by Adrian Amos
I gulp, my nerves shot as I slide off his lap onto the cold, metallic floor. He spins me around so I'm facing him as I kneel between his legs. Daddy, like the self-absorbed asshole he is, doesn't even notice me disappear beneath the table.
The Russian undoes his belt, and with a simple shift of his boxers, pulls out his massive, semi-erect cock. I'm transfixed on the thickness, realizing exactly what he wants from me.
I look up at him. He merely stares at me, turns back to his cards, and shifts them in his hand.
Does he really expect me to suck his dick?
He looks down once again to find me hesitating between his legs. He clears his throat, moving a card from one end of his hand to the other. He doesn't even look at me when he says, “I seem to have gotten a better hand.”
If I don't do this, he's going to kick my unlucky father's ass, whether it's in the game or the real world.
That's the excuse I tell myself when I reach for his cock, but it flies in the wind when my fingers wrap around his spongy shaft. The feeling of his girth in my tiny hand, giving way only slightly when I give it a squeeze, is like pure pleasure. It's so heavy, too, when I move it back and forth, the weight pulling my hand with it as it tumbles from side to side.
And it only gets better when I pull on him, his arousal coming around and engorging his cock. I jerk him, enjoying the hardness expanding in my grip, watching my fingers pull apart as they're unable to circle him completely.
I just can't help myself, watching him grow in front of me. I dive in, wrapping my lips around his thick head, sucking on the bulbous mushroom, tasting a faint trickle of salt as precum reaches my tongue. I lick at his opening, pulling down on his shaft to free up any more liquid that might show itself. I lap at it, drinking from him what I can.
I push down on his cock, beating him off as I throat fuck his rod, inserting him deep into my mouth. I practice back and forth, pushing him as far in as I can without gagging, without alerting daddy to what's happening right in front of him.
And he pays no mind, playing the game above me like normal. The son of a bitch has forgotten all about me. He doesn't even notice I'm gone.
All that does is make me want to suck the Russian's dick all the more. I'm so sick of daddy being obsessed with his fucking cards. If he doesn't want to pay attention to me, then I'm going to be the naughtiest girl I can.
I engulf the man's dick, and for the first time, his eyes close to the sensation of my mouth on him as he leans his head back. He played with utmost composure until I decided I was going to eat him up, just to make daddy mad.
If he ever fucking notices.
I go hard on him, running my tongue along his shaft as I ram his cock in and out, slobbering all over his junk, salivating to the point of soaking him entirely. I gasp and choke, furiously sucking his dick.
“Goddamn,” he groans.
“It's a tough game, I know,” daddy says in response.
“Maybe she can play a little.”
He reaches down and grabs me by my arm, pulling me to my feet and spinning me around so I sit on his lap. I'm breathing hard, struggling to catch my breath.
“Uh, okay,” daddy says, “she doesn't know anything. But if you're okay with her losing your money, then I don't mind one bit.”
He deals the cards and the Russian hands them to me. I don't know what the hell's going on, I'm so confused. I'm staring at the cards, unable to grasp what I'm looking at. It might be part that I have no idea how to play this game, and it might be part that all I can think about is how badly I want that cock.
But the Russian's not interested in teaching me. He merely waits for my impatient father to raise the stakes.
“I'll raise you,” he says.
“She'll do it,” the Russian says, and then he lifts my ass lightly and pulls my shorts and panties down my thighs, exposing my soaking wet pussy.
I grunt, not able to focus on one thing or the other, but my attention instantly shifts when I feel him grab his cock and position it below me.
He can't... he can't be thinking... he can't without a condom!
My panic is cut in half as his long, thick meat pushes into my cunt, splitting me open and driving deep into me. I slip all the way down his cock, my juices an express lane that press me up against his hilt as his hands grip onto my ass.
I let out a loud moan, unwilling to fight my pleasure anymore.
But daddy still doesn't get it. “I don't know what that means,” he says. “You just need to exchange a card, so you can get a better hand.”
I gasp, taking a number of short, sharp breathes as my pussy adjusts to its new position. Finally, I'm able to mutter in strain, “Okay, okay, new card.”
Daddy hands me a card. I just throw him a random one in my hand in exchange.
I look at my hand and realize, for the first time, I'm in control. I can guide where this game goes. I can fold and end it all, pack it up and leave. I can stop this fucking madness and save myself. But when I squeeze my thighs together, I feel the Russian's thick cock buried deep inside me, my cunt begging to get fucked.
I'm aching, aching so bad.
“Raise me,” I mumble.
“Baby, it's, uh, 'I'll raise you'.”
But that's not what I want, not one bit, and the Russian knows it. He raises my ass in the air before slamming my pussy back down on his cock, piercing me with his entire dick. Slowly, he lifts me up and pulls me down, roughly feeding me his cock once every few seconds. My mouth hangs agape as the pressure of his dick inside my tight pussy overwhelms my vocal cords.
It all raises daddy's eyebrow, especially my ass slapping against the Russian's thighs. But he must be pretending like he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary, because he pulls another card from the deck, looks it over, and says, “I'll raise you.”
With that last raise, the Russian's done playing. He yanks me back against him, grabs the hem of my shirt, and pulls it over my my head, baring my small titties to daddy.
“No,” I groan, reaching across my chest to cover myself. But the Russian grabs my arms, pulling them back and to the side, using them as handles as he assaults my cunt. “No, daddy, don't look.”
But it's no use. The Russian uses my body as his fuck toy, ramming his hips into me, sending me upward, only to fall back down and be impaled. He fucks me furiously, breaking into my cunt with all his strength.
And daddy watches the whole time. He watches my body ricochet up and down, my tits bounce as I'm force fucked by the man he's indebted to.
My eyes meet daddy's, and he's focused intently on what's going on, and instead of embarrassment, I feel an incredible surge of eroticism.
Daddy's watching me. Daddy's watching me get fucked. He's watching my naked body get taken advantage of by a man way stronger and smarter than he is. Every time daddy raised, he punished his little girl. He let her get fucked. His dirty obsession has turned his little girl into a dirty slut.
The build up is instantaneous. One moment, my father's eyes are all over me, the next my own are rolling back into my skull. An orgasm hits me full force, plowing through my nerves from stem to stern, an electric current firing from cunt to nape. I scream out, the ecstasy racking my body and convulsing my tender muscles in chaos.
The Russian lifts me up and bends me over the table, letting my tits cushion me against the felt as he continues to fuck me from behind.
I look forward at daddy, constantly pushed toward him as the Russian furiously throws his weight into me. I try to grip the table, but only manage to knock most of the cards to the floor.
His grip on my hips hardens as he thrusts his cock deep into me, culminating in his own Earth shattering explosion. He groans as he slams his dick to the end of my cunt, holding it there as his unprotected shaft unloads a flurry of sticky semen into my throbbing pussy. It splashes along my walls as he pumps half-a-dozen shots of baby batter inside.
I cry out, shocked at his invasion, but thrilled at the warmth running through me.
Even as he pulls out, the cum leaks out with him, dripping down my thighs in a warm bath.
The Russian reaches into his pocket and pulls out some money. He throws it across the table, the bills landing all over my bare back. “I'll meet your raise.”
Daddy's utterly stunned, until he remembers exactly why he's here. He looks down at his cards and lays them on the table. “Full house,” he mutters.
“Beats her twos,” the Russian says, tossing my cards to the side.
“Is this...” I struggle to catch my breath and form my words. “Is this enough? How much did you win, daddy?”
Daddy clears his throat. “Seven grand.”
The Russian laughs. “He's owes me quite a bit more.”
He swings his arm around, slapping me hard on the ass and propelling me along the table. “But if you're willing to help your daddy, there are plenty of ways to pay it back, just like there are plenty of holes for me to use.”
I remain stationary, collecting myself on the table. I said I'd do anything for daddy, do anything it took to free him from his vices. I guess it's time to put my money where my mouth is.
“If we pay this back, you have to promise never to let him set foot into any of your games. He's done, he's blackballed, you hear?”
Daddy's about to blow his lid, but the Russian gives him one look that shuts him up. He looks to me and says, “Whatever you want, little girl.”
I breathe in and stand up, kicking my shorts and panties to the side. I might be saving my daddy, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun while I get it done.
“I guess it's time to ante up,” I smirk.
- - -
Daddy Takes Me at the Dance
I shudder as I look at myself in the mirror.
I look good, I know it. This'll be a treat for Derek.
I turn and look over my shoulder, studying the contour of my bare shoulders. The dress I found is perfect: a strapless, nude colored, mini dress, sequined with silver lines circling around the waist. I've never thought of myself as having flawless skin, but in this one moment, in this one dress, it looks like I've never had a day of acne in my life.
Or maybe I'm just projecting my anxiety. You know, in the opposite way, thinking I look a lot better than I do. But I guess that's better than imagining pimples at every corner.
I put the finishing touches on my blonde locks, pinning them so the curls make a spectacular set of waves that flow back into a bun. I put on the large, oval diamond earrings I inherited from my mother, which are so fancy they make the dress even classier than I pictured.
I'm hoping it wows Derek. We've never said much to each other, but I've had a crush on him since I saw him in Economics. He never seemed to care much for me, but I worked up the courage to ask him to the Freshman dance, and to my surprise, he agreed.
I mean, it was kind of, like, a shrug, and a 'sure' type of thing, but I'll take any form of agreement.
The Freshman dance at my college is a student organized festivity, meant to organize and acquaint all the new students with each other. I'm not really a social butterfly—I don't have a single friend at school yet—but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to break the ice with Derek.
He's dreamy as hell, and right now, I feel like the best thing he'll ever see. It's weird having all this confidence, but it's a charge nonetheless, exciting me to the core. It makes me shudder as I think about the sensation.
“Babygirl? You ready?” my stepdad calls from out in the hall.
“Yes, daddy, I'm coming.” I collect my flats and head out to the living room.
When I get to the room, the look on daddy's face is priceless. It's almost faint, the way his eyes widen just a small bit, but it's far more obvious the way his mouth hangs open, stuck in perpetual awe.
I have to admit, it makes me feel pretty good inside. Not that I've ever thought of daddy in any naughty way, but if I were to marry a man—or date Derek, let's say—I think I could do a whole lot worse than someone a lot like my stepfather. He babies me every chance he gets, but, really, he's just the kindest man I've ever met.
But his kindness is only made stark against his dark features. His jet black hair and stubble, and his tall muscular frame, makes him a sight to behold, especially when he's seen with me. He's tall, I'm short, he's dark, I'm blonde, he's muscular, I'm... well, frail.
I don't know if it's because he's actually good looking, or if it's just because he's the opposite of everything I am, but I'm definitely drawn to him.
If this can drop his jaw, I'm hoping it'll do the same for Derek.
“Are you trying to trap flies, daddy?”
“No, no, you just look amazing,” he says, closing his mouth.
I blush. “Thank you, daddy.” It heats my face far hotter than I want. I rush over to the mirror and check myself, making sure I don't look like a clown in red face paint. I rub my cheeks and it subsides, blessing me with my more tan hue.
The drive to the dance is dirty silence. I say dirty because I'm usually not quiet when daddy's around. I'm really talkative, so when I'm quiet, it feels like something naughty in the world. And daddy makes note of it.
“What's wrong, babygirl?”
I don't respond right away because I'm not sure what to say. Instead I fiddle with my fingers, twirling them around each other as I think of what to say that won't completely embarrass me.
Even in premeditation, my face still burns. “I'm just nervous. There's a guy I like at the dance, and even though we agreed to go together, we haven't really spoken much to each other. I'm worried it's going to be super awkward.”
“I see,” he says, clearing his throat, “well, conversation is definitely important, but just take it slow. There's no rush. You have plenty of time to talk, during and after.”
“But what if it's weird?”
He shrugs, “It might be. You'll get over it, or you won't. If you don't, then you probably weren't meant to be together.”
I swallow. That would be terrible. I really like Derek. I mean, it could be silly to like him. I don't know anything about him. He could be a huge dick.
But I don't think so. He doesn't seem like he'd be like that. I mean, his eyes, they're just so inviting... why would you invite people in just to be a dick to them?
No, that'd be crazy.
“I'm sure we're meant to be together, daddy. I feel head over heels when I see him.”
Daddy chuckles, “Well, that's part of it, but that's not love. There are a lot of reasons to be with someone, and there are a lot of reasons not to.” Daddy reaches over and pats my shoulder, “Chase that feeling if you have it, but don't be afraid to admit to yourself if it isn't working for you either. That's the hardest part.”
I nod. I always appreciate daddy's advice; I just hope this one time he has no idea what he's talking about.
We pull up to the old grand station. It's an old train hub—nothing runs through it anymore—that's been repurposed into a ballroom. It's the first time the student committee rented it out, and I have to say, it's a striking image compared to the staid gymnasium this type of event normally takes place in. It feels kind of like destiny, what with—you know—meeting Derek here in this amazing place. I'm lucky like that, I guess.
“You gonna be okay?” daddy asks, as I get out of the car.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll see you later.”
Daddy drives off and I head inside. At the entrance, the students checking people in are handing out corsages to all the girls, and I end up getting a beautiful, deep red rose. I had no idea they were going to hand these out, but when I slip it over my left wrist, it looks so cute with my dress. It's like the perfect accessory, which makes me feel giddy inside, knowing I just upped my look at the last second. As weird as it is, I feel delicious.
I move through the large wood doors into the ballroom proper, and the sight is something to behold: a number of huge arches span the space, a gigantic renaissance style room, with gorgeous molding along the columns and
great windows that look out onto a balcony, which overlooks the nearby lake. The sun is setting through the windows, giving the room a sense of magic as the day comes to an end.
I'm kicking myself we didn't set up somewhere to meet, so I scan the room. There's the DJ booth, refreshment tables along the edge, and seated tables closer still to the center dance floor. I spot Derek along one of the refreshment tables with a group of people.
I swallow, running my hands down my dress to smooth out whatever wrinkles I think might be there, and head over. My skin prickles, my face flushes, and my heat rises as I get closer, until he looks my way and sees me for the first time, which causes all those sensations to burst for a brief second, like my blood moved through me from bottom to top and sank back down again.
But Derek doesn't smile or wave, he just simply looks back to the group he's with and starts talking again.
“Hey,” I say when I reach him.
“Hey,” he says back.
There's this horribly awkward five seconds. Or maybe ten. We don't say anything. I just awkwardly stare at him, and he seems to be more interested in what the people around him are saying.
“So...” I say, trying to fill the gap, “how are you?” I shake my head imperceptibly, avoiding showing my own disappointment in myself.
“Good,” he says.
“Did you finish your Economics homework?”
The look he gives me is soul crushing, one of absolute annoyance at the question. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Oh my god, why would I bring up homework at a time like this? I cross my ankles as I focus on not coming apart.
I'm about to say something to break the ice when he beats me to it. “So, what's up? What can I do for you?”
I've never heard such a humiliating question in my entire life. What can he do for me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It's, like, the most dismissive thing anyone's ever done to me.
Or so I thought.
“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” I ask, clumsily pointing to the dance floor.
He shrugs. “Eh, not really.”
