The slam of the front door still echoed in my ears, a harsh punctuation mark on the screaming match I’d just had with Mom. “You’re just like her, Alice!” she’d shrieked, and those words, laced with years of resentment and unspoken comparisons, had finally shattered something inside me. Tears blurred my vision as I stomped through the house, every picture frame, every carefully chosen piece of furniture, suddenly felt like evidence of her perfect, suffocating world.
Rebellion surged through me, hot and desperate. If I was like her, fine. I’d be exactly what she didn’t want. And in that moment, my gaze landed on the study door, ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. Dad. He’d always been the quiet one, the peacekeeper, caught in the crossfire of Mom’s storms. But today, something shifted in my anger and morphed into a dangerous, thrilling idea.
I pushed open the door, not bothering to knock. He was sitting at his desk, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the lines of worry etched around his eyes. He looked up, surprised, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face as he took in my flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face.
“Alice? What’s wrong, honey?” His voice was gentle, automatically soothing, the way it always was. That gentleness, which usually calmed me, now felt…provocative.
I didn’t answer right away, just stood there, breathing heavily, letting my gaze drift over him. His tie was loosened the top button of his shirt undone. He looked tired and vulnerable. And suddenly, the thought that had been a reckless spark flared into a full-blown fire in my belly. Did mom want to control me? She thought she knew me? I’d show her. And Dad… Dad was the key.
“Mom and I…we fought. Again,” I said, my voice trembling, but not entirely with sadness anymore. There was a tremor of something else mixed in, something illicit and exciting.
He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I heard yelling. What was it about this time?”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but my eyes held his, letting them linger a beat too long. “The usual. She just…she doesn’t understand me. She never has.” I took a step closer to his desk, my hips swaying slightly, a movement I knew he’d notice, even if unconsciously. I was wearing a short, denim skirt and a thin tank top – clothes Mom hated, clothes designed to provoke.
“She just wants what’s best for you, Alice,” he said automatically, but his gaze flickered down to my legs for a fraction of a second before returning to my face. That flicker, small as it was, sent a jolt through me. He noticed. He saw me.
“Best for me?” I scoffed, stepping closer again until I was right beside his desk, my hip brushing against the edge. “Is it best for me to feel like I’m suffocating in this house like I can’t breathe?” My voice was rising again, intentionally dramatic, playing on his empathy.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching mine. “Honey, you know that’s not true. We love you. We just…”
“Just what, Dad?” I interrupted, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Just try to control me? Just try to make me into someone I’m not?”
I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly, and touched his hand resting on the desk. His skin was warm, rougher than I remembered. He tensed, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as my touch lingered.
“Alice…honey, don’t,” he started, his voice strained, but he didn’t pull his hand away.
“Don’t what, Daddy?” The endearment slipped out, thick with deliberate sweetness, dripping with a meaning it had never held before. It hung in the air between us, charged and electric.
His breath hitched. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Don’t…don’t talk like that.”
But I knew I had him. I could see it in his eyes, the confusion warring with something else, something darker, something that mirrored the forbidden thrill coursing through me. He was drawn in, just as I’d hoped, just as I’d planned. Mom thought she knew him? She thought he was predictable, safe? I was about to shatter her illusions too.
I leaned closer, my breast brushing his arm, a deliberate, tantalizing contact. “Like what, Daddy?” I breathed, my lips parted slightly, my gaze locked on his. “Like you don’t want me?”
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating. He finally pulled his hand away, but it wasn’t a rejection, it was a retreat, a desperate attempt to regain control. “Alice, this is…this is wrong. You’re upset, you’re not thinking straight.”
“Oh, I’m thinking very straight, Daddy,” I whispered, my hand snaking out again, this time tracing the line of his jaw, my fingers lingering on the stubble there. “I’m thinking about how angry Mom makes me. I’m thinking about how good it would feel to do something…bad.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, a visible struggle playing across his face. “Alice, please…stop.”
But I didn’t stop. I leaned in further, my mouth hovering inches from his ear, and whispered, “I want you, Daddy. I want you so bad.” The words were like a key, unlocking something deep and hidden within him.
His eyes snapped open, burning with a desire that shocked me, thrilled me. He reached out, his hand gripping my arm tightly, almost painfully, and pulled me closer, his gaze devouring me.
“Alice…baby girl…” His voice was hoarse, unrecognizable. He pulled me onto his lap, my skirt riding up my thighs, the denim bunching around my hips. I straddled him, his hardness pressing against me through his pants, a shocking, exhilarating pressure.
“Is this wrong, Daddy?” I purred, rubbing against him, and feeling him groan.
“Yes,” he gasped, but there was no conviction in his voice, only breathless arousal.
“Then why don’t you stop me?” I challenged, leaning down to kiss his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.
He didn’t stop me. Instead, his hands moved to my hips, gripping them tightly, pulling me even closer. He kissed me then, a desperate, hungry kiss that devoured my mouth. His tongue plunged inside, tasting of coffee and something wild, something I’d never tasted before.
The kiss deepened and became frantic, his hands roaming over my back, pulling my tank top up slightly, exposing the bare skin of my lower back. I arched into him, moaning softly against his mouth. He broke the kiss, panting, his forehead pressed against mine.
“Are you sure, Alice? Are you really sure?” His voice was thick with lust, laced with a last desperate plea for me to say no.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathed, my own desire pounding in my veins, overwhelming any vestige of doubt or shame. “Yes, I’m sure. Take me, Daddy. Please.”
And with that permission, with that final shattering of the unspoken boundaries, he lost himself. He kissed me again, harder this time, his hands now beneath my top, cupping my breasts, kneading them roughly. He fumbled with the clasp of my bra, his fingers clumsy with need, and then my breasts were free, spilling into his hands.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound from his chest, and lowered his head to my breasts, sucking hard on my nipple, sending a searing jolt of pleasure straight to my core. My head fell back, a moan escaping my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated lust.
“Daddy…oh, Daddy…” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close, urging him on.
He lifted his head, his eyes glazed with desire. “You want this, baby girl? You want Daddy to fuck you?”
“Yes!” I cried out, the word torn from my throat. “Yes, fuck me, Daddy, fuck me now!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him, his eyes blazing with a hunger that both terrified and thrilled me. He unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp in the suddenly silent room, and then his zipper followed, the rasping noise sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.
His pants dropped to the floor, revealing his erection, thick and hard, straining against his briefs. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of him, so much bigger, harder than I’d imagined.
Did he see my reaction, a flicker of something – pride? – crossed his face. He reached down, his fingers hooking under the elastic of my denim skirt, and with a sharp tug, pulled it down my legs, followed by my panties. I stood before him, naked from the waist down, exposed and vulnerable and utterly, overwhelmingly aroused.
He stepped closer, his gaze raking over my body, lingering on my bare pussy, which was already throbbing and wet with anticipation. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my swollen lips, and I gasped again, arching into his touch.
“So wet for Daddy, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He spread my labia gently, revealing my clitoris, swollen and glistening. He touched it lightly, circling it with his fingertip, and I cried out, my legs trembling.
“Daddy…please…” I begged, clawing at his shoulders.
He chuckled a low, possessive sound. “Please what, baby girl? Please fuck you?”
“Yes…please fuck me,” I whimpered, my voice thick with lust and a hint of shame, just like in the original scene.
He finally shed his briefs, his cock springing free, huge and throbbing, even more intimidating and exciting in its full glory. He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and positioned me in front of him. I gasped as the head of his cock pressed against my wet opening, hot and insistent.
“You’re so tight, baby girl,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips, steadying me. “Daddy’s going to stretch you out good.”
And then he thrust, pushing his thick cock deep inside me, stretching my pussy walls as he buried himself to the hilt. A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips, a mix of pain and pleasure, of shock and overwhelming sensation. He was so big, so thick, filling me in a way I’d never imagined.
“Daddy…please…I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I whimpered, my voice thick with lust and the same hint of shame from before. “You’re so big inside me.” I could feel his substantial manhood stretching me, filling me, pressing against places I didn’t even know I had. It was intense, almost overwhelming, but underneath the shock, there was a searing, undeniable pleasure.
“Shh baby girl, just relax and let Daddy take care of you,” he cooed, his tone soothing, a strange tenderness in his voice even as his massive cock continued its relentless assault on my quivering pussy. He began to move, slowly at first, withdrawing almost completely and then plunging back in, each thrust deeper, harder than the last.
“Nnnggh, yeah baby, take it all!” He groaned loudly, his thick cock pounding deeper and deeper into my sopping cunt. He was grunting with each thrust now, his breathing ragged, his face flushed with exertion and lust.
I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, meeting his thrusts, my own body moving instinctively, arching my back to take him deeper. I could feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, driving me wild. My pussy was slick and hot, clenching around his shaft with each powerful stroke.
From my vantage point between my spread thighs, the only thing I could see was his girthy gut resting heavily on my mound as he pistons his rigid shaft in and out of my slick, clenching channel. The rhythmic thud of his body against mine, the wet sounds of our bodies moving together, filled the room, a symphony of forbidden passion. My moans grew louder, escalating into cries, punctuated by gasps for breath. My body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure.
“Oh God, Daddy…yes…harder…” I begged, my head thrown back, my eyes squeezed shut, lost in the overwhelming sensation. My orgasm was building, a tidal wave of pleasure rising within me, threatening to consume me.
He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more frantic. He gripped my hips tighter, holding me in place as he pounded into me, driving me closer and closer to the edge. And then, with a final, shuddering groan, he exploded inside me, his hot seed filling my pussy, triggering my own release.
I cried out, my body convulsing around him, waves and waves of pleasure washing over me, obliterating everything else. He held me tight, his body still shuddering, his breath hot against my neck. We stayed like that for a long moment, locked together, breathless and spent, the silence in the room thick with the weight of what we had just done.