Total pages in book: 8
Estimated words: 6777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 34(@200wpm)___ 27(@250wpm)___ 23(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 6777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 34(@200wpm)___ 27(@250wpm)___ 23(@300wpm)
The kitchen was bathed in moonlight streaming through the older-than-me lace-curtained windows. My father leaned against the worn countertop in just his boxer briefs, the fabric hugging his powerful thighs.
His blue eyes locked on me instantly, and a second later he raked his gaze over me. There was no doubt he noted how his shirt barely skimmed my thighs, hinting at the lack of anything beneath.
“Can’t sleep either?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine despite the heat. He took a long pull from his icy water.
I shook my head, stepping closer, the cool floor tiles a shock under my bare feet. “Too hot. Feels like the air’s too thick to breathe.”
He set his glass down with a deliberate clink, crossing the room in two long strides. “Let me help you with that.” His hands found my waist, lifting me onto the counter as if I weighed nothing.
The cool granite was shocking against my bare ass. He slid his palms up my thighs, pushing the t-shirt higher to confirm my nakedness below. “No panties?” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Bold choice, Polly.”
I bit my lip, spreading my legs wider in invitation, the air between us crackling. “Punish me then, Daddy.”
His grin was wicked, predatory, as he disappeared for a moment into the shadows, returning with a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer.
It was a mundane kitchen tool that I knew he was about to transform into an instrument of delicious kink.
“Bend over the counter,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
I hopped down, turning to brace my hands against the edge, the shirt riding up to expose my bare ass.
His fingers grazed my skin teasingly before the first swat landed right on my ass. It was light, as if he were testing how much I could take, but stinging enough to make me gasp.
The wood of the spoon was smooth and unyielding, leaving a warm bloom in its wake. “Count them out,” he ordered, his voice thick with arousal. He spanked me, and I cried out.
“One,” I gasped, the mix of pain and pleasure igniting my nerves.
He delivered nine more, each one building in intensity, alternating cheeks until my skin burned with a rosy heat, and arousal dripped down my thighs.
The kitchen echoed with the sharp smacks and cracks and my breathy counts, the taboo of being disciplined by my father in such an intimate, domestic space pushing me to the brink without a single touch to my pussy.
After the tenth spank, Daddy dropped the spoon with a clatter, his large hands soothing the welts on my ass-cheeks with gentle caresses. “Good girl,” he murmured, kneeling behind me, his breath hot on my sensitized skin.
His tongue traced the red marks, soothing and teasing, before dipping lower to lap at my pussy folds.
I moaned, pushing back against his face, his stubble scraping deliciously as he devoured me. He gave me long licks with focused flicks on my clit.
Waves of pleasure built, and when I thought I’d come, Daddy stood abruptly. I watched as he freed his hard, gigantic cock from his boxer briefs. It stood proud, thick and veined, making my mouth water.
He didn’t give me time to brace. My father thrust into me slowly this time, inch by inch, groaning at the way I stretched around him.
“Feel that, Polly? Feel how perfectly you take me?” he whispered, one hand on my hip for leverage, the other tangling in my hair to pull my head back.
We moved together in a rhythmic dance; the kitchen filled with the sounds of skin slapping and muffled moans. Daddy’s free hand reached around, fingers finding my clit and rubbing in tight, insistent circles that matched his deepening thrusts.
“Come for Daddy,” he urged, his voice strained as he neared his own release.
The orgasm tore through me, my body convulsing, walls pulsing around him in ecstasy. He thrust a few more times, deep and hard, before pulling out and turning me to face him.
I dropped to my knees on the cool floor, gobbling him, tasting the salty mix of us. His hands guided my head—gentle but firm—until he came with a low, guttural groan, spilling down my throat.
Daddy pulled back slightly, letting the last spurts of his cum land on my tongue. “Don’t swallow yet,” he commanded, his eyes locked on mine.
I held it there, savoring the taste, before he dipped his fingers in, smearing it across my lips and chin, then leaning in and kissing me deeply to share the mess.
“That’s my girl, playing with Daddy’s cum like that.”
We cleaned up in silence, sharing soft, lingering kisses and erotic touches.
“We have to be more careful,” he said finally, his arms cradling me.
But his eyes, dark with satiated desire, promised there would be many more nights like this.
4
Harvest season descended upon the farm like a whirlwind. You would think it would have limited our risky encounters because of how busy we were, but we still found the time.