Doing It with Daddy

Daddy’s jaw dropped at that.

‘Nothing nasty or violent,’ I added, ‘but anything else is allowed.’

‘I’d never be nasty of violent,’ he said.

‘In that case you’d better drink that whisky and tell me what you want to do.’

I slurped my vino and took stock. While I’d already quite swiftly got naked Daddy still had his shirt on; nothing more, just his shirt. Gulping the last of his single malt he stood and undid a few more buttons.

‘Get on your knees,’ he commanded, ‘no, not on the floor, on the settee. That’s it. That’s a good little girl.’

I don’t mind admitting that my heart was thumping as I obeyed. Daddy wanted to take me up my ass. I couldn’t think of any other reason he’d want me kneeling that way. Okay, I knew that lots of guys liked to pussy-fuck from behind; I wasn’t averse to it myself . . . but arse-fucking was different, wasn’t it?

Arse-fucking was every man’s secret fantasy.

And I’d thrown my ass at him like confetti.

Wiggling as I went out of the room. I ask you! Begging for it or what!!

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a complete virgin that way. My flat-mate regularly fingered and thumbed me in that area. Sometimes she’d even “bowling ball” me, if you know what I mean. And one or two of my male lovers had slipped in the odd index finger.

But wasn’t it just my luck! The first time anyone wanted to stick a cock up there he had to be hung like frigging Frankel (Frankel’s the world’s most prodigious stud horse, in case anyone doesn’t know!).

Not that I’d refuse Daddy anything. I’d never go back on my word, never, and a promise made to my daddy was so far above a promise made to anyone else.

My emotions were, I must admit, mixed. Excitement and apprehension, I guess, blended in with a lot of fear. What if I was too tight for Daddy? What if I let him down? What if he couldn’t even get it in?

Fear for my person was non-existent. I genuinely did not care about the ultimate state of my asshole. All I was worried about was pleasing Daddy.

Well, it was so long as my asshole didn’t get too badly reamed . . .

‘Anything,’ I said, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice.

I was on all-fours as instructed, my elbows on the arm of the settee, my ass in the air. I couldn’t fail to feel the leather cushions compress as Daddy positioned himself behind me. And I couldn’t fail to feel the velvety head of his cock circling my ring.

To my surprise, Daddy didn’t thrust ungainly in. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising; Daddy just didn’t do ungainly.

He didn’t do rude insertions, either. Oh no, while I trembled in all varieties of trepidation, he circled me a while then began to run his cockhead up and down the cleft of my bum.

He did it again and again and again.

‘Oh yes,’ I sighed, hardly acting at all.

Then, to my astonishment, Daddy altered his attentions. Instead of rubbing at me, he shifted position so the flat expanse of his cock was running along me. He was fucking the cleft of my ass in the same way he’d fucked my cleavage.

What joy!

Don’t ask me if I was overcome by relief. I honestly can’t answer that; I was still wondering how much a penetration was on the cards. And I was also still wondering how much I wanted penetration to be on the cards.

Please wait…

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