She was twenty-two when it finally happened, and there was nothing sweet about it. I had just come home from the bar, the door slamming behind me, and there she was in the kitchen in nothing but one of my old t-shirts, the hem barely covering her ass. “Daddy,” she said, voice low and already thick with it, “you’re drunk again.”
I didn’t answer. I walked straight to her, grabbed the back of her neck, and pushed her face-down over the kitchen table. The shirt rode up. No panties. She’d been waiting. My hand cracked across her bare cheek hard enough to make the table shake. “You been walking around like this all night, baby girl?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
My fingers went straight between her legs. She was soaked, dripping down her thighs. I shoved two fingers inside her without warning and she moaned like a slut who’d been thinking about this for years. “Fuck, you’re tight,” I growled, pumping them hard. “This cunt been saving itself for me?”
She pushed back against my hand. “It’s yours, Daddy. Always been yours.”
I yanked my cock out, already hard, and didn’t bother with slow. I lined up and drove in deep in one thrust. She cried out, loud and filthy, as I bottomed out. I didn’t give her time to adjust. I fucked her like I owned her, hips slamming against her ass, the wet sound of it filling the kitchen. Every time I bottomed out she gasped “Daddy” like it was the only word she knew.
I reached under her, found her clit, and rubbed it rough while I pounded her.
“You like your daddy’s cock stretching this little hole?”
“Yes—fuck—yes, Daddy, harder.”
I gave it to her harder. The table legs scraped the floor. Her tits were mashed against the wood, nipples probably raw. I pulled out, spun her around, and shoved her to her knees. She opened her mouth like she’d been trained for it. I fed her my cock, wet from her cunt, and fucked her throat until she gagged and spit ran down her chin.
When I was close I hauled her up, bent her over the counter this time, and slammed back inside. I reached around and slapped her clit until she came, legs shaking, cunt clamping down so hard I almost lost it. “That’s it, come on Daddy’s dick,” I snarled.
She was still twitching when I pulled out and pushed her onto the floor on her back. I straddled her chest, stroked my cock fast, and painted her tits and face with thick ropes of cum. She licked what she could reach off her lips and looked up at me with that wrecked, satisfied look.
“Again,” she said, voice hoarse. “Don’t stop, Daddy.”
I dragged her to the bedroom and kept going until the sun came up—raw, messy, loud, no pretending this was anything but exactly what we both wanted. She came four more times before I finally let myself flood her cunt and we collapsed, sweaty and shaking, her whispering “Daddy” against my chest like a promise.
We didn’t talk about stopping. We just kept going.
