My Only Daughter Ch. 02

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I drove back from the club with the top down, the ocean wind blowing through my hair and music blaring through the speakers in the back.

I broke even in the poker game, which I somehow always do. I seem to have broken even in life, getting out of the insurance business early, divorcing my wife at 44, retiring to a life at the beach and settling into a nice living as a freelance writer and empty nester.

I was happy. I was content. And I was dreading the end of summer.

As I drove out from the cape, I saw my house in the distance, set back off the main road surrounded by yaupon and sawgrass, broom sage and live oaks. Most of the lights were off, which meant the party was over.

A few more cars were scattered around the yard when I pulled up, more than when I left earlier in the evening. I walked into the back door and picked up a few remaining beer cans and newspapers from the low-country boil my daughter had thrown for her and her college friends. The house smelled of Old Bay and college girls. I breathed in deeply, opened a beer from a cooler near the back door and walked into the large den.

A small body was curled up on the couch. It was Kennedy. She was asleep, still in her football jersey which was hiked up over a hip. She was no longer wearing her bikini bottom. Her perfectly round ass cheek shone in the reflection of the television.

I reached down to pull a blanket over her, and she stirred without waking up.

I walked down to the bedrooms below, where soft music came from Charlotte’s room. A light was on inside. I knocked twice and heard her bare feet on the floor.

“Oh hey Daddy,” she said. “We have a few more guests. All the bedrooms are full. Kennedy’s in the upstairs room. You missed a great party.”

She was in halkalı escort a t-shirt, her hair pulled into a pony tail, no bra and a white thong barely showing under her shirt.

“I hope everyone had a good time,” I said, trying not to stare at her nipples showing through her thin shirt. “Kennedy’s passed out on the couch.”

Charlotte laughed.

“Yeah, she’s sort of celebrating her break-up. Did you know her boyfriend showed up here today?”

“We met, sort of,” I said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again.”

“Love you Daddy,” she said as I closed the door to her room.

“Love you babe,” I said, turning to walk back upstairs.

The television sound was turned up when I came into the den again. Kennedy was awake, sitting wobbly on the couch, the blanket in the floor and her football jersey hiked to her waist.

“Hey Mr. B,” she said, slurring slightly. “You missed a great party!”

I laughed and said something about the house being full.

“This is the party house,” she said as I walked to get the remote off the floor.

Kennedy was trying to stand up when I turned back around. Her knee hit the coffee table and knocked over a small picture frame.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I think I had too much tequila.”

She was leaning over to pick up the blanket, straight legged and confident, knowing her ass was showing. Then she started to lose her balance again. I caught her as she staggered, and I managed to get her onto the couch. She was in a fetal position with her jersey completely to her waist.

“You seem to have lost your pants,” I said, covering the blanket over her again. “Get some sleep. Just stay down here tonight if you want to.”

Kennedy harbiye escort reached out her hand and I took it.

“I want to sleep with you,” she said smiling.

“As hot as that sounds, and God save me for saying it, but we can’t do that Kennedy.”

I heard a sound from downstairs, and put my finger over my lips. We stayed silent for several seconds, but there was no other sound. I turned back to the couch and said “Kennedy.”

I tried to sound stern and she showed a little pouty face as she repositioned herself on the couch. One bare leg appeared from under the blanket. She raised her perfectly tanned leg high into the air and ran both hands from her ankles to her shaved pussy lips, which were now fully exposed. She rubbed her pussy with both hands.

“Tequila makes me horny,” she said.

I stared at the sight of a 21-year-old flirt on my couch her legs spreading apart as the blanket hit the floor again. One hand stayed on her pussy and the other pulled up her jersey to expose one perfect breast.

My cock hardened. I couldn’t look away.

Kennedy ran her tongue around her lips in a slow circular motion. Her had moved deeper as she slid two fingers inside her glistening pussy. Then she pulled them out and stuck them into her mouth, sliding them out and wetting her nipple, which was now erect and pointing up like the tip of her little finger.

“My God,” I thought. “This is the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Kennedy,” I said, not as sternly this time, shaking my head as I took a hesitant step toward her. I couldn’t finish the sentence.

She rose from the couch into a sitting position, her legs wide open hanging to the floor. I made a motion to pick up the blanket, and she ikitelli escort reached out and grabbed my hair, pulling me toward her open hot pussy.

“You know you want to Mr. B,” she cooed.

I was helpless. I felt my arms weaken as I dropped the blanket and went to my knees. She pulled my face into her wet pussy and held it there.

“Lick me,” she said. “God yes, lick me Mr. B.”

She tasted like sweet saltwater, as pure as anything I’d ever tasted. Young, hot, horny sweetness that enveloped me as I licked her clit and slid my tongue into her molten wet hole.

Kennedy leaned back and opened her legs wider, straight apart down the entire length of the couch. I slid two fingers into her as I continued to flick my tongue on her pulsing clit.

“Yessss!” she screamed out, then realized again she needed to be quiet.

“Sorry,” she whispered, giggling as she pulled my tongue deeper into her pussy. “Suck me Daddy. Suck me until I cum in your mouth.”

She was thusting her hips at my face. I was so turned on by her calling me “Daddy.”

“Mmmmmmm,” I moaned as I licked her and fingered her deep, making her cum the first time in a soaking gush of purity. Her cum dripped down her crack, and I took my other hand and slid it under her bare wet ass.

“Yes,” she said. “Do it.”

My finger slipped into her tight little asshole, and she gasped.

“Yesss!” she said, too loud again. This time she didn’t apologize. She was bucking her hips, fucking herself with my fingers and holding my head with both her hands, cumming over and over in gushes or sweet-hot liquid.

Finally she let go and collapsed into the cushions, a puddle under her as she massaged her tits and licked her lips, staring at me with a sexy smile on her face.

I stood, still completely dressed as I licked my face and wiped her cum from my mustache and goatee.

I was about to say something when I heard a creak and looked over at the top of the stairs. Charlotte was standing there leering at me.

Her hand was inside her white thong.

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