My Father’s Girl

I spoke with my father on the phone for a couple hours last night. I lay in my bed in the over- sized tee and panties I all the time sleep in. Poor Daddy has just gotten out of the hospital.  He won’t tell me what happened, but he says he’s feeling much better already and when he’s ALL the way better, he says he’s got a surprise for me that we’ve BOTH been waiting for.

He thanked me for asking about him; called me his thoughtful girl. It seems like Daddy all the time praises me for doing the smallest things for him, and honestly: I like the way it makes me feel.  Especially when he praises me for being obedient. But that’s by no means the only good thing my Daddy says about me. He’s all the time in my corner; all the time rooting for me.

We’ve all the time been very close. Daddy taught me a lot growing up- he never seemed to follow the gender stereotypes of what should be left to my mother. And even though he’s been with me every step of the way for my entire life, I think he’s proud of the way I try to do things for myself. Daddy offers his help more often than I ask for it. Don’t get me wrong, it’d be comforting to have my big, strong, competent, capable Daddy take care of everything. But even more so I want him to be proud of me.

And there are times I want to be a good daughter and take care of HIM. 

Mostly, we talked about sex last night. Daddy says it’s okay to play with the boys as long as I remember who I belong to. And I guess it wasn’t EXACTLY sex we talked about: there’s more I haven’t done than things I HAVE on that front.. I told him about making out with Nathaniel.

“He pulled my head back by my hair, Daddy. Called me a slut.” I put my hand between my legs and squeezed my cunny the way I used to when I had to go potty and was trying to hold it.

“Mhm, and did my little girl like that?” Daddy’s voice was soft and low, interested, encouraging me to continue. 

“Yes, Daddy- I did. And then he put his hot, wet mouth on my neck.” My fingers push apart my panties and start to play along my hot, wet slit.

“Did he suck on your neck, princess? Give you a hickey?” I imagine Daddy kicked back on the couch. I hear music playing softly in the background. Sometimes I think I can very faintly hear, so I like to imagine, Daddy playing with his cock when I tell him about my playtime.

Truthfully, I all the time like to think about Daddy touching himself when we talk. It makes me feel like I have the same effect on him as he has on me.

“He bit me a little, gently, and sucked on me. I’ll have to check if he left a mark.” I get out of bed and go to the door.

“Still hang a mirror on your bedroom door?”

I chuckle. Daddy knows me so well. “Yeah.. I’m looking now. No, no marks.”  If anyone were leaving marks on me, I’d rather it was my Daddy.

“Stay at your mirror, princess. Take off your shirt.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I say, and he sighs warmly in my ear.

“That’s my girl. Take off your shirt. See those pretty breasts?”

I chuckle bashfully and run my hands across them, making my nipples stand up. But I imagine it’s his hand. “Yes, Daddy,” I moan quietly.

“Did the boy play with them?”

“A little.”

“Over your shirt or under?”


“And did you have a bra on?”

The only male I’ve NOT had a bra on around is Daddy.

“Are you touching those pretty little breasts right now?”

“Yes, Daddy, ” I moan thickly.

“Mhm, and it feels good doesn’t it? Playing with your breasts while Daddy speaks soft and low in your ear?” I can hear it for sure now. Daddy’s touching himself too.

“Oh, yes..” the pitch of my voice is rising, like my nipples. And my cunny’s getting wetter.

“Yes. And who do they belong to, those pretty breasts?”

I’m panting now. My nipples and pussy are starting to ache pleasantly. I’m feeling greedy. I want Daddy to come for me.

“My father,” I moan breathlessly. 

“Yes, baby- that’s my good girl. Last question: who’s about to come all over them?”


NSFW: yes

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