Page 3 of Pleasing Daddy's Friends
I blush before whispering, “I know, Daddy. I guess it’s just when you see it in real life, sometimes things hit different.”
Lionel chuckles before helping me sit up. Then, he reaches into a bag beside the sofa, and pulls out a tiny bit of hot pink lace.
“What is that?” I ask curiously. The whole thing is nothing but two pieces of rose-colored floss with a gem dangling in the middle. Lionel smiles devilishly, revealing the dimple in his left cheek. Goodness, my stepfather is so handsome that I feel myself melting again, but he merely nudges me up to stand, before reaching down to help me into what reveals itself to be a hot pink thong.
“I was out shopping earlier, and I figured you could use some new lingerie seeing that I often destroy what you have on,” the alpha male replies in a smooth tone. “This set was especially pretty, and I couldn’t resist.”
I watch with dumbstruck eyes as he adjusts the floss around my hips, before positioning the crystal gem right in front of my clit. Literally, it’s nothing but two pieces of string: one that circles around my waist, and one that bisects my pussy lips. Then, the gem is positioned in front of my clit, hiding the turgid pink bulge.
Obviously, nothing is being covered. My pussy lips swell around the bottom piece of floss, soaking the cloth with my copious nectar. When I turn around to inspect myself from the back, the string disappears between my buttocks, leaving the two white moons on full display. Plus, when I shimmy my hips a bit, the crystal sparkles prettily, throwing rainbow rays all around the room. But it slips slightly and my clit is visible, the pink nub wet from arousal still.
“Daddy, this is the silliest gift you’ve ever given me,” I say in an exasperated voice. “It covers nothing at all!”
“I know,” Lionel says in a silky tone, leaning back for a moment to take in my voluptuous shape. “But I want my stepdaughter to look presentable when meeting my friends, and the lingerie does the trick. Here are some pasties,” he says, handing me pink circles of sticky adhesive decorated with rhinestone. “Stick those on, baby, because they complete the look. And these,” he adds almost as an afterthought. “I don’t want my girl to be barefoot like Cinderella.”
Then, Lionel whips out a pair of hot pink stilettos, also decorated with rhinestones around the toe box. The heel has to be at least six inches high, and I gasp as I slip my feet into them.
“Daddy, I can’t possibly walk in these heels!” I breathe. “I’ll fall and break my neck!”
Lionel watches as I stand, noting with approval how the high stilettos push my bust out, large and luscious, while simultaneously tucking my bottom in and lengthening my legs.
“You look fucking edible, princess,” he rasps, running one large hand up and down my ivory flank. “Goddamn, I have half a mind to keep you to myself.”
I giggle.
“Daddy, we can’t do that! Your friends are already here, and they’re waiting downstairs! What would they say if we disappeared like mist?”
Lionel reaches one hand up to gently jiggle the underside of a big breast, moaning as the ivory flesh bounces.
“Fuck ‘em,” he groans. “Those assholes can find their entertainment elsewhere.”
But I put my hands on my hips before fixing the older man with a mock-serious look.
“We can’t do that, Daddy. What kind of hosts would that make us? Besides, I’ve been looking forward to this party for months now, and it’s finally happening. It’s too late to back out, or to “disappear” like you’re suggesting. Come on, Daddy. Don’t be a spoil sport.”
Then, I spin on the high heels and begin to walk, but they must be at least six inches high, and I lose my balance almost immediately. Oh no! I’m going to fall and break my neck. But just in time, Lionel’s strong arms catch me around the waist before sweeping me up into his arms, cuddling me against that broad chest. His stark features are only inches from mine now, and the older man leans forward to capture my lips in a hard, demanding kiss.
“I’d never let you fall, princess,” he rasps. “You’re mine.”
I wind my arms around his bronzed neck, gazing up with adoration at the handsome man.
“I am,” I mewl prettily. “Now, let’s go, Daddy, because our guests are downstairs and it’s rude to make them wait. Let’s get this party started.”
With that, a dark flush appears on the man of the house’s high cheekbones, but Lionel nods and strides towards the stairs with my curvy form safely ensconced in his arms. I sigh with pleasure and anticipation because I’ve never entertained multiple men before ... but now, I’m going to get my chance.
3
Barrett
Holy fuck, this party is already out of control. Scott, Cross and I are drinking, but I hardly taste the alcohol because we’re waiting for the arrival of the beautiful Lily Powell. Yet, was that scene upstairs for real? Was she letting Lionel fingerfuck her tight asshole as her boobies bounced? Right in the drawing room, where the staff could see?
After all, Lionel Kenneally is a rich motherfucker and probably employs at least a half dozen employees at his home. It’s just how these things work because managing a ten thousand square foot estate is no small feat. At my own property, I retain a house manager, who in turn manages about a dozen folks, including various cleaning staff, kitchen cooks, as well as gardeners, chauffeurs, assistants, and what have you. I don’t want to hear about it, nor do I want to deal with it. My staff knows to stay out of sight, and for the most part, the property runs like a dream.
Of course, it wasn’t always this way. My sons, Brandon and Brent, used to live at home and the estate was pure chaos while they were under my roof. Two teenage boys are enough to drive anyone up the wall, but my boys are also handsome douchebags with the raging hormones of rabid dogs. They brought a stream of girls home non-stop, and I could hear them fucking said women in their bedrooms. On occasion, my sons even double-teamed some of the fillies, their moans twining in the air as the women panted and shrieked. As a precaution, I warned them to keep their peckers wrapped up because women often say they’re on birth control when they’re not. We don’t want anyone getting pregnant when there’s so much money at stake, and as far as I know, my gene pool hasn’t expanded yet.
But Brandon and Brent left for college at my alma mater, Western University, a couple months ago, and now the mansion’s silent. To be honest, it’s a little lonely without them. I never thought I’d miss those fuckers, but I do, and the shindig we have going tonight will relieve some of the funk.
Then again, I never thought I’d ever be “lonely” at this stage of my life. I thought I’d be living with a beautiful wife, a large house, plenty of kids, and a thriving career. Instead, my ex-wife turned out to be a hooker; my two sons are grown; and the house is so fucking big and empty that it echoes sometimes. It’s pathetic if you think about it. I’m a forty-five-year-old man with a successful career as a venture capitalist, and yet I’m rattling around like loose teeth.
