Claiming Daddy

Chapter 1

I parked in the driveway and smiled when I saw Mom’s car was gone. I didn’t come here to see her. Dad and I had an agreement to put in place. My belly tightened with arousal as I walked to the front door. Breasts swelled until my nipples ached for a mouth when I stepped inside. I got wet when I raised my voice.

“Hi Dad! Your favorite daughter is here to see you!”

The soft rumble of Dad’s laughter led me to the living room. As always, he was in his recliner, watching baseball. Before he could get up, I slid into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. My butt wiggled as I squirmed to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I feel duty-bound to point out you are my only daughter,” Dad said, his blue eyes twinkling. “After we had you, there was no point trying again. Perfection kind of spoils a man.”

My eyes held his gaze. Heart hammering, I leaned towards him again and pressed my lips against his. A little too on-the-lips to be our regular affection. Lingered a little too long to be innocent. My breasts pressed against his broad chest as I nuzzled along his jaw to whisper in his ear.

“I know Mom doesn’t take care of you,” I told him. “Put your hand between my legs, Daddy. Find out how much I want to do what she won’t.”

He jolted. I nibbled his ear. Moaned just a little.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I’m telling you to do it.” I squirmed a little more, felt his cock pressing against me. “I’m not teasing. I’m going to fuck you, Daddy. Right now. Right in Mom’s bed.”

“Jessie…”

“Put your fucking hand between my legs,” I snapped. “Your daughter’s pussy is dripping wet and needs your cock.”

Dad’s fingers trembled as he touched my knee. His hand slid slowly up my thigh, hesitating at the hem of my skirt. I drew back and watched his face. Conflict. Hunger. Shame. And surrender.

"That's it," I encouraged, my voice husky. "Go ahead. Test the merchandise. Give it a squeeze."

His powerful hand gripped my inner thigh. He stared at me, waiting to be shamed and denigrated for his healthy desires. I let my smile entice him. Fingers fumbling higher up my thigh, sliding beneath my skirt until they brushed against the damp fabric of my panties. A groan escaped him, deep and primal.

"Jesus, Jessie," he whispered, his eyes darkening. "We shouldn't—"

I silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, my tongue teasing his lips apart. Flicked it against his. When I pulled back, his breath was ragged.

"Feel how much I want you," I said, pressing against his hand. "I’m not innocent, Dad. I know what to do with a cock. It’s just that I won’t be satisfied until I have your cock inside me."

His fingers moved experimentally, tracing the outline of my sex through the thin cotton. I gasped, arching into his touch. Shivered as his lips touched my collarbone.

"What about your mother?" he asked, but his fingers didn't stop their exploration.

I laughed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "She won't be home for hours. Besides, she gave up her rights to you when she started sleeping in the guest room."

Dad’s thumb found my clit through the fabric, and my words dissolved into a moan. The baseball game continued in the background, the announcer's voice a distant soundtrack to our transgression. Dad’s breath panted against my throat.

“Jessie… I can’t…”

My hand pressed against his cock. Hard. Throbbing. My teeth pulled at his lower lip.

“I think you can.” Fingers traced Dad’s cock through his pants. “Do you remember how good it feels to be inside a woman? Hot. Wet. Tight. Both hands full of her ass. Kissing her throat as she moans…”

A tremble ran through his body. I almost felt sorry for him. This was for his own good. If he made it hurt, then that was his issue. Not mine. I had zero problems with fucking my own father.

“Obey me,” I hissed in his ear. “Put your finger in my pussy, Dad.”

I spread my legs wider so Dad could fumble his way under the soggy crotch of my panties. His big, rough finger traced the spot where my desire trickled. My breath caught.

“Finger fuck me,” I commanded. “Make me come before you carry me to bed and fuck me the way I want.”

One hand turned Dad’s face to mine. I kissed him. Stared into his eyes.

“Put your finger in your daughter’s pussy,” I told him. “Make me come.”

His finger slid inside me, and I gasped against his mouth. The intrusion was delicious – thick and hesitant at first, then more confident as I rocked against his hand. My pussy fluttered, aching for more.

"That's it," I breathed. "God, your hands are so much bigger than the boys I date."

Dad groaned, his eyes half-closed, lost in the slick heat of me. His thumb found my clit again, circling with surprising skill. I wondered briefly if this was how he'd touched Mom in the early days, before everything went cold between them.

"You're so wet," he whispered, almost to himself. "So fucking wet."

“I’m wet for you,” I told him. Clenched around his finger, savoring the way his breath hitched. "Add another one," I demanded. "Stretch me open for your cock."

His second finger joined the first, and I felt the delicious burn of being filled. My hips moved of their own accord, riding his hand while the baseball announcer droned on about the seventh-inning stretch. Dad’s fingers drew back slowly. Reached deeper into his daughter’s flesh.

"You like that?" Dad asked, voice rough with need. His free hand had moved to my breast, kneading through my thin top. “Please. Tell me it’s what you want.”

“You need me to say it, don’t you?” I looked into his eyes again. “I love having my father’s fingers in my snatch. I can’t wait to come. And I want to feel my father come inside me before I’m done with him today.”

His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids. I cried out, grinding against his palm as pleasure built in my core. It had been a while for him, I was sure, but he remembered what to do with a woman.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, forgetting himself. "Come for Daddy."

The forbidden endearment pushed me over the edge. My body seized around his fingers, walls pulsing as I came with a strangled cry. Dad watched me, mesmerized, as if seeing something miraculous.

“Daddy,” I whimpered as my body rocked in his lap. “I love you, Daddy.”

I collapsed against my father’s chest. Cradled in his arm with his fingers in my pussy. Dad was frozen, afraid I’d take this glorious moment from him. From us.

"Bedroom," I said, my voice gentle but firm. It was not a question but a command.

He hesitated one final time, conscience making a last stand. "Jessie, we can still stop—"

I grabbed his hand, the one glistening with my arousal, and brought it to my lips. I sucked his fingers clean, watching his eyes dilate with lust. Pushed the tips of his fingers deep enough to make me gag. Slurped as I withdrew them.

"No," I said simply. "We can't."

I led him down the hallway toward the master bedroom, toward the bed he'd once shared with Mom. Each step felt like crossing a threshold from which there would be no return. And I couldn't wait to burn the bridge behind us.