The evening unfurled like a velvet ribbon, each moment laced with a throbbing, illicit pulse that coiled tighter with every breath. Dinner was a decadent torment—the air heavy with the clatter of cutlery against bone china, the chandelier’s amber glow spilling across your father’s form like liquid gold.
He was a god carved from flesh and shadow: six-foot-three of taut, rippling muscle, his navy button-down stretched taut over a chest broad as a battlefield, sleeves rolled to unveil forearms thick with veins and a coarse dusting of dark hair. His face was a sculptor’s fever dream—cheekbones honed to a razor’s edge, a jawline rugged with stubble that begged to scrape tender skin, and eyes of gray-green fire, flecked with emerald, piercing through me with a hunger that stole the air from my lungs. His silver-streaked hair, thick and swept back in reckless waves, caught the light as he tilted his head, his lips parting in a slow, wicked grin—teeth flashing white against sun-bronzed skin. His laugh rolled out, a deep, primal thunder that shook the table, and I clenched my thighs beneath it, heat pooling low and insistent.
I’d armored myself in sin—a black dress that slithered over me like a lover’s tongue, its fabric a whisper-thin sheen that molded to every curve, the V-neck plunging deep to cradle my breasts, nipples peaking faintly beneath. A delicate gold chain glimmered at my throat, drawing his gaze, while the hem teased mid-thigh, riding higher with each deliberate sway. My stilettos—laced leather straps binding my ankles—clicked a staccato rhythm on the hardwood, a siren’s call.
His eyes devoured me across the table: tracing the arch of my neck, lingering on the swell of my chest, darkening as I bent to clear a plate, my ass swaying just so. When his hand grazed my arm, rough fingertips searing my skin, I felt the jolt deep in my core. “I’m proud to have you in the family, kid,” he rumbled, his voice a molten growl that licked at my senses, his breath hot against my ear. I turned, hair spilling like midnight silk over one shoulder, and met his stare with a slow, taunting smile. “Oh, you’re proud?” I purred, voice dripping honey and heat. “Then show me, big man—make me feel it.”
By the time he murmured about a “drive,” my body was a furnace, every nerve alight with the fantasy of his towering frame claiming me, that fat cock I’d been aching for stretching me wide. The Buick’s door groaned as I slipped inside, the leather seats cool and butter-soft against my fevered thighs, the air thick with his scent—cedar sharp as a blade, musk deep as sin, a faint bite of motor oil from the engine’s hum.
He drove two streets over, tires grinding gravel beneath us, and parked under the ancient oak, its skeletal branches clawing at a sky bruised with dusk, leaves hissing secrets in the wind. The dashboard lights flared, bathing his face in a halo of amber—his brow glistening with a fine sheen, lips parted, stubble glinting like shards of steel. I shifted, the dress rasping against leather, and let my thigh press against his denim-clad leg, the heat of him searing through. “You’re too fucking hot,” I breathed, voice a sultry caress as I leaned closer, my breasts brushing his arm. “All night, I’ve been dripping, picturing that massive dick—how it’d split me open, make me your little toy.”
His chest heaved, a sharp, ragged breath, and I pressed my lips to his ear, tongue flicking the lobe as I whispered, “Fuck me right here, Daddy—own me with that big cock.” His hands—broad as paddles, knuckles scarred, veins pulsing—seized my hips, dragging me over the console with a primal grunt, my dress hiking to my waist as I straddled him.
The lace thong beneath was soaked, clinging to my swollen folds, and I gasped—high and needy—as I rocked against the obscene bulge in his jeans, thick and unyielding. “Jesus, you’re fucking huge,” I moaned, fumbling at his fly, the zipper’s snarl loud as I freed him. His cock sprang up—long, girthy, a vein throbbing along its length, the head glistening with precum—and I whimpered, stroking him, my hand dwarfed. “Look at this beast,” I cooed, voice breaking with lust. “You gonna ruin my tight little pussy with it?”
“Fuck yeah,” he snarled, voice raw as gravel, hands tearing at my thong until it snapped, the sting of lace against my skin making me yelp. “Gonna pound you ‘til you can’t walk, baby—stuff that cunt full.” I guided him to my entrance, slick and pulsing, and sank down, the stretch a delicious burn as he filled me, inch after relentless inch. “Oh God, Daddy—it’s too big,” I sobbed, walls fluttering around him, but I kept going, impaling myself until my ass met his thighs, his balls pressed tight against me. He groaned, a guttural sound that vibrated through me, and gripped my hips, lifting me only to slam me back down. “Take it, you filthy little slut,” he growled, thrusting up, the wet smack of our bodies deafening in the cramped space. “Ride Daddy’s fat cock—show me how bad you want it.”
The backseat was a crucible of heat and desperation, leather slick with sweat, springs screeching as I bounced, my tits spilling free as he ripped the dress straps, palming them roughly. The air was humid, tangy with sex—my arousal, his musk, the faint salt of skin—and every thrust sent jolts through me, his cock hitting so deep I felt it in my spine. “Harder,” I begged, nails clawing his chest, shredding his shirt to rake red lines over taut muscle.
“Fuck me stupid—make me your cum-dumb doll.” He spanked me, a sharp crack that echoed, my ass stinging as I clenched around him, and yanked my hair back, baring my throat. “Scream for it, princess,” he rasped, pounding relentlessly, the car rocking on its frame. “Let ‘em hear who owns this pussy.” I did—shrill, feral, my voice bouncing off fogged windows as I shattered, gushing over him, thighs quaking, vision blurring with white-hot bliss.
He kept going, grunting, “Milk me, baby—take every drop,” and I felt him thicken, then erupt, hot spurts flooding me, dripping down my legs as he roared. I collapsed against him, breathless, the dress a tattered shroud, sweat pasting my hair to my neck, his heartbeat a war drum under my cheek. His cock twitched inside me, softening, and I smirked, voice wrecked, tracing his stubbled jaw with a trembling finger. “I’m yours now, huh, you gorgeous bastard?” He chuckled, dark and sated, hands roaming my wrecked body. “Damn right,” he murmured, nipping my lip. “My perfect little fuck doll—ready for round two?” I laughed, hoarse and hungry, already rocking against him, the night alive with our sin.