Daddy In Charge

by Autumn Collins

  I held my breath. I could feel my heart racing. The fraught, dreadful silence lasted only a moment but it seemed an eternity. Mitch gasped, and then seemed possessed by some dark secret instinct that was suddenly unleashed. He pulled my gaping mouth back onto his cock with a grunt of animal passion that scared me to new heights of excitement.

  “Yes!” he growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Yes!” he said it again, almost like a curse. “Daddy wants to fuck his sweet little girl.”

  He was like an irresistible force of nature and it was all I could do to merely submit to everything he demanded of me. I had tempted him to that dark place deep in his own mind and opened a door of fantasies and desires that he had kept so tightly locked. Now there was no more restraint. Now we were acting out our illicit taboo desires and it swept us both away with all of its liberating momentum.

  I took his cock with new hunger, delighting in the swelling thrust of it as it pushed deeper down my throat. My tongue was wild and slithering, teasing and sucking. My fingers dipped deep inside myself and I was shocked at how wet I was. My panties were soaked, the room filled with the heady musky perfume of my wanton desire.

  At last I felt Mitch tightening; his cock pulsed and the heavy sway of his balls brushed against my chin. He stepped back suddenly and I groaned. Without him inside my mouth I felt strangely incomplete. I looked up into his face.

  Mitch had his hands on his hips, his chest heaving, the undulations of his abdominal muscles like the rippled ridges of a windswept desert. I hadn’t even realized that he had removed his shirt. Now I ran my eyes over the whorls of dark curling hair across his chest, remembering that night in Moscow when I had crept into his room like a thief.

  “Use your hand,” he muttered. His voice was husky, his features coarse.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  The length and thickness of his cock made my hand seem small. My fingers could not completely wrap around his shaft. He covered my hand with his own, moving it towards the head of his cock and then tightening my grip.

  “Like that?” I said in an innocent baby-girl voice as I began to work my fingers, squeezing and loosening, as I jerked in a steady rhythm.

  “Faster,” Mitch said. “And take the end of me between your lips.”

  I leaned forward and engulfed the swollen purple head of him, flickering the tip of my tongue across the sensitive flesh while trying to match the movement of my hand. Mitch began to groan.

  “Good girl,” he breathed over and over again like he was chanting a mantra. “You’re such a good girl for your daddy.”

  The narcotic of this taboo role-play we were acting out was addictive and made incredibly real by our age difference and my sexual innocence. It was – I realized with a delicious tingling shudder – exactly what had been missing from my life.

  Watching Mitch’s face from the corner of my eye as I sucked and stroked him, I felt myself melting effortlessly and completely into the role that had been the catalyst for my sexual awakening. I felt like I belonged in this place; in this man’s life.

  For me, it felt in every emotional and physical way… authentic.

  I worshipped his cock, humming in the back of my throat as my lips tried to suck the salty splash of his cum from him. My fingers tingled and Mitch’s cock pulsed and leaped. I heard the pant of his breathing become faster and more strained. At the last moment his body clenched like the iron-tight grip of a fist, and he stepped away.

  “Get on the bed,” he rasped.

  Mitch

  Connie rose to her feet and moved like a wraith to the bed. I positioned her on her back and she spread her legs instinctively. I lay close beside her and studied her face in the starlight. She was achingly beautiful.

  She sensed my eyes and she turned her face to mine. I felt the little gasps of her breath on my lips and my cheeks. I bowed over her and kissed her with a lingering tenderness that quickly began to smolder into something more urgent as her mouth responded to mine and her tongue flickered hungrily.

  I caressed her throat and breasts with gentle touches of my hand, plucking at the nipples and then drawing lines with my fingertips towards her navel. She lifted her head off the bed to keep our mouths locked, clinging to my neck as my touch reached the waistband of her panties.

  When I brushed my fingers over the hot damp patch of her sex she stiffened like she had been electrocuted and flung herself back on the mattress. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her arms by her side and her hands fisting into the bedsheets.

  “Do you like the way I touch you, baby girl?” It was my turn to tease. My voice was barely audible, even in the silence of the night.

  “Oh, yes, Daddy,” Connie breathed. My cupped hand was rubbing across the folds of silk that had been made sodden by her arousal. Each time I brushed my palm over her clit, she involuntarily bucked and arched her hips. I could see the definition of the muscles in her thighs, so tightly was she drawn by desire.

  I was intensely aware that this would be Connie’s first time, and so I resolved to restrain the urge to rush. There would be opportunities for primal lust and pure physical pleasure in the future; I wanted this one moment to be sensory and soulful.

  My fingers tugged at the waistband of her panties and drew them down. Connie kicked them aside. I feasted on the sight of her smooth shaved sex and then dipped one finger within the soft folds of her. Connie whimpered and I felt her hand clench at my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Please, Daddy.”

  My touch reached deeper within the wet grip of her pussy. Connie’s breathing became hectic. She started to grind her hips down on me in an attempt to take the press of my finger all the way inside her. I teased her mercilessly, until her bones turned to jelly and she lay limp and quivering. The slightest pressure made her flinch and moan; the delicious provocation of my touch had her drawn finely out on the torture rack of an orgasm.

  Moving slowly, I changed my position on the bed until I was between her spread legs, my mouth wandering across her abdomen leaving a trail of lingering wet kisses. Connie lay flat on her back, panting, with her eyes wide open and her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Her breasts heaved and undulated with every fresh breath, and the muscles in her thighs twitched in spasms. My mouth reached the mound of her sex and I inhaled the intoxicating perfume of her arousal.

  Her pussy glistened with the moisture of her excitement. I drew my tongue all the way along the folds of her, tasting the tang of her body and exploring the crevices and jutting nub of her clit. Connie cried out – a sound on the edge of exquisite frustration.

  “Oh, God!”

  I trapped her clit between my gentle lips and felt it throbbing. My tongue strummed across the sensitive bud until Connie began to writhe on the bed. Her back arched and her pussy pressed hard against my mouth.

  “I’m going to come!”

  I kept my rhythm constant, neither licking faster or slower. Connie’s breath turned frantic and I saw her hands claw at the bunched bedsheets. Suddenly her whole body was drawn tight as a bow. She seemed to choke on a breath and hold it. Her legs splayed wider and she dug her heels into the mattress. Then her orgasm crashed over her and she bucked and thrashed and twisted against my mouth like she was being flung about in a storm-tossed surf. A rush of warm juice spilled across my tongue and I lapped it up like a man dying of thirst. She tasted sweet and fresh. I kept gently licking her pussy until at last the surge of release had subsided and she lay gasping and broken and quiet.

  We both sensed the moment had come. Connie lay languid, her expression dreamy and distant, as I covered her body with my own. We fitted together so perfectly; I kissed her with a slow rising heat as my cock pressed against the open folds of her pussy.

  Her arms came around me, down on my hips and I drew a trail of wet kisses along the soft flesh of her throat. The first inch of my cock slid within the wetness of her pussy and Connie groaned, then drew herself ten
se with anticipation.

  I plucked at her nipple with my lips, suspended above her and bracing my weight on my forearms. We stayed like that for a while, each of us gripped in the trance of sensations. When I felt her relax and adjust, I kissed her again and then fixed my gaze on her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and she was breathing softly but quickly. I adjusted my weight again and another inch of my cock slid inside her. Connie’s emotions played out in her expressions; her eyes screwed tightly shut, the flush of color that rose to her cheeks, the whimper in the back of her throat.

  I drew a last breath and then kissed her fiercely, attacking her mouth in a passion of desire.

  And at the same instant, I thrust all the way into her.

  I felt a moment of resistance; like pushing through the veils of a velvet curtain, and then there was just our bodies, locked deeply together, moving and clinging to each other in the dark star-filled night.

  Connie

  Mitch’s cock felt so huge as it pushed into me that for a brief flickering instant I was overcome with a sense of terror. I screwed my eyes tightly shut and tried to concentrate on the sensations – the feeling of utter fullness. Then he pressed deeper and I felt that I was being split asunder. A lightheaded wash of black numbness swept over me. I tightened my grip on his waist, clinging desperately to him. His lips swarmed across my mouth, hungry and insistent and it was all I could do to meet his kisses.

  Then, at last, he thrust all the way inside me and I cried out in relief and disbelief. The terror faded and was replaced by a spiritual sense of completeness; of sanctity. I marveled at these new emotions and was overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude and fulfillment.

  Mitch had made a woman out of me… and now I wanted to show him just what kind of woman I was willing to be. Mitch was a ruggedly handsome, powerful man. I was sure there had been plenty of women in his life both before, and after, his wife.

  I figured that being a pretty young blonde lying passively beneath him was going to hold his interest for about thirty seconds. After that, he would want and need someone in his bed that could keep him satisfied and fascinated.

  I had a powerful daddy fantasy, and Mitch too seemed aroused by the roles we had slipped into… but that didn’t mean I had to be his good little girl…

  I rocked my hips and began to undulate my body, drawing Mitch inside me until I had all of him. His features were contorted with the sensations of our lovemaking. I heard the hoarse rasp of his breath and felt his muscles slowly tense and strain. I hooked my heels around the back of his legs and slid my hands up over his shoulders until they were wrapped around his neck.

  My movements were instinctive and raw; my body took on a life of its own as though each grind and flex was predestined. I tightened the muscles of my pussy, gripping his cock as tightly as I could, and was rewarded with a deep groan of pleasure.

  “Fuck me, Daddy!” the words were shockingly taboo in my own ears, drawn from some dark place beyond my reason. “Fuck my tight little pussy and fill me with your cum. Give me every inch of your beautiful cock,” I gasped between ragged breaths, our faces just inches apart. I could see the gleam of arousal sparking lights in Mitch’s eyes and he thrust harder. I welcomed him with a wanton groan and then encouraged him for more.

  “I need your hot cum,” the words sounded like the desperate plea of a whore. “You have to fill me. I want every drop of your hot seed. Fuck! Please come inside my tight little pussy, Daddy!”

  We were rocking together in an ever-faster rhythm that was building towards Mitch’s climax. I could feel my heart racing. It was cool outside but here in the bedroom I was damp with sweat. Our bodies slapped together and the sounds of passion rose higher and higher.

  When I sensed he was reaching the brink of his orgasm, I slid one hand down between our clenched bodies and strummed my fingers across my clit. My pussy was wet and sticky with the juices of our passion. My touch lit the fuse to an orgasm of my own and I cried out, desperate for the release.

  “I’m going to come again!” My tone was strained and incredulous. “Keep fucking me, Daddy! Fuck your little girl’s tight pussy and we’ll come together. Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck meeeeeee!”

  We exploded together in groans and cries of ecstasy and release. Mitch roared and I felt his cock swell then explode, hot and molten. At the same instant my own body betrayed me, spasming violently as I thrashed beneath him in the tangled sheets.

  For a moment my vision exploded into flashing, blinding light… and then the world turned dark and drifting.

  I seemed to come back from a place far away, floating on the lightness of my orgasm. I was staring up at the ceiling, feeling the race of my heart beginning to subside and the sweat of our exertions slowly drying cool on my arms and between my breasts. I was filled with a sense of wonder and bliss. Mitch’s leg was tangled with mine and we lay like survivors of an explosion, bodies entwined, until at last I felt him stir and I turned my head. He was watching me, his expression contemplative. All the unrestrained passion that had buoyed me to abandon had faded. Now I was unsure again.

  “Was that… was it…?” I asked in a little voice.

  Mitch was standing beside the bed, stepping into his pants. He ran his eyes over my body as though to burn the vision into his memory.

  “Was it what?” his voice was gentle. “Worth the money I paid?”

  I shook my head. He was toying with me. “Was it good for you?” I hated myself but I couldn’t erase the neediness in my voice.

  “Yes,” Mitch said, and stroked my hair with his fingers. “It was incredible, Connie. And I hope it was a good experience for you too.”

  I sat up and nodded my head, my eyes solemn. “Oh, yes,” I said, wanting to convince him. “It was everything I had ever dared to dream about – and more.”

  Mitch hung a lopsided smile from the corner of his mouth and buckled his belt. He was bare chested, his body still glistening as though the muscles had been oiled. “I’m going to go downstairs and make coffee,” he said gently. “It will give you a few moments to yourself. When you’re ready, come down to the kitchen. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 22

  Connie

  There was a pot of fresh coffee brewing when I stepped into the kitchen, barefooted and wearing a fluffy white robe. I looked at Mitch sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind,” I gestured at the robe. “But I didn’t bring anything else with me to wear. I found it in a wardrobe.”

  He shook his head and smiled from over the rim of his coffee mug. “I don’t mind at all,” he said and then sharpened his gaze. “In fact you look pretty good in it.”

  The robe was white and I’d belted the sash loosely around my waist, which allowed the long lapels to gape apart when I leaned across the kitchen counter for a mug. I saw Mitch’s eyes slide slyly to my breasts.

  “There’s milk in the refrigerator, sugar in the bowl by your elbow,” he said. He took another sip of his coffee and then wandered through an open archway into a living room area beyond. I made coffee and followed him.

  The room was large, decorated with stuffed leather chairs and antique bookcases. There was a fireplace against one wall, the blaze in the hearth burned down to just embers. Mitch tossed a log onto the fire and stirred the flames back to life with a poker.

  “Are you okay?” he asked without turning. The question, I suspected, had a deeper significance than just an enquiry about my health.

  “I’m very, very good,” I said. And I meant it. I could still feel my whole body glowing. My skin felt alive; the sensitivity of my lips where he had kissed me so fiercely, those tender places within my pussy where he had driven me to orgasm, the lingering tremble in my thighs from clinging to him as we climaxed together. I felt the way I imagined I would feel when I arose from a lover’s bed as a freshly fucked woman.

  “I’m glad,” he turned and set the poker down. The fire crackled to life, casting his features in red-orange light. There was a lamp on a small ornate tab
le. He switched it on and we stared at each other for several long seconds beneath the spreading pool of light. Mitch set his coffee cup down and went to a green leather sofa. He beckoned me to join him.

  We sat close together but not touching.

  He stared into the glow of the fire for long moments and then turned his face to mine.

  “Tell me,” Mitch said, “now that you’ve paid the debt you felt you owed… tell me, Connie. Why did you take the risk of auctioning your body off to the highest bidder?”

  I smiled but it was a timid, reflective gesture without humor or warmth. I set my coffee cup down and looked Mitch directly in the eye so that he could see the truth of what I was going to tell him.

  “My grandmother owns a bookstore in Galveston,” I said. I had rehearsed this explanation a dozen times, but now the words seemed to choke in my throat. “She’s the only family I have. Both my parents are dead. My grandmother raised me.”

  Mitch’s gaze didn’t flicker. He was studying my face minutely.

  “My grandmother’s store is struggling,” I went on, “It has been for some time. The market has changed. People don’t buy books the same way they used to. Technology…” I shrugged and then lapsed into silence.

  “So?” Mitch frowned. “How does this – ?”

  “She’s about to lose her store,” I blurted. “The banks won’t extend her any more credit and she can’t get a loan. There is a promised deal with the Canadian government for educational texts. It’s going to come through in the spring. But Nana can’t keep the doors open until then. She’s desperate.”

  Mitch leaned back in the seat, his eyes still fixed on mine.

  “I tried to get a loan myself so I could help her,” I went on, starting to weep as I explained. “But I wasn’t working a full-time job. No bank would touch me.”

  “Your grandmother must mean a lot to you,” Mitch said softly.

  “She means everything,” the emotion came into my voice then, and the first tear rolled down my cheek. “She raised me from childhood,” I wrung my hands, feeling as though I was failing to explain the relationship. “She was there for me when no one else was. She means the world to me, and the bookstore means the world to her.”