“Where’s my kitten?”
After a few moments, I pad into Daddy’s office, pleasantly enough to the untrained eye, but he knows I normally bound in like an eager little pet. He takes in the sight of me: I’m comfy-looking enough in dusty pink soft cotton. It’s my favorite tank top and matching little sleep shorts set. His favorite too. It matches the simple collar circling my slim neck- another favorite for lazy evenings. The material is soft, and the small dangling heart pendant is apropos. I already wear my heart on my sleeve, so why not around my neck as well?
He leans back against the luxe leather of his desk chair and opens his arms. This is our unspoken cue it’s lap time. I settle in on his strong thigh, my knees resting on the other, my bare feet tucked in. Often I’ll go in for the kiss, my lips still in the shape of a sweet smile as we make first contact. This time, all I can do is wrap my arms around Daddy’s neck, and nuzzle my head against his shoulder. He runs his fingers along the goosebumps sprinkling my skin among the freckles. I was just under a blanket, and now the cool air tickles my skin. Thankfully his enveloping body is warm, and the chill subsides.
Daddy attributes my slower pace to drowsiness, until he senses the littlest pool of wetness on the fabric of his shirt, in the spot between his collar and shoulder. There’s no mascara smear; Daddy loves my fresh, flushed face in its natural state. He says I look pretty and sweet and kissable like that, someone he’s drawn to protect and adore.
“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” Daddy inquires, even more gently than his typical tone with me.
“I’m… just having a hard day,” I respond reluctantly. Sometimes, I worry when I’m anything less than enthusiastic when he calls for me. I don’t like to disappoint him, ever. But, silly me, I needn’t worry. Daddy is as caring as ever, and his arms pull me closer against his solid form. A thumb finds my pink cheek, and he brushes away the streak from a single tear.
“Tell Daddy all about it, sweet girl,” he says, kindness softening his words. He always knows what I need, sometimes even better than I do.
Which is what leads his hand to slip into the front of my cotton shorts. As I confess what burdens me, his fingers trace the skin of my stomach, and under the low waistband of my shorts. With no panties in the way, he finds my secret place, and soothes me with the type of gentle rubbing only an older, experienced man can provide. It doesn’t stem from a selfish desire to take from me, but rather to give to me. Daddy takes care of his good girl.
Sure enough, as my words wind down, I melt against him, and he delicately strokes and rubs my little pussy. It’s comforting, yet my heart pounds as he makes first contact with the sickness of my slit.
“Kitten?” he begins. “You need Daddy’s full attention tonight. Hold on tight.”
He gathers me up closer, and stands from his desk chair. His arms are strong, and I feel secure being carried down to hall to our bedroom. We have a beautiful bed, king size and covered with a fluffy down comforter and a pile of overstuffed pillows at the head. There just might be a plush kitten hidden in the stack as well. Daddy doesn’t mind.
Words are no longer necessary. He lays me down and gingerly tugs down my cotton shorts, dropping them onto the colorful area rug framing our bed in the cozy space. I shift my upper body so the pillow pile supports me just right, my red hair fanning across the different textures and whimsical shapes. Daddy likes my style, and our home is full of thoughtfully chosen pieces that communicate a keen eye for design with a streak of quirky artistry.
I’m propped up enough that I can see him settled between my thighs. I’ve let my bare legs fall open, no effort exerted on my part. I’m malleable, utterly compliant, and receptive. He moves me as he desires, and I let him care for me exactly as his experienced hands and mouth know how.
I love how varied our intimacy is. He insists that tonight, however, there is no reciprocation, as instinctual as it is for me to eagerly touch and please his private places. But I quell the urge to serve him, and simply rest, eyes still watery as I blink back what I hope is the last of my tears.
His touch is slow. He usually starts that way, but tonight he doesn’t escalate the pace or intensity. It’s gently loving; the pads of his fingers stroke my outer lips, and his mouth touches them with the slightest of kisses.
I always blossom like a pretty flower for Daddy. My pussy swells and the petals open. Every stroke and kiss is deliberate, and he positions my knees higher and more open. My clit is well-nestled inside, and he knows exactly how to coax out the little swollen pebble. He touches my pussy with a soft, flat tongue, like he’s delicately pressing a button. My sighs become whimpers as his tongue begins to lick in lingering lines from opening to clit.
When I begin to moan, he pulls back to merely touch and kiss, and lets my building orgasm subside into a low hum of pleasure. Daddy expertly reads my body, and continues this ebb and flow for several undulations. Eventually I start to tremble, and he knows I’d finally rather have my release than continue the cycle. It doesn’t require much to take me over the edge. His sensually meandering pace is enough, if he makes contact with my most sensitive little place and doesn’t let up.
I orgasm mewling like a kitten; there is no wild thrashing nor explosive cry tonight. But it’s absolutely perfect. As soon as my climax begins, Daddy moves up next to me and grasps me firmly. Some of my most intimate moments have been during orgasm while Daddy clutches me close and rides it out with me, absorbing my shudders and stroking my long hair.
When it fades, his grip loosens ever so slightly, and he positions me, still moldable in his expert hands, so that he can spoon my spent little curvy body. His arm on top wraps around me protectively, and finds a breast under my bunched up tank top. Daddy always knows what to do. My nipples are extremely sensitive, so when he lazily toys with one and then the other, it’s a calming kind of pleasure, and finally the full lips of my mouth curl up at the edges, and I exhale a pleasant “Mmmmm”.
Daddy lifts himself up to glance at my face, and then settles back into protective position.
“Is that a smile, kitten?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I respond softly.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the crook of my neck, just below my collar. I involuntarily shiver as he whispers again, “That’s my goooood girl.” I close my eyes and drift off, content.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/128xtxt/daddy_and_his_sweet_girl_a_story_of_sensual
This was amazing. Thank you
This is perfect