Page 52 of The Naughty List

“You may use Daddy’s cock,” he says.

With my hands on his shoulders and my tits bouncing in his face, I ride him –Daddy.

I ride my daddy and I really do feel like a horny schoolgirl.

Daddy laps at my tits, catches my nipples in his teeth and starts bucking back into me and it’s fucking heaven.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” I tell him and he does.

He’s in the flow as deep as I am, bucking right back up at me. I’m bouncing like a doll on his lap as he gets ready to unload, and with panting breaths he gives me another instruction. One that has me reeling…

“Kiss Daddy, now. Kiss your dirty daddy and tell me how much you love me.”

The words are obscene, but weirdly powerful.

“I love you so much, Daddy,” I tell him, and then I press my lips to his.

His kiss is deep, his tongue is demanding, and I’m all into the motions as he slams up, up, up to come inside me. I could kiss mydaddyfor ever. Filthy as sin, but true. So fucking true.

I feel like a mess when he’s finished coming – my head spinning with how roleplay like this can feel so real, and so disgustingly good.

“My gorgeous girl,” he says, as he strokes my cheek.

I take a few seconds, smiling at him, both of us caught in the glow.

I don’t want it to end yet.

I wrap my arms around him, pressing my bare tits to his shirt and tie as I snuggle into his neck like he’s my world. He strokes my back like he’s soothing me, his cock still inside me, and it’s fucked up, but it’s gorgeous.

“Time to get you some dinner, I think,” he says after a few minutes, but I don’t want dinner. I want more fun with him, more filth with him, more praise from him.

Yet again, I have to remind myself… this is about him, User 762, not about me. The thought is a flood of reality that stabs.

I pull away with a meek smile.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

I rise from him and follow him over to the breakfast bar, my blouse still open as I take my seat.

“I’ll make you your favourite, since you’ve been a good girl.” He smiles. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” I say and wonder what my favourite is.

He heads over to the big fridge and brings out an oven dish, filled with something.

“Chicken casserole. I prepared it earlier, hoping you would behave well.”

“Yummy,” I say, and my word choice seems to please him.

There is so much I want to askDaddyas the casserole cooks in the oven, but he keeps in character. I make up imaginary tales about my school day, and he keeps up the pretence, giving me fatherly advice about staying out of trouble. My adlib wants to fuck off and ask him who he really is outside of his fantasies. Who is User 762? What does he do? What does he like outside of schoolgirl play?

But it’s none of my damn business.

We eat chicken casserole at the table together, and it’s delicious, suited to the rest of him. He pours red wine for himself and juice for me.

“Thank you so much for making my favourite,” I tell him, “it tastes so good.”

He raises his glass to me. “Thank you, sweetheart. You deserve it for serving Daddy’s cock so well.”

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