“I can’t sleep,” she pouted, not hiding her misery. She was tired, but she couldn’t remember when she’d been less comfortable. “Can you turn it back on? I think it’s almost over…”
“You’re not going to sleep if you stay up watching movies all night, Sophia Lynn. Go back to bed, get under the covers, and close your eyes. I don’t know where you got the keycode, but I’m changing it.”
“But…” she repeated. “I can’t sleep.”
He leaned over, looking closely at her face. “Sweetheart, you look exhausted. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to just let your body rest.” He suddenly leaned forward, bent his shoulder, and hauled her over it like a hunted-and-killed animal he was carrying back to camp. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll give you a lift and tuck you back in.”
“Maybe you can watch a movie with me?”
“Nice try, baby doll.”
She groaned and complained all the way upstairs, but Charlie still took her to bed and pulled down the covers before plopping her heavily down on the soft mattress. She squirmed, frustrated, but after he patted her tender bottom, covered by her pajamas, she settled and he pulled up the covers over her. “You’re so lucky you didn’t wake up Mommy,” he told her. “When woken up at night, she becomes an evil creature that eats the blood of the innocent.”
“I can watch TV up here,” she told him. “I know the password now.”
“You could, but I wouldn’t suggest it. I’m guessing that bottom’s still plenty pink as it is,” he warned, then leaned over to kiss her cheek, scraping his stubble against her skin and filling her senses with the scent of his aftershave. “Get some sleep.”
He brushed his thumb affectionately across her forehead and then turned off the light before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
She shifted and nearly drifted off, only to get her senses shocked with the latest nightmare of her grandfather; this time, he had a chainsaw and she was running around naked like the girls in the horror movie trying to escape.
When she woke up, she pushed off the covers, walked downstairs, slowly opened the door to Charlie’s room, and then tiptoed in.
She thought about how silly it was for a grown woman to sneak into bed with a full-grown man for comfort. She thought about how she’d never had to do this before.
But then she remembered she’d never had her own room in her whole life, let alone an entire floor, and the TV had been on twenty-four hours a day in her old life. That old life was gone, as were her reservations.
She carefully got into bed with Charlie, then curled up into the fetal position, her arms wrapped around a nearby pillow, although she was seduced by the heat radiating from Charlie’s body enough that she inched her bottom closer to him.
One part of her feared him waking up, particularly if he took her sneaking into his bed not as well—or even as well—as she had taken the sight of him on Liz’s other side yesterday morning. But there was another part of her that wanted him to wake up and wrap his warm arms around her.
She lost hope in him waking up at all when he began to gently snore, but she didn’t have time to feel relieved or disappointed by it. The low rumbling strummed her to sleep in less than a minute.
* * *
Charlie woke up when the bottoms of two ice-cold feet found his thigh. A flurry of emotions blew though him. At first he just wanted to push the cold, unknown object away from him because he was too tired to think of a better solution. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, however, he saw that Sophie was nestled up close to him. The warmth of her round little tush, in fact, was only inches away from his hip.
The emotions flooded on. First, he was surprised, and then annoyed, and then unhappy, and then extremely pleased, and then guilty, and then pleased again, and then just plain aroused. One rule he’d made with all his other littles is that they were not allowed to sleep with Daddy. The only person he’d slept with through the night was Liz, and even then he didn’t do it all the time; Liz had a tendency to kick.
His brother was the same way; in fact, he didn’t like sleeping with Liz, either, or any other woman. He’d sleep on the couch before he slept with a woman he’d brought home for a romp in the sack.
But then again… Charlie had been left by all of his littles so far. It apparently didn’t matter that he was rich, successful, and had always been told by many women that he was a sexy man. It didn’t matter that he cared for and spoiled his littles with everything their hearts desired. He’d paid for college for the last three of them, even.
In the end, they’d left him. No apologies, no detailed explanations. They were just tired of him, tired of the way he lived and who he lived with, tired of the lifestyle, tired of his touches, tired of his care.
Apparently, there was something he wasn’t doing right. He’d known men who’d kept the same littles for thirty-plus years! And he wanted to keep this one: this time, he was going to keep his little for more than a couple of years. Sophie was going to be a permanent fixture in the Hobbes household, he’d decided; she just didn’t know it yet.
There wasn’t any reason why this should ever get screwed up. He, Josh, and Liz all liked her—a lot—and it was obvious that the feeling was mutual. The only person Charlie hadn’t been sure she liked was himself, but that had been cleared up since she started calling him Daddy. People didn’t say that word casually.
He grumbled deep in his throat, then turned around and pulled the girl into his arms, tucking her against his chest, spooning up to her and the heat radiating from her bottom.
His cock was certainly excited about the girl, wearing only thin pajamas Liz had bought for her that were white with little pink teacups on them, coming down to sneak into his bed. Charlie worried that he was going to faint from the sensation of all his blood currently swelling up his cock.
Sophie probably didn’t know about morning wood, he remembered. She was a barely legal virgin. Him pressing his hard rod up against her pert little bottom was so wrong…
Jesus, if any of his girls had to abide the no-sneaking-into-Daddy’s-bed rule, it should have been Sophie. She was too much of a temptation.
He kissed her shoulder and rubbed his fingers against her covered hip, hard. She squirmed sleepily from this, but didn’t seem to wake up.
He moved his hand forward, where it journeyed under her pajama shirt. He ran his fingers and his palms against her flat little tummy. He stretched his hand, thinking that if he had a finger-span another inch or two wider, his hand would be larger than the whole area. She was more doll-like than in looks alone; she was so sweetly petite.
His little finger found the band of her pants and slid under it. Then another finger, and another, followed suit until his hand flattened against her cotton-covered mound. The thin cloth of her panties didn’t do anything for holding in the moisture or the heat of her pussy.
Sophie, he realized suddenly, was now holding in her breath as he explored the dip created from the parting of her lips. He kissed her shoulder again, knowing she’d, indeed, woken up, then continued to stroke his index and middle finger against her damp panties. He dug deeper into the flimsy fabric, pressing against her clit.
She released her breath. He grinned, especially when she widened her thighs even more to accommodate his hand.
This was taking him back to his high school days when he’d try to do this with Liz or one of his more fleeting girlfriends while watching movies and snuggled together on a couch, trying to look innocent if anyone were to walk in and catch them together.
“You’re a naughty little girl,” he whispered into her ear. His brain wasn’t even working, he distantly discovered. He was becoming possessed by his cock. “Sneaking into Daddy’s bed… And now these panties are soaked.”
He couldn’t see her blush, but her thighs closed a little bit upon his words. She’d gotten nervous, but she hadn’t complained yet, hadn’t told him “no.” He boldly found the hem of her panties and let his hand travel under the cloth.<
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She had a nice, soft layer of downy hair there, which was also wet as he delved his fingers into her folds to find her clit again. After work that day, he decided, he was going to give her a bath and shave her sex bald. He loved doing that; he loved the act, the trust, the intimacy, and how smooth a pussy was afterwards.
As soon as he touched her little clit with his bare fingers, her hips bucked a little and a moan escaped her lips. She must have been wound pretty tight. “Shh,” he calmed, slowing his movements. “Daddy’s gotcha, baby. Relax.” He kissed her neck again and then slid his fingers down to her hot entrance. She was slick, in heat. “Can Daddy pull these wet panties off?”
She started to shake when he said that. “Yeah,” she mewed anyway.
He reached over and turned the light on by his head, and then pulled down the covers covering Sophie. She wrapped herself into a tight ball; partially, he was sure, from the cold in the room, and partially because of her nerves, which were apparently quaking.
He rolled her onto her back and then said, “Arms up. Let’s get these jammies off.”
She bit her lip, hesitating.
He leaned forward and stroked his palm across her forehead. “You don’t have to play adult games with Daddy if you don’t want to. I’ll carry you up to bed.”
“I don’t want to sleep in my own bed, though,” she pouted.
He gave her a stern, warning look. She pursed her pink little lips together. “You told me that if I want something, I should tell you. Well, I don’t want to sleep in my room; I want to sleep with you, Daddy.” She frowned. “I had a nightmare.”
“Oh,” he sighed, thinking that was probably the cutest thing any of his littles had ever said. And she wasn’t playing with him. She’d actually had a nightmare and had come in for comfort. “Sweetheart…” He laid next to her. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of? Right?” He added, chuckling, “And that’s why little girls don’t get to watch scary movies.”
“It wasn’t because of the scary movie,” she sulked. She thought for a second and then added, “Well, it wasn’t from the scary movie at first…” She flushed. “Will it hurt?” she abruptly asked.
He frowned. “Will what hurt, baby?”
“You know…” she replied nervously, moving her eyes away and across the room.
“Oh.” He thought about this. He hadn’t taken a virgin since Liz, an age ago. He had spent so much time fingering her before that, though, that he couldn’t recall her being in too much pain. That being said, he was nervous back then and he hadn’t even grown into the size he was now. The situation was different. This girl was fourteen years younger than he, and the first girl he’d had that was young enough to actually be his biological daughter. He was a big, strong football player who had spent his entire lifetime getting tackled by men as large as trucks. She was a petite, naive little girl who, if she were only a few weeks younger, he could go to jail for doing even as much as he had done with her already.
In short, he was probably going to hurt her. In fact, if she indeed still had a hymen, it was probably going to hurt a lot.
Now he had to consider whether or not to lie to her, and then he considered the act itself. He wanted to. Fuck Josh’s call of “shotgun,” which for some reason wasn’t entirely without meaning for him; Sophie was going to let Charlie have her virginity right now if he wanted it.
The problem was that he hadn’t much experience with gentle sex. He thought that he might be able to just part those pretty little thighs, say it wouldn’t hurt, bust her cherry, and cum long, hard, and deep into her body, and ignore the look of pain that would be on her face. He could keep her pinned to the mattress, make her take his whole length, not let her squirm away or call it quits until she was full of his seed… But he didn’t want to. As rough as he was in bed, he didn’t want to expose an innocent to that.
His cock twitched anxiously again. “You’re on protection, right? Like the pill?” he asked, still trying to reason a solution in his head, to make a game plan that would satisfy him and keep her away from tears.
He watched as she shook her head. He had no condoms—Liz and Lacey had both been on “the shot” since there was a shot to get onto.
His cock ached for release nonetheless. He put an arm on her other side to lean over her and kiss her on the lips. Her kiss was a little clumsy, even after dating Liz for a couple of weeks, but it was warm, and wet, and inviting. He got lost in it for a while, pressing his tongue into her mouth, dominating that connection.
When the kiss stopped, he found that she was panting underneath him. “I know you want to, baby girl, and I am honored… but not tonight. Tomorrow, we’re gonna ask Josh to put you on some birth control. You’re our treasure, Sophie, and we’re not going to let anything happen to you. I don’t want you worrying about your first time. I promise that you’ll enjoy it. You deserve to enjoy it.”
She chewed her bottom lip, but nodded, looking a little more bouncy already. She lifted her head to kiss him, and then he languidly returned the sentiment. She pulled herself up by digging her feet into the mattress and curling upwards until her groin was boldly meeting his own.
He broke the kiss, and her ass found the mattress below her again. He rasped, “Arms up.”
Again, she hesitated, but then put her arms over her head. He peeled the tight-fitting pajama top over her stomach, and then up over her petite, yet mouthwatering, little breasts. Her cup size was small, especially compared to Liz’s. Sophie probably didn’t even need to wear a bra—but her nipples were perfect. Pink, small, light areoles, and perfectly round. He licked one as he pulled her shirt the rest of the way off. The hard little bud tickled across the top of his tongue.
He closed his arms around her, then brought his lips back to hers as he tweaked her little nipple and listened to her squeak against his lips.
He was lust-drunk, and he knew it, but he grabbed her legs and reached for her pajama bottoms anyway, pulling them away with her underwear, revealing a shivering virgin’s unprotected, beautiful pussy and her red, splotchy bottom. The scent of her sex made him growl in the depths of his throat.
She reached behind her to cover the entrance of her vagina and bottom with her hands, looking up at him with startled eyes. He grinned and kissed her knee and her thigh, and then she pushed him back. “No, Daddy.” Her face was red with horror, clenching her thighs together. “Don’t kiss me there.”
“Have you had anyone kiss you there before?” he asked seductively, dropping her legs back down to the mattress, parting them, and placing himself between her splayed thighs. He ran his fingers up her wetness.
“No,” she replied. “It’s gross.” She looked very certain about that, which was very funny to see on a bisexual. Liz really should have played with her more.
“It’s gross?” he asked her, raising his eyebrows with amusement his thumb rubbed circled over her well-lubed little clit. “Nothing on my baby girl is gross.” He brought his fingers to his lips and tasted them. His eyes hooded; it was salty and delicious.
She turned her head as if unable to watch.
“You know I’m going to become very intimate with every little part of my baby,” he warned her, “because that’s what good daddies do.”
She still kept her head turned. He kissed her breasts again and let the tip of his fingers venture into her entrance.
She gasped, flailing.
He looked up. “Did Mommy play with this little cunny at all?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah,” she said feebly, “but Mommy’s got nails. She doesn’t go… inside.”
“Ah!” Well, that made sense. He let his finger hook inside her, where he finally met the firm little hymen meeting him with resistance. He bent back and spread her legs, coaxing her to relax all the while. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he was saying, “let’s just see what we’ve got here. You know Daddy’s not going to hurt you.”
What he had her present to him was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. He
scooted her more toward the light. He’d never really seen a hymen up close before, and this one was glistening, reminding him of a frail little target.
He couldn’t help it. He pressed his tongue towards it, ignoring that she clamped her legs on each side of his head for his efforts and he had to pry them back apart. He tickled the little thing, exploring it, and then put her legs down while he reached into his pants and fisted himself.
He tongued her clit, sucking at her juices as she moaned and pouted in complaint for his blatant disregard to her wishes. Eventually he moved up to her breasts. He pressed his cock against her clit.
It took a good few moments for her to realize that it wasn’t his thumb any longer making her swoon with pleasure. “Daddy!” she gasped as soon as she realized it was his cockhead. “You said—”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “Just the tip. I won’t deflower you.” He felt like a horrible example to age-play daddies in general to say things like that, but he meant it. His cock begged for action, and her own cunny wasn’t giving him too much protest because she relaxed and let him grind his hardness against her as much as he could. Eventually he stroked it up her clit, groaning to himself. He was so close.
“Daddy… Daddy…”
He pressed the tip at her entrance, and then flicked it back out and pressed it up against her clit, and then again…
“Daddy!” She was coming, and violently, clasping her thighs around him hard. He ground hard against her, flicking, teasing, and then he finally groaned as stream after stream of his white seed spilled over her mound and all the way to the bottom of her delightful little breasts.
It seemed like it just kept coming out of him. He closed his eyes, feeling more relieved and relaxed with each spurt. He groaned again when he was done and tucked himself easily back into his pants. When he opened his eyes, he saw poor Sophie looking over the white semen all over the front of her, looking overwhelmed as to what to do with herself.
It felt like guilt had hit him over the head with a sledgehammer.
Being Their Baby Page 13
