Waking up Daddy

Sarah (only just 14yo) wakes up her Daddy (anal/oral).

The first pale streaks of dawn bled through the blinds when Sarah slipped into her father's room, the floorboards sighing under her bare feet. Her cotton nightie—pink, too small, riding up her thighs—caught on the door handle as she pushed it open. She knew the sound of her mother's car pulling away fifteen minutes earlier, knew her yoga class schedule by heart.

Charles lay sprawled across the mattress, one arm flung over his face, sheets tangled around his waist. Sarah studied the rise and fall of his chest, the way his boxers showed the outline of his cock. She didn't hesitate—hadn't in years—as she crawled onto the bed, her small hands already working his flaccid penis free. His scent, musky and warm, filled her nostrils, she loved the pungent smell of his cock in the morning. She licked her lips and the spongy tip into her mouth—pulling back his foreskin to taste the musky dick cheese underneath. She delicately cleaned the ridge where her the residue of last night had crusted.

She suckled upon his soft cockhead with practiced ease, her tongue swirling in slow circles beneath his foreskin. He groaned in his sleep, fingers twitching against the sheets. The taste of him—sleep-warm, thick with last night's remnants—made her little cunt throb between her thighs.

He gradually began to stiffen in her mouth, her father’s body responding instinctively to the wet heat of his daughter’s lips wrapped around him. Sarah hummed with satisfaction, feeling him twitch against her tongue. She knew exactly how to coax him awake, dragging her fingertips lightly up his inner thigh, teasing his sack as it tightened against his body.

Her hand wrapped around the base as she worked the crown, pumping gently while her lips sucked with rhythmic precision. Charles groaned louder this time—half-asleep, half-aware—his fingers sinking into her curls before he even opened his eyes.

Sarah relaxed her throat, letting his cock slide deeper, the tip bumping the soft barrier where her gag reflex should’ve been. But there was none—not anymore. Years of training had rewired her body, turned her teenage throat into a warm, slick sleeve perfectly shaped for him. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips, dripping onto his balls as she flattened her tongue and forced herself down another inch.

Her throat bulged obscenely, the outline of him pressing against her delicate skin like a living thing. Charles groaned, finally awake, his fingers tightening in her hair—pushing her down forcefully, knowing she could take it. Sarah’s eyes watered, her nose pressed against the wiry curls at the base of his cock, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled him deeply.

She didn’t gag—hadn’t in years—but her throat rippled around him, fluttering in involuntary little spasms that milked his length with each desperate inhale through her nose. Charles cursed under his breath, his hips lifting off the mattress to fuck deeper into that wet heat—his hands gripping her head now, guiding her pace, forcing her to swallow around him in thick, choking gulps.

Then—suddenly—he pulled her off with a wet pop, saliva stringing between her swollen lips and the glistening crown of his cock. Sarah blinked up at him, pupils blown wide, her chest heaving. Charles didn’t speak; he never did. Just grabbed the hem of her nightie and yanked it up, over her head, tossing it aside in one fluid motion. The morning air prickled against her bare skin—her nipples tight little buds, her stomach quivering as his gaze raked over her.

He loved looking at her like this—spread open and defenseless, her little body flushed pink with anticipation. Charles hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and tore them down her thighs with a single rough tug. The sound of cotton ripping at the seams barely registered over Sarah’s breathy whimper as he flipped her onto her back, her knees pressed up by her shoulders like a doll being folded in half.

Her cunt was smooth as a peach, with just a little strip of soft fuzz above, it glistening with slickness. But it was the other hole that made his pulse throb—that dark, puffy little star, loose and used even at rest. Charles traced a fingertip around the rim, feeling it flutter at his touch. “It doesn't even close properly anymore—alway ready for Daddy,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. Sarah whimpered—not from shame, but from hunger—her thighs trembling as he pressed two finger inside her dry just to watch the muscle yield with so little resistance.

She gasped when he withdrew, the sudden emptiness making her squirm. Charles spat into his palm—wet, thick—before dragging his fingers back down, smearing the spit over her gaping hole. Sarah arched off the bed, her tiny hands fisting the sheets as he pushed back in with three fingers this time, her body sucking them deeper with obscene ease.

"Beg," he said. The first word of the morning, rough with sleep and something darker.

Sarah didn't hesitate—hadn't in years—her lips parting instantly, her breath coming in shallow little pants. "Please," she whispered, her voice high and sticky-sweet, fingers clutching the sheets tighter as his fingers twisted inside her. "Please, Daddy, fuck my little bumhole." She knew the script by heart, had learned it syllable by syllable since her first trembling attempts when she was little —knew exactly how to pitch her voice so it trembled just right, how to widen her eyes until they glistened.

Her hands moved on instinct, sliding down to grip the backs of her own thighs, spreading herself obscenely wide—her cheeks pulled apart until her little rosebud he'd spent years ruining gaped dark and open, the muscle lax from heavy use. The morning light caught the glisten of spit, the rim puffy and flushed a deep pink. Charles exhaled sharply through his nose, his cock twitching against his stomach as he watched her hole flutter open around nothing, the way it didn't even try to close properly anymore.

He leaned over her, the weight of him pressing her knees flush to her chest, the scent of his arousal thick between them. Sarah held her breath—she always did—when she felt the blunt, slick head of him nudge against her loosened entrance. He didn’t push in yet. Just rocked forward slightly, letting her feel the heat of him, the way her body tried to suck him in before he was even inside. "Look at me," he murmured, voice low and rough. Sarah's lashes fluttered—she hadn’t realized she'd closed them—but she obeyed instantly, her dark eyes locking onto his as he pressed in with a slow, relentless roll of his hips.

The stretch burned—not sharp, not painful, but deep and full, the kind of burn that made her toes curl. She could feel every ridge of him, every vein, the way her body yielded inch by inch, the muscle remembering its purpose even as it protested. Charles watched her face—always watched—his gaze tracing the way her lips parted on a silent gasp, the way her brows knitted together before smoothing out again as she adjusted. He liked it slow like this, liked making her feel it, liked seeing the exact moment her body surrendered and began to crave it.

He withdrew almost completely, leaving just the tip seated inside her, the swollen crown catching on her rim before he pushed back in, deeper this time, the drag deliberate. Sarah whimpered, her fingers tightening around her own thighs, her nails leaving little crescent moons in the soft skin. The rhythm was methodical—no frantic thrusts, no rough pounding—just long, full strokes that filled her up until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. Her breath hitched each time he bottomed out, her stomach fluttering as his hips pressed flush against her, the coarse hair at his groin tickling her bare skin.

She was so aware of it—the way her hole clung to him, the heat of his cock branding her from the inside, the slick noises every time he pulled back. Goosebumps rippled across her thighs, her nipples tight little peaks on her barely-there breasts. The friction was raw—almost too much—but she craved it, her hips twitching upward to meet his thrusts. One small hand crept down between her legs, fingertips brushing the swollen nub of her clit—so tiny—but sensitive enough to make her gasp. She circled it once, twice, her breath catching as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.

Charles groaned above her, his thrusts slowing even further as he watched her play with herself—his cock still buried deep, twitching inside her every time her fingers flicked over that little bundle of nerves. "That's it," he murmured, voice rough. "Make yourself come for Daddy." Sarah whimpered, her knees trembling where they were pressed to her chest, her fingers moving faster now—frantic little circles—as she chased the feeling.

She could feel his cock pulse inside her, could feel the way her own body squeezed him tight, greedy and wanting. Her toes curled in the air, her back arching as the pleasure coiled tighter, tighter—until suddenly it snapped, her whole body shuddering as she came with a high, breathy whimper. Her little bumhole clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock with each pulse of her orgasm. Charles hissed through his teeth, his hips stuttering against her—but he didn’t speed up, didn’t chase his own release. Just kept moving in those same slow, deep strokes, dragging her through the aftershocks until she was limp and pliant beneath him.

Sarah’s hand fell away from her clit, her fingers trembling against her thigh. Her breath came in shallow little pants, her lashes fluttering as she stared up at him—dazed, fucked-out, still clinging to the last threads of pleasure. Charles's pace never faltered, his cock moving inside her with that same maddening slowness, stretching her with every inch. She could feel her wetness smeared between them now, dribbling down from her tiny cunt. Her little anus kept trying to pull him deeper even though he was already buried to the hilt.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on her thighs—his thumbs pressing bruises into the soft skin there. Sarah whimpered, her sphincter fluttering helplessly around him, her cunt still sensitive from her orgasm. She could feel the tension coiled in his body, the way his thrusts grew fractionally rougher, less controlled. "I'm going to finish in your mouth—okay sweetie," he rasped, voice thick—she loved it when he did that. Her lips parted instinctively, her tongue peeking out to wet them as she nodded, her knees still hooked over his shoulders.

Charles withdrew with a slick pop, his cock glistening with her spit and her arse juices. Sarah didn't hesitate—didn't need to be told—as she rolled onto her hands and knees, her small body arching eagerly toward him. She opened her mouth wide, her pink tongue flattening against her bottom lip, her dark eyes fixed on the swollen head of his cock as it bobbed in front of her face. The scent of her own arse clung to him—musky, intimate—and she inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring as she leaned forward to lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft.

Her lips closed around him just as the first pulse hit, the thick, salty burst flooding her mouth before she could even take him fully inside. Sarah moaned around him, her throat working as she swallowed greedily, her tongue massaging the slit to coax out every last drop. Charles groaned, his fingers tightening in her curls as he fucked her face in short, jerky thrusts—his hips stuttering as his orgasm ripped through him, his cock twitching against her tongue with each spurting release.

Sarah sucked him through it, her cheeks hollowing as she milked him dry, her small hands gripping his thighs to keep him seated deep in her throat. The taste—bitter and warm, tinged with the faint metallic tang of her own bum —made her cunt clench around nothing, her hips rocking instinctively against the air. She could feel him softening in her mouth, but she didn’t pull away—just kept him nestled on her tongue, lapping gently at the oversensitive crown until he finally tugged her off with a wet sound.

Charles exhaled roughly, his fingers loosening in her hair as he leaned back against the pillows. Sarah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips swollen and shiny, her breath still coming in little pants. She didn’t speak—never did after—just crawled up beside him, her small body pressing close, her cheek resting against his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath her ear, steady and strong, his skin warm where she curled against him.