My daughter was at that typical age when she came home late and started giving less shits, getting into fights constantly with her mother. I still called her princess though she acted like anything but and she still showed some basic respect, for me, if not the household. One day I stayed up late when I heard the car pull up in the driveway, the latest dude that was probably banging her that dropped her off before peeling off, and I heard those high heels echoing on the driveway before she creeped in through the door, noticing me right away and not even missing a beat. Not surprised or scared, just moseying on over and sitting on my lap, pouting her lips and saying “Please don’t be mad at me daddy.”
I sighed. “It’s not me you should be concerned about. You know I’m pretty straightforward with these things; I know you are aware of what you’re doing and, you have the right to have fun if you want. But please… can you try making your mother happy, for once?”
She leaned in and whispered: “Can I try making you happy… for once?" And she tilted her head and smirked. It wasn’t a secret to anyone who observed my wife and I long enough, that the love was there but the intimacy was not, and I feel it was this type of dynamic in the household she resented. Dare I say, contributed to her relaxed standards for sex.
I spent a few moments retracing all of these steps in my head and how we got to this point and didn’t even realize her soft hands were already on my pants, which were unbuttoned and ready to be pulled down. She moved seductively in the dark and I was not paying attention.
"Daddy, you’ve just been so good to me and I’ve just wanted to, you know, repay the favor."
I came up with a list of reasonings for why she needed to stop immediately, go to bed and pretend like this situation never happened, and I grabbed her hands and opened my mouth and all that came out was, “Thank you, princess.”
She smiled, something I haven’t seen her do in so long, and my guard completely dropped. My hands fell to the side, and so did my pants as she slowly pulled them down, biting her lip at my dick as it sprang into action, both it and her seemingly waiting for this moment forever. She started blowing me right there in the living room, on a dark Friday night while my wife was sleeping on my bed upstairs. But none of that mattered, and she bopped her head up and down like she had all the time in the world, and I knew then that she was truly vested in my satisfaction, that she was a good girl after all.
Thirty minutes later, after she swallowed and swallowed the built-up load I was shooting down her throat, when she finally stood up, barely a drop of daddy’s cum on her lips, she looked at me in the eye and told me bluntly: “I’m going out tomorrow night, and will be back late.” Her mom would see it as a display of adamance. I saw it as an invitation.