Daddy's Dirty Girl: Bred by My Daddy 4 (taboo breeding sex)

Daddy’s Dirty Girl: Bred By My Daddy 4

By Francis Ashe

Copyright 2012

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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***

Catch up with Liz and Peter’s taboo romance in:
Bred by My
Daddy
,
Daddy’s Baby: Bred by
My Daddy 2
, and
Daddy’s Little
Girl: Bred by My Daddy 3

***

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

***

Chapter One

My step-dad, Peter,
is the best man I have ever known. After marrying my
semi-neglectful mom when I was twelve, he guided me through an
incredibly awkward adolescence, tolerated my fumbling, obsessed
crush well before even I understood my own feelings, and dutifully
ignored all my clumsy attempts to tease him. I have no idea how he
did it. How he
does
it.

Between taking care of me, the baby, and
everything else, I just cannot wrap my head around how he has
enough hours in the day for it all. But, he does. And he seems
happier since my mom booked it across the country and we’re alone
now, just the three of us – daddy, baby and Liz.

For his latest act of heroism, Peter
convinced me that I should go back to college. I started late, and
then had the baby so I took a semester off that stretched to a
year. Both he and my mom worked in medicine when I was growing up,
and so that’s the path I wanted to take as well, but I just didn’t
have time for the four year terror of medical school, followed by a
nomadic series of residencies and all that, so he told me about
going into a nursing program. It was a perfect fit, or seemed like
it anyway.

My first day back started early, and I was
pretty nervous. He was with me though, and as long as my daddy was
with me, nothing could scare me. I knew he’d protect me, just like
always.

He is my daddy and my lover; my daddy, my
hero.

***

The night before school started, I was a
nervous wreck. There was no real reason for me to feel like the
whole world was crashing down, but that rarely stopped me. Little
Davis was already happily in his crib and asleep, and daddy and I
were watching some prime-time drama that just did not hold my
attention at all.

Peter did his best to try and keep me calm,
but that night I had the kind of anxiety even a foot massage won’t
cure. As I lay there on the soft leather couch, feet up on my his
lap with his thumbs pressing wonderfully into my arches, I began to
have other thoughts.

Naughty thoughts.

Knowing myself pretty well, I was surprised
that it took so long to come to such a conclusion. Nothing ever
calmed me down, nothing ever relaxed me as much as having a huge,
thick cock slide between my legs, stretch out my pussy and slam
into me over and over and over until I screamed out an orgasm so
powerful I felt like I was in an earthquake.

Nothing ever came close.

Just as I started to stroke the arch of my
foot around my Peter’s lap in search of a hard-on to play with, he
yawned, stretched and stood up. “Want me to run you a bath? I’m
beat, baby girl,” he said as he twisted his back a couple times and
stretched again. “This show is terrible.”

I giggled a little at how we seemed to think
the same things, usually at the same times. Then I realized how
nice a bath sounded.
The water, maybe some bubbles, and those
little water jets...

“You’re so sweet,” I said, “yes, if you don’t
mind. That’d probably help me get my mind off school. Help me to
relax a little. Thank you so much – I don’t know what I’d do
without you.”

“All’s I know is that without you, I’d still
be lonely and feeling trapped and miserable. I owe you the world,
baby girl.”

My daddy always knew exactly what to say.

***

Not five minutes later, I was sinking into a
steaming bath. The lavender-scented bubbles and six massaging jets
were nice, but the dim lights and comfortable aromatherapy candles
that Peter set up made the whole thing perfect.

Still sore from my run earlier in the day, my
toes prickled with pins and needles when I teased the water’s
surface and swirled them through a little mountain of bubbles that
piled up where Peter poured the bubble bath. The scented steam off
the water had already opened my sinuses and started to relax me.
Not only does he always know what to say, Peter somehow always
knows exactly what to do.
I dragged my foot across the surface
of the water, watching the little ripples follow.

Except for the pair of candles on either side
of the tub, the whole room was coated in a grey, hazy light. Orange
from the candle flames bounced off the water and reflected off the
tile giving just enough light to find the hamper, into which I
tossed my shirt, socks and pajama pants. After undressing and
taking a few deep, lung-filling breaths, I felt the tension in my
shoulders drip down my back and puddle up around my feet.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I swished
my foot back beneath the surface and all the way down to one of the
jets at the bottom. As every part of my leg – ankle, tight calf,
knee and thigh – went beneath the water, the deep, penetrating
warmth invited me to put my other leg, and finally the rest of me,
inside.

Purposefully, I lowered myself into the tub
with exaggerated slowness, enjoying the sensation of water
caressing every single part of my body. When I bent my knees and
the water’s intense, scent-filled heat tickled my pussy lips I
unconsciously let out a shudder and rubbed one of my hands down my
body and between my legs. The tuft of hair above my cleft caught
one of my fingernails and the tug shot a thrill down my mound that
made me take a breath.

My hand cupped around my
sex-and-water-slicked pussy and I squeezed. Two fingers dragged
along my slit and pushed apart my lips, dancing around my entrance.
So badly I wanted to cram them in, wrench those fingers inside my
pussy and grind until I was a quivering puddle of jelly, but I knew
that was not
really
what I needed. Slow, I knew, I needed to
take my time and just let myself drift.

Up and down I slid the tip of my middle
finger until finally I let myself indulge in pushing it inside.
“Just a little,” I whispered to the empty bathroom, “just
a...mmm...”

The wet warmth in my pussy, the tantalizing,
slightly intoxicating aroma wafting off the bath and mixing with
the candles, it all hit me at the same time, and my knees buckled
just a little. I giggled to myself, gave my lip a little pinch
between my teeth and reminded myself “slow, Liz, take it slow this
time.”

I slid down until my water came up to my chin
and put my feet on two of the jets. The pressure rolling down my
arch, over my heel and Achilles almost immediately lulled me into a
stupor. A stupor I desperately needed. For a moment I slipped all
the way beneath the water, allowing myself to be completely
enveloped in the dark, inviting, secure warmth.

When I came back up, pushed my hands over my
hair and rubbed my eyes, I opened them to a
very
welcome
surprise. Peter, who I thought was on his way to bed, stepped into
the tub and sat down behind me. A soft little cooing sound came
from the baby monitor he set on the floor beside us.

As Peter wrapped his arms around me and put a
hand down between my legs. He squeezed, a finger on either side of
my sex, and slid the middle one barely inside my hole.

No sound interrupted the patient, rhythmic
drip-drip
of water falling out of the faucet and breaking
the still-again surface of the bath. My feet, propped up against
the two jets opposite where I reclined against Peter’s powerful
chest pulsed with each burst of relaxing water pushing on my heels,
then my arches.

A second finger joined in beside the first,
and I just melted.

Not only did my daddy always know what to say
and what to do, he actually
did
exactly what I needed. There
was not a single time that I depended on Peter and he let me down.
He was forever making me safe, making me secure.

Lavender floated to my nose as his fingers
filled my pussy and spread out in slow, curling circles. Every time
I made a little noise or wiggled, he lingered on the spot that did
it – always, always, always that tiny spot barely inside and on my
front wall. And then, of course, every time he took an extra second
there, I made more noise and pushed backward harder against his
chest.

To get into the position he’d taken, Peter
had to slouch low in the water, so low that his cock’s tip rubbed
between my ass and the bottom of the tub when I moved. That gave me
an idea.

With his fingers turning those deliciously
slow circles inside me, it took some doing, but I managed to shove
myself upward just a bit – just so that my his rod slid between my
legs far enough to reach down and hold him there, stroking and
pleasing him just as he did me.

I might be a princess, but at least I’m not
greedy!

One handful of cock was just not enough. I
spread my legs out as wide as I could manage and squeezed his tip
with one fist as I rubbed him between my cheeks, tickling his
favorite place with the pad of my thumb at the end of each
twist.

The first noise that my daddy made was to
groan my name.

“Liz,” he whispered, “Jesus Liz, you feel so
good. So, so good.”

Peter shifted his hips so I was almost
sitting on him, and buried his fingers the rest of the way in my
pussy, and the second his palm touched my clit, I felt little
charges squirm up my belly.

He grunted again as I pumped my ass up and
down on his shaft and squeezed his tip so hard that my fist slipped
off the end. Again, I clamped my fist around his head and milked it
over, and again he moaned out my name and took a deep breath.

Peter pushed harder against my sex, driving
his fingers deep, and... I must have needed his attention
way
more than I realized, because within seconds, I felt my
cunt start to squeeze his fingers at just about the same time as he
announced, “Baby girl, oh my God, you’re making me come!”

It was all I could do to grit my teeth and
hope that I could last the few seconds more it would take to make
all that hot, sticky juice shoot out of my daddy’s cock. He always
made me feel so good, and I needed to do the same for him.

With his fingers churning inside me, and his
palm grinding hard on my clit, I raised up on him as best I could
and grabbed his shaft with both hands, pumping up and down under
the water, stroking his tip between my cheeks.

When pussy’s gentle squeezing turned wilder,
I started to lose control. Peter let out a deep, satisfied groan
and I felt his cock swell in my hand and then his cum, slightly
warmer than the bathwater, started to flow into my hand. I gripped
as far down on his prick as I could and milked from there to his
tip. After two strokes, my hands were full of my daddy’s cum. I let
his cock slide out of my fists and lifted them to my face, tongue
flicking out to taste his orgasm.

All at once, the taste of him, the smell of
the bath and the intense, almost desperate grinding between my legs
set me off. Warmth flooded my body and escaped in a little gush of
sex juice out of me and into the bath. He crushed me against his
chest, fingers curling inside, and palm circling my button.

I screamed “Oh daddy! Fuck, yesssss!” before
words gave way to grunts, which gave way to hard, fast breaths.

My entire being seemed to come alive, like a
light switch flipped on somewhere deep down. All the worry and the
tension drained out of me as my muscles tensed and relaxed in quick
and hard, then slow and luxurious waves.

I breathed deep and held it as the last
pulses of my cum took me, held me, and made me okay.

There, in my daddy’s arms, with both of us
glowing from pleasure, I started to doze off. He lifted me out of
the tub, dried me off, and carried me to bed.

Chapter Two

As early as I got up, Peter beat me to the
punch. After I showered, dressed and checked on the still-sleeping
baby, I noticed a laptop bag sitting by the front door.