David Hawthorne - My Daughter, My Desire, Part One

“I don't want to kill you!”

“Nice to know.”

“Last push, make it a good one!”

When she came back, I caught her and held her above me for a second before letting go. Just a split second. A moment lost in time and time stood still; my hands fondling her untouched, amazingly tight, silky smooth, perky, virginal fifteen-year-old ass. I reached up and gently pushed my little girl's butt cheeks apart, exposing the cleanest, tightest, cherry-intact and most-fuckable butt hole my eyes had ever even fathomed.

I kissed her right on her anus. No tongue. Just a solid planting of my lips on her backdoor. My lips surrounded her unsuspecting shit bud. I didn't know what she would think or do. Gravity took over as her as cheeks left my mouth.

`She had let out a little whimper when I kissed her ass. Letting her go, she swung forward and actually fell off the swing. My kiss must have sent shock waves through her body, causing her to forget about balancing. She was all right, just a couple tears on her face. For some reason, when I see tears, I get turned on. I noticed she had scraped her knee, there just a little blood.

Lifting her with ease up and into my arms, I took her into the house and laid my little angel on the couch, telling her to stay put while I went and got a washcloth, Band-Aids, and some anti-infection cream.

She had a sad face on when I came back.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I don't know what happened. I accidentally fell off. Is it a bad cut?”

“Not at all.” I used the washcloth to dab the dirt off her little wound. I turned on a light next to the couch and used it to light up her scrapes and make sure I got the dirt out. “Just a scrape, you'll be good as new in no time.”

I cleaned her knee and looked up her thigh to make sure she wasn't cut anywhere else. She noticed my gaze and spread her legs for me, almost exposing her delicate flower of sex.

She said, softly and sexually: “I was in your room the other day looking for a towel and I saw a bunch of magazines behind your pillow. Called Barely Legal.”

I didn't know what to say to that. I gave her a stern look and finished cleaning her up and put a Band-Aid on her knee.

I said: “Hope you aren't offended by the stash of dirty pictures and movies I have. A single man like me can get a little lonely sometimes.”

I glanced up her legs again and saw her shaved pussy. It was hairless and looked tight and tiny. My breath was taken at the sight of her young and pure teen twat. Why did she shave? Who showed her how? I guess when girls get together they instruct. I suppose she shaved for reasons of cheerleading.

“You get lonely, Daddy? That makes me sad. I don't mind if you look at those naughty magazines, or anything else.”

“All set,” I said while still staring at her pussy.

“Daddy?”

“Yes??” I said, looking straight at her perfect pussy lips.

“Thank you. It feels a lot better.”

My view was blocked as she leaned forward and gave me a big hug.

“No problem,” and I snapped out of my trance. “That's what Daddies are for.”

I tried to regain my composure. I tore my eyes away from the nubile valley of ripeness that was between my daughters' thighs. At 5 foot five inches, and 110 pounds, Megan was light and springy, always bouncing and gliding everywhere rather than just plain walking. Dance classes kept my girl toned and flexible-plus all the cheer practice.

I told her I was thinking of getting dinner started and got up and turned into the kitchen in one uncomfortable motion, my cock was throbbing for the first time in years. I hoped she didn't see the bulge in my pants as I got up. Once in the kitchen I was able to feel a little more at ease. As much as I wanted to just rip off her skirt and use my daughter as my sexual playtoy, fulfilling all my forbidden fantasies, doing with her as I pleased, I knew I could never hurt my little girl. I loved her too much to rape her, except in my most vile fantasies when I would masturbate, where I tired her up to the bed and ravished her innocent body all night long.

Am I a bad man? A bad Daddy? Are these the fantasies of a sociopath or a normal male?

Megan said she would stay home tonight instead of hanging out with her friend. “You took care of me today, so why don't I cook dinner for us and let me pamper you all night long.”

I tried to say something but she put her finger on my lips, not letting me resist.

“I just want you to know that you have been the best dad a girl could have ever hoped for.”

Tears welled in Megan's eyes and she fell into my arms sobbing, crying not in pain but with pure love for her father. I gave her a big hug, squeezing her close to me as the strong, conflicting emotions ran through us like a runaway freight train.

I gazed into her innocent big blue eyes, with tears slowly tracing down her cheeks, so true, so real, so unbelievably young and tender. My male animal instincts were becoming more and more difficult to resist.

“So I am yours tonight, Daddy! Your wish is my command. Just consider me your personal slave.”

She gave me a kiss on the forehead and stood obediently in front of me.

“I will change clothes if you wish, master.”

What the hell was she doing, saying? I said: “No 'master' stuff. You don't have to do this.”

Her eyes told me she wanted to, very much.

“But, if you insist, why don't you go and get some of your skirts and stuff. You can model clothes in front of me until we find you some suitable attire for the evening.”

It was at that moment I knew I would go to hell, but at least I'd be damned with a content smile on my sinful face.

My little girl really knew how to please me. She put some pillows on the couch and made me a nice cozy spot in front of the television. I reclined on the couch, waiting for my teeny-bopper daughter strut her stuff.

She came into the room wearing a gray sweater and sweatpants.

“Casual and comfy, but not quite what I had in mind.” I motioned for her to twirl in a circle so I could see all angles. She could wear anything and make it look sexy.

I said: “Maybe you should turn up the heat a little, I don't want you getting a chill if you happen to be wearing something a little sexier then that.” I was, of course, insinuating how I wanted, and desired, her dressed.

“Well! Does Daddy want me to dress like a sexy little slut tonight?” She pouted her lips and looked down, twirling a strand of hair with her fingers. “Oops, I'm sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to use dirty words.”

“I don't mind if you say some dirty or naughty words. In fact, I kind of like it.”

She came back in wearing a cooking apron, which read: “Kiss the Cook”

And nothing else.

Just the apron.

“Yes,” I said.

Megan busied herself with dinner preparations trying to avoid my stare.

I said: “Your 'master' wishes to see the cook at once!”

“Yes, Master?” she answered from the kitchen.

“Come in here, please, and let your old man make sure the cook is ready.” My voice was stern.

Stern Daddy, I thought.

A fifteen-year-old with blond pigtails and a cooking apron stood in front of me. The apron did well at covering most of her goodies. Her pale perky teenage boobs were half covered; nipples hidden. The apron was short and came down in front just covering her puffy pussy slit.

“I know I should have put more clothes on, Daddy. I hope you're not mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you, dear. You have a fantastic body; you deserve to be able to show it.” I hesitated, and added: “That is, you can show it to me. Daddy doesn't want you to show other boys, or men. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. I'm so happy you think I have a pretty body, I always feel so self-conscious.”