‘That was exquisite,’ he said, his blue eyes sparkling below his clouded brow, ‘although I’m not going to ask where exactly you learnt tricks like that.’
‘A gentleman shouldn’t ever ask such questions,’ I replied primly.
‘Then I definitely won’t.’
‘But bugger gentlemanly conduct,’ I went on, removing my T-shirt and bra, letting loose my 34 double Ds. ‘Let’s be naughty.’
‘Lotus,’ Daddy said, suddenly uneasy again as I advanced on him. ‘Blossom . . .’
Too late! I had him in my very generous cleavage.
‘Here’s another trick,’ I crooned as I pressed my tits together, trapping him in there so escape was not a possibility.
‘Lotus,’ he gasped.
Still taking no notice of negatives, I began to move up and down, slowly but surely, liking the way his skin adhered to mine.
‘I should have done this last weekend,’ I whispered. ‘I’ve been wishing I had ever since.
*****
Please do excuse me for not introducing myself sooner. As this story is more or less a confession, I’m going to go by the alias of “Nat” or “Natalie” and I’m also going to withhold lots of personal details. Call me cowardy-custard if you will but, as I understand it, the UK authorities still frown upon girls who fuck their daddies. And, as you are about to find out, I have fucked my daddy a lot of times.
Right then; what can I safely say about myself? I’m a final year student at a nameless uni in the south of England. I’m five weeks short of being twenty-one, five foot six with a well-developed body and very nice tits. I have a cheekily attractive face and quite lovely long auburn hair.
And, at the time of the blowjob I’ve just described, I’d been fucking my Daddy for almost a week.
Crazy, isn’t it? I’m an only child and have always been a “daddy’s girl” yet, up until recently I hadn’t ever considered having sex with him. Now I can think of nothing else.
This is where I blame my wicked witch of a mother. She’d only gone and thrown Daddy out of his own house. Worse still, she’d been carrying on with strings of “workmates” for years and her latest toy boy had already moved in with her.
Hell, knowing her, she’d probably had him moving in round the back while poor old Daddy trudged off down the drive, all his worldly possessions bound up in a red and white spotted hanky.
‘Home” is in West Yorkshire, by the way. Since going to university I’d rarely been back. The weekend before had been only the fifth time I’d visited in over two years. And believe it or not, I’d dashed home to console Mother, who’d phoned to tell me Daddy had walked out on her.
What a lying bitch!
Anyhow, that’s enough of my family’s predicament for the time being; let’s get back to the sex.
Sorry, how Freudian of me! Let’s get back to the story.
And, as added background, I’m going to begin shortly before the evening’s first blowjob . . .
Chapter Two
As a born and bred Yorkshire lass I should have known better but, fooled by glorious Indian summer weather “down south”, I’d caught my Friday afternoon train wearing a short black skirt, a skimpy white T-shirt and very little else . . . unless you count my black leather fuck-me boots.