Daddy's Dirty Girl: Bred by My Daddy 4 (taboo breeding sex) Read online

  Daddy’s Dirty Girl: Bred By My Daddy 4

  By Francis Ashe

  Copyright 2012

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Catch up with Liz and Peter’s taboo romance in: Bred by My Daddy, Daddy’s Baby: Bred by My Daddy 2, and Daddy’s Little Girl: Bred by My Daddy 3

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

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  Chapter One

  My step-dad, Peter, is the best man I have ever known. After marrying my semi-neglectful mom when I was twelve, he guided me through an incredibly awkward adolescence, tolerated my fumbling, obsessed crush well before even I understood my own feelings, and dutifully ignored all my clumsy attempts to tease him. I have no idea how he did it. How he does it.

  Between taking care of me, the baby, and everything else, I just cannot wrap my head around how he has enough hours in the day for it all. But, he does. And he seems happier since my mom booked it across the country and we’re alone now, just the three of us – daddy, baby and Liz.

  For his latest act of heroism, Peter convinced me that I should go back to college. I started late, and then had the baby so I took a semester off that stretched to a year. Both he and my mom worked in medicine when I was growing up, and so that’s the path I wanted to take as well, but I just didn’t have time for the four year terror of medical school, followed by a nomadic series of residencies and all that, so he told me about going into a nursing program. It was a perfect fit, or seemed like it anyway.

  My first day back started early, and I was pretty nervous. He was with me though, and as long as my daddy was with me, nothing could scare me. I knew he’d protect me, just like always.

  He is my daddy and my lover; my daddy, my hero.

  ***

  The night before school started, I was a nervous wreck. There was no real reason for me to feel like the whole world was crashing down, but that rarely stopped me. Little Davis was already happily in his crib and asleep, and daddy and I were watching some prime-time drama that just did not hold my attention at all.

  Peter did his best to try and keep me calm, but that night I had the kind of anxiety even a foot massage won’t cure. As I lay there on the soft leather couch, feet up on my his lap with his thumbs pressing wonderfully into my arches, I began to have other thoughts.

  Naughty thoughts.

  Knowing myself pretty well, I was surprised that it took so long to come to such a conclusion. Nothing ever calmed me down, nothing ever relaxed me as much as having a huge, thick cock slide between my legs, stretch out my pussy and slam into me over and over and over until I screamed out an orgasm so powerful I felt like I was in an earthquake.

  Nothing ever came close.

  Just as I started to stroke the arch of my foot around my Peter’s lap in search of a hard-on to play with, he yawned, stretched and stood up. “Want me to run you a bath? I’m beat, baby girl,” he said as he twisted his back a couple times and stretched again. “This show is terrible.”

  I giggled a little at how we seemed to think the same things, usually at the same times. Then I realized how nice a bath sounded. The water, maybe some bubbles, and those little water jets...

  “You’re so sweet,” I said, “yes, if you don’t mind. That’d probably help me get my mind off school. Help me to relax a little. Thank you so much – I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “All’s I know is that without you, I’d still be lonely and feeling trapped and miserable. I owe you the world, baby girl.”

  My daddy always knew exactly what to say.

  ***

  Not five minutes later, I was sinking into a steaming bath. The lavender-scented bubbles and six massaging jets were nice, but the dim lights and comfortable aromatherapy candles that Peter set up made the whole thing perfect.

  Still sore from my run earlier in the day, my toes prickled with pins and needles when I teased the water’s surface and swirled them through a little mountain of bubbles that piled up where Peter poured the bubble bath. The scented steam off the water had already opened my sinuses and started to relax me. Not only does he always know what to say, Peter somehow always knows exactly what to do. I dragged my foot across the surface of the water, watching the little ripples follow.

  Except for the pair of candles on either side of the tub, the whole room was coated in a grey, hazy light. Orange from the candle flames bounced off the water and reflected off the tile giving just enough light to find the hamper, into which I tossed my shirt, socks and pajama pants. After undressing and taking a few deep, lung-filling breaths, I felt the tension in my shoulders drip down my back and puddle up around my feet.

  Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I swished my foot back beneath the surface and all the way down to one of the jets at the bottom. As every part of my leg – ankle, tight calf, knee and thigh – went beneath the water, the deep, penetrating warmth invited me to put my other leg, and finally the rest of me, inside.

  Purposefully, I lowered myself into the tub with exaggerated slowness, enjoying the sensation of water caressing every single part of my body. When I bent my knees and the water’s intense, scent-filled heat tickled my pussy lips I unconsciously let out a shudder and rubbed one of my hands down my body and between my legs. The tuft of hair above my cleft caught one of my fingernails and the tug shot a thrill down my mound that made me take a breath.

  My hand cupped around my sex-and-water-slicked pussy and I squeezed. Two fingers dragged along my slit and pushed apart my lips, dancing around my entrance. So badly I wanted to cram them in, wrench those fingers inside my pussy and grind until I was a quivering puddle of jelly, but I knew that was not really what I needed. Slow, I knew, I needed to take my time and just let myself drift.

  Up and down I slid the tip of my middle finger until finally I let myself indulge in pushing it inside. “Just a little,” I whispered to the empty bathroom, “just a...mmm...”

  The wet warmth in my pussy, the tantalizing, slightly intoxicating aroma wafting off the bath and mixing with the candles, it all hit me at the same time, and my knees buckled just a little. I giggled to myself, gave my lip a little pinch between my teeth and reminded myself “slow, Liz, take it slow this time.”

  I slid down until my water came up to my chin and put my feet on two of the jets. The pressure rolling down my arch, over my heel and Achilles almost immediately lulled me into a stupor. A stupor I desperately needed. For a moment I slipped all the way beneath the water, allowing myself to be completely enveloped in the dark, inviting, secure warmth.

  When I came back up, pushed my hands over my hair and rubbed my eyes, I opened them to a very welcome surprise. Peter, who I thought was on his way to bed, stepped into the tub and sat down behind me. A soft little cooing sound came from the baby monitor he set on the floor beside us.

  As Peter wrapped his arms around me and put a hand down between my legs. He squeezed, a finger on either side of my sex, and slid the middle one barely inside my hole.

  No sound i
nterrupted the patient, rhythmic drip-drip of water falling out of the faucet and breaking the still-again surface of the bath. My feet, propped up against the two jets opposite where I reclined against Peter’s powerful chest pulsed with each burst of relaxing water pushing on my heels, then my arches.

  A second finger joined in beside the first, and I just melted.

  Not only did my daddy always know what to say and what to do, he actually did exactly what I needed. There was not a single time that I depended on Peter and he let me down. He was forever making me safe, making me secure.

  Lavender floated to my nose as his fingers filled my pussy and spread out in slow, curling circles. Every time I made a little noise or wiggled, he lingered on the spot that did it – always, always, always that tiny spot barely inside and on my front wall. And then, of course, every time he took an extra second there, I made more noise and pushed backward harder against his chest.

  To get into the position he’d taken, Peter had to slouch low in the water, so low that his cock’s tip rubbed between my ass and the bottom of the tub when I moved. That gave me an idea.

  With his fingers turning those deliciously slow circles inside me, it took some doing, but I managed to shove myself upward just a bit – just so that my his rod slid between my legs far enough to reach down and hold him there, stroking and pleasing him just as he did me.

  I might be a princess, but at least I’m not greedy!

  One handful of cock was just not enough. I spread my legs out as wide as I could manage and squeezed his tip with one fist as I rubbed him between my cheeks, tickling his favorite place with the pad of my thumb at the end of each twist.

  The first noise that my daddy made was to groan my name.

  “Liz,” he whispered, “Jesus Liz, you feel so good. So, so good.”

  Peter shifted his hips so I was almost sitting on him, and buried his fingers the rest of the way in my pussy, and the second his palm touched my clit, I felt little charges squirm up my belly.

  He grunted again as I pumped my ass up and down on his shaft and squeezed his tip so hard that my fist slipped off the end. Again, I clamped my fist around his head and milked it over, and again he moaned out my name and took a deep breath.

  Peter pushed harder against my sex, driving his fingers deep, and... I must have needed his attention way more than I realized, because within seconds, I felt my cunt start to squeeze his fingers at just about the same time as he announced, “Baby girl, oh my God, you’re making me come!”

  It was all I could do to grit my teeth and hope that I could last the few seconds more it would take to make all that hot, sticky juice shoot out of my daddy’s cock. He always made me feel so good, and I needed to do the same for him.

  With his fingers churning inside me, and his palm grinding hard on my clit, I raised up on him as best I could and grabbed his shaft with both hands, pumping up and down under the water, stroking his tip between my cheeks.

  When pussy’s gentle squeezing turned wilder, I started to lose control. Peter let out a deep, satisfied groan and I felt his cock swell in my hand and then his cum, slightly warmer than the bathwater, started to flow into my hand. I gripped as far down on his prick as I could and milked from there to his tip. After two strokes, my hands were full of my daddy’s cum. I let his cock slide out of my fists and lifted them to my face, tongue flicking out to taste his orgasm.

  All at once, the taste of him, the smell of the bath and the intense, almost desperate grinding between my legs set me off. Warmth flooded my body and escaped in a little gush of sex juice out of me and into the bath. He crushed me against his chest, fingers curling inside, and palm circling my button.

  I screamed “Oh daddy! Fuck, yesssss!” before words gave way to grunts, which gave way to hard, fast breaths.

  My entire being seemed to come alive, like a light switch flipped on somewhere deep down. All the worry and the tension drained out of me as my muscles tensed and relaxed in quick and hard, then slow and luxurious waves.

  I breathed deep and held it as the last pulses of my cum took me, held me, and made me okay.

  There, in my daddy’s arms, with both of us glowing from pleasure, I started to doze off. He lifted me out of the tub, dried me off, and carried me to bed.

  Chapter Two

  As early as I got up, Peter beat me to the punch. After I showered, dressed and checked on the still-sleeping baby, I noticed a laptop bag sitting by the front door.

  I wonder if he meant to take that with him wherever he went. But that would mean he was going somewhere, which he never did. Since moving out here, Peter had really taken to his early retirement. All that money he made in the pharmaceutical industry came in handy since he could stay home all day.

  Drawing closer, I realized there was a little Post-It stuck to the front. Peter’s unbelievably delicate cursive script immediately jumped out at me. Set off with a decorative “T” that would have been at home on a monk’s scroll, the note said: “This is for you, baby girl. I know you’re nervous about school, but you’re going to do be just as great at this as are you are at everything else. I love you more than anything in the world. Love, Peter.” There was also an arrow on the bottom pointing to the corner of the note.

  The back read: “turn around.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and expected Peter to jump out with some ridiculous Halloween costume to try and make me scream. I heard a sound behind me, and decided to play with him a little bit.

  “You don’t follow instructions very well, baby girl, that note says to turn around.” I could hear the mischief in my daddy’s voice. It was low, almost a growl, he always sounded that way when he was exceptionally proud of himself.

  Briefly, I considered turning around and shouting “BOO!” but reconsidered. Suddenly, I realized there was a stir in my belly and a little warmth between my legs. Shooting a glance at the clock by the door, there was a full half-hour before I needed to get out the door to my bus stop. Oh the things I could do to him in thirty minutes...

  Instead of turning I backed up. A half-step back, a hand slid around my waist, up under my shirt. Peter moaned close to my ear, sucked a kiss on the back of my neck and pushed his other hand over my belly, down the front of my jeans. Those thick forearms, those strong fingers danced a path all over me. Everywhere they went, a trail of goose bumps followed. His touch was soft, silky, and just a little hungry as he pushed on my sex, his fingertips warm through the small cotton swatch of panty fabric.

  “How do you stay so perfect all the time?” Peter purred right before pulling my earlobe between his lips. All I could do was giggle, crane my neck a little and draw a breath as feather-light tingles swept up and down my chest. I stroked my hand on the side of his face, relishing the warmth of his smooth, just-shaved cheek under my palm and the little rasping noises that the stubble around his sideburns made when my fingertips brushed across.

  That’s when I felt the bulge against the small of my back.

  I snaked my other hand back between us and gasped when I realized that Peter was naked and his cock was half hard against my skin. Heavy, hot and thick, it felt so good to wrap my fist around and squeeze. I milked him in slow tugs until he started to grow. His cock was so big that the way it was laying just then, it ran all the way from the top of my ass just below my shoulder blades. As far up his shaft as I could manage, and then back down, I squeezed, pulled, and then finally tickled my fingers over his prick and down to his balls.

  When I touched him, the skin around my daddy’s globes shrunk and he chuckled.

  “My little girl’s hands are cold!” He said, as his lips swept from behind one ear, across the nape of my neck, and to the other where he gently sucked my earlobe.

  One hand went up my body, fingers curling gently around my nipple and pinching through my bra as the other went slowly downward. He pushed my panties to one side with a gesture and slipped a finger between my folds. What he did seemed a promise that made my whole body ache.

  L
ike he read my mind, Peter circled my pussy one more time, kissed me from behind my ear to the nape of my neck and down to where my low-cut collar started, and then slipped the tip of his middle finger between my folds and just barely inside. The motion he made was so slight, so gentle, that if one of my ‘spots’ wasn’t on my front wall, right near my hole, I wouldn’t even have noticed.

  He knew though. The longer time goes on, the more I realize there is nothing about pleasing me that my daddy doesn’t know.

  Peter cupped my pussy again, rubbing me, grinding the palm of his hand gently against my clit, and moaning softly in my ear. He pulled me close against his body and I had to let go of his balls to move my arm, but he stroked the smooth underside of his prick against my back and more than anything, I wanted to suck him. I wanted to taste that cock, taste his cum dripping down my throat.

  Harder, harder he pushed his hand against me, and his finger inside me until I cried out a little yelp, and he slipped another in beside the first.

  Before I knew what was happening, I felt the shirt slip off over my head; my baggy jeans unbutton and slide off my ankles.

  “Look at you,” he said, in a hushed tone. “Just look at my princess. How did I ever deserve this?”

  An arm hooked behind my knees and another cradled my head as my daddy swept me off my feet, carried me to the middle of the living room where the carpet was softest, and set to work ravishing me.

  I watched him slip my panties up my thighs and over my feet, and then toss them in a pile with the rest of my clothes. The way he moved, the lines on his muscular torso catching the early morning sun through the window, captivated me. I just stared as he stood above me, one hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself with a hand covered in my pussy juice. His eyes sparkled as he looked down at me. His gaze devoured my trim, slender body.