Daddy's Little Girl: Bred by My Daddy 3 (erotic taboo breeding erotica) Read online

  Daddy’s Little Girl: Bred by My Daddy 3 (taboo breeding erotica)

  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.

  ***

  If you’re new to the series, catch up with:

  Bred by My Daddy

  Daddy’s Baby: Bred by My Daddy 2

  ***

  “Hey Liz! Wasn’t expecting you so early.” My daddy extended a hand through the open door to take Davis, in his little carrier, and help me with the rest of the load.

  He set the eight-month-old bundle of energy and cooing down and wrapped his arms around my waist. Holding me close, he stooped and kissed me once on the cheek, pressed his lips to mine and stretched one of his hands just below the top of my skirt.

  “I can’t believe he’s so big,” he said, “and you... you look absolutely gorgeous. I don’t know many women that look better after they have a baby. You’re a little different, though.” He kissed me again and kneaded the top of my pelvis with his fingertips before letting go.

  “Well, thanks,” I said, blushing and looking away. He always knew how to make me feel just the right sort of embarrassment.

  “Oh stop. You know you’re hot!” my daddy, Peter, chided. “Come on in, get settled. It’s early, but would you like a glass of wine? Anything?”

  “No, no, thank you though. I just need to sit down for a little bit. Two hours in a car isn’t much, but with an overly excited baby, it gets a little long, ya know?” I said, stretching out flat on the couch. Daddy just laughed.

  “Listen, sweet, we need to talk. You mom is out of town, obviously, but she’s coming back today. Her plane gets here early afternoon. She’s... uh... not real happy. With us, I mean.” He paced around, still carrying one of my bags.

  “It’s okay daddy, we can work anything out. She isn’t pissed at the baby or anything is she?”

  He shook his head. “No, no, it isn’t anything like that. Hell, she’s not even mad at you this time. It’s all me, I’m afraid. I honestly wouldn’t say much if she finally started to get on about you and me, but no, it’s something else entirely.”

  “What is it? Is she cheating on you? Did you guys have a fight?”

  “No. Well yes, but that isn’t the point. She’s been with other guys for years. I knew about it though. We never saw each other, and her being as gorgeous as she is, and as libidinous, I always assumed. I didn’t – don’t mind. I’m pretty open about sex, after all.” He paused to make an amused face. “It’s... oh Hell, Liz, its money. She got another raise and has been riding me hard about being useless. Even though I keep the house up, do my little side jobs. I think this has been coming for a while but now she’s decided that unless I move with her to New York at the beginning of the year, she’s leaving me. There, it’s all on the table.” He sat down in a huff.

  That got me irritated.

  Mom always played games like this. Always told Peter she’d leave him for this reason or that. She never would, and he knew that. She liked having him around, but I think, for whatever reason, my patient, too-kind-for-his-own-good daddy had enough.

  “What are you going to – we – what are we going to do? You’re stuck with me, and there’s no way in Hell I’m going anywhere that it snows more than three times a year.” I asked, slipping my hand into his.

  “That’s the thing,” he said back quickly, “I’m not sure. I mean, I like it here. Quiet little town, this nice house, a yard for the dogs I don’t have. I don’t want to move across the country, away from everything I care about, just so she can bring home another pile of money. We’ve got enough. I do anyway. I’ve got you.”

  It was corny, but I knew he meant what he said.

  “We’ll figure something out, I promise. If nothing else, you can come to town with me. I make enough to afford a two-bedroom rental. You’ve still got that cash from the pharmaceutical company lawsuit and the stuff you make and sell on the side. We’d do fine. Better than fine. I want you to do it. I’m tired of being apart.” I looked hard into his eyes and squeezed his hand again.

  “I’m sick of not waking up in the same bed with the man I love and Davis is sick of not having his dad around all the time. Well as sick of it as eight-month-old can be. I want you around and he needs you.”

  He nodded and seemed deep in thought. “Me too babe, me too. We’ll see what happens. Okay?”

  Standing up on my tip toes, I kissed him on the chin. “Everything’s fine. I promise.” I whispered.

  “Well, alright. Anyway, remote’s on the coffee table. I was just getting done in the yard before it gets too hot to breathe out there. I’ll be back in a few. You good?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I really mean it – you’re absolutely the best.”

  He smiled mocked a hat-tipping motion, and went on his way.

  ***

  Peter, Peter. Oh, Peter. That’s what he made me call him when we were out in the world. Made sense – I mean, for all our quirks, I can understand why he would prefer I not call him “daddy”, even though he was my step-dad.

  I lay back, flicked on the local news-at-noon, and half-heartedly rocked the baby for a moment before he started making his hungry sounds.

  Although I could have done without the little bundle’s gnawing, the feeling of his warmth pressed against my chest, and his weight resting on my belly was just wonderful. Davis’s little suckles, the way my milk spilled across his lips and how he always managed to latch on to the same bruised place on my breast gave me a strange feeling of bliss. No matter how much it hurt, or how often he pinched the same part, there was just some kind of magic about this little life form, this tiny jumble of me and my daddy that made it so everything was alright.

  I absent mindedly stroked the back of Davis’s head as he sucked. For some reason, I became utterly transfixed with the knot on the TV weatherman’s tacky, splotch-patterned necktie. Looks like a mixture of Jackson Pollock and, I donno, rotten tomatoes. A snort of laughter came out of me and surprised my baby, making him spit, which in turn, got me laughing even harder.

  As soon as he calmed down enough to eat again, and I quit chortling at Sam Skipton’s necktie, the cool rhythm of suckling and swallowing made the lights in the living room seem a bit dimmer. A sort of hypnosis. Those were the most relaxing moments of my life – safe in my daddy’s house, waiting for what promised to be an enjoyable Labor Day weekend hanging out by the pool, and waiting for my gorgeous, funny, tiny man to finish his lunch.

  The world could not, I thought, get much more perfect.

  Laying there with little Davis, I decided sink into the giant, over-stuffed couch and rest my eyes while he ate. As soon as my head hit the cushions, my vision was blocked by a huge stack of laundry.

  Oh shit. I almost forgot about this pile of pants. Guess I better get up and deal with that before my eyes start to get heavy and...

  “Are my little girl’s tits sore from all that milk?” As I accidentally drifted off, the baby at my breast was replaced in my mind by my daddy, Peter. He stroked my hair out of my face and let one of his hands go to on my belly directly underneath my
bare tits.

  His lips brushed against mine in a sweet, safe kiss and then traced my jawline to just behind my ear where he nibbled softly.

  Peter’s hair was thick and soft tangled around my fingers. He kissed down my neck, a trail of goose bumps rising along his path until he nestled his face between my breasts and cupped one gently in his palm.

  My daddy drew a slow, tight pattern of circles with his tongue starting from the prickled skin on my chest and ending up with fluttering licks across my sweetly aching flesh. Caressed by his breath and excited by the promise his tongue made, my nipples puckered and peaked, yearning for his embrace.

  Th-th-th-th-thwop-op-op!

  I sat up, cradling my baby to my chest, startled and alarmed

  Thweeee-we-we-we-op!

  “Weed eater,” I said, craning my neck to look out the window. “Daddy is weed eating the bushes. Why can’t he just use a pair of shears like everyone else on Earth?” I laughed as I watched him wobble around with the orange tool over his head, chopping accidental lines in the shrubs.

  “Well, little man,” I said, rubbing Davis’s back, “you about done?”

  He responded by sputtering and looking back at me with that glazed, euphoric look he always has after a meal.

  “Okay, good. Let’s get some of this laundry done. Well – I’ll do the laundry. You’re going to take a nap.”

  After I got him swaddled and safe in the port-a-crib, I grabbed the pile of pants, the baby monitor, wandered in next to the washing machine and started to work.

  Completely wrapped up in mechanical folding and washing, I was unaware that my daddy had come in behind me until I felt his thick, powerful forearms close around my waist.

  “Hi there,” he said, kissing the back of my neck. I could hear his smile.

  “Baby down?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.”

  I turned to face my daddy. “I guess,” he said as he closed the door with his foot, “it’s just us then? Just us in this lonely laundry closet.”

  “Oh yeah?” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent, and chewed my lip a little. “What are you gonna do to your little girl? Are you gonna flip this skirt up, throw my leg over the dryer?” I ran a finger down my chest and lifted the hem of my pleated skirt just below where my cleft began. “You gonna shove me face down and stick that big, hard cock straight in me?”

  Before he could respond, a pop song that seemed to be lost in time burst forth from Peter’s pants pocket. “Oh,” he said, “hark, your mother.”

  “Hey Marie, what’s doin? Uh huh, hey listen, I... uh...” He made a ‘blah blah blah’ hand gesture. I couldn’t make out individual words, but it was obvious that my mother was talking up quite a storm in my daddy’s ear. I felt bad for him in a way, but decided that I was going to turn his conversation into a little bit of a game.

  Lifting my leg and stroking my knee against the appliance, I slipped a finger inside my mouth, wet it with my tongue and traced a line down my chest, hooking my shirt and pulling it down to give my daddy a little preview of my milky-white tits.

  “Buh- Marie, just a sec. Uh, call coming in.” He blurted out, held the phone almost a foot from his face and found the ‘hold’ button with a silly looking, bemused grin.

  “I just... God, Liz, you’re a sight. I don’t know how you do it,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and feeling my arm, “you’re just incredible, you know?”

  Grinning, and feeling playful, I let my shirt pop back into place and turned my back to my daddy. As I bent over the dryer, I made sure to grind my thighs together just enough that my skirt rode up my legs, and he could see that my panties were in the washing machine.

  “Quit it! You’re making this call even worse than it already is,” my daddy said, returning to the call.

  “Okay, sorry. So, you were saying?” He attempted to return his attention to my mom. Whatever she was saying didn’t make him happy, but that made my game more fun.

  “I donno,” I looked back and shook my ass a little, “I think I feel like just getting fucked, daddy. Right here. Right now. Watching you work in the yard all morning got me a little... well...”

  He moved right up behind me so that I felt the heat of his body against me. His virile, delicious smell filled my nose. “You’ll be here when? Oh okay Marie, that’ll be great. Listen, I think Liz and the baby are coming in for the holiday weekend... Uh-huh, yeah. That sounds good. Oh man, I hate to do this again but someone’s calling. Just a sec.” He put her back on hold, laughing.

  “You are an evil, evil thing, Liz,” he said and chuckled again.

  My daddy pushed closer. As his skin touched mine, I couldn’t help but gasp. The scent of his sweat, oil and gas from the lawn equipment was enough to drive me just a little crazy. I shimmied against him and bent forward, spreading my legs a little. His bulge brushed against my lips, parting them ever so slightly.

  Looking back, I giggled as Peter clenched his jaws together. I knew I had gotten to him when he started with jaw clenching. He held his breath for a moment, and then turned back to the phone.

  “Okay, Marie, back again. Sorry about this, people just keep...”

  I reached between my legs and gave my daddy’s bulging cock a squeeze through his jeans, taking the game to the next level.

  “Oh!” He grunted as I played, and started breathing harder.

  “Uh, oh no, nothing, I’m just trying to... er... move something.”

  Again, I stroked my body up and down his rod. That time, I gave his balls a little massage.

  “Hah! Unn... Okay, uh Marie, I need to go. Got a... um, something to take care of. Sorry! Okay, talk to you soon, yep, bye. Okay, bye!”

  He threw the phone onto a shelf above the washing machine and turned his full attention to the little slut harassing him. Pushing against me harder, Peter put a hand on my stomach and kissed me behind an ear.

  “Well, if daddy’s little girl wants him to throw her across a washing machine and take her sweet little pussy from behind, daddy can probably do that,” he whispered in my ear. Somehow, Peter’s words alone were enough to send a shiver down my spine and make my nipples pucker against the soft, comfortable cotton t-shirt.

  Peter devoured my neck with kisses and rubbed his hands down my arms, then held me tight for a moment, his forearms around my waist and his face nestled in my hair.

  “Daddy, can you pull my hair? Pull your dirty girl’s hair. Make it hurt – I want you so bad. Just yank my hair and fuck me. Please, daddy?” I cooed, rubbing my firm ass backwards against the growing lump in Peter’s jeans.

  His response was to kiss me again, then wrap my ponytail around one of his hands and yank. Hard. At the same moment, he reached around, slipped his hand under my shirt and cupped the breast that was still swollen with milk. I meant to pump, for later, but got distracted. His fingers looped around the pebbled, sensitive skin of my nipple and gave me a little pinch.

  I couldn’t help but yelp a desperate, yearning “ooh!” as he rubbed, and a warm trickle spilled down his fingers before soaking into my shirt.

  “Does that feel good? Does it feel good when I squeeze these big, sexy tits? Hmm?” He kissed me again, this time on the back of the neck and clutched me closer. The hand under my shirt slid tickled down my body. He slipped a pair of milk-wet fingers under my skirt just far enough to touch the beginning of my slit. The light, fluttery caresses and the warmth of his kisses made me smile and cuddle back against my daddy’s muscular chest.

  After a moment’s worth of snuggling, he worked his finger between my folds gently and circled my clit long enough to make a little juice well up between my pussy lips.

  I reached back behind myself and rubbed the length of his cock with my palm. Up and down, up and down, each time with a little squeeze when I reached the tip. Between the rasp of my hand on hard denim, the sound he made, and the warmth I felt, my playful and slightly naughty lust turned serious.

  Grabbing his pants pocket
and pulling him to me, I grinded my daddy’s dick between my legs. A streak of sweet pussy juice behind as I slid up and down his rod. Peter yanked again on my hair, which forced my already wet, slick sex to grind against him. Before long, his bulge grew thicker, harder.

  “Oh my God, nothing feels as good as you, daddy,” I cooed as I bent my knees, tilted my hips and worked him deeper between my legs. He slid his hand roughly over my ponytail, down my back and then back up to my chest, under my shirt. A warm blush followed his touch up my body and settled around my breast as he cupped it in his hot, pleasantly rough palm. My hair fell in a cascade across my shoulders.

  I reached back and unzipped my daddy’s pants as he unhooked the side of my skirt and slid his fingertips around my hip. His hungry fingers rasped over my pubic hair stubble on the way to my slit. He grunted and shifted his weight, presumably to move that huge cock of his somewhere less painful than straight down his jeans’ leg. I reached inside his open fly and felt as far down his prick as I could.

  “Liz, how do you make me so hard? Oh, this hurts! Come on, baby girl, take my cock out. Show me how bad you want me. Show me how much you like it when I fuck you.”

  His voice was like velvet against my ear, and I just had to have him. Right then. In my mouth, then my cunt. At that moment, I needed him more than air, or water, or anything else.

  Without speaking, I turned to face him. My daddy’s fingers, still sweetly circling and pinching my stiff, leaking nipple, trailed down my body and settled on the top of my skirt before I took his hand and stuck his milk-wet fingers in my mouth.

  So that’s what it tastes like. Sweet milk, the salt on my daddy’s fingers.

  That taste of myself on my daddy took me a still higher level. My skin prickled. My breath was getting a little harder, more urgent. Heat radiated from between my legs and spread upwards over my shoulders. Our gazes locked, both of us breathing faster, both starting to sweat.

  Peter’s hand turned inside my skirt. Two of his fingers opened my folds and the third – his thick middle finger – went between them. He stroked a circle around my hole and dipped playfully inside before pressing his palm to my aching little button and forcing a moaning squeal from my lips.