Daddy's Girl

Illicit Obsession

“Fuck,” he bites out as he continues to ram his rod hard into the pretend pussy. I realize I’m about to see him come. I swallow in anticipation as my pussy clenches in arousal.

He pulls back a moment and grips his cock at the opening of the glistening, minuscule vulva, and I realize he’s edging. “Shit,” he groans again. “Fuck!” The veins in his cock bulge as it twitches impatiently, straining towards completion.

Then he slowly parts the pretend labia with the angry, throbbing head of his cock and pushes it all the way into the toy.

“Mmmmmhhhh,” he grunts as his balls squeeze upwards and I see his cock pump its load into the silicone pussy. To my surprise, semen comes squirting out of the toy’s pretend asshole, in great ropes of glistening white. I suppose this is a manufacturing design that’s a part of some kind of fantasy?

“Mmmmh,” Brad grunts again as he continues to orgasm, his semen now gushing out of the tip of the toy as well. Then he holds still, panting and sighing in satisfaction, and I know I have to get out of here before he sees me.

If Brad catches me up here, I’m sure he’ll kick me out. And since I’ve now graduated high school, he’d be well within his right to. Even more, I don’t want to be forced to leave because things have just started to get interesting.

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

I feel tired today. After what I witnessed last night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about how hot it was to watch Brad fuck that toy, and as I played with myself, I imagined what it would be like if he did to my pussy what he did to the pretend pussy on his desk.

Even after I counted to a thousand in my mind, I still couldn’t calm down. Instead, I tossed and turned all night as I fantasized about Brad’s enormous cock, hearing his deep moans echoing through my head. I woke up feeling exhausted and horny, but work doesn’t wait for anyone.

Even worse, today is delivery day, which means plenty of physical labor as I haul boxes and restock shelves at Mickey’s Beauty Supply.

But as I arrange a set of eye shadow pallets on the center aisle display, I’m actually glad it’s delivery day because it means I don’t need to do too much customer-facing work. That would have entailed energy of a different kind, which I don’t have today.

Instead, I can sort of just live in my head as I go through the repetitive task of opening boxes, emptying them, and flattening them for recycling. Meanwhile, I replay the images of Brad in my head – specifically, images of Mom’s ex with his sex toys.

It still feels a little dirty to have watched Brad like that, even though Janice broke up with him several months ago. And I also feel a bit bad that I spied on Brad because I’ve never even been up to the top floor before. But just as remorse sets over me, my phone buzzes slightly at my hip.

Hmmm, what’s going on? Brad’s house has a security camera installed facing the front door, which is hooked up to an app on my phone. It’s useful because I can see delivery people come and go, leaving packages at our doorstep. If any thieves come by, they’ll be recorded. But then, I’m jolted from my reverie.

“No phones on the retail floor!” barks a voice behind me, making me jump. But to my relief, it’s not our manager, Greg, whom I detest with a passion. Seriously, could a person be more gross? Greg always looks greasy and puffy, and he wears his Mickey’s blue vest with pride because he loves being a part of “management.”

To be honest, he probably makes only a tiny bit more than a sales associate, but you wouldn’t know from the way he preens and parades around the store.

Fortunately, it’s not Greg though. The person who made me jump is Elissa, my co-worker and friend. She giggles when she sees my reaction.

“It’s just me,” she breezes with a grin, which I return. “What are you doing?” she adds, peeking over my shoulder at my phone screen.

“I’m waiting for an Amazon package to be delivered, but no sign yet,” I reply.

“Oh really?” she asks with interest. “Why, is something exciting coming in the mail? Oh my god, I hear Dyson came out with this hot new barrel iron that gives the perfect beachy waves. Have you tried it yet?”

I shake my head. Elissa’s really pretty with big brown doe eyes and long, wavy brown hair that she styles each day. Like me, she’s sassy and curvy, and it’s one of the reasons we get along so well.

We’ve both thrown the skinny image to the wind and embraced our full, luscious bodies, basking in body positivity. After all, beauty comes in all forms, and it’s something we try to embody every day while interacting with customers.

“I just want to make sure my package doesn’t get stolen,” I shrug.

“In that fancy neighborhood of yours?” Elissa exclaims with raised eyebrows. “That’s not likely!”

“You’d be surprised,” I sigh. “Some of our neighbors have recently had packages disappear. So I just want to make sure.”

“I totally get that,” Elissa answers, pretending to help me with the display so she can carry on chatting with me.

“Besides,” I continue, “it’sBrad’sfancy neighborhood, remember? Not mine.”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “But you still live there. Which is such a sweet deal by the way. He still hasn’t brought up you leaving?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe helovesthat you still live there,” she giggles.

“Not likely,” I say with a wry smile.

“Why not? You’re a sassy, curvy young girl and he’s a stud. Ofcoursehe loves having you around!”

“I don’t think I’m his type, Elissa,” I say with a pointed look.

“Ofcourseyou are,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re every man’s type!”

“No, I’m not. Besides, you’ve met my mom before,” I reply. “Brad dates women like Janice: slim, leggy blondes.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy some eye candy of a different kind. He’s a man. They don’t discriminate like that.”

“Well, he barely even notices me. To him I’m just some kid. Trust me, that’s the way things are.”

“Hey, look!” Elissa suddenly exclaims, pointing at my phone. The screen now shows an Amazon delivery guy leaving a package on the doorstep and scanning it. The package is a huge, six foot rectangular box.

“Whoa, what did you order?” breathes Elissa. “Is that a coffin?”

My eyes bug out as the oxygen escapes my lungs.