“You can’t touch me, Daddy. It’s not right.” She was straddling my thighs, holding herself just above my lap. She held a fresh drink out to me. I had just rested a hand on her ass but now it hovered a few inches away from her, quick to obey. I took my drink and looked at her. “You’re right, baby,” I sighed, “It won’t happen again.”
It was a freakishly hot evening. I’d gone to work in long sleeves and a tie with a heavy fall coat but by midday it was sunny and hot. Our apartment heated up like an oven in the sun. I walked in the door at 5:30 sharp, like I always do, and checked the thermometer. “Jesus,” I said, “It’s nearly eighty in here.” I hung my jacket on the hook and heard her drop an ice cube into a glass. I smiled. She greets me this way when she wants to fuck. A glass in hand. Her fingers teasing the back of my neck at my collar. It works every time. I’m easy.
I sat down on the sofa, knees hanging open, my hands resting near my hips. She waited for me to settle. She waited until I was watching. She was barefoot, bare legged, wearing a simple dress that fit tight and showed off her curves. When she crawled into my lap, straddling me, I watched as her dress eased up her thighs. That’s when I caressed her ass. That’s when she set the rules.
When she calls me Daddy, I slow down. I cock my head and listen. This is important. Daddy doesn’t rush things. I want to get it just right. Take care of her the way she needs.
I took my drink in my hand and felt the cold glass and the condensation. I let the scotch roll around on my tongue and rattled the ice in the glass. “Will you hold this again for me?” I asked, handing the glass back to her. I held my hands just above her thighs and stared at her pussy hovering above my lap. I looked a beat too long and kept staring while my hands slowly moved to my tie. “This damn apartment,” I said, loosening the knot.
My fingers moved at a slow, deliberate pace. I kept my eyes on her pussy while I pulled on my tie. Her hips started to rock. I felt her brush against the fly of my pants. I looked up into her face and started on the buttons of my shirt. One by one, watching her eyes follow my fingers and feeling her rub against me. “I’m so tired,” I said and took my drink back when I’d untucked my shirt, doing my best to ignore her thrusting hips in my lap.
I closed my eyes and sighed. “I can smell the whiskey on your breath,” she said. I nodded. I felt the tips of her fingers on my forehead. She massaged my head with tiny swirls of her fingers. I felt the heat from her skin. Her pussy barely grazed against my lap. She was teasing herself. Torturing me.
I drained my scotch and set the glass down, leaning a little to reach the side table. “Do you mind if I loosen my belt?” I asked her, not waiting for an answer. I slid my hands between us and froze with my fingers on my belt buckle, positioning my knuckles between her thighs. I felt her wet panties brush against my fingers and shifted myself to press more firmly against her on the next pass. “Go slow, Daddy,” she whined in my ear. I unbuckled my belt imperceptibly slow. Frame by frame. Crooking my fingers, adjusting, feeling the wet cotton drag against me, feeling her swollen lips, the heat, the barest nub of her clit pushing through, trying to find me.
With my belt undone, I held the buckle in place for her, gripped the metal tight in thick, throbbing fingers. I held still and waited. I watched her flushed cheeks. I stared at the sweet, pink tip of her tongue resting just behind her lower lip. I wanted to grab her hips. I wanted to shove my fingers inside her as far as I could. I held still and felt my thighs shake. A muscle behind my right shoulder blade started to spasm and I winced in my effort to stay stock still.
She moaned so softly, so sweetly. Under her breath at first, but growing louder as she started to come, grinding hard now against the back of my hand. She came for what felt like a long time. She held my shoulders and sank down against me. She didn’t open her eyes, but just curled up on the cushions next to me and rested her head in my lap, falling asleep before I knew it. I needed to shift a few times to get comfortable but she never stirred. My sweet girl. I watched her nap. Her fingers tapped against my thigh and her lips moved as she slept.
I watched her as the room blazed a dark orange with the sunset and then faded to dirty gray. She looked so sweet. I smiled. I curled her hair around my fingers, getting a good grip, waiting for her to wake up. I knew what I wanted next.