Kristen Finally Fucks Daddy Pt. 06

Daddy wants his horny, slutty 18 year old daughter to get fucked, and have the happiest tight teen cunt in town. That Friday night he proved it to me, over and over. Only, he did it without ever once touching me.

I fucking loved it! And -- hated it!

* * * *

As the young waitress took our mostly-empty plates away, Daddy smiled warmly, leaned forward, and gave me his speech. Reaching across the small table in the back corner of the little cafe, he took one of my small hands in both of his big strong paws. With a voice loud enough for my ears only, the tall, handsome, adorable man of my life told me he loved me and cherished our incredible relationship, and that he thought I was sexy and beautiful, and that he had all those feelings for me that grown men have for very gorgeous, very sexy younger women. I know those feelings; my Mom's fat boyfriend David had them when he fucked me three days earlier; Daddy's friend Jack had them when he was hitting on me two days ago; and the stranger at the hotel Thom had them when he fucked me furiously for a couple of hours just the night before. Daddy was no different, see. He said, "I get those feelings all the time -- I think as you really know now." He blushed, admitting that his feeling for me -- his adulterous, incestuous feelings for his petite, half-Asian daughter -- were no secret. But he quickly added, squeezing my hand confidently, "Look, nothing else matters between you and me other than you and me -- and I don't want to mess that up."

It was a fatherly way of saying, you know, please don't try and get me to fuck you. Something I'm sure is a standard speech in the handbook they give to dads for dealing with really horny teenage daughters.

But before I could apologize or explain or even blush, he encouraged in an even more husky tone, "Hey, you're 18, you are a young woman and have -- well, all of a young woman's needs, I get it, trust me. And you know I'll give you whatever freedom you want, like, if you want to date anyone, one of my friends, anything like that." He grinned, telling me he was more than alright if I wanted to go on a date with Jack, to whom he introduced me at dinner two nights earlier.

Daddy was doing more than just telling me, it was okay to fuck around. No, Daddy had a plan that night.

First, he said he had a "surprise" for me in the car, and then, he was going to take me "shopping." Now, that's the way to get a girl to shut up: Buy her off. Gifts. I'm not a material girl, but, I look forward to gifts like any other teenage female.

The gift in his car was a box, a little bigger than a shoe box, a worn cardboard box with stiff material that was rather heavy. He had the top closed with duct tape, which too was old and worn and had only a small portion of its original stickiness (is that a word?). Sitting in the passenger seat of his sports car, with the heavy small box on my lap, I peeled back the silvery tape and peered inside -- and found myself looking at a bunch of CDs or DVDs, in clear plastic cases.

Stretching my petite hand into the box, flipping through the disks, I exhaled nervously. He'd handwritten the title of each DVD directly on the media, and used clear cases so they didn't need any more markings or labels. "Girls Who Fuck Girls"; "Big Cocks, Little Cunts"; "Don't Tell Daddy, No. 16"; "Slutfest"; "Amber And Her Sisters"; "Asian Sluts No. 10 -- Big White Meat"; "Don't Tell Daddy, No. 5"; "Young, Stupid And Horny, Just Like We Like Blondes"; "Asian Lesbian Whores Who Fuck Cocks Too." I mean, there were 30 or something porn movies in the box, the list went on and on. (Daddy had a thing for Asian girls; no wonder he married my Thai mother.)

I looked up at my father with a cackle, unsure of what reaction he was expecting. I was sufficiently surprised that my face displayed my natural, honest response -- incredulity. "Daddy, what on Earth?"

He leaned back in his seat, the car still parked in the restaurant's lot, and he wryly smiled at me. "I guess, I figured, you might have more use of these than I do, these days -- I hardly ever use any of them."

Is there some right of passage where fathers hand down their porn collections to their sons? I'd have no idea, I'm an only child, and a daughter. But, if dads ever give porn to their daughters, I was in that club now. It was an out-of-body experience, as if watching my hands sort through the porn DVDs was not really happening. I wasn't guilty or embarrassed, it just numbed me.

Daddy wasn't waiting for a reaction in particular, I think he knew I'd find a use for them. "Now," he said, starting the car up and gunning the engine so we roared off the lot, "let's do a little shopping."

Okay, I had no idea where we were going. He made the ride fun, turning corners loudly and making me fly around the interior of the car. Daddy laughed as I shrieked at my impending death, several times. Finally, we pulled into the very last place I expected to go -- the food store. "What the fuck?" I blurted, not controlling my language around my father any more. He'd just given me a DVD called "Eighteen And Slutty -- Fuck Them All"; so I figured I could use the "F" word around him now too.

We went into the store, which was sparsely populated on this Friday night. Daddy knew what he wanted, and we headed straight for the produce section.

"Daddy!" I had to swallow my reaction, covering my opening mouth with my hands, staring at what Daddy was buying. He was sizing up some cucumbers, choose two of them that had sufficient thickness and roundness to meet his criteria. "Daddy, you're kidding?" You can guess, I think, what Daddy was buying. Carrots -- big long ones. Zucchini, really really thick ones. Bananas, a half-dozen in a bunch. Finally, the real shocker, sweet potatoes. They come in all sorts of sizes but Daddy chose a couple with really fat blunt ends on one side, and the other sides were more narrow but long. Hard as stone, he told me, these won't break.

I didn't say a word but instead, I looked around the place blushing, wondering if anyone else knew my father was buying me vegetables that would fit inside my pussy. I knew exactly what he was doing, and I didn't say a word, just smiling stupidly from ear to ear. Good girls like me -- well, that's what everyone thinks of me -- don't go with their dads to stores for buying foods for masturbating. Daddy walked away from the produce section, me following along with that guilty look on my face. Carrying the veggies and bananas in a couple of bags, he walked into the personal hygiene aisle. I watched him a couple of steps behind, almost in denial this was happening. Daddy perused some of the hair brushes, oddly, which made no sense because I had a couple of them in the bathroom --

Ahhh, I realized, as my father chose the brush he wanted to buy. It wasn't the brush he cared about. The one he selected had a long, long black rubbery handle -- probably almost eight inches long, thick, round, fat, with a rounded end. When I was younger I used to wonder, who would need a handle that large on a brush, unless a girl had really messy, tangled hair and needed two hands to straighten it out? Only, I think I just realized what the big handle was for. It wasn't for brushing hair, was it?

Finally, Daddy grabbed a small jar of vasoline, which might have been an afterthought but they were sitting right there as we passed them.

My head was dizzy, wondering now if my father planned to use them on me later, or if he just expected me to go up to my bedroom and fuck myself silly with all of these "toys." But first, we had to check out, and I almost panicked at the idea of the checkout clerk knowing what all of these objects could do. I mean, no one makes a banana, cucumber, sweet potato salad with vasoline dressing and tossed with a hairbrush. Well, no one EATS any such salad. Fortunately, Daddy wanted to avoid any embarrassment too, so he used the self-checkout line, which took us only a few seconds and we could do in basic privacy.

"Here," he laughed, handing me all of the bags as we walked out of the store quickly. Both of us were nervous, I guess. But my Dad was really having a good time, I'll tell you that. "I think you know what you can do with these?" He laughed at the joke.

The bag of objects that would fit nicely in my shaved, bald teenage pussy called to me. I could hear the voices of the vegetables and the hairbrush inside. Kristen, take us home, fuck us. He wants you to. It'll be fun, real fun.

"Oh," I surmised with a smirk, not holding anything back, "I think I know where to put them."

* * * *

Two hours later, maybe, something like that. It was really dark outside, but not quite time I would be asleep. I'd been hiding in my room the whole time, mostly, a nervous bundle of unfocused energy. My pussy was achy, but not so much that I had to strip naked and satisfy it. I think having all of the sex toys and movies sort of scared me, in a way, preventing me from even doing myself as I normally might do. I had my boyfriend sending me text messages to meet him at some friend's house, probably for a "party" monitored by one of the parents. Eh, I'd lost all interest in him by then, I wasn't even really responding. Adult men were way better, and now that I'd fucked two of them that week and had a potential date in Jack waiting for me, I didn't need short-lasting little teen dicks to try and fuck me anymore. Meanwhile, my Latina friend Crystal was on a date and sending me text messages of how hot she looked in her new babydoll, which was good for her and all. Messing around online, reading magazines, nothing seemed interesting.

It was like I was high on something, and couldn't figure out what to do with myself. This from a straight-A nerd who never had taken drugs in her life.

So the nervous energy built up, pushing me somewhere. I knew what I really wanted, and that was to fuck my Daddy. It just had to be; he'd fucked my cousin, my friend, my friend's mom, my housesitter -- I needed to be on that list. I loved him, I loved his cock, and he deserved happiness every night. I was good at fucking adult men, I made David and Thom cum so hard that week, I knew I could do the same for my hot, sexy Daddy. Plus, right at that moment, my Mom was on her weeken trip to New York, and she no doubt was probably in a hotel room with David letting that fuck fuck screw her fake tits and Thai pussy. That made it all the more important that Daddy and I fuck. But, I knew, there was no way Daddy was going to put his dick in me, at least, not that night.

A sudden idea exploded in my head, and I hardly thought about it before I acted on it. I grabbed the new hairbrush Daddy had given me, and I rapidly burst from my bedroom. Wearing a pair of white cotton panties and a nightshirt, I didn't look particularly sexy, but that wasn't going to be important. I was about to head down to the basement, but I noticed light from my father's bedroom -- and that was perfect, I thought. But instead of going in there directly, I first had to go into the media center by our television on the first floor, and retrieve something I needed.

Slutty Kristen was going to put the pressure on my sexy Daddy, I thought to myself. Oh, yeah.

Nervously but excitedly, I rapped on my father's closed bedroom door. He sort of coughed and acknowledged I could come in. Pushing the door open, I found him in his t-shirt and jogging shorts sitting upright on his bed, remote-control in his hand, flipping through the late-night TV shows.

Standing in the doorway trying to look bright and enthusiastic, but really just a storm of electricity, I held up my hands -- the hairbrush in one hand, the other holding my Daddy's digital camcorder.

"Daddy," I announced with no room for debate, "I need you to help me with something right now."

He blinked, not sure he liked the tone of my voice or the devilish look in my eyes. "Oh?" was all he could say, at first.

I strolled near his bed, standing casually, not trying to look threatening, but there to get what I wanted. He'd given me a speech earlier that evening, now, it was my turn. "See, I think, you kinda would like me to hook up with your hot friend, Jack, right? But, um -- so, I don't even know if he'd like me to."

Daddy's head cocked a little, finding the question implausible. "Why, sure, honey -- he told me -- he thinks you're great -- sweet, sexy, beautiful -- you don't have to worry about that."

"I know." I really did know, but I didn't act like it; I stepped closer to the bed, shrugging and acting very diffident and submissive. "Daddy, I got nervous trying to call him, last night, but like, maybe, you'd let me, like, make a video message to him? Then you can give it to him. I'd, um, like that." There, I said it. I handed Daddy his camcorder, my arm sticking straight out to offer the small device.

My father took it from my warily, studying my visage with his bright brown eyes. "A message, huh -- seriously, you think that's necessary, that's what you want to do?" He wasn't telling me not to; I think he thought this was a trick of some kind.

So I nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah! Really, would you mind -- just, like, let me say a few words hello to him, ask him to call me?" Then I added, "I think it would be a lot more friendly in a video, than like, sending him an email or text, I hate that. This is more fun, don't you think?"

The wheels in my father's head were churning rapidly already, and he was way ahead of me. "Way more fun," agreed the pervert in full support, but brimming with his own ideas. "So don't you think you should get more, well, dressed up for it -- I mean, something more, you know, that says, you really need to call me?"

"Oh?" I was anxious to do this, so my state of dress didn't seem important enough to warrant attention. My cotton panties were tight on my small petite hips and tiny butt; my A-cup titties on my slender torso made decent little hills in my tight t-shirt. My long black hair was a little unkept, but it had a decent, sexy shine to it. "I guess, what do you think, Daddy?"

And that began the preparations. Daddy said, "Trust me," and he took me into my bedroom and sat me at my vanity. He watched as I brushed out my hair, and he and I agreed to the right color of lipstick and mascara and rouge. I leaned forward on my stool and applied the makeup to my face, giggling as I saw my father sitting on my bed behind me, his gaze at me reflecting in the mirror. Then, he rummaged through my vanity's drawer and chose a bright red "cumfuckme" nail polish -- well, he called it "a good whorish color" -- and handed it to me. I daintily painted it onto my ten fingernails, my hands trembling a bit, then held my hands to my daddy for him to blow them dry. My father took my hands in his big hand, and blew on each of them, smiling at me the whole time.

"Toenails, too," he announced, jumping forward to kneel in front of me. I swiveled on the stool and faced him, laughing, as my father took my small feet and held each one so carefully, while he applied the red polish to each nail. There, my small feet had bright red nails just like my slender little fingers did.

Daddy had me brush out my hair -- using my favorite brush, if you care -- until it was as long and silky as it would get, without showering and blowing it dry. Finally, he handed me a small pink bow with a ribbon, and he had me pull my hair back tight behind my small head, which he closed off into an extra-long ponytail with the ribbon, leaving the pink bow sitting atop my skull.

I giggled at my father looking at me, admiring how pretty I was in the makeup and with my hair back, but I was still in my boring white panties and worn, long light-blue nightie. He took one last look then grabbed my hand, and led me back into his bedroom. I played along.

Daddy led me to my Mom's dresser, and inside he fished out of a drawer something for me to wear. It was lingerie, of course, undoubtedly from the lingerie store at the mall that she owned. It was brand-new, still sporting the tags on it; how ironic, I thought to myself, the second time this week I would wear this stuff from her store to impress a man. You'd wonder what she's say -- especially since one of those men was her boyfriend David, and the other was Daddy's friend, and the man whom I really wanted to actually impress was Mom's husband! So confusing.

Anyway, Daddy had selected a red thong, to go with my nails. It was not elastic but had two long strings that would tie over the hips, so it would size to my small frame easily; behind me, my butt would be completely naked because the thong had only one small string to disappear into my asscrack. It felt like fire, just holding it, knowing its power over men once I adorned it.

For the top, went into his closet and reached onto his top shelf, taking off a small box. Gee, another gift from Daddy? He opened it and handed me a red, silky babydoll, with a thick black lacy border on the bottom edge. It had spaghetti straps and definitely was very minimal on its coverage on top; it was short, too, and I doubted it would reach past my ass much, if at all. "This," he explained, handing it to me, "was going to be a gift for you, but, I figure, might as well put it to good use now!"

The two garments felt nonexistent in my hand -- extremely light, fluffy, silky-smooth like clouds. But they burned, they were sexy, slutty outfits that women wear who want to get fucked. Holding them in my hand in front of my father was erotic.

I excused myself into the bathroom, closing the door and taking a deep breath. I was having flashbacks to the mall and fucking David; only this was much better. As I removed my bra, my hardened nipples pointing out, seeking attention. I had to cup and stroke them briefly, to sooth their desires. I slipped the babydoll in, finding it extremely tight around my small breasts -- those two nipples stood out, it was very sexy. Then I pushed off my damp panties and started to wrap myself in the thong. I'd never put something like it on, and found tying it over both hips at once was no easy task. I laughed until I got it right, then turned to admire myself in the mirror. The red strings of the thong were so small, you could hardly see it down my asscrack; my butt was nude. The front panel of the thong was silky and tight where it covered my pussy, and my pussylips were like to parallel ridges, as if painted by the thin fabric.

One more breath to cleanse myself of nerves, and I headed back for my Daddy's bedroom. I grinned with a shy expression, as his eyes fell on my almost-nude body. The babydoll's black lacy bottom edge fell halfway around my hips, so the thong was visible even as I stood up. Daddy was still in his t-shirt and shorts, standing on his floor, holding the camcorder in one hand. His eyes examined me head to toe, from the pink bow atop my head down to my whorish red painted toenails.

"Wow, Kristen," my proud father, whistled, "you look gorgeous -- so sexy."

I blushed for real. "Thanks." My father's gaze at my slender figure in the slutty outfit was making my horny for him; my own eyes found the bulge in his shorts, a distinctly large shape that housed the precious pussyfucking beast I wanted to ravage me. I tried not to stare at him that way, but the magnetic attraction of that bulge to my vision was palpable.

Softly I crawled onto the bed, on my fours, slithering into the middle of the bedspread facing my father and the camera. I pushed my long, brushed hair away from my shoulders again, then rose to my knees. That way, the babydoll pulled up far enough to show the thong over my crotch, and my back arched so the hard nipples stuck through the flimsy thin red fabric. If a man had the hots for me, he'd like me in this outfit for sure.

I watched my Daddy fidget with the buttons on the camcorder. "Okay, is it on?" I asked in a hush, nervously.