Chapter 4: Thinking of Daddy

From Carol Ann’s Private Diary

After the previous night’s flirtations went so far, well, I couldn’t keep my hands off myself. The sheets were cool, but I was still steaming, soft flesh on hard bone, breathless with wanting and the whisper of his bare skin on mine. My body, so wild with longing, twitched under the morning light filtering inside my bedroom. The door hung half open, exactly the way I wished.

The way it would be if he’d caught me. Stop, no way, how, to close, much to close. Not while I still imagined him standing there.

The welcome home I ached to give him. Holy fuck, let me cum first. I’d been saving it up for him all day. I twisted this way and that and moved into my mind’s fantasy. Desires controlled me.

The shower was dripping hot in my psyche, steaming and slick. I wanted him to find me under the faucet. The long to share the stall and his aching cock sprang forth fully formed. My hands washed down his chest, lathered, sudsy, and begging.

Daddy, dearest, don’t even take off your suit, I’d say. Darling, let me loosen you up. That was how I’d planned it. The way I wished it. I was as wet as the sheets drew perspiration from me to them, and pussy dripped with my need.

All of it, a sweet imagination.

I’d pictured his chiseled body, desiring to be backed against the tiles by his hard weight and impatient mouth. After such a long day of necessity filling my thoughts, I realized he’d have so much to say to me. And I envisioned the way he’d release every inch of his frustration as I sank to my knees, wide-eyed and breathless and needing him so badly.

I’m going to cum, Daddy. Let me have it. That’s all I’d thought of all day. His big cock exploded, filling my hands, making him swear he’d never let me go.

But then I was alone.

Solely me, my sheets, my helpless fingers, and my hunger for him. No more than me, wishing he’d come home early, understanding he wouldn’t. Maybe he would find me like this. The possibility made me wetter than the shower. Thinking of him standing at the door, hands full of keys and the letters he’d brought in. T-totally full of Daddy catching me red-handed and panting. I touched myself more, sliding and gasping and getting carried away.

Don’t dress, I told myself, not yet. My thighs slipped together as I twisted on the sheets, the air thick and heavy with the ache for him. Make yourself cum, and he’ll appreciate it’s for him. The door was open. I chose it to be. I craved for Daddy to see everything. Every inch. Envisioning he’d let me be Daddy’s girl right there, on my bed.

Better still, his bed. And seconds later, full of his cock, the way I was full of him in my mind.

So impatient for his hard body, I anticipated him kicking the door open. Showing me the way, he’d take it. I coveted his sweat, skin, and cussing me while Daddy used me. I’d talk back the way he liked it. A brassy brat and already almost losing it. Telling him how wet I was. And he’d let me have it.

Oh God, exactly like that, he’d take me. Precisely how this played in my mind. Don’t stop, Daddy. I closed my eyes to picture him more clearly, my breathing thick and fast. I fantasized about it. That was when his voice I heard, low and hushed and almost a whisper. You like me watching you, don’t you?

The impossibility, I mustn’t last long, not with him home, and I pictured it perfectly. The way I needed it. With my arms above my head, my legs pulled apart so roughly, I already feel the squeeze. He’d stand there, laughing like it was all my idea.

Is this what you want? I’d hear him say. Don’t get up, and he’d be on top of me. I made myself wait as long as I could stand. Long enough to make him swear, You’ll make me cum so fast, just the way he did last night.

And I would. Daddy, you make me crazy, I’d tell. Don’t fuck around. Just make me cum.

Still lingering in fantasy, I pulled my knees up and almost made it there. A few more seconds and some rougher touches away from rapture. The tips of my fingers moved in wild circles, quick and faster still, harder than I’d tried before. All the pressure and tension he’d release in me, all his throbbing hands would grab, the stocking-covered thighs he couldn’t wait to rip.

Thinking, I should’ve asked him to lotion them for me. I could picture it clearly, with the short skirt and nothing else. I mightn’t even bother with panties, not when they’d only come off again. When he’d only strip me down and make me wetter. Not when I only wanted his body against mine.

You’re killing me, Daddy, I’d gasp. Fuck, you’re killing me.

Don’t even bother getting dressed, that’s what he’d say. That’s what I told myself. So friggin’ close, I almost tasted it. The smooth legs he’d feel, stockings, and nothing else. Might let him catch me twice. Two separate times in one day. Double trouble stripped bare and his until I couldn’t even walk.

You’ll make me cum so fast. I just couldn’t wait, I’d tell Edward, darling Daddy dearest, that in a heartbeat. And I didn’t, touching myself again, letting it all blur together. A soft and lush, my senses bent, and blood rushed hot as I came and imagined him coming with me.

Fuck, I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it, I screamed.

Daddy. He was here. I didn’t know if I could take it. The flood of sensation left me breathless and greedy. Nasty thoughts, still swollen and full of his cum. The slow heat slipped, turned to fire, and pulled tighter around every imagined word.

We’re fucking again, and every stroke I gave myself for him. It was almost too much. Every twitch in my core, every shudder from the sheets. Almost, but not enough. Not yet. He’s here, I thought.

“Oh God, oh fuck, he’s here.”

The car door slammed shut, loud in my ears. Letters and keys clutched in his fist. The sounds made me wild. Everything spun out of me. Every tender nerve raw, they crackled as I lay exposed and sticky and caught my breath.

With my hands still between my legs, sweat slicking my skin, and thoughts pounding my brain. Everything I’d saved exclusively for Daddy, and now Edward was home and here.

I’d planned on his hands finding me. Now that they wouldn’t, not with the letter opener already slipping from his fingers. Not unless I let him have me first. Growing stronger, his footsteps at the door, close but not yet, dear God, no, not yet. Not until I’d been the first to open me, not til he’s the last to take me.

Just like I pictured it. Just like I wanted it.

Wet skin in the sticky air, lips parted and still trying to gasp away my shivers. Breasts peeking through the stutter of breath. The bed under me and the door open, there was so much still to do.

So much still to pull out of Dad, out of myself. If he hadn’t come already, I’d’ve made him swear. I would’ve made Edward keep his hungry hands in line. But the thought of keeping them waiting turned me on.

And on and on, I wanted it more until I was under him. Until I was his till I could say, Fuck me, Daddy. And I’m not even wearing anything else.

I had to let him find me.

Had to dress up just so he’d take it all off.

I dressed in my new bikini and clutched my skirt as I heard him call my name. My hands still trembled, and the heat crept up my legs as I slipped it on. The passion behind my own eagerness, my own waiting mouth.

A quick look in the mirror before I left my room, my eyes still wild, the color rising in my cheeks, and my pussy already soaked through, but not nearly as much as it would be.

Not when I had a say in it. And I grasped I would. I recognized precisely what Dad’d say. Exactly the way I’d want it. I pulled a loose wifebeater T over my head and headed down. I’d go for a swim. On my way to the pool, I called Donald, the geek-est, sweetest, most controllable classmate I’d ever met.

With a plan for the future firmly planted in my mind, I teased Donny-boy without mercy. He stammered and stuttered throughout the conversation. I asked him if he remembered how to find my house.

“Y-y-yes, C-C-C-Carol A-A-Ann,” he said.

“Well, come out for a play date right now, Kayzee?”

“S-s-s-sure W-w-will.” He ended the call and had a vision of him running to a broken-down piece of shit Honda.

Taking a few dips in the pool, I allowed the fabric to meld with my body. I lay on a recliner to wait for my knight in poor-fitting shiny armor to arrive for our date. The little bitch wouldn’t fuck me, but he’d enjoy the abuse I have him. If his mommy didn’t want him sheared, she shouldn’t have made him a momma boy sheep.

Twenty minutes later, he peeked around the corner of the house and saw me. Cautiously, like a frightened kid, he moved toward me.

“You’re so gosh darn beautiful,” Donald said.

Donald breathed softly but rapidly, almost hyperventilating as he hummed and hawed. I said, let’s swim and talk. He said he didn’t have a suit with him. I moved to him, unbuttoned his shirt, and talked dirty to him as I did. Donald teetered on the verge of unconsciousness, but he recovered, dropped his shorts, and ducked his head.

“S-s-shucks, Carol Ann, I d-d-didn’t mean to! I have a condition. S-s-s-sorry!” His cum already covered his legs like melted candle wax. He turned so red I thought he’d catch fire.

This caused me to laugh, and I snapped his belt against my palm and said, “I’ll give you something to be sorry for!”

Goosebumps covered him when I kissed his neck. He squeaked but didn’t resist when I pushed him back on the cement and opened his mouth with my tongue. My tongue fucked his throat, and he moaned like a bitch.

Then his cock got hard. I laughed and told him he was eager for my beaver, but we ain’t gonna fuck. He sucked in hard at my touch and trembled when I wrapped my fingers around him.

“G-G-Goodness g-g-gracious sakes.” Donald panted between each stuttered word. “M-m-my, G-g-goodness sake!” Donald lost it by the third stroke. His cum pulsed warm and milky over my hand.

“S-s-sorry,” he said. “D-don’t be mad.”

So, playing the dominant bitch, I laughed, wiped my hand on his cheek, and he had the nerve to look hopeful. I smacked him playfully, then pinned him down with a glare.

I decided to teach him a lesson.

“Clean up your mess. Then, if you’re a good boy, perhaps I won’t give your geek ass a spanking.”

Donald’s eyes widened when I sat back, but I’d noticed how his eyes narrowed before. How drool leaked from his mouth. He wasn’t so afraid of the belt. But truly terrified of having sex. Not that I intended to. His record, at least the parts I’d been told, 22 at-bats with his ex, 22 blasted cunts on the outside, and no entrance through heavens gate.

Letting him eat me out, though. That was a different story. And something he’d be good at. It was cute how he couldn’t figure out if he was scared or just turned on. I snapped the belt again. Then, I showed him the back of my leg.

“You think you can handle a good licking?”

He nodded fast, babbled, and bucked when I snapped his leg with his belt. His dick had stiffened in an instant, and I thought he’d cum again before I let him up. He stammered and got to his knees, breathless and clumsy. His cock launched another load across the concrete.