Chapter 1: Daughter Becomes a Daddy Slut

Note: Thanks to WRC264 for beta reading this!

“Here you go,” Dad said, tossing me my phone.

I gasped and scrambled to catch it. My hands grabbed the iPhone rose-hued aluminum case. I fumbled, fear rushing through my body as I fought to keep from dropping it. I pinned it to my breasts beneath the tight, pink tank top I wore. My heart pounding hard.

“Dad!” I shrieked. “Don’t throw it.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, shrugging. “But it should work. The battery was just loose. Must have happened on the flight. See.”

I looked down and touched the button. To my absolute delight, the phone turned on. There was my lock screen with the thumbprint scanner. I pressed it and ... All my notifications. My apps were all alive. I let out a shudder of relief.

“Oh, thank you, Daddy!” I squealed, my anger at him for throwing the phone melting away. It worked. My life wasn’t over.

I threw myself at my father, pressing my sixteen-year-old body into his. He grunted in surprise as I hugged him tight and kissed him on the cheek. I squealed again and then broke away from him. I spun around.

“You are a life saver, Daddy!” I said.

“I am?” he said. He looked down at himself. “I didn’t think I was a hard, fruit-flavored candy shaped like a ring.”

I blinked at him then I groaned. “No one likes dad jokes!”

He chuckled. “Glad the phone works. Do you need anything? I’m going out to the grocery store to get some stuff. Want to come?”

I shook my head. “I just want to get settled in.” I looked around at his penthouse. My new home for the summer. “You know, acclimated.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling at me. “I’m glad you’re staying with me, Shanice.”

“Yeah,” I lied.

My parents were divorced. Had been since I was ten. Dad had moved to the west coast for work two years ago, and I’d hardly got to see him. Oh, he called and texted and sent me gifts. He always paid his child support. And then, out of the blue, Mom hit me with remarrying. She packed me off to my dad’s for the summer so she could go on honeymoon with Peter.

He was such a slimy guy. I wouldn’t mind, but all my friends were out in North Carolina. And here I was, stuck in California. I mean, I should be thrilled to be on the West Coast, but I didn’t know anyone out here. I guessed I could meet people hanging out on the beach, but I had left my friends behind. Lily and Veronica and I’d miss the most. We’d talk about boys.

I sighed and looked around the penthouse apartment that he owned. It was spacious and open. There was a large bank of glass windows that looked out at the beach and the Pacific Ocean. The furniture wasn’t bad, though there were no real decorations. It was so austere and sterile. Like no one really lived here. My bedroom was just a disaster. I had Venetian blinds. No real curtains. No posters. No little knickknacks.

All the stuff that decorated my room was back in my real bedroom. I had just my two suitcases of clothes and my carry-on. That was it. I barely could fit five pairs of shoes.

Five!

Well, I had to make the best of it. So I stood before the window, thrust my phone on my selfie stick, and posed. I put on a pouty thrust to my lower lip and snapped the first pic. It flashed on the screen. There was my blonde hair falling around my youthful face. I had on a light amount of makeup, something light and playful. You couldn’t tell I had flown all day. My blue eyes sparkled and my plump lips looked great in my soft-pink lipstick. They had a glossy sheen to them. My tank top molded to my round breasts. I wore a pair of jean shorts that hugged my ass and left my lithe legs bare.

Then I did another shot, holding up my fingers in the peace sign and beamed.

SNAP!

You could see the ocean behind me. I hummed and then I flounced onto Dad’s white couch, my back arced, blonde hair spilling over the back. I held the phone up and gave a sultry look and snapped another pic.

It was always fun taking selfies. I dashed to the kitchen and hopped up on the island, sitting on the granite countertop next to an induction stove. I had my legs kicking out as I snapped this picture, winking at the camera.

I darted through the apartment, snapping a pick leaning against the bathroom room counter, my dresser, and even one where I was laying on my dad’s bed, the camera staring down at me. He had a better comforter. Mine was so ugly. I had to get a new one.

I rolled off and started putting together my Instagram story with the pics. I hummed as I typed, lying on my belly on my bed. Dad came home from getting the groceries. He peeked his head in as I typed.

“You can’t just barge in here,” I said, not even looking at him. “I’m a teen, Dad, not a little girl. I could have been changing.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said. “Just checking in on you.”

I rolled my eyes, still typing away. “I’m good. I was taking selfies.”

“Posting them on your Instagram page?”

I froze. Did Dad know about my page? Had he seen my pictures? Oh, god, I talked about things my parents didn’t need to know about there. It wasn’t like I even did it under my real name but as @shanicutie. “How do you know about that?”

“Your mother said you are always taking pictures,” he said, smiling. “Don’t you kids put them on Instagram.” He paused. “Or is it snaptalk.”

“Snapchat,” I muttered. “It’s something like that.” I hit upload. “Did you need something?”

“No, no. Dinner’s going to be in an hour. Going to make some teriyaki chicken.”

“You cook?” I asked, blinking.

“Your ol’ man had to learn to fend for himself,” he said, chuckling. “You want to help.”

“Nope.”

“Okay, okay.” He hesitated. “You, uh, doing okay, Shanice?”

“Yep.”

The first comment appeared. “Cute pics,” said @naughtyblossom. That was my friend Lily. “You look adorable on the bed. It’s pretty big.”

“My dad’s bed,” I typed without thought. “The comforter on the bed I’m lying on is nasty. It’s brown. Who makes brown sheets?”

“Yuck.”

Dad sighed and wandered off as I read the comment underneath. “Daddy’s girl!” @nicanica typed. That was Veronica.

I giggled and replied, “I suppose so.”

Seeing my friends’ comments had me feeling good about living here. This wouldn’t be so bad. I was with my dad for the first time in so many years. A daddy girl should be around her father. Now I would get to see him all the time and not just get those cards and talks on the phone. We could do daddy and daughter things like ... like ... I don’t know, go shopping. Or maybe go on a hike. We were in California. Maybe we could go to Sea World or something.

No, wait, Sea World was that evil place with the whales or something. I thought I was supposed to hate that.

“I bet you’re such a daddy girl you love cooking for him,” said @devinator. That was Devin, this cute guy at my school that I had wanted to hook up with.

“Of course,” I said and rolled out of bed. “Going to go make teriyaki chicken for him!”

I rolled out of bed, slipping my phone into my pocket, and hummed as I darted out of my room. Why was I in my bedroom? I should be hanging out with my daddy. I flounced down the hallway, humming happily, and burst into the kitchen. Dad was cutting the chicken into strips, humming away. He had soy sauce, brown sugar, and canned pineapples beside him. On the counter was a rice cooker that was on.

“Hey, Daddy, let me help!” I said. “I’m a great cook. Mom taught me all her stuff.”

“Help?” he asked in surprise. “Oh, yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

I squealed in delight and then flung my arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He grunted, his hands thrust out to the side, one holding the knife, the other smeared in chicken juices. He stood stiffly.

“Uh ... Shanice?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, beaming at him. “What’s so weird about a daughter helping her daddy cook?”

“Nothing, I guess,” he said. “Go wash your hands, and ... Uh ... you can start dicing the vegetables. We’re going to steam them.”

“Sure!” I said and broke away from him.

I thrust my hands beneath the faucet and hummed. It was so much fun cooking with him. I paused to snap pictures of us cooking together. Daddy grinned. He was a tall guy with dark hair and wings of gray sweeping down the side. He had that California fitness about him and had a great tan. I hadn’t really noticed that when I had arrived.

“Daddy girl alert,” @devinator commented as I uploaded the first series of pics of us cooking.

“Big time!” I answered as I waited for the vegetables to finish steaming. “I’m so glad to be living with my daddy.”

“Such a handsome daddy,” @naughtyblossom said, throwing a winky emoji.

“Back off, he’s my daddy,” I said, glancing at him. He was a handsome guy. He was watching the chicken cooking on the stove, frying the strips in the teriyaki sauce we made out of soy sauce, brown sugar, and the pineapple juice. Hunks of pineapple were in the sauce, too.

“You don’t get between a daddy’s girl and her father, @naughtyblossom,” @pussycatlover said. That was Lee, this cute guy that I had hooked up with at the spring fling dance at my high school. He went down on me. It had been amazing.

“That’s right!” I typed and added a winky emoji.

After we had dinner plated, the teriyaki chicken on brown rice drizzled in more of the sauce with the steam vegetables on it, I snapped a pic of our plates side-by-side and captioned it, “Ta-Da!!!!”

I was showered with compliments. I was so glad I had come out to help Daddy cook. I would help him cook every meal, just the way a daddy’s girl should. We sat down at the counter to eat, side-by-side on stools. You could stare out at the ocean from here.

“Did your daddy love it?” asked @machoc. That was this guy named Curtis. I didn’t know him that well, but he had found my Instagram page somehow. He took photos of himself. He was some sort of bodybuilder.

Real hot.

“How was it, Daddy?” I asked, our plates nearly clear.

“Delicious,” he said. “Thanks for the help.”

Such joy burst through me as I typed, “He loved it!”

“I bet he loves everything you serve him,” said @shaneroberts12. That was Shane, another guy from my school.

“Of course he does,” I typed.

All in all, my first day had gone well. Daddy and I watched some Netflix—I made him suffer through one of the Netflix original teen romance movies which were all so cheesy and yet I loved them anyway. We had mint chocolate ice cream. Then I was feeling jet lagged. I was three hours behind North Carolina and begged off to bed.

I changed into my nightie. I didn’t need to open my window since the AC was amazing. I tore off that ugly, brown comforter glad the sheets were boring white beneath, and stretched out on them. I checked my phone one last time.

“I bet you dress sexily around your daddy,” @machoc commented.

“Oh, yeah, Daddy girls always dress like sluts around their daddies,” @antonmax had replied. Anton was a guy that Lily knew. “Always dress like cockteases and make their daddies so uncomfortable.”

I blushed. “Guilty,” I typed. “I was wearing jean shorts and a tank top all day. Poor daddy. I was so cute, and he can’t touch me.”

I turned my phone off, lay on my pillow, and smiled as I sank down into dreams.

I had to pick the perfect outfit to wear the next morning. It had to be so teasing. I went with a tight belly shirt that hugged my breasts. The fabric was slightly transparent. I should wear a bra with it otherwise you could see my nipples.

But I was a daddy’s girl. And we were all cockteases for our poor daddies. Just driving them nuts. It was mean of us since our daddies couldn’t touch us, but it was what we did. I mean, what girl didn’t like a handsome man staring at her?

And Daddy was so handsome. I hadn’t realized that until yesterday. He had those distinguished wings of gray streaking his dark hair and that fit body. Muscular and strong. He beat a lot of the guys at my school in the ass department, too.

I went with a flirty, pleated skirt that I rolled up at the waistband twice so that it barely covered my ass. A purple thong hugged my waist, peeking out the back and cupping my pussy. I was so excited for this.

I burst out of the bedroom and skipped down the hallway to start making breakfast for Daddy. I perused his kitchen and found some pancake mix. I took a selfie of me once the ingredients were out, captioning it, “Teasing Daddy and Cooking Him Breakfast.”

The comments were all from the guys. @devinator, @shaneroberts123, @machoc, @pussycatlover, and @antonmax showered me in praise while @naughtyblossom and @nicanica were shocked that I was dressed like that around my father.

“I can see your nipples,” @nicanica typed.

“I know! It’ll tease him so badly!” I answered.

This was so much fun.

Daddy came out, yawning. He blinked to see me cooking. Then he blinked again as he saw what I was wearing. He was in boxers and a tank top. He did a double-take. His eyes looked me up and down. His jaw dropped.

“Jesus, Shanice, what are you wearing?” he croaked.

“Do you like it?” I asked, cocking my hip and letting my skirt flutter. My round breasts jiggled in my top, so perky with their teenage perfection. “I love it.”

“This ... You’re...” He shook his head again, his eyes so wide with the shock of it. “I can see you’re ... You can’t wear this.”

“Why not?” I asked and sauntered coquettishly. “It’s just around the house. I wouldn’t wear this outside. You’re my daddy. So you don’t count.”

Then I hugged him, pressing my body against his strong body, and kissed him on the cheek very near his mouth. I could feel him groan and something hard swelling in his boxers. I fought off my giggles.

Cock-tease successful.

I flounced away from him, my skirt flaring up. I hoped he caught a glimpse of my naked asscheeks as I rushed to the stove and started pouring the pancake mix onto the griddle. He rubbed at his cheek where I kissed him, and then he glanced down at his crotch.

“I, uh, have to pee.” He darted off.

“Daddy loved my outfit so much,” I typed. “Got a big rise out of him.”

“Bet he had to go to the bathroom to rub one out,” @machoc typed.

“He did have to excuse himself,” I said, adding a winky face. “Poor daddy.”

I had plated the pancakes by the time Daddy came back. He had a pink tinge to his cheeks and was wearing a pair of jogging shorts. He stared down at my tits again. I smiled at him, stretching my back and thrusting out my firm boobies at him.

“Breakfast is done!” I announced.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “When did you... ?”

“What, Daddy?” I asked.

“Uh, grow up and start cooking?”

“I’m sixteen,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not a little girl any longer. I’m a big girl now.” I bounced on my heels which made other parts of me bounce beneath my tight, sheer top.

My nipples throbbed against the fabric.

We ate breakfast, and I asked daddy to show me around town. He stared at what I was wearing. I knew I would have to change before he let me out of the house. There was no daddy in the world who would want others to see his daughter dressed like this.

Which is why I loved my daddy! He always looked out for me and cared for me.

I put a bra on, a nice black one that bled nicely through my belly shirt, and let my skirt roll down so it fell farther down to my thigh. I hugged my daddy and snapped a pic of us then dropped it on Instagram as we headed out.

We went shopping, of course. I needed curtains and a comforter. Plus Daddy bought me these strappy sandals that were just so cute on my feet. I snapped some pics of that, too. We did some sightseeing, including gong to the aquarium where we got some ice cream. I got vanilla, that was just my favorite, and. It was so yummy. I “accidentally” forgot I had some on my lips when I snapped a selfie.

I knew it would make me look adorable. So I posted it.

“That looks like your daddy’s cum on your face,” @machoc typed.

“Oh, my god, it does,” @shaneroberts123 added.

“Yuck, you guys are grouse,” @naughtyblossom said.

“It’s just ice cream, guys,” I said, feeling naughty. A tingle ran through my pussy. Cum? I could sort of see it. “Sorry, pervs!”

“Bet you wish it was your daddy’s cum the way you’ve been draping over him,” @nicanica typed. It had a catty vibe. Was Veronica jealous my daddy was so handsome and hers was fat and balding?

“Maybe,” I typed to hers. It would be cool if it was Daddy’s cum. That would be impossible.

“You’ve been sucking his cock since you got there, haven’t you, @shanicutie,” @machoc said.

“Of course not,” I said and shuddered. Why hadn’t I been sucking my daddy’s cock since I got here? He was such a hunk.

“Daddy girls suck dick all the time,” @machoc said.

My pussy clenched as I sat there.

“You ready to go?” Dad asked, slipping his phone in his pocket. He stretched his back, looking so fit and sexy in his t-shirt.

“Yeah, Daddy,” I said, my pussy on fire.

As we headed back to his penthouse in the car, I started thinking about it. My pussy grew hotter and hotter. I licked my lips, my tongue caressing over them wishing to lick up the salty cum that would splatter my face. I wasn’t a fan of giving blowjobs, but he was my daddy.

And I was a daddy’s girl.

I should have been sucking his dick since I got here. It was so bad of me not to. I had to fix that. We arrived at the apartment. Daddy got the bags with the new comforter and my curtains out of the trunk, holding them in his strong arms. We headed into the elevator and I couldn’t help but push against him as we stood there.

I wiggled my rump into his crotch.

“Uh ... Shanice, what are you doing?” he asked, taking a step back.

I chased him. “What, Daddy?” I asked looking over my shoulder. He bumped into the back of the elevator car and had nowhere to go. I rubbed my ass right into his crotch. “Just playing around. Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, voice tight.

I felt him swelling hard. That erection was back. I turned my daddy on. I had to do something about that. I had to suck his cock and make it all better. Just how a daddy’s girl should take care of her hunky father. He was so handsome. When did older guys get so sexy?

When had Daddy?

God, I was glad that Mom married dumb Peter. She could go boff his brains out wherever. I didn’t care. Be a whore. I was with daddy. This was where I belonged. I didn’t need to go back home at all. I just needed to wiggle my cute ass into daddy’s cock.

“You really should stop that,” he panted. “You’re not a kid any longer.”

“No,” I purred, throwing a sultry look over my shoulder. “I’m not, Daddy. I’m all grown up. Sixteen and sexy.”

“Jesus,” he panted. “Shanice, what has gotten into you?”

The elevator dinged and opened onto the penthouse apartment. You needed a special key to get up to this level. I smiled and then I turned around and fell to my knees right there. I grabbed his shorts and tugged them down.

“Shanice!” he shouted in panic as I came face to face with his boxers tented by his dick. “What the fuck?”

“You’re hard, Daddy,” I moaned, my pussy on fire. I shoved my hand through the fly of his boxers and pulled him out. He gaped at me. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you, Daddy.”

I swallowed the tip of his cock. He groaned, his face twisting in pleasure. The bags fell from his hand. The elevator doors started to close. He cursed and smacked a button. A buzzing alarm rang as his face twisted in pleasure.

I nursed on him with hunger. I wanted to give my daddy the best blowjob in the world. He would just cum and cum and cum. He would love every moment of it. I sucked with passion on his cock, my head bobbing, sliding my mouth up and down his thick shaft.

“Shanice,” he groaned, his face twisting. “Fuck, this is wrong. You have to stop. You’re my daughter.”

I winked at him and kept sucking, my blonde hair spilling around my face. This was so hot. So exciting. I had my daddy’s cock in my mouth. My pussy felt so juicy, my thong struggling to contain my excitement. My cheeks hollowed as I stared up at Daddy.