Over and over I feel your fingers circle. Always around. Never entering. Just teasing. Playing. Touching. Pressing. Prreessing. Prrreeesssing.
My whole body arches against you as you shove your fingers into me. Too much. Too much!
I bite at your shoulder, silencing my scream. My fingers dig into your chest as I cum. Hard. So hard. I’m cumming so hard for you, daddy.
“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.”
I’m sure your words are whispered but they’re all I hear. They’re my world. They weave themselves in my very soul becoming a part of my identity. I’m your baby girl and I’m cumming for you. You’re my daddy and I’m cumming for you.
“Keep cumming, baby girl. Keep cumming.” The motion of your fingers emphasizes each sentence. Slowly pulling out only to pushed back in, spreading me. Filling me.
Another scream silenced, somehow. Somehow contained. Somehow I hold onto you tighter. I didn’t know I could feel this much. I didn’t know I had more in me to give. Please take all of it, daddy. Take all of me. It’s yours. I’m yours. I want to be yours, daddy.
My body tightens once again, squeezing around your fingers. I can feel the wetness running out of me, covering your hand, making messy sounds as you continue, over, and over, and over, drawing my orgasm out until it feels like I’m shattering. Until only one thing remains.
“Daddy!” I can’t. I can’t. Please, daddy. I can’t keep quiet. I can’t stay still. Please, daddy. It’s so good. Your fingers are so good.
There is no conscious thought. There’s only feelings. Reactions. Sensations. A blinding intensity which eclipses all else. I spend eternity in that state. I spend years, life times, being consumed by you. By your desire. I spend eternity being yours.
Slowly. So slowly, I become aware. Your fingers have stopped. They’re inside me, but they’re no longer tormenting me with ecstasy. You’ve taken mercy on me, allowing your hand to rest against my skin, cupping me. Holding me. Owning me.
I’m panting. I can feel wetness against my cheeks. Tears. I smile slightly even though it seems so hard to do. I’m so tired, daddy. I’m so tired it’s hard to smile against your neck. Panting. Breathing. I like the tears, daddy. They aren’t bad. I promise I wasn’t crying.
Mmmm, no. Not crying. It was so intense. They’re a sign of intensity and I’m so glad they’re there. I didn’t know it could feel this good. I didn’t know I could feel this much.
My legs… my thighs… they feel so weak… The gym never makes me feel like this. It never makes me feel the way you do, daddy. So used. So spent. So completely satisfied.
I smile wider, thinking of the joke, “Who is “Gym” and why are you always so sweaty and tired after seeing him?” Gym could never be as good as you, daddy.
I half gasp half moan as you slowly ease your fingers from inside me. I try to open my eyes. I want to see you, but the lights seem so bright. Where they this bright when we sat down? I forgo that train of thought as I feel your fingers pressing against my lips. Hot. Wet.
I open my mouth, my tongue already extending as I suck them inside, letting my eyes flutter closed as I moan softly, contentedly. I begin to gently clean your fingers, swirling my tongue around them, trying to get all of the stickiness for you.
I love the feeling of sucking your fingers clean. I love tasting myself on you. I love how you say it makes me a…
“Good girl.”
I shiver in your arms sucking harder. I love those words. I crave hearing them come from your lips. I release your fingers as I begin to lick your palm, another soft moan filling the small space between us. This can’t be wrong. This feeling of belonging, of being owned…
I don’t care that this is the second time. I don’t care about logic or patterns or data.
All I care about is being here with you. All I care about being with my daddy.
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