Daddy's HUGE TABOO collection (20 books from Horny House Series)

by Adrian Amos

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  Copyright 2016 Adrian Amos

  Kindle Edition

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  Daddy's Mistake was Falling Asleep

  Daddy... No One Should Have to Sleep Alone

  Daddy in the Woods

  Daddy! Tell Bobby to Leave Me Alone!

  Yeah, Daddy, I Took Your Wallet

  Daddy, Can You Help Measure Me?

  Daddy, What Do You Mean You're Stuck?

  Daddy, Please Let Me Play With You

  When's Daddy Coming for Tea?

  Daddy Wants to Come in the Backdoor

  Daddy's Invited to my Sleepover

  Daddy, Teach Me to Dance

  Daddy, Come Get Your Gift

  Daddy, I Need to Tell You Something

  Daddy, I Can't Stop Touching Myself!

  Daddy, You Need to Help Wash Me

  Daddy, I'm Not Even Dressed

  Daddy Plays with his GamerGirl

  Daddy, I Know You're Jealous

  Daddy, I Can't Stop Fantasizing About You

  Part of the “Horny House” series

  By Adrian Amos

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  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Table of Contents

  Daddy's mistake was falling asleep

  Daddy... No one should have to sleep alone

  Daddy in the Woods

  Daddy! Tell Bobby to leave me alone!

  Yeah, Daddy, I took your wallet

  Daddy, Can You Help Measure Me?

  Daddy, What Do You Mean You're Stuck?

  Daddy, Please Let Me Play With You

  When's Daddy Coming for Tea?

  Daddy Wants to Come in the Backdoor

  Daddy's Invited to my Sleepover

  Daddy, Teach Me to Dance

  Daddy, Come Get Your Gift

  Daddy, I Need to Tell You Something

  Daddy, I Can't Stop Touching Myself!

  Daddy, You Need to Help Wash Me

  Daddy, I'm Not Even Dressed

  Daddy Plays with His GamerGirl

  Daddy, I Know You're Jealous

  Daddy, I Can't Stop Fantasizing About You

  Daddy's mistake was falling asleep

  Daddies are such jerks!

  I mean, not that I know many, or even know the one who gave me life. But the one I do know, my mom’s boyfriend, Garrett, can be such a hard ass sometimes. He takes it upon himself to be the boss of me, telling me how to dress and who to hang out with, and he gets on my nerves when he tells me that I have to go to bed, because, as he says, “A growing girl needs her beauty sleep.”

  But I’m already grown up! After high school, I got a job selling perfume at Victoria Secret’s, and I think I’m pretty good at it. I get a good commission check monthly, pulling in adult earnings, and I get along with all the girls.

  So much so, that for the first time ever, the girls invited me to hang out after work to have a lingerie party, where we try on lingerie and model it for each other. It’s like a runway show between us all. You definitely don’t get a job at Victoria’s looking like a schlub, so I was excited to see all my gorgeous friends showing off in their revealing corsets, panties, and bras.

  That’s where daddy is a jerk. When I came home and told mom about it, told her how excited I was, daddy overheard us and stepped in.

  “Charlotte,” he said to my mom, “I don’t think Katie should be going to a sleepover and doing such naughty things with other girls.”

  I hate when he talks about me to my mom like I’m not in the room. He’s not too much older than me, only 32 to my 19. Mom likes dating hot, young studs—she’s a beautiful woman at 40—and Garrett is certainly the hottest catch she’s ever landed. He’s tall and dark with a full goatee. He has a stud above his left eye and thick rimmed glasses, which both help to accent his dark green eyes. He’s super handsome, and he’s built, working out and eating healthy on a regular basis.

  I will admit: I’ve had a crush on him for the past four years. I swear when I turned 18, his behavior toward me changed so much. He’s always looked out for me like I was his daughter, but when I came of age, he seemed to get way more protective. He became very commanding, making sure I was always on time and doing all the right things with my life. It was like he never wanted me to be too far from him. He even started calling me baby doll, which still makes me blush to this day. It’s such a strange and powerful rush for such a strong man to call me something so innocent. Sometimes I start to feel jealous of my mom, that I only get to be his little girl and nothing more.

  I think he even follows me around the house sometimes, checking in on me while I’m in my room. I play it off as something that’s annoying—like any teenage girl should—but I’m secretly grateful that he’s always around. It makes me excited just to see his head poke around the corner and ask how I’m doing. Sometimes—which I’m slightly ashamed of—I’ll make sure I’m in nothing but my panties and a small tank top, exposing my bellybutton, in the hope that he pops his head in. And sometimes he does! And I swear his eyes will look me up and down before he leaves—for a really long time—and I’ll get this charge of sexual energy when I think about my stepdaddy ogling me.

  He might just be doing that because my mom is never around anymore. She always seems to be out somewhere, whether it’s with family or friends, a work outing, or just time away from us. She never seems to want to be around. It’s hard on me, but I can’t imagine how hard it is on Garrett. He’s probably lonely and seeking out company, even if it’s with his stepdaughter. He deserves better.

  But earlier today was one of those days where his overprotectiveness got on my nerves. “Daddy,” I said, “I’m right here. You don’t have to talk to mom about me like I'm not.”

  He turned toward me, his dark green eyes piercing me with an austere look. “Baby doll,” he says, again making me melt with my pet name, “you don’t need to be hanging around those girls from work. They’re a bad influence.”

  “No, they’re not,” I defended them, “They’re all sweet girls and they look out for me.”

  “I’ve been around your job. I don’t think they have your best interest at heart, like I do.”

  I blushed. That’s right: he’s been around my job quite a few times to check in on me. Every time he’s been there, the girls were fawning all over him, grabbing him by the hand and leading him around the store. I didn’t want to admit it, but it made me so jealous that they’d try to steal him away from me. He’s my daddy! That’s what I thought at the time, but I realized that he meant more to me than that. I was confused and unsure of what my feelings meant, but I know it made me tingle below when I thought about him too much.

  But even then, I didn’t want him telling me what to do. “You don’t know anything about them. I swear they wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

  “Be that as it may, I forbid you from going out with them. Maybe in time, when I feel like they actually are a good influence on you, then I’ll let you go out with them.”

  “But I’m 19!” I yelled, “You can’t tell me who I can hang out with.”

  My mom took a deep breath. She was never one to fight me and usually let me do whatever I wanted. But Garrett was way different.

  “Watch your tone, young lady. While you’re under my roof, y
ou’ll do what I say.”

  I was so angry, I remember just storming off to my room and slamming the door. He annoyed me so much that I didn’t even look at him for the rest of the day!

  But now I’m sitting in my room, bored out of my mind. I really want to go be with my friends, but I can’t. I’ve never been such a brat that I’d sneak out of my room or disobey him. I’m kind of a chicken that way.

  But I can think of something that might help me get back at him. Mom left in the afternoon to her friend's house to spend some time with her, so she probably wasn’t going to get back until really late, unless she stays the night, then it won’t be until tomorrow morning. So that leaves me with daddy all night to get back at him for being such a meanie.

  Night is fast approaching, and like I said, daddy is a health nut. Which means he’s got a pretty standard routine. He’ll work out late for an hour and then take a shower. Then he’ll plop down in front of the TV and watch until he nods off, in which case, he’ll sleep on the couch or pick himself up and head to bed.

  That’s when I’ll get him, in that vulnerable state when he’s fast asleep in front of the news. I’ll play a little joke on him, get some shaving cream, put it in his hand, tickle his nose, and watch him slap it in his own face. I know, it’s not crazy, but it’ll be so funny to see daddy in such an embarrassing position. I think I’ll have to bring my phone along and take pictures.

  I wait, listening through my door, hearing him working out, then taking a shower, then the TV turning on. When I finally hear his light snoring, I sneak out of my room, wearing only my panties and tank top to ensure that I stay quiet.

  Poop! I already forgot. I don’t own any shaving cream, and the only ones we have are in my parent’s bathroom. But I can’t get it because he’s sitting in the living room in between my room and their room. If I try to pass him and open their bedroom door, I’m sure I’ll wake him up. He’s a heavy sleeper, but sometimes the smallest things seem to wake him as well.

  Now what? I still need to get him, but I have to think about something else.

  I head to the kitchen and look around. There must be something in here that I can use that’ll do the same thing as the shaving cream. I check through the cupboards. Sugar or flour? Eh, it’s kind of funny, but might be really messy if he launches it everywhere. I can’t do liquid, unless I want him to pee his pants. That might make some funny pictures, but that would mean taking pictures of his junk, and that feels too naughty. I don’t think I could show anyone those pictures anyway, even if I do just take them for myself to look at later. I’m kind of dead set on having him smear something on his face.

  Then I see it. The perfect weapon. On top of the fridge is a large jar marked ‘honey’. Garrett is always going on about the miracle wonders of raw honey—only raw—so he keeps a jar in the house at all times. I’m not a big fan of the stuff, although I can’t really say I’ve actually tasted it. I kind of just don’t like it on principle; it just seems gross and weird.

  But Garret loves it, and everyone knows it. It’d be so funny if he smeared it all over his own face like a piggy! “You couldn’t hold back, could you, even while you were sleeping?” Tsk, tsk. That will get some good laughs. I could take some juicy pictures and poke fun of him for days about it.

  I’m not quite tall enough, so I grab a stool and reach up to pull the jar down. I open it up, the yellowish orange bee funk glistening in the jar. I touch it, sticky as a strand follows my finger up out of the jar. Oh, yeah, this’ll get him good. I think about tasting it, being this close, but I think better of it and seal the jar. Just as I’m about to walk out of the room, I think about the stickiness and grab a spatula in order to apply it to his hand.

  I peek into the living, seeing Garrett slouched in the couch with his head lolling back against the cushion. The TV should help conceal some of the noise as I approach him.

  As I tiptoe closer, I notice that daddy’s only wearing a white t-shirt and his dark blue boxers. His muscles are always visible through that shirt, and I swallow as I get closer to his limp frame. He smells fresh as rain—my favorite body wash of his. I look down and I can see the outline of his large dick pressed down through his boxers. He’s not erect, but even soft he looks so big. I blush, looking away, trying to focus on my task at hand.

  I set the jar down on the coffee table and open it. How should I do this? The hand, right. I apply some honey to the soft spatula head and sit down on the couch to the right of daddy.

  His right hand is easy to slather, putting a small amount of honey on it, coating his large mitt in the thick, viscous syrup.

  Feeling accomplished, I then think of what might happen if I tickle him and he reaches with his left hand. He’ll probably wake up and nothing will happen. I have to make sure that he gets what’s coming to him no matter what.

  Drats! His other hand, much further away, is open with its palm up. Perfect! Unfortunately, it’s on the other side of him, and there’s no easy way to reach it without having to stand up again and walk around the table. That seems like more of chance to make some noise and wake him up.

  No, I’m just going to have to go over him and apply the honey that way.

  I position myself on the cushion, sitting up on my knees so I can lean over him. With the wet spatula in my hands, I have to be careful so I don’t fall and get it all over the couch.

  I lean over him, looking down so I don’t disturb his sleep. I need to brace myself, so I put my hands in the space between his legs. I can feel the warmth from his thighs, and possibly even a little emanating from his junk. I glance at it, admiring the beautiful form of his dick through the fabric, thick and long, imagining what it must look like without anything blocking my view.

  Damn it, Katie! Stay focused.

  As I lean over him further, my hand brushes against his thigh, the firm muscle holding me back. Daddy squirms a little, which causes me to panic, and I shift my hand away. But this time, my hand brushes against his boxers, pushing up against his dick. Daddy moans and I freeze. Did his dick just move?

  I look at it, and surely enough, it definitely got harder. I swallow, trying not to lose my balance and disturb him some more. The slow rumble of his snoring picks back up and I continue my trek across to embarrass him.

  Success! Reaching over as far as I can—daddy is a big man—it’s nearly out of my reach, but I get the spatula to his hand and soak it. With both hands covered, all I have to do is get back and tickle his nose. His sleepy brain will do the rest for me.

  But no devious plan goes as easily as it should. As I slowly crawl back, holding the spatula high up, daddy shifts in his seat, hitting my elbow and causing the spatula to shake. Down, in the slowest motion I’ve ever experienced, a string of honey spills off the end, landing square onto his cock!

  Oh my God! That’s not good.

  I can’t leave that there. If he sees it, he’s going to ask so many embarrassing questions that I’ll die of shame.

  No, I've got to clean it up.

  I don’t want to touch it, though. Not only is it sticky honey, but that’s my daddy’s dick! I might have fantasized about it in my bedroom—and well, just now I guess—but there’s a difference between that and actually touching it.

  So I bring the spatula down and lightly run it over his dick, trying to collect the bead of honey that's slowly turning into a wet spot on his boxers. But all I end up doing is smearing more honey on it, coating everything in a sticky syrup.

  Nice going, Katie!

  I reach back to the jar and dunk the spatula inside for safe keeping. I reach down, catching myself before making contact. What are you doing? You’re about to touch his dick!

  I feel heat rise in my face and my pussy quiver from excitement. Am I really going to? But I just want to see how bad it is, that’s all.

  I reach down, placing my hand on his package. It’s sticky all right, surely going right through the fabric and coating his dick.

  Daddy moans, and I feel another flush
in my face. Oh my God, is my touching turning him on in his sleep?

  Something inside just wants to know for sure, so I move my hand slightly, gripping his massive shaft in my tiny hand, feeling his thickness in my fingers. I squeeze my legs together as daddy moans again. I even feel his dick pulse in my grip, hardening at my touch.

  Why am I so excited? My pussy is starting to feel wet.

  He starts to get harder with each squeeze, until something happens I should have expected happening. Daddy reaches over with his far hand and grabs his crotch, adjusting it in his big hand. But at the same time, getting honey all over his boxers!

  Oh jeez.

  His hand slips back to the couch, and now I can clearly see his hard cock through his boxers, no longer an outline but a sheer image glistening.

  I can’t help myself. I need to get him clean, don’t I? I can’t just leave him like this. He’ll be so mad if he finds out.

  Yeah, that’s right, I need to fix this. I need to know firsthand how badly he might be sticky.

  I slowly reach under his waist band, looking at his face as I move it. He doesn’t flinch, just as asleep as when I first got here. I pull the band down slowly, bringing it over his engorged member and laying it below his balls.

  His huge dick out in the open, I grind my thighs together, feeling the moisture building between them. He looks so big, so much bigger than I imagined, and he only keeps growing as I look at him.

  I reach down and feel the blood coursing through him, not even able to wrap my fingers fully around him. But just as I thought, his dick is completely covered in honey.

  “Now what do I do?” I whisper to myself.

  I jump in my seat as daddy’s other hand grabs onto my ass, squeezing it and spreading honey all over me.

  “You should taste it,” he says, tilting his head down to look at me.

  “Daddy!” I squeak.

  “Go ahead, baby doll. I know you want to.”

  “I-I—“ I stutter, unable to get my words out through my surprise. Finally, I say, “I didn’t mean to get you all messy.”