Anything He wants

My small hand can barely contain him, and it’s only getting more difficult, as each second my hand caresses him is another second his cock gets harder. I guess what they say is true: a man’s cock has a mind of its own. For a man who’s reacted to very little up until now, his cock is rapidly approaching fullness. I squeeze lightly, not wanting to startle him. The hardness of his shaft is amazing, even harder than any of the muscles I just touched.

I had no idea that a man getting turned on could be so powerful.

I kind of want to see what it looks like.

I slide my hand under his waistband, pull it from his body, and lean forward…

Daddy moans, which immediately causes me to seize up and let go of his underwear. The elastic band slaps against his pelvis.

His groan is followed by silence, but daddy’s hand lands on his crotch and he squeezes his bulge.

Oh, boy. I guess I need to stop now, because I have no idea if I’m going to wake him up. That’s definitely the last thing I want.

I just got to grab my sandwich and get the heck out of here. I’m sure he’ll wander back to his room eventually.

I grab my food and walk out of the kitchen, intent on letting daddy figure this thing out himself. I head to the living room and plunk my butt down on the sofa. I turn on the TV and start in on my sandwich. I’m not a couple minutes into eating when I hear daddy walk in from the kitchen. My chewing stops, my shock leaving my mouth hanging open. He’s still stuck in slumberland, but this is the first time he’s moved so far. His sleepy gaze it fixated on me again, as if I were the focal point of the room.

Wait. Did he just follow me in here?

I start chewing again, resolved to finish my food and run off to my room, in the hopes that he’ll leave me be.

Just like before, he mumbles, but this time I can make out a single, clear word.

“Hungry.”

I look at my sandwich. Can he tell I’m eating right now? “Uh, it’s mine, daddy. You can eat when you wake up.”

But daddy is no longer a passive player in all this. After a few seconds of standing insensate in the doorway, daddy takes a step toward me.

What the heck?

He closes in on me, his steps determined and in no way sleepy or uncontrolled. He stops directly in front of me, his half-closed eyes looking down on me. His presence is looming and dark, his face clouded in shadow.

He lowers himself onto his knees.

He moves as if he’s reading from a manual, concise and methodical, finishing one step and taking a moment before starting the next. After he lands on his knees, a moment passes before his hands land on my knees. I cough, clearing the food from my throat. I swallow it and push the plate to the cushion next to me. “Daddy, what are you doing?”

As always, he’s in his own world, completely unresponsive to anything I say. Instead, his response is a pause in action, just before his strong arms spread my legs apart.

I gasp, my heart a pitter patter of rapid beats. “Daddy!” I shout-whisper, glancing through the doorway for unexpected visitors. “Stop! You shouldn’t be doing that.”

Daddy leans forward, his nose only an inch from my white panties. He inhales deeply, letting out a satisfying sigh as he breathes me in.

“Hungry,” he mumbles.

Hungry? I look over to the seat next to me. My food’s right… Daddy’s open mouth lands on my panties. The shock to my system is instantaneous, causing my breath to catch as the situation throws me off guard.

His mouth is directly on my pussy!

I squirm in my seat, unconsciously trying to slide backwards, but caught against the back of the couch. Daddy’s hands hold my legs in place so I can’t close them, while he sloppily moves his mouth on top over the fabric of my panties.

Even though his motions are in no way expert, it still feels insanely good. The warmth of his breath, the opening and closing of his mouth, the tiny flicks of his wandering tongue.

It sends shivers up my spine. I’m still clenched, but every motion of his mouth melts me, until I turn into a puddle in my seat. No longer backing away, instead my body flowing into daddy, yearning for his touch. I can feel moisture building on my panties from the inside, my pussy aching to escape and feel his mouth on it.

I try to deny it; I try to push my mind away from him. But his mouth is not stopping, constantly pulling my attention to his lusting hunger, his ravenous mouth looking for its next meal. I want to tell him to stop, but I know he wouldn’t hear me.

Instead, all I can think about is giving in, and experiencing daddy’s mouth directly on my body.

My hand slides down my stomach, and though I hesitate for a long time, I eventually give it, sliding my panties over to the side, out of daddy’s way.

The flick of his tongue forces a moan from my lips. Oh my gosh! It feels so good. I grip the cushion with my other hand, bracing against daddy’s mindless mouth eating me out.

“Oh shhhhhoot, daddy,” I groan. As if my panties were a barrier he was waiting to be pulled down, daddy’s mouth finds what it was searching for and latches on. His lips suck in my labia, drawing out my lips as he tastes my salty flesh. His tongue cruises between the flaps before crossing my clit,

dobbing it with the tip. He realizes what the little button is and places his lips on it, sucking it in and molding it with his lips. He sucks on it, drinking from my cunt like my clit was the straw.

I bite my lip, the sensation overwhelming. “Oh f-f-f-fuuuuccccckkkk!” I moan, trying my hardest to keep my voice down so I don’t wake my mother, who’s only a room away from us.

I’m such a pervert that I let my sleepwalking daddy lick my pussy, so caught up in my own pleasure that I don’t think one second of what it might do to my mom if she walked out on us.

All I can think about is those sweet lips on my box.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

“Yes, daddy, yes. Eat my pussy.”

Daddy groans. I don’t know if it’s because he’s horny or because he thinks he’s actually eating something. All daddy can do is suck my clit, tugging on it as my juices continue to gush from me.

He must know something is up beyond food, because daddy sits back on his knees and clumsily tries to pull his shirt over his head. Almost unconsciously, I lean forward and like a good daughter, instinctively help him take his shirt off. But then daddy reaches inside his boxers, and even though I can’t see it, I can tell he’s playing with himself. I feel the heat rise in my face. Is he really masturbating right now? How naive am I that I’m surprised my daddy would be touching himself right after eating a girl out? What did I expect, really?

It makes me feel strangely uncomfortable, though, watching a man pleasure himself who’s completely unaware that he’s being watched.

“No, daddy, stop that.”

He doesn’t, his motions not slowing.

“Daddy,” I complain, grabbing his shoulders, “you can’t do that here. It’s not right.”

He continues. In an effort to stop him, I reach under his large arms and try to lift his hand out of his pants. Instead, daddy struggles off his knees to his feet, getting up but still keeping his hand where it is.

And still touching himself vigorously.

“Stop, daddy.” I slap at his hand under his shorts, but daddy doesn’t even flinch.

I growl, angry that he’s not listening. I can’t get him to stop, and the last thing I want is for my mom to walk out and see him touching himself in the living room. And I’m the one who put him in this situation. If only I hadn’t gotten curious and started touching him in the kitchen.

I got to get him to stop. What would get a guy to stop touching himself?

What if…