Secret Daddy(2)

By: Lucy Wild

Slipping from her, I added a second finger to the first, pushing deeper into her this time, thrusting hard, showing her that she belonged to me, she was mine. She had agreed to one night with no rules. No rules meant I could do anything to her, anything at all.

I moved away suddenly, leaving her twisting in place, her breathing laboured, her hips thrusting at emptiness. I almost laughed, seeing her desire so wantonly displayed. Crossing to the cabinet in the corner, I slid open a drawer and brought out a bottle of lube. Opening the lid, I squirted a portion onto my left hand, rubbing it swiftly into my fingers before returning to her. I stood behind her once again, kissing her neck while sliding my lubricated hand down her back, finding her ass, seeking the hole that waited for me. As I found it, she moved forward, trying to escape me.

With a smile playing on my lips, I put my right hand between her legs. She moved back away from it, still pretending to be shy, despite her desire, her need, her lust boiling over as she moaned again, her body pressing against my hand, my finger slipping into her ass. She jolted forward but then my other hand was on her pussy, two fingers inside her.

She was trapped in place. Wherever she moved, part of me slid deeper into her and soon she realised there was no escape, no hope of release other than the sweet release of a climax. She relaxed into her movements a second later, seeming to see the futility of fighting me. She slid her hips back and forth, the finger in her ass delving deeper, the two in her pussy exploring her wetness, all the while my cock throbbed painfully, wanting to be in her.

When I knew she was close, I stopped, pulling my hands abruptly away, leaving her growling with frustration. Walking slowly round until I was stood in front of her, I took a long look at her naked body, wondering how she would react if she knew it was her Daddy standing staring at her. Would she scream? Would she demand I release her? Or would she see that I’d been right about her all along? This was what she was made for, what she needed more than anything. She needed this one night with me, one night with no rules.



I first met him on the most miserable night of my life. It was supposed to be a fresh start, an optimistic journey to somewhere new. There I was, driving in the dark, the engine straining up a hill that went on forever. My car wasn’t used to hills. Nor was it used to being crammed with as many of my possessions as I’d been able to squeeze into it, it struggled enough with just me inside. It was dark, it was raining, and worst of all, my GPS had given up the ghost an hour earlier, fading away with a plaintive “make a u-turn,” repeated so many times, I’d begun to think it was some kind of warning.

I wasn’t turning back though, I was never going back there. If I’d forgotten anything, I’d just have to live without it. I knew I might be able to get my phone to give me some kind of directions but to sort that out would either mean fiddling with it while driving, a recipe for disaster, or stopping to load maps on it. I got the feeling if I stopped, the car might not start again. It only had to last a few more miles. I was sure it could do it even if it was slowing rapidly, the hill going on forever. Where was Scarton, up the top of a mountain? Was I about to drive past a yeti on skis? The thought might have been funny on a nice sunny day but in pitch black with the rain continuing to lash down, it made me want to cry. It hadn’t been this far when I’d come to look at the house, I was sure of it.

That was a farce in itself. I couldn’t make an offer without seeing it, according to the agent. So I’d forced the old workhorse across the country to find a locked house and no owner or agent in sight. All day waiting, five minutes inside, saying I’ll take it, then all night driving back. I’d have taken it if the roof was falling in and the walls were made of mould. It had the two things I needed more than anything else. It was cheap and it was far away from my hometown. That was all I needed, everything else was details.

“Come on,” I said out loud, the car continuing to slow. “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

The last sign I’d passed said ten miles to go but that seemed a joke at my expense. I was sure I’d driven at least fifty and all I’d seen was blackness outside the twin beams of weak light my car deigned to give out. The road curved to the right and I twisted the steering wheel, feeling a thud from my left and then a thumping sound beneath me. The car ground to a halt a few seconds later, the steering wheel trying to fight itself free of my grip.

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