1 Daddy's Girl

You've been out to a party at a friend's house. You've been drinking. The boys at the party were pressing against you, pawing you, roughly squeezing your ass, mauling your tits, trying to seduce, to seem knowing. You even let one slide his hand up between your legs, beneath the short skirt you had to sneak out wearing, to press against you, his fingers stroking aimlessly against your lips. You were driven home by your friend's dad, sat in the front seat beside him, noticing his eyes glancing down your top, at your thighs, his hand lingering there a few moments too long, squeezing a bit too slowly each time he dares to rest it against your bare flesh when he speaks to you, thanking you for coming, saying that you look very beautiful.

You notice a bulge in his trousers. Remember feeling the heat and hard softness of the boys from the party being pressed into your thighs, against your ass. You want to hold it. To feel it. You shimmy backwards in the seat, causing your skirt to rise higher. You spread your legs slightly, angling yourself, leaning backwards, pushing out your chest, knowing that he'll be able to see your panties, knowing that he'll be torn between sneaking a glance up your skirt or staring at your chest which you force to rise and fall with deep rapid breaths. You notice the bulge get bigger.

The alcohol in you makes you lift up your hand. Reach out to him. The car stops and, suddenly shy, so do you, letting your hand drop back into your lap, the palm falling against your clit, the fingers curling up to cup yourself. You mewl gently, feeling a need you don't quite recognise.

Feeling warm, empty, hungry. You look out the window and see his cock lifting the fabric of his trousers. He's been watching you touch yourself. You catch him licking his lips.

Feeling ashamed you thank him, hurry off, stumbling slightly in your heels as you knock on the door.

I open it. You try to slide past me but I block your way and you're trapped. Stuck between me and the wall. I look out, see him staring at you. I look at you, take in what you're wearing and slam the door in his face, pushing you away from me with one arm, my hand on your shoulder pressing you against the wall.

"What are you wearing?" I shake your shoulder. You feel your hair brush your shoulders, hear your earrings tinkle. Feel your breasts jiggle, the nipples protruding out against your bra. You bite your lip, feeling that need again.

"Don't pout at me young lady. Don't you know what you look like? How that girl's father was looking at you?"

You shift in your heels, the warmth between your legs and the need and the shame of your father seeing you like this causing you to flush. "It's not my fault how he looks at me! I like wearing these clothes. Everyone else does! What's your problem?"

I adjust my grip, my thumb moving from the top of your arm to the corner of your throat. You swallow slightly, fear and further excitement increasing the arousal you're feeling. You raise your hand to your chest, breathing slowly. You notice I'm standing closer to you. You let your hand fall down, purposefully brushing against my crotch. You feel something hard. Something hot. Something that you want.

Something you only need to open your mouth to get.