d done something wrong when I wouldn’t put your panties on. I explained as best I could that you were becoming a big girl and needed to dress yourself from there on.”
“I remember that day dad, I felt like you didn’t love me as much as before. I can remember later that I would straddle your leg, just above the knee facing you as I talked. I would grind my pussy into your leg because it felt good.”
“I think a lot of little girls do that, but then get over it. Dress honey, I’ll run you to school.”
Dad was there right at 6, he was confronted by the English teacher who made no bones about being interested in him. I saw it and my fangs instantly came out as I walked toward them.
“Daddy, I’m ready if you are.” With that he bid the teacher goodnight, put his arm around my shoulders and walked me out the door. Dad is tall at six feet, usually towering over most, I felt safe and secure in his arms. As we pulled out of the parking lot I asked why he had brought his old ’41 Plymouth, it was cool, but he seldom drove it. It had belonged to his dad.
As we were headed away from town he said, “so you could do this”, as he scooted me over next to him. The old bench seat made it possible to be right next to daddy without a console in the way. I snuggled in, he put his hand on my far thigh pulling me closer to his leg. I lifted his right hand while I lifted my dress with my left, placing his hand directly on my mons. My panties were stretched tight, he could feel my swollen vulva when he dipped a finger over the gusset. They were pulled so tight he could feel my slit through the panties.
“Where are we going daddy?” I whispered in a sultry voice, “I’m so horny I’m ready to cum in my panties.”
As he moved his hand inside my panties and against my vulva he said, “Then cum baby, cum on my fingers.” Plunging a single finger inside it didn’t take two minutes and my body was shaking, I was gasping and finally squeezed my legs so tight he had to remove his hand.
“Oh my, that was intense. My panties are soaked daddy.”
“Well little one, maybe you should keep an extra pair in your purse from now on. Never know when we might take the ’41.”
We pulled up to a mom and pop pizza place I’d heard of but had never been to. It was a place dad had frequented as a high schooler. The parents had long since retired with the son taking over. Dad asked for a booth toward the back, requesting the one in the corner. Sitting next to him I held his hand under the table. He pointed to something on the back of the seat, carved into the wood were Ed & Carol, with a heart around it.
“Is that you dad? No way, who was Carol?”
“The girl I thought I was in love with in my junior year. The mom and dad didn’t mind kids carving stuff like this. They had to stop it altogether because kids now are so vulgar. I would carve our initials if they still allowed it.”
I hugged his arm harder when he said that. I moved his hand to my lap but left my dress down. Dad softly caressed my thigh, I loved the warmth of his hand as it rubbed up and down. I wondered how I could ever love anyone or anything more than my daddy.