Riding My Dad's Best Friend

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His fingers parted my soft, pink pussy lips, my mouth opened in a silent moan as his digit explored every wet crevice, every slippery fold.

I sighed, brushing it off as an accident. Besides, there’s nothing sexual going on, anyway. Even if he knew where his hands were, it’s not like there’s anything wrong because there is nothing inherently sexual about it. I felt the air against my bare tits, now fully exposed to him. I couldn’t help but blush once more. I blushed, he must’ve thought I was upset for how close he had placed his hand. “It’s okay.” I said. “It was a suggestion.” You never expressed to me that you wanted to learn.” He said. I noticed how his hair had strands that were stained by the sun. Highlighted with lighter streaks that seemed to sparkle on his otherwise dark head of hair.

Riding Daddy

He pulled the straps of my tank top down my shoulders and yanked my top down. My tits flopped out, and I gasped as he snaked his hands around to undo my bra. The plump flesh of my tits were pressed against the fabric of my bra.

I’ve seen pictures were you were holding me as a babe and you carried me with your hand there.” I replied. “When did it become too intimate? It hasn’t changed much, except for some hair.” didn’t seem an option at the time. I kinda felt I’d gone too far, that last week of summer. Yet I still longed for his touch. Horror Writing | Screenplay Writing | How To Write | Write Books | Read Write | Writing Tips | Writing Tools | Writing CommunityHe smiled at me, who was looking up at him. He had told me that I reminded him of himself when he was younger, and I wondered if the twinkle in his eyes was because of that. Because of how close we were, and because of how jolting the movements of Picasso was, his hands rubbed against the soft sides of my jiggling tits. I blushed. You hold the reins like this,” He said, “And make sure you are in control of the horse at all times.” Slowly, Daddy pulled His lips from mine, but I hungered for more. I felt so ashamed of how I was feeling, and how warm my body had gotten from just a simple kiss from Him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell Daddy that it wasn’t the other boys making me cry now, that it was Him. I wanted Him to be like that Daddy I knew He was, and not this monster taking advantage of me. But I kept silent. A thought occurred to me at that moment; maybe if I was good, then He would stop. Naïve of me to think of it now, but at that moment, it made sense.

I wore plain white panties and didn’t hesitate to mount the hard lump in his jeans, desperate to feel any source of friction. I suppose we can practice now, if you like. Go ahead and halter him up and bring him out to the ring.” He told me. I smiled, though, thinking it was probably just Picasso trotting. The air against my face felt fresh, and I felt free. We use to cuddle all the time and you never kiss or hug me any more.” I explained, trying to make it sound more innocent. “Even when I was naughty, at least you’d still spank me.”

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He wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me closer. “More hugs for my little girl. Got it!” He said. I wonder if he noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath that shirt. He did not say anything about this either, except that I ‘seemed happier’ those days. Perhaps I was, but he was mixing up cause and effect. His other arm he wrapped around me, lower when I was wearing a bra but no t-shirt; but when my bare breasts were hidden behind a bulky shirt, he got high enough so that I could feel his arm brush up against them. He had to have felt them wiggling against him. There was no doubt in my mind about it. What would he be thinking?