She was so beautiful. She was certainly better-looking than the Missus. Even better than my hot neighbor that I think has been making eyes at me for a year. And she had a spirit about her. A buoyancy. That annoying effervescence teenage girls have that is so sexy. She was lovely, loving and loveable. Those dimples. The curly brown hair. The soft bare shoulder sticking out of my over-sized white T-shirt she was using like a dress over her denim shorts.
And she was dancing for me. I’ve never had a girl dance for me. Except the strippers, of course. She danced better than those whores-in-training. She moved to music I didn’t care for but who the fuck cares when a lovely teenage girl is making those moves with her hips and her bare arms and those plump ass cheeks, not even an oversized T-shirt can hide.
Her name was Sabrina.
“You like how I move, dad?”
I nodded but I was disappointed. She saw my face. She rolled her eyes.
“Daddy,” she said pointedly.
I beamed. What is it about a girl calling you “daddy”? I asked her to call me that as much as possible and she would. “Can I sleep in your room, daddy?” she said once. “Can we share the ice cream, daddy?” Loved that one. “I’m so tired, daddy.”
I remember that night. “I need more money, daddy.” A popular refrain with her. “Kiss me again, daddy.” I’d happily oblige. “Daddy, that’s nasty!” she’d say with a cute and exaggerated indignation. “I wish I had known you all my life, daddy.” That was last Christmas. “He’s my daddy, bitch,” she said once to my wife who didn’t like her visiting.
“Hold me, daddy,” with a cracking voice and lovely tears in her eyes. “I like it, daddy,” when I finally broke that barrier. And my absolute favorite: “Unh, daddy!”
Still, I had to remind her to say it.
I have a real daughter, one I actually raised, who has moved out and hardly speaks to me. I have a son, too, still at home. But Sabrina was something else. She brought out the best in me, I thought.
She took my hand while she continued dancing. I watched her sneakers and her ankles and her legs and her knees twist around. She took my other hand and tried to pull me up to dance with her. I didn’t. She instead placed both of my hands on her hips. Her hands went up in the air, like a girl at a dance club. She played with the shirt, lifting it. I could see those denim shorts again, hugging her thighs tight, with the top button undone. And her cute belly button before she let the shirt fall down again. Such a tease.
But I pulled her closer to me. She lost her step a little but then continued dancing. She put a knee on top of my thighs and leaned in close. Her chest was in my face. She sang to the inane lyrics of the song. My hands were finding their way to her bra under the shirt. She moved away, turned her back to me, and backed into me, falling onto my lap, head hanging over my shoulder.
These were stripper moves. I was enjoying the lap dance.
“Did you think about it?” she asked.
“About what, princess?”
“You know.” She kissed my face. “An allowance.”
“Oh. You’re still thinking about that, pumpkin?”
“I’d do things for you. Clean. Help out.”
“Mom would never go for it, sweetie.” I kissed her back on the temple. “Sweetpea.”
“She’s not my mom.”
“But she’s the mom of the house, baby girl.”
Sabrina stopped moving. I continued feeling her up, especially her thighs. She started breathing hard and kissed me again. I made spider legs with my fingers and had them walk all over her thighs. She giggled a little. My spider fingers crawled up quickly to the undone top button of her shorts. She yelped a little and tried to stop the spider but it was already unzipping her shorts.
She started whimpering in cute protest. I started singing while she squirmed, her wondrous ass burrowing itself into my crotch. She started to say something and I stopped her with a kiss. Our tongues continued the conversation while the spider lifted the lacy band of her panties and crawled into the cave. I liked how she was breathing now, all nasal and deep with little high-pitched squeaks here and there. And the long sigh she gave when I finally reached her sweetpea.
“My precious,” I said to her. “I love you.” With another kiss.
“You’ll help me?” she was still asking, even while I stimulated her.
“I’ll help you, my sweet little thing.”
“What about the ‘momma of the housssse’?”
I had pressed into her pussy and she finished her question with a long hiss.
“Never mind that bitch,” I said.
And she loved hearing that. She grabbed my adventuresome hand and pressed into her crotch, grabbed the back of my head with her other hand and pulled me into a deep kiss, a tongue battle royale, a deep sigh and a thankful look on her face.
After all, Sabrina was my blood, I figured. The Missus may hate to have found out I had a long-lost daughter but I hadn’t known either until she showed up at our door last year. What was I supposed to do? Close the door on her? Her foster parents kicked her out when she was old enough, she told me. She spent months tracking me down, just like adopted kids do in stories wanting to know their real parents or something. But she was poor. Thank God she never got caught up in the sex trade. Thank God she found me.
Unfortunately, my wife didn’t like it. She always ruined things. I heard her just then coming downstairs to once again ruin something.
“What the fuck’s going on?” she said from the stairs.
“We’re talking,” I said curtly. “Go back to sleep.”
“How can I with that music playing?”
I reached for the remote and turned off the cable box playing the silly music videos.
“Happy now?” I said. “Go back to sleep.”
“You don’t even listen to that crap.”
I threw my head back on the headrest of the sofa. Just a couple minutes of that ball and chain and I was worn out. Only the softness of Sabrina’s thighs was keeping me sane.
“She’s so annoying,” Sabrina muttered to me.
“What’s that bitch saying about me?” my wife said in a thundering voice that made me jump a little.
Sabrina looked angry. She looked at me. My wife’s been calling her names a lot and I always stayed away from their arguments. Not today, I decided. I pushed Sabrina off of me and stood up.
“Don’t call her names. We’re discussing her future. Get the fuck back to sleep and let me talk to my daughter.”
I looked at Sabrina. She smiled at me and then looked in the direction of the stairs with anticipation. We heard my wife go back to her room. Sabrina clenched her fists in the air, proud of me. I placed my hand on her head and patted her brown curls. She moved on the sofa, inching closer to the edge to get closer to me. I turned to face her. She looked up at me with those doe eyes, questioning eyes, like asking me what I want her to do. I liked that.
Her hands were on my thighs. I looked up at the stairs. The bedroom door was still closed. This was a brazen move. Right here in the living room.
I bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. Her hands moved up on my pants. I caressed her hair. I was so relaxed yet my heart was beating. Her hands finally made it to the big bulge that wanted to escape. She touched it and looked up at me, that childlike, quizzical look again. She knew what she was doing. I nodded to her. Her hands went for the buttons.
But the bedroom door opened again, goddammit. I pushed away. Her hands went back to her lap. I paced the room. The old bag wasn’t coming downstairs yet but I could hear activity up there. Last thing I needed was another argument with Mrs. Boner-Killer. Now I could hear her coming downstairs.
“One more thing,” she said as she walked down.
“No,” I said. I looked at Sabrina. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Yay,” Sabrina said dryly, giving my wife a dirty look. “Let’s get out of here,” she said to me.
She got up and took my hand. I looked at the wife, in her pajamas, glaring at our hands connected and making a face. I wanted to laugh at that.
“It’s late,” my wife said. “Where are you guys going?”
“It’s only seven,” I said.
“And you’re usually asleep by now. Or on the sofa watching porn.”
“Just shut up,” I said and looked at Sabrina. “I said I’d teach you to ride a bike.”
“Oh yeah,” she said excitedly. “Now, now, now, please,” she said in a cute voice.
“Now’s perfect,” I said, mostly looking at my wife, reveling in the fact that she didn’t like this.
I took Sabrina outside, holding hands.
Nineteen-years-old and she had never learned to ride a bike. When she had told me, I wanted to be the one to teach her. I told her this would be my making up for lost time and losing out on all the father-daughter stuff I never did with her. She was happy to hear that when I told her. We hadn’t gotten a chance. But while I was leading her to the backyard to the bikes, she suddenly yanked my hand.
“I want a beer.”
“What?”
“I like drinking beer with you.”
“You can’t ride a bike drunk.”
“Forget the bike. Let’s drink.”
“Ha. I don’t know.”
“Come on. Please.” Then she turned on the charm. “Daddy, please.”
That “daddy, please” was usually enough to melt me into doing anything, from giving her money to scoring weed for her. A walk to the store and one and a half six-packs of beers later, we were on the bench of a deserted park with the sun going down. She was drinking her beer feeling all grown up. I was waiting for the sun to go away completely, lest some neighbor sees me. She was getting silly, telling me jokes and making fart sounds every time I moved.
“Why do you watch so much porn, dad?” she asked in a moment of seriousness.
“I enjoy it,” I said with a shrug.
“You like, let me see, lesbian shit? Watching two girls get off?”
“That’s some good stuff. Especially when they use soft focus, soft music, make it classy.”
“I did a girl once. Twice.” She was trying to recall. She shrugged. “Meh. It was fun, I guess.”
The sun was slipping away and it was getting a little cooler. She snuggled up to me while we talked.
“Gangbang porn?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I said with a grin. “Bukkake.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, what?”
“One girl. Lots of guys. Lots of…”
“What?”
“You know… that last shot of a porno times ten.”
“Oh, God…”
“Lots of cum.”
“You like that?”
“Guilty, your honor.”
“Cum on a girl’s face?”
My boner was coming back, while I held Sabrina in my arm, with her hand on my chest working its way down. “Something about a beautiful girl,” I was saying, babbling, while my heart began to beat harder again.
“Yeah?” she said, looking up at me again. Not the same doe-eyed, purring kitty look from before. More the look of a hungry dog wanting to make me its bitch. And devour a bone.
“Beautiful, innocent-looking girl,” I was saying, more focused on her hand venturing into my crotch region. “With a pretty face, cute lips…” She was undoing my pants with one hand. “…sweet eyes…” She was reaching in. “…sweet cheeks, nice hair….” She had a hold of it. “…and sprayed with jizz…” Oh, it was nice and firm, too, a good erection and she had a strong grip around it.
I gulped and tried to breathe normally as she stroked my cock. “You like that, daddy?”
“Oh, sweet Sabrina,” I said closing my eyes.
She held on to her daddy’s cock while she got up. I looked around but there was no one. She knelt down on the grass in front of the bench. She was still looking up at me. I pulled my pants down a little. She smiled at that. My cock stood nice and strong in front of her gentle face. She was staring at it lovingly. She kissed my balls while stroking the cock. She pecked her way up to the tip and back down. Then licked her way up again with a nice long groan from me.
She kept saying, “Mm,” as if it tasted so good.
I thought I heard a noise but it was a stray cat passing by. She took all of me into her mouth and sucked. I ran my fingers through her hair while she worked and worked.
“Good girl,” I said a few times.
She stopped to look at me with the sweetest smile. “Thanks, daddy.”
She said it again, that beautiful thing! I loved it. I gently guided her back to suck some more. She complied like a sweetheart and put her all into it. From her lips, and her tongue, to the back of her throat. After a while, she was sucking voraciously while holding my balls. It was too much. Not wanting to ejaculate too quickly, I stopped her.
She pulled the cock out of her mouth. I couldn’t believe how deep she had taken it. She rested her head on my belly, still stroking my cock and playfully poking the strands of my pubic hair. She rubbed her face on my belly and against my cock, like a cat rubbing against the leg of its owner. With a purr, she started kissing it again.
