I had planned this for months.
Mother had taken her sleeping pill after dessert and was already deep under in the master bedroom at the far end of the hall. Thick walls. Heavy doors. Old money silence. I could hear the faint clink of ice in a glass downstairs. Daddy was still awake.
I stood, let the robe slip from one shoulder, then the other, until it pooled at my feet. Naked, I studied myself the way I hoped he would. High, firm breasts with small dark nipples already tight in the cool air. Flat stomach. The neat, completely hairless slit between my legs that I had waxed that morning until the skin was pink and hypersensitive. I parted my lips with two fingers and watched a clear thread of arousal stretch and break. I was already wet and he hadn’t even touched me yet.
I slipped the robe back on, leaving it open enough to show the inner curves of my breasts, and went downstairs.
Daddy sat in the leather armchair by the fireplace, crystal tumbler of whisky in his hand. Firelight carved shadows across his face. Still in the white shirt from dinner, sleeves rolled to the forearms, top two buttons undone. When he looked up, his eyes moved over me slowly—from the open V of the robe, down my bare legs, then back to my face.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low and even.
I crossed the room and sat on the arm of his chair, close enough that the silk brushed his sleeve. “It’s my birthday,” I said. “I wanted one more present.”
He took a slow sip. The ice clicked. “Your mother already gave you the necklace.”
“Not from her.”
I shifted so one thigh pressed against his arm. The robe parted further. He could see the soft inner flesh of my breast, the dark edge of a nipple. His gaze stayed there a second too long before he looked away, jaw tightening.
“Elena.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” I whispered. “About the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. About how hard you get when I sit on your lap at Christmas in that short dress. About the night I walked in on you in the shower last summer and you didn’t cover yourself right away.”
His hand tightened on the glass. A muscle jumped in his cheek.
“You’re my daughter.”
“I’m twenty,” I said. “And I want my father to be the first man inside me.”
Silence stretched between us, thick as the heat from the fire. Somewhere a clock ticked. I slid off the arm of the chair and knelt on the thick Persian rug between his knees. I rested my palms on his thighs and looked up.
“Let me show you how ready I am.”
I opened the robe completely and let it fall. Naked in the firelight, I spread my knees wide on the carpet so he could see everything—the smooth, glistening lips, the small tight hole already shiny with need. I reached down with two fingers, parted myself, and pushed them inside slowly, deliberately, while he watched. The wet sound was soft but unmistakable.
“I’ve never put anything bigger than my fingers in here,” I said, voice steady even as my cheeks flushed. “I’ve been saving it. For you.”
Daddy set the glass down with a careful click. His cock was visibly hard against the front of his trousers, a thick ridge straining the fabric. He didn’t speak. He only stared at the place where my fingers disappeared into my own body, at the clear fluid that coated them when I pulled them free and offered them up to him.
I rose, turned, and walked toward the stairs without looking back. The robe trailed from one hand. At the bottom step I paused.
“My door will be unlocked,” I said. “If you decide you want your birthday gift too.”
Then I climbed the stairs, hips swaying, the bare cheeks of my ass shifting with every step, and disappeared into the darkness of the upper hall.
I left the door unlocked and lay on the centre of my bed, still naked, legs slightly open, one hand resting lightly between them. The only light came from the small crystal lamp on the nightstand. I waited.
I heard him come up the stairs a long time later. The soft creak of the floorboards. The pause outside my door. Then the quiet click of the handle turning.
Part 2
Daddy stepped inside and locked the door behind him with a soft, final sound. He crossed the room without a word and stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me—at the rise and fall of my breasts, the faint sheen of wetness already visible on my inner thighs, the way my nipples had drawn tight. Then he began to undress. Shirt first, revealing the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Trousers next. When he pushed his boxer briefs down, his cock sprang free—thick, heavy, the head already dark and wet. It looked almost brutal.
He climbed onto the bed and settled between my open thighs. For a while he only looked, one large hand stroking slowly up the inside of my leg until his thumb brushed the outer lips of my pussy. He parted them with two fingers and stared at the small, untouched entrance that fluttered under his gaze.
“You kept this for me,” he said, voice rough.
“Yes, Daddy.”
He lowered his head and dragged his tongue through my slit in one long, deliberate stroke, from my tight little hole all the way up to my clit. My hips jerked. He did it again, slower, then settled in and began to eat me properly—thick tongue pushing inside me, fucking my virgin entrance while his thumb circled my clit with precise, filthy pressure. He licked me open until I was shaking, until clear fluid ran down the crack of my ass and soaked the sheets beneath me. When he sucked my clit hard between his lips and pushed two thick fingers into me at the same time, I came with a broken, high sound, my cunt clamping down around his fingers while more wetness spilled out of me.
Daddy rose over me, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and positioned the fat head of his cock against my opening. He rubbed it up and down, coating himself thoroughly, then pressed forward.
The stretch was immediate and intense. My mouth opened on a silent gasp as the broad head forced my tight ring of muscle to open around it. He worked himself in slowly, inch by thick inch, watching my face the entire time. My virgin cunt fought him—hot, clutching, almost too small—but he kept steady pressure until he was halfway in, then further, until his balls rested against my ass and the head of his cock was pressed deep against my cervix.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so goddamn tight. My cock is the first thing that’s ever been inside this perfect little cunt.”
He stayed buried to the root for a long moment, letting me adjust, kissing my open mouth while I trembled. Then he began to fuck me.
Deep, measured strokes at first—pulling almost all the way out so I could feel every ridge and vein drag along my walls, then sinking back in until our bodies met with a soft, wet slap. The sound of my freshly opened pussy being used filled the quiet room. My legs wrapped around his waist. My nails dug into his back. Each thrust pushed more of my arousal out around his shaft, coating him, dripping down onto the sheets in messy, shiny strings.
“Look at you,” he growled against my ear. “Taking your father’s cock like you were born for it. Your little hole is stretched so wide around me. I can feel every flutter.”
He hooked my knees over his shoulders and drove deeper, harder. The new angle let him hit places that made my vision white out. My tits bounced with every thrust. He sucked one nipple into his mouth and bit down just hard enough to make me cry out, then soothed it with his tongue while he kept pounding into me.
I came again with a choked sob, my cunt spasming hard around the thick intrusion, juices squirting out around the base of his cock and soaking his balls. Daddy didn’t slow. He flipped me onto my hands and knees, shoved my face into the pillow, and mounted me from behind in one smooth motion. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave marks as he slammed into me. The wet, filthy sound of skin on skin echoed. Every thrust forced a fresh gush of fluid from my used hole.
“Daddy’s going to fill this cunt,” he panted. “Going to pump it full of cum on your birthday so you walk around tomorrow with your father’s seed leaking out of you.”
He reached under me and rubbed my swollen clit in tight, relentless circles while he fucked me. I shattered a third time, body locking up, pussy milking him in rhythmic pulses. Daddy groaned low in his chest, buried himself to the hilt, and came hard—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding my virgin channel, painting my insides in heavy pulses. He kept grinding through it, pushing every drop as deep as it would go, until his cock finally stopped twitching.
He stayed inside me for a long time afterward, softening slowly, one hand stroking the length of my spine. When he finally pulled out, a thick white stream of his cum followed, running down my inner thighs and pooling on the sheets. I collapsed onto my stomach, legs still spread, the evidence of what my father had done to me glistening between them in the lamplight.
Daddy lay beside me, propped on one elbow, and reached down to push two fingers back into my thoroughly used hole. He worked them slowly, mixing his cum with my juices, then brought the coated fingers to my mouth. I sucked them clean without being asked.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he murmured. “This was only the first gift.”
He kept his hand between my legs, two fingers buried deep, thumb resting lightly on my clit, while I trembled and came one more quiet, exhausted time around him.
Outside, the house remained silent. Mother’s sleeping pill would last until morning. By then the sheets would be changed, the door unlocked, and I would carry the secret ache of my father’s cock inside me for the rest of the day—and every day after.
The part 3 is so interesting if you’d love to know what happened next staceyjones5861@gmail.com you’ll love it 😜
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