Sunlight pierced the breakfast nook like accusatory fingers, gilding the oak table where Richard nursed his tea and The Times, spectacles perched on his nose. I'd chosen my weapon carefully: a sundress in butter-yellow cotton, halter neck plunging to show the inner curves of my tits, skirt flaring mid-thigh with every sway. No bra, nipples faint shadows under the thin weave; thong minimal—a whisper of lace that vanished between my lips, already damp from last night's midnight denial. Barefoot, legs shaved silky, I padded in smelling of vanilla body lotion, hair loose and tousled like I'd just been fucked."Morning, Daddy," I chirped, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek—deliberate tit brush against his arm, nipple grazing bicep. He inhaled sharp, paper crinkling as his free hand patted my hip, fingers splaying possessive over bare skin below the skirt hem."Morning, princess. Sleep tight?" Eyes flicked up, lingering on my cleavage before returning to headlines. Voice warm, but
Last Updated : 2026-03-20 Read more