Daddy’s Little Girl

While surfing the interweb today, I came across an image that has struck a chord in me. Deeply.

Now, I can’t stop thinking of my Daddy’s hard, thick, cut cock in my small hole. The thought of the soft silky head of his cock pressing up against my tight, untouched slit. My lips opening to receive him. My pussy so wet for him. My button tingling for his touch. His lips. His tongue. His teeth.

I can’t get the image of him stretched out beneath me out of my head.  My cheek against his hairy chest. My lips barely touching his nipple. The sound of his heartbeat in my tender ear. It’s his heartbeat that signals to me this is real. I’m not imagining his cock in my tiny cunt. The pressure of him is not a fantasy. The wet between my legs no longer just my own. His.

It is his wetness. I have solicited from him. I have seduced him. Me and my pussy have taunted his cock to spit. He wanted to resist my charms. My sweet smile. My contagious giggle. My small voice pleading with him; begging him to share himself with me. My doe-like eyes peering into his handsome face.

My Daddy’s face. The perfect face. Handsome. Loving. Kind. Strong. Responsible. Trust-worthy. Sincere. Genuine. Open. Warm. I am a lucky girl to have such a magnificent Daddy. There is a boy in him as there is a girl in me. Not the same way his boy in him, but he’s in there. I can hear him when my Daddy laughs. His big, deep, throaty, open-mouthed laugh. Great joy and happiness reside in it. It makes me happy to hear it. It opens my heart to him more fully. When my heart is open, so are my holes.

My Daddy has longed for me. Looked for me. Searched for me. Hunted me. And I am caught. Caught by his mind, his heart, his laugh, his eyes, his arms. He cannot let me go. He needs my sweet little pussy. I am enslaved to his cock. My Daddy’s cock. My soft lips stretched over the head. My cheek on his pelvis as I suck him. Slurp him. Fondle him. Gag on him. Stroke him. My unbridled devotion to his cock.

Now that he has fucked me, I am his and he is mine in a new way. We once were simply bound by circumstance. Now, we are bound by stronger ties. Lasting ties. I want to be my Daddy’s lover again and again. Over and over. I want to run my pink tongue over lips bruised by hours spent sucking his cock. I want to feel the void he once stuffed full when I pee.  I want to touch myself in the bath and remember what it is to be touched by him. I want to lean into his groin when he watches the news on TV and relive the pleasures of the bulge in his trousers. I want to watch him grab the refrigerator door and imagine those fingers toying with my nipples. Imagine his palms on my small, unformed hips as I ride him like a pony.

Yes, I want all of it and more… much more…

I’ve been hesitant to pinpoint an age for myself in my fantasies. It feels like I’m somewhere around 7′ish… Don’t know if my desires are accurate from biological, emotional, mental or spiritual perspectives. There’s something about the innocence of that age in my mind. Although, perhaps I’m a bit older… maybe 9? Or 10? Even 11 or 12?

Certainly my fantasies are about enjoying what I’m doing. Wanting to please my Daddy. Desiring him. Taking pleasure in my ability to excite and satisfy his needs.

I’ve been aware of my sexuality since I was young. Very young. Maybe too young. Right around the age I think of myself in my fantasies with my Daddy. Perhaps a bit younger by a year. Aware that my body could be used for sex. That the using could be very pleasurable. Very powerful. That it could induce others to do as I desired them to do, though I never exercised that power as a young girl.

I have never had any sexual relationship with my own Father or any male adult member of my family.

Do I need to go research the physiology and psychology of young girls to determine my age in my fantasies? I rather hope not… why does fantasy have to be based in reality? The idea seems at odds with itself.  Certainly at odds with my own preference to have fantasy and reality live separately from each other.

So, maybe I’m 7. Lord knows I was sexually aware at that age. Maybe I’m older. If my Daddy has a preference for my age in our play time, I’m sure he’ll let me know when the time is right.

I’m willing to negotiate it. I think we can find a way to both be more than a little satisfied. ~coy smile~

If you are into ageplay, how much does age matter to you? How do you define it and set boundaries about it? Inquiring mind wants to know… please.

I like to fuck as a woman. I long to fuck as a girl. My pussy so soft, smooth, sweet, tight, virgin. My pussy so eager for him. His fingers. His tongue. His cock. I want him to fill all my holes.

My mind so innocent. My want to please this all-important man in my life so strong. My enthusiasm for him, endless. My excitement to see him at the end of his workday, boundless. My rush to hug his waist, my mouth at his belt buckle, when he walks through the door. My burning desire mixed with curiosity to explore his hardness with my little pink tongue and small mouth.

To know that it makes my Daddy’s cock hard just to think about my hole makes my nipples stand at attention and my hole wet. That I am supposed to be untouched by him. That he is not supposed to be aroused when he bathes me. That he is not supposed to ache to pull back my hair and kiss me full on the mouth when he brushes my hair at night. That he yearns to feel my soft, silky skin under his big hands as he reads me a bedtime story. That he desires to sit in the rocking chair in my room and watch me explore myself with my small, tender fingers.

My fingers wet my button with the juice from my slit, I keep my eyes fixed on Daddy’s eyes. As I explore my wet hole, I notice Daddy shifting in his seat. I watch as he squirms to find a comfortable position given his raging hard-on. He repeatedly moves his cock with his hand. I realize what I’ve done and it makes me happy. It incites me to work to entice him to come to me. I smile at him. A knowing smile for a girl my age. I lower my eyes as he smiles back at me. In my small voice, I ask him if he likes me this way. He does. Very much, he tells me. I ask him if he will come to me. He hesitates.

“Daddy, I want to touch you”, I tell him. He shifts in his seat again.

“Daddy, please?”, I whisper. “Please will you let me touch you? I think about touching you when I find my button alone at night in my room. I think about you touching me, too.”

He opens his mouth to speak but says nothing. I ache for him. In the pit of my stomach, in the center of my heart, in the depths of my soul. I ache for his touch. His caress. His fingers on my soft skin. His tongue on my little nipples. The brush of his hairy leg against mine. I long to wrap my small, spindly legs around his waist as he gently presses his hard into my soft. To cry out in pain as he stretches me open to receive him.

“Please, Daddy. Please. Let me touch you. Please”, I plead with him.

As if bound to the chair, he does not move. I can see in his eyes that he wants to come to me. To touch me as I want him to. To caress me. To violate me. To take my innocence and make it his. To bind us together for always. To show his love for me in new and erotic ways. To teach me the ways a woman pleases her lover though I am just a girl. To be his lover. My Daddy’s lover.

As I continue to beg him to touch me, my excitement and arousal rise. My little hole becomes wetter. My small fingers slip across my button. My breath shallows. I become confused… is it my unmet need for him or my begging that trips my arousal?

In my confusion and longing, I cannot wait for him to touch me. My mind races though my breathing cannot keep pace. I cum so intensely with thoughts of his skin on mine. The sound of my own voice begging him, pleading with him to touch me, to fuck me, to violate me, to love me as I explode for him.

G-d, I so want this….

Ever since I started thinking about finally tapping my desire for a Daddy, it’s all I think about when I masturbate. It’s all I think about when I’m having sex with anyone. Hell, it’s all I think about. It’s gotten to a point where I can’t cum unless I’m fantasizing about being with my Daddy. I’m going to have to find a new fantasy or de-sensitize myself to this one. My orgasms are so much more intense when I’m thinking about my Daddy fucking me, taunting me with his cock, teasing me with his tongue, making me pull down my panties for a spanking… I can’t get it out of my head. Ever.

I’ve told two of my male friends about this fantasy of mine. Goddess bless them, they’ve both offered to help me out with this one. If that’s not the sign of a good friend, what is? I think one of them would be perfect. I think he has it in him but he’s very far away from me. Might make it easier, the distance, to keep it separate. He’s very loving and nurturing. Gentle. Passionate. I think he’d be a skilled lover for all of me, really.

Oh, yeah. No. We’re just friends at this point. Want more from him as I believe he wants from me. Again, distance has probably been the only barrier to fucking for us. Not probably. It is.

The other one is closer but I don’t think it’d work. No, not fear of mine given his proximity to me. I think it’d freak him out. He asked me what I needed for this fantasy. When I started telling him about the age issue - where mine is in this erotic fantasy of mine - he verbally backed up. See? I don’t think he has it in him.

We fuck now. We’re good friends as individuals and as couples. I think I’d want to role play with him at times when it’s not appropriate [Lord knows I’m good at inappropriate] or I’d find myself needing him in ways I can’t have him. Dunno, maybe it is fear.  Don’t think it matters much with him anyway.

While I figure out how to go about explaining what I need to my far-away-friend, I guess I’ll keep fucking myself with thoughts of my Daddy in my head…

This is very intense and very personal for me. I have told no one of my fantasies of having a Daddy. Of being allowed - even encouraged - to be small, loving, innocently affectionate, boundless in my trust of my Daddy and ever so trying to be his best little girl so he will love me more and more every second of every day.

In my fantasies, my innocent affection becomes overwhelming for my Daddy and he cannot resist me. Of course, I allow it - as good girls do - and find he loves me even more for giving all of myself to him. He speaks sweetly to me and encourages my girlhood.

I’m not sure how old I am in my fantasies about me and my Daddy. Too young and it doesn’t feel right… too old and the innocence of it is lost.