I know what you’re thinking. It’s Christmas time, so that means lots of snow with carols and an unlimited supply of hot chocolate. But in reality, with mother nature never being able to make up her mind. It’s a semi chilly boring night, filled with the usual run of the mill people, scurrying about spending all their money. On the plus side, I have the night off, and I’m able to spend it with my beautiful baby girl as she lounges around in a loose tank that her mouth-watering breast keeps slipping out of. Those beautiful hourglass curves mold tightly against me. My hand idly stroking down her sternum, doing my best to resist teasing her hard nipples. The only downside is that my baby girl happens to be Ms. Christmas. So, every chance she has I’m bombarded with the festive overload that is Christmas.
“Daddy, why do you hate Christmas,” my baby girl asks as she snuggles her head in closer on my lap while gently stroking my beard?
I do my best not to roll my eyes or groan to deeply. Oh, the holidays are here once again, and with them, all the joy and misery one could ever ask for. Yes, too many I am what you may call a scrooge. Screaming my ba-humbugs, ruining the joyous occasion for everyone else. But in truth I’m not. I just don’t care for Christmas.
Turning her head up my baby girl gives me her patented doe-eyed look, doing her best to look as cute and innocent as possible. Which isn’t very hard with long ribbons of chestnut hair framing the most adorable face ever created. Plus, those full pouty lips that just make me want to kiss her endlessly. I do my best to explain to her once again that it’s not that I hate Christmas. It’s a holiday just like any other, and I just don’t particularly get excited about it until maybe the week before. Of course, this is horrifying to all those who love Christmas. Especially with the new trend of we must start celebrating November first.
Personally, I’d like to know when Christmas became the dictator of the holidays. Intimidating and slaughtering the rest in its never-ending quest to rule the holiday world. Yeah, I can see Christmas as this sort of evil supervillain. Because here's the thing, if you say that you don't like Christmas or that you don't celebrate Christmas, people lose their minds. It's as if Christmas is the ultimate holiday.
Baby girl doesn’t seem convinced by my explanation but decides to let it pass, happy in her snuggles for the moment. Not to mention she pouted her way into this Christmas movie we're watching. How the Grinch Stole Christmas is only one of a handful of Christmas movies that I can tolerate. Die Hard stands at the top of that list because well I'm a guy. And if I'm being forced to sit through a Christmas movie, I might as well watch some stuff blow up. Oh well, after this I’ll find more creative ways to pass the time. Baby girl screams through the night sound fairly appealing. Maybe I’ll have her sing me Christmas carols while I take a flogger to her ass. If she wants to be all festive, I might as well enjoy the holidays my way.
The grinch and I get the same grin on our faces just thinking about it. Baby girl reads my thoughts from my face. A shiver of excitement courses through her with a dash of nervousness.
“You know daddy we don’t have to watch the movie right now,” baby girl says shifting her eyes back in forth doing her best to innocently suggest.
“Oh no baby girl we are going to watch this movie, and daddy just thought of some fun ways to enjoy himself while doing it,” I tease giving in to my desire to pinch her nipple.
She squeals smacking my hand before saying, “stop that!” giving me her best stern baby girl look.
I merely arch my eyebrow, “Oh really little girl,” I say.
“Yeah!” she says while sticking her tongue out at me like the brat she is.
I move my hand from her nipple collaring her throat. Oh, tonight is looking better by the second. I guess the movie will have to wait after all. My baby girl is in need of a reminder of who gives the orders in this house. Scooping her up in my arms she lets out a squeal as I carry her off to the bedroom.
“Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year. I don’t know if there will be whips and chains, but daddy is going to spank your butt,” I sing playfully.
Baby girl just gives me a concerned look wondering why her daddy has suddenly gone crazy. I give her a wink, increasing my volume while continuing to adlib and butcher the song. But hey what are you going to do. Just because people don't recognize your genius doesn't mean you're not. Besides I have a baby girl to torment and tease to my heart's content tonight.
A few days later
Oh, how I hate my job during the holidays. The retail industry is truly hell this time of year. Actually no, it’s worse. Comparing hell to retail is an insult to hell, which is like a five-star resort in comparison. People cramming themselves into stores forgetting the fact that human beings work there, and not autonomous machines designed to cater to their every whim. Then the corporate slave masters crack the whip demanding more cheer, smiles, and overabundance of festive attitude. Throw on top of that the never-ending loop of Christmas music and you have the recipe for a very cranky me.
Thank god I have Pantera. After being torturously forced to endure unnatural amounts of festive cheer, it’s nice to be able to balance myself with some aggressive music to match my mood. With ‘Fuck your world’ blaring through the speakers of my car I feel almost normal again. Time to just get home and relax, and not think about Christmas for five whole minutes, maybe even ten, I’m feeling rebellious.
Pulling into my drive, I idly sit soaking up the last few bits of musical therapy before hiding out in my home. Walking in I am hit with a massive explosion of Christmas music and decorations. There are wreaths, tiny villages, stockings, nutcrackers, mistletoe, and a whole host of other evil abominations that were not here when I left this morning. But then I see the culprit running down the hall with the biggest smile on her face.
It’s as if some switch gets flipped in my head, and all the musical therapy I did in the car gets thrown right out the window. Baby girl crashes into me throwing her arms around my neck. I guess the look on my face is not pleasant. Her smile quickly fades, and she begins to pout.
"Don't you like it, daddy," she says meekly her bottom lips trembling, "I worked so hard to surprise you."
I roar and scream in my head a string of obscenities the likes of which never heard by humanity. It’s as if I’ve transcended into another realm of anger and frustration. I do my best to keep my composure. My will power losing the battle by the second.
“Baby girl…you know I love when you surprise me, but why oh why is our home suddenly the poster child for Christmas town,” I say with slightest hints of annoyance.
Baby girl with her worried doe eyes replies, “I just wanted to make daddy happy and our home all nice and pretty for the holiday.”
Reaching up I place my hands on her shoulders as I kiss her forehead. Of course, mentally I’m using every trick in the book to calm down and keep myself from bashing my head into the wall repeatedly. I simply cannot escape the wretchedness of this holiday. Lord save me from Christmas loving baby girls. He doesn’t respond, typical.
“I appreciate that you love Christmas in all its…yeah. But maybe, just maybe, you could have warned daddy, considering he’s spent all day surrounded by Christmas…cheer.” I say with a great deal of sarcasm unable to help myself.
"Well, then it wouldn't have been a surprise, silly daddy. Come on I want to show you all the stuff," she squeals as she grabs me by the hand.
My baby girl beams with pride as she leads me around showing all the decorations adorned throughout our home. I must have seared the last Christmas from my brain because I don't remember having this much stuff last year. Then I spy the shopping bags in our living room full of decorations yet to be spread throughout our home.
"Baby girl…do I even want to know how much you spent today on all this," I say my frustration sneaking closer to the surface?
Realizing that I see the bags, not that they were hard to miss in the middle of the floor, baby girl gives me her best innocent face. You know lord, I really could use that answer about my earlier statement regarding baby girls and Christmas. Clearly, I’m being unfairly punished for something, because I’m pretty sure I hear the devil clapping in pity over my soul.
Shaking my head, I scan the room looking for a place to sit down before I explode and stab out my eyes. But I have no such luck as baby girl pulls me to the other side of the room where our Christmas tree is in full display with a pile of presents already circling the bottom. It’s like she is a magician, only instead of pulling rabbits out of a hat, I get endless Christmas.
I massage my temples in a desperate attempt to stave off the imminent explosion that is my mood reaching critical mass. While at the same time I repeat in my head how much I love my baby girl and I'm not going to strangle her with a string of Christmas lights. But it’s not looking good for her chances right now. Of course, baby girl is completely oblivious with the biggest smile on her face while I’m low key looking for a strand of Christmas lights.
She finally pulls me over to the couch which is covered in all manner of Christmas decorations that I didn’t even know existed, and I work in retail. She clears me a spot to sit as I fall with a heavy thud. Well, at least I finally get to sit down. It feels like hours have flown by since I was sitting in the driveway looking forward to my nice comfy chair. “I have one more surprise for you daddy,” baby girl cheers as she runs away towards our bedroom.
"Oh Lord help me! I don't think I can take any more surprises today,” I sigh, the spirit of an old southern grandma taking over me.
I need a drink, that’s what I need, but now that I have finally sat down my will is losing out. There is truly something about a comfy seat after a long day of work. If only I had a bell or something to summon a drink. That’s a great idea, maybe I can take advantage of this whole gift and Christmas nonsense. I wonder how much sweet-talking I'd have to do to convince baby girl we need a live-in maid or servant. Baby girl can have a new play toy and I'd have someone to wait on me hand and foot with some more eye candy to look at. Sounds amazing but unfortunately, that would never happen. Oh well, a man can dream.
Rising from the couch, I make my way to the kitchen for that drink. I grab some Makers Mark from the freezer and a can of ginger ale. See I can be festive, and it’s a little early still for straight whiskey. Pouring about two fingers in a glass, I top it off the rest of the way with the ginger ale. I take a long pull enjoying the refreshing burn. Now that’s better. But then I hear the tell tail tapping of an angry baby girl.
Turning around, my baby girl has the most adorable all be it an annoyed look on her face. However, what my baby girl is wearing is far more important. I honestly expected her to be in some sluty Christmas outfit. You know some kind of naughty elf or Santa’s helper, which is a part of the holidays I can fully endorse. But instead, my baby girl has on a skintight tank that hugs her curves and breasts in the most delicious ways. Reading whiskey and beards make me frisky on the tank, I can't help but smile. As a bearded man holding a glass of whiskey, my day is certainly looking up.
Strangely enough the last time baby girl, and I went out we had this crazy drunk lady run upon us. Turns out because she was so drunk, she mistook me for Jason Momoa. Not that we look anything alike, apart from the fact we both have long hair, beards, and muscles. All be it his are the sexy cut looking muscle while mine is a little fluffier. Deceptive packaging, I call it. You have to search harder to find my sexiness. Of course, I stood a little taller, but baby girl was ready to claw her eyes out. But after a few minutes, I managed to convince her that I wasn't Jason Momoa. While at the same time convince baby girl not to kill her. Not a small feat, can we say possessive much.
“Daddy was supposed to wait for me on the couch so I can give him his surprise,” my baby girl huffs.
“Well I’m fully enjoying my surprise from her baby girl, and besides I got thirsty,” I say in a matter of fact tone, although the bulge in my pants starting to form says something else.
“This isn’t your surprise. I was just getting comfortable, and you should have asked me to get that drink for you. I can take care of my daddy”, my baby says with a bit of annoyance and anger.
The confusion clear on my face, but still no less appreciative of baby girl's chosen attire I reply, "I sorry baby girl. Come show daddy your surprise."
We make our way back to the living room as I notice baby girl is wearing a pair of booty shorts with “it won’t spank itself” splashed across her ass. Well, who am I to deny her. I give baby girl a good hearty smack on the ass making her jump. Turning around she gives me a mischievous all be it an endearing look of appreciation. I blow her a kiss and give her a wink.
“I was just doing as instructed. You’re always complaining I don’t listen enough,” I say with much satisfaction.
I sit myself back on the couch setting my drink on the coffee table in front of me. Picking up her phone baby girl turns towards the Bluetooth stereo next to the tv. Still confused, but I breathe a sigh of relief as the Christmas music is finally turned off. Baby girl simply glares at me over her shoulder, but then gives me a wink as she starts to play another Christmas song. This one a little more to my liking. Now when I’m forced to endure Christmas music, or the one day once a decade that I’m actually in the mood to want to listen to it. I usually go for more of the traditional sort. Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole with all the rest from the rat pack era. In my opinion, they got it right the first time and why mess with perfection.
But her song selection is most peculiar as I recognize the tune of my self-assigned theme song of the holidays namely "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch". But this is not your Dr. Sues version that brings the most wicked of smiles to all of us who rebel against this holiday tyrant known as Christmas. The narrated intro is deep and malevolent with a wonderful rock guitar setting the mood that just draws you in. And while my ears appreciate the creative genius of this cover, my eyes feast upon the spectacle of my baby girl as she sways her hips in my direction.
She takes her seat on my lap but this time I’m not treated to the giggles and unrelenting kisses that would usually follow. No, this time she molds herself to the hard plains of my body. Her plump and spankable ass grinding itself against my growing hard-on. Molding her hands to her breasts, she leans back against my shoulder, purring her desire like the slut she is. Unable to resist I nip at her throat. My hand reaching to slip inside her shorts. But she jumps from my lap shaking her finger at me.
"Bad daddy, you can't touch baby girl while she's trying to give daddy a lap dance", she says full of false pouting and ever-growing mischief.
Well, the hell with that plan. I surge up from the couch grabbing baby girl by the back of her head before she has a chance to flee. I sear my lips to hers, demanding entry into what belongs to me, as I invade her with my tongue and consume her. She mews in the back of her throat as she falls into my control. Releasing her lips, I spin her around in my arms, pulling her's behind her as I hold them with one arm. Pulling her tank top up behind her head those heavy mouth-watering breasts demand my attention. Palming one in my free hand, I grasp tightly digging my fingers in.
“Baby girl does not tell me what to do with what is mine, does she,” I say full of menace and desire as I continue to knead her sensitive breast.
Typical of my baby girl her mind is elsewhere. Never able to focus with my hands upon her. I slap her breast before I collar her with my hand, firmly pulling her from her daze.
“Daddy why you being so rude and trying to hurt baby girl”, she says with a purr, trying to be the little brat that she is, but also distracted by daddy's raging hard-on against her ass.
“Baby girl tried to tell daddy what to do with what’s his and didn’t answer him when he asked her a question,” I say in my patent daddy tone.
“Well daddy was being a bad daddy and interrupting baby girl’s surprise for him”, she says defiantly
I turn around throwing baby girl into the couch face first. It’s always amazing to me how in porn the woman always falls perfectly with her ass in the air. But in real life, it's always a tangled mess of limbs, that resorts in a comical laugh or a wrestling match. Fortunately, as a daddy with a smart-mouthed baby girl, I have lots of experience spinning, shoving, and wrestling a baby girl into the position I want. In a matter of seconds, I have her ass high in the air where it is met with a firm slap from my right hand. Which is followed by a second and third as my baby girl wiggles and complains, doing her best to protest as the heat spreads across her ass cheeks.
“Daddy! Stop that! No, that hurts. Why you being so mean?”, she squeals as she tries to run away.
As I said I’m a daddy with plenty of experience in these matters, so I just sit down next to her with my arm draped over framing her magnificent ass. Again my hand sets about the task of bouncing her ass cheeks. I get caught up in the sight of watching my baby girl’s ass that I lose count of how many slaps I have delivered. Oh well, the number isn't important anyway.
“Baby girl seems to be under the impression that she gives daddy directions and can just order daddy around,” I say as I rub my hand across her ass, letting my fingers graze across her pussy through her booty shorts.
I don't wait for a smart-mouthed reply from my baby girl as I slip my fingers underneath her shorts, finding her pussy soaked. Not that I'm surprised. My little slut is extremely fond of daddy manhandling her. Which currently is doing nothing for the hard-on I have painfully tucked away in my jeans. You know what, I have had a hard day at work. Now usually I'd be torturing this little slut endlessly for hours. But I just walked into a Christmas horror show after a very long day. And while I love to watch her wither and scream from the punishments, she oh so rightfully earns. I’m in need of a more immediate release. You know something to calm the nerves, relieve some stress. And nothing is more relaxing then fucking my little slut.
So, I pull down my zipper freeing my cock, giving it a few good strokes before I stand up positioning myself at the entrance of her dripping pussy. Spitting into my hand like the gentleman that I am, I stroke my cock some more, keeping my other hand on baby girl’s ass. Her pussy is always so ungodly tight that a little extra insurance is usually the smart play.
Pulling her shorts down I slam my cock into her slutty little pussy. I grab ahold of her hips forcing her to take my cock. Like I said it’s been a hard day and my little slut loves taking a rough pounding from her daddy. After all, isn’t that what little sluts are for? Of course, all her former protests have died away now that she is getting fucked. Typical slut, give them some dick and all their problems go away.
“Oh, daddy please can I cum? I want to cum all over daddy’s dick,” my little slut screams as she pushes up on her hands shoving my cock deeper inside her.
I fist my hand in her hair arching her back towards me as I growl my answer. Her pussy squeezes and gushes against my cock, staining my jeans with her cum. Baby girl continues to scream as another orgasm hits her. I love how little effort it takes to turn my baby girl into a wanton slut who will just keep cumming and cumming. But for some reason, her wanton ravings are like a cheese grater to my nerves. Keeping my hand in her hair I free myself from the velvet vice of her pussy. With my other hand, I unbutton my jeans pealing them down past my knees as I take my seat again. Of course, my baby girl starts to whine and complain wondering why she's not getting fucked. I shove her whiney mouth down on my cock all the way to the back of her throat with her nose smashed against my pelvis.
“God damn! Baby girl shut that little whore mouth of yours and suck my fucking cock. Don't you know whores are for fucking and to be filled with cum, not talking? Now take care of your daddy's cock", I groan as my little slut works my aching cock with that amazing mouth of hers.
She moans with satisfaction at my vulgar command as she eagerly sucks my cock. Wrapping her hand around the base of my cock she does her best to keep from gagging. But I am not in a gentle mood. The switch has been flipped and all the pent-up frustration is looking for an outlet. I swipe her hand away forcing her to take all of me down her throat. She struggles. Gagging and drooling down my cock turning it into a sloppy mess. Just like a good whore should do for her daddy.
She slides her hand into her shorts unable to resist touching her dripping pussy. Usually, I'd punish her for not asking permission, but I'm too caught up in the moment. My baby girl’s fingers echo with wet splashes as she squirts again crying her release. My cock jumps with need feeling the vibration of those cries deep in her throat.
Hauling my baby girl up in my lap I slam my cock back inside her. I bite down on her nipple hard through her tank as my hands take a bruising grip of her ass. Ignoring my earlier statement about whores not talking, baby girl uncontrollably begs and cries. Her need driven past remembering silly commands like that. Not that I’m making it easy to remember. But honestly, at this moment I find myself not caring. I can feel my balls tightening up, the need to explode being held by a razor's edge. Fuck it, I'll punish her for it later.
We explode at the same time both of us wailing and cursing as we ride the waves of our orgasms. I sear her lips with my own as I pump wave after wave of cum into her greedy pussy. Her hips slam against me with unyielding need, even after I’m spent, taking everything down to the last drop. Another orgasm hits her as I hold her against me continuing to devour her lips while her clit rubs against my pelvis. She gives one final moan before collapsing against my shoulder. Both of us a sweaty sticky mess.
Minutes or hours pass, it’s hard to tell the difference. But eventually, I feel the need to move. Much to baby girl’s disappointment, as she groans while I shift her to the side, laying her on her back. Standing up, I enjoy a post-sex stretch that hits all the spots. It's the little moments you have to savior. Reaching down, I grab my drink taking a healthy pull. Sex and whiskey always make everything better.
Baby girl just curls up on the couch, staring at me lovingly. As I said, give a slut some dick and magically everything is right in the world. Of course, I still have to handle all this Christmas nonsense scattered throughout our home. Oh look, there are those Christmas lights I was looking for earlier. I walk over picking them up. Giving my baby girl a big smile.
“What daddy going to do with those? Oh, is daddy going to help me decorate?”, she says full of excitement.
“Nope, I have something even better in mind,” I say gleefully in the most sinister way.
Before baby girl has a chance to process what’s happening, I use the Christmas lights to hogtie her. A benefit to a post sexed baby girl is she is more compliant and slower to resist. But she can’t help herself as she starts to struggle. I think it’s more the principle of it more than anything. Because she knows I’m going to win. I always do.
“Daddy why you tie me up? I’m a good girl”, she says on the edge between pouty and brat.
“The best girl, but maybe next year you’ll be more considerate of daddy before you turn our home into a Christmas nightmare,” I say smiling while turning off the speaker and picking up the TV remote.
She gives me her patented angry baby girl face as I sit back on the couch. Turning on the TV I shove my cock back in baby girl's mouth. Now, this is the life. Some TV, a glass of whiskey, and a tied-up slut sucking my cock. This is how a daddy enjoys the holidays. She starts to fake whine because again it's the principle of the thing.
I simply pat her on the head and say, “Merry Christmas baby girl.”
