PLEASE NOTE: I am not the author of the following story
At last it was Friday evening. She parked the Porsche – a nearly useless status symbol in the Capital’s crawl, but it put the alpha-males’ noses out of joint; showed them who was boss – in the marked bay and hurried through the subterranean level to the lift. Sweet anticipation fluttered deep in the pit of her stomach, a tickle of expectation that sluiced desire into her already sodden underwear as the elevator transported her upwards, towards her London pied-a-terre. In the flat, the penthouse apartment naturally, she ignored the view of the city skyline silhouetted against a rosy twilight. The Thames, a silvery serpentine thread when viewed from the eyrie, wound in from the west, while the sepulchral tower housing Big Ben stood like a sentinel outside her usual place of business; but she didn’t notice, there was other business on her mind.
He was coming to visit.
The smart suit, work attire of skirt and jacket – sober colours of the establishment –joined the white blouse in a heap on the bedroom floor. Her knickers, as he’d specified, pristine and virginal when she’d first slid them on that morning but which were now sodden, stayed on. It was how he desired it, she couldn’t disappoint him; if she disappointed him he’d have a little talk with her. And she knew what would happen next; she knew what it meant to have a little talk with Daddy.
A low moan came from her at the thought. Somehow she resisted the near overwhelming urge to touch herself. She wanted to touch herself, though. That nasty, insistent itch down there, in that place between her legs …
But he would catch her doing it, would catch her in-flagrante with her pussy hot and bubbling and hungry as she jammed her fingers or a dildo into her body. Not that he’d be disappointed, he loved her as a slut, but that wasn’t the scene he expected.
Chewing her lipstick from her bottom lip with frustration and burning desire she managed to suppress the urge.
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Instead she moved quickly, almost urgently through the luxury of the décor and into the acreage of the kitchen. She poured the rioja and took an indelicate swig. With the fragile-stemmed fishbowl goblet in hand she then walked on bare feet to the bedroom. After a sip at the wine the past hectic week slid from her mind. No more decisions; budgets; minions clamouring for her attention; the damned press and their constant intrusions into her life.
They didn’t know the half of it. If they did …
With the week forgotten she unpinned the elaborate hairstyle of her workaday life and brushed her long dark hair with sweeping strokes. She then tied the thick mass into a simple pony tail with an elasticated, coral- pink band. The subtle make-up came off next. Clean-faced, she took another hefty swallow of rioja before dressing in the simple pleated kilt he liked so much.
A present for you, he’d said. You’ll look so pretty in it.
She wanted to look pretty for him.
The kilt barely reached mid-thigh, it showed a lot of leg, an indecent expanse of skin; but he liked her legs and so she wore it to please him. A white blouse so tight across the front that bra and flesh gaped between the buttons and a pair of high-heeled patent shoes completed the ensemble.
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There was nothing to do now but wait.
Minutes dragged slowly past. She finished the wine and poured another glass. When the clock showed the time at seven-thirty she reached for a packet of cigarettes and lit one. The thing was half-smoked when she heard the thrilling rasp of his key in the lock. After crushing the cigarette into an ashtray she hid the evidence under the chair.
“You’ve been smoking,” he said immediately. He stared at her accusingly, his blue eyes glinting with suppressed anger. She stared back at him, wide-eyed and innocent as she wriggled against the chair cushion. His eyes flicked to her legs as the already brief kilt ruched higher along her thighs. With his nose twitching, as though he were a predatory beast scenting prey, he sniffed the air. “I can smell it,” he scolded. “Smoking. ” His eyes softened as he tut-tutted, shaking his head and looking at her with reproach. “You know you shouldn’t smoke,” he said.
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“It’s nasty. Dirty. Only dirty girls smoke. ” He placed his brief case down between his feet.
He had important papers in the case. He was an important man; he always told her he was an important man with important business. He looked important, impeccably dressed and immaculately groomed, with close-cropped, iron-grey hair – Distinguished and competent, although in reality he was a middle-ranking policeman, a former bodyguard of hers, close protection; not the urbane political figure he played out now. After crossing his arms and fixing her with a stern look, he added: “And dirty girls smoke to impress boys. ” His level, accusing gaze was upon her. “Is that why you’ve been smoking? To impress boys?”
“No,” she mumbled, looking into her lap as she picked a stray strand of cotton at the hem of the kilt.
“No?” he questioned curtly. “Are you sure? Are you certain you’re not one of those nasty … dirty girls?”
“Uh-uh,” she muttered and shook her head. “I’m not, Daddy … Honest I’m not. ” Her eyes remained fixed on her lap. She couldn’t look at him.
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“If you are,” he said moving a couple of steps into the living room from the hall. “Then we’ll have to have a little talk. You know that, don’t you? You’ll have a little talk with Daddy. ”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know that if I’m bad that I’ll have to have a little talk with you, Daddy. ”
“Drinking?” he asked, his eyes widening while his voice rose in shocked indignation. “Smoking and drinking?” He pointed toward the wine glass; evidence that damned her. Shaking his head reprovingly, he said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, my girl. ” He tutted, clicking his tongue as he shook his head again. “It’s a curse to have a wayward young lady like you to look after, such a burden. I work hard all day on important business and I come here to find you …” He harrumphed and continued. “Well, I don’t know what to think. Smoking and drinking and up to all kinds of disgusting things …”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, finally looking into his face as he stood over her. She noticed his eyes were focused on her legs. A little tremor of excitement shuddered through her.
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A slow trickle slid from her opening and she smiled inside at the secret. Shifting on the seat she manipulated the kilt higher up her legs. His face immediately slackened at the sight of all that skin. “I try not to be bad,” she simpered. “But … I just can’t help it sometimes. I just find myself doing wicked things. But I’m ever so sorry …” she paused. “… Daddy,” she added softly, knowing the effect the appellation would have.
“Oh …” he half grunted. After clearing his throat again, he added: “Oh but we’re going to have a little talk. ” He lifted the half-finished glass of wine from the side table, swigged a deep draught and then loosened his tie. After removing his suit jacket, and placing it carefully over the back-rest of the sofa, he sat in the deep armchair opposite. “Come here,” he ordered, his voice gruff with restrained desire. She looked at him for a long time, apparently on the edge of refusing the instruction. Her mouth opened and her eyes flashed a gleam of truculence.
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“I said,” he hissed vehemently, “to come here. Do it, you wicked little bitch. ”
She sniffled with contrition and moved quickly to where he sat.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, standing in front of him, eyes downcast; the image of contrition.
“Sit on my lap,” he purred. “Settle into daddy’s lap and we can … talk. ”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whimpered as she curled onto his legs, her face pressed into the groove between his neck and shoulder. Her arms went around his neck and they sat like that, nestled intimately together for a few long seconds.
“I can smell cigarettes,” he said. “You don’t smell like a nice girl AT ALL. ” She wriggled against his lap. His nose wrinkled again. “I can smell something else,” he added.
“No, Daddy,” she whispered, her face still buried into his shoulder. The precise symmetry of his clipped goatee bristled against her cheek.
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“It must be the wine I drank …”
“I don’t think so. ” His voice was thick and heavy with some indefinable emotion. “I don’t think it’s that at all. ” She felt his fingers against the soft flesh of her legs, high up on her thigh. “It’s …” he began. His fingers squirmed at her, insistent and invasive. “Open your legs,” he ordered. Her breath quickened as she immediately complied. It wasn’t good to defy Daddy when he was like this. “Oh no!” he cried, “your underwear …” She felt pressure against her body. His fingers were pushed tight up against the damp cotton of her knickers. There was only the thin membrane of her underwear between his fingers and her vulva. “Your knickers,” he said, indignant. “Soaking! Oh, you wicked thing. Have you wet yourself? Or … Or … Or is it something else?”
She writhed against his fingers, pressing that itch against his hand.
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“I’m sorry …” she mumbled.
He felt the heat of her radiating from that sinful place between her legs. The plumpness of her … He groaned and stroked the crease in the cotton where it molded against her labia.
“Stand up,” he commanded. “Take those … things off. ” He stared at her as she pulled her underwear down her legs. Snatching the sodden scrap of cloth from her he held it to his nose. “Yes,” he muttered, turning his suddenly fevered gaze to her. She stood, contrite, her eyes downcast with shame in front of him. “Lift up that skirt. Show me your …” He coughed. “I want to see if it’s …”
“No, please, Daddy,” she whispered, her hand moving protectively across the front of her body.
He insisted, vehemently banging a clenched fist against the chair arm. “Show me. ” She jumped, startled but, with glistening eyes, on the verge of tears, and with her bottom lip trembling, she lifted the hem of the kilt and revealed her pudenda to his hungry stare.
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“Oh my,” he whispered, entranced by the plump labia which pouted between her thighs. “Oh how very sweet. ” He looked up into her face. “Do you …” His voice cracked. “Do you want to touch yourself? Down there? Is that why your underwear is in such a state. ”
She nodded, her cheeks burning scarlet. “Yes. ”
“What a wicked, dirty, nasty …”
“Can I do it, Daddy?” she interrupted. “Can I touch myself? Can I? Please. I’ve wanted to touch myself all day. I haven’t,” she added quickly. I wouldn’t do it, not after you told me not to. ” She paused, her cheeks burning. “But I wanted to, Daddy,” she whispered. “I wanted to … And I’ve been thinking about you all day.
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That’s why my … That’s why I’m …”
He nodded. “Show me,” he said. “Show me just how bad you can be. ” He nodded again fervently. “Show me what a nasty girl does when her Daddy’s not here to keep an eye on her. ”
She turned away slowly, completing a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn with her kilt still hiked up around her hips so he could see the taut curve of her buttocks. As she walked slowly from him she knew that flaps of her sex would be peeping through the ovate alcove at the top of her thighs.
“I can be so bad,” she muttered after lighting a cigarette, and then blowing the smoke toward him while reclining into the chair. She hooked a knee over the chair arm and exposed the gaping scarlet of her sex to him. “See me smoking cigarettes, Daddy? Aren’t I just so bad?” She squirmed into the seat under her bare buttocks. She brought the filter back to her lips, took another drag, and blew the smoke in a straight cone toward him again. “I want to touch myself, Daddy,” she said. “I like it. It feels so good when I rub just … here. ” She groaned and arched her back, her hips jerking as she slid a finger across her clitoris.
“I know what they call it,” she continued in a breathy voice, her eyes locked with his. She took another long drag at the cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling in a long stream. “It’s called a cunt,” she said. “And I like fingering my cunt. It gets so wet and so itchy and hot. And yes, I like smoking when I do this. Smoking a cigarette makes me feel deliciously bad, and that makes me very horny. When I take a drag," she continued, "my pussy throbs from the naughtiness. I know I'm being bad. . . and that I shouldn't be doing this. So, I fuck my pussy harder with my finger when I inhale the smoke into my lungs. Then I speed up the fucking when I blow the smoke out. .
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. it makes me want to . . oooo, I don't know. ” She challenged him with a belligerent stare, a sly smile twisting on her face. “And when I rub myself and push my fingers in there . . . ” she took another luxuriant drag on her cigarette. “… Sometimes,” she continued, “stuff squirts out of me. I think it’s called … cum. ” She smirked again at his face. “I piss cum,” she finished.
“Oh … Oh you’re … Oh …” he choked. "You bad little.
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. . Only bad, dirty girls smoke! Do you know what watching a bad little girl smoke does to a man? It makes a man want to pull out his dick and. . . and. . "
She blew the smoke out with some force and laughed at his expression. "And what daddy," she queried? ". . . pull his dick out and. . . what?"
He wanted to just blurt out the answer, but the lump in his throat and the hard one in his pants prevented that from happening.
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He wanted to finish his sentence by telling her that it makes a man want to pull his hard cock out from his pants. It makes him want to jerk his cock in front of her. It makes him want to force her to blow smoke at his cock while it ejaculates angry cum all over her naughty face. But all of that thought process was put on hold as he stared at her wicked beauty.
"Yes, I know daddy. . . I know what it's doing to you now, but I can't stop myself," she said with a slight smile. “I smoke and I drink and I touch myself. ” She slid her fingers between the folds of her labia. Her vulva gaped. “And I piss cum. ” She pouted. “But there’s something not quite right about it,” she said. “It feels nice … So, so nice, but …” Her eyes bored into his at first, and then drop to stare at the tent in his pants as she took another provocative drag from her cigarette.
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“I think I need to put something inside there. Something thicker and harder and longer than my fingers. ” She blew the smoke toward his passion-etched face again, surrounding him with the moving cloud and letting her words drip into his ears, knowing he’d soon be desperate for her. Her voice tapered almost to a whisper. “I need something inside me, Daddy. I just know it would feel so . . . ”
He stared at her, his face slack-jawed and with eyes heavy-lidded with latent lust. His cock had indeed stiffened and it was obscenely pushing the material of his pants straight out into the shape of a tent. She continued to brazenly stare at his condition, and shuttered at the thought of what was about to happen as she took another puff from her cigarette. She pulled hard on the cigarette, the shape of her lips around the filter forming what resembled a kiss.
He continued to stare at her intensely, his voice coming from dark, treacly depths, a depraved croak. “I know what you need,” he breathed watching her lips spring open with an audible pop after her drag. His cock swelled up bigger,further tenting his dress pants while he watched her lips form the oval and begin blowing the lung full of smoke in a straight line toward the tent in his pants.
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She knew what she was asking for through this display, and her pussy squirted at the thought of the consequences.
“I think you do, Daddy," she said swallowing hard afterward. "I know what you have between your legs. It’s a cock …” She paused and, with the cigarette smoked down to the filter, stubbed it out in the ash tray she’d retrieved from under the seat. She unbuttoned her white blouse. “I think that I should go and find someone to show me their cock. Anyone would do, any man. I don’t care what he looks like, if he’s young or old. I just want to see his thing all big and hard and excited for me. I think I’d like to get fucked by somebody, Daddy. ”
“You dirty girl,” he hissed. “If I caught you doing that, why then, we’d have to have a little talk. ” His breath came in short gasps as he stared at her, lewd and wide-legged and goading him. His pants continuing to protrude out under the force of his hard boner.
“Would you show me your cock, Daddy? Please? I’d like you to,” she said quietly, looking at the tent in his pants.
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“I’d like to see it spit that goo out of the end; the baby milk stuff; that thick spunk stuff that gives women babies. Will you show me yours and make it do that?. . . Only. . . First, I want to do something no good girl would ever consider doing. I-I want to actually see the stuff shooting out from the end of your cock!"
His stare intensified, his eyes gleamed. “You want to see Daddy’s cock, and you what to see sperm shooting out of it?” he growled.
“That’s a bad thing to do,” he added. “You’ve been so naughty. ” He indicated her sprawled form with a jut of his chin. “Sitting there, smoking and letting me see your … your cunt … And now you’re showing me your tits … And you want to see my cock?” He tutted and shook his head, as though perplexed by her insistence at being so wayward. “Why do you persist in saying all of those nasty words? Why do you insist on smoking?”
“Because it makes me feel sexy,” she murmured.
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“I’m all hot and itchy between my legs, Daddy. Look. ” She shuffled her hips forward along the seat, her buttocks hanging over the precipice. He could see the flushed slash of her sex pouting and oozing lust.
“Oh you evil little girl,” he moaned. His stiff dick squirting pre-cum and now soiling the front of his trousers. A big dark stain spread across the tip of the tent. “What a wicked young lady you are. Come here,” he barked. “Come over here RIGHT NOW!”
She plucked another cigarette from the pack and lit it, taking a long drag, before hauling herself to her feet, tottering slightly on the heels. “That’s it, baby,” he sighed as, after he’d slid his braces down over his shoulders and unbuttoned his trousers, his stiff wet dick popped out and poked up from the opening of his pants. It wobbled back and forth slightly, towering from the opening, and then stood straight up. She just stood there for a moment. . .
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she seductively blew the smoke out from between her pursed lips, and gasped at the sight.
"Oh daddy. You have a big, hard boner. It looks so swollen. Does it hurt?" she cooed as she finally approached, while taking another long drag from her cigarette. Once she arrived at his chair, she bend down slightly and blew the smoke right into his reddened face. His dick belched more pre-cum as a result of feeling the column of soft smoke-thick breath coming from those kissable lips caressing his face. A stream of the wet ooze now ran freely down the length of the shaft and pooled at the base, further soiling the material of his pants. The chunk of cum instigated by her blowing smoke in his face followed the same path down his dick.
"Damn you," he scolded, obviously overwhelmed with lust. "Yes, of course it hurts. Look at what you've done! It's stiff, aching and uncomfortable. . . You made it that way, and now you must make it go down.
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So. . . Lick it. Suck Daddy’s cock. Make the swelling go down. Jerk it off. " She finished blowing the smoke in his face and looked at his boner, noticing the belch of man juice making it's way down the stiff shaft.
"Oh daddy. . . I'm so sorry" she moaned. "Here. . .
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let me try to help you. "
She slowly moved down to kneel between his feet while taking another sexy drag and reaching for his erection. She reached out for the stiff boner with the hand holding her cigarette. This inflamed his passion even more, watching her grab his big angry dick with the cigarette very femininely perched between her fingers. This time she blew a column of her bad-girl smoke over the weeping head of his cock, then gently kissed the bulging tip as the last of the smoke blew out from between her puckered lips. “You are so bad, blowing your naughty smoke on daddy's stiff erection. You're going to get what you deserve for being so bad. Kiss Daddy’s aching dick, baby. Kiss it and lick it and stroke it. Oh yes … Oh fuck yes …”
“Do your other girls do this to you?” she asked between lascivious slurps. “Do they suck your cock and then let you fuck them?”
“Yes …” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Yes they do, but none of them are as pretty as you …”
“Will you fuck my cunt, Daddy? Will you put that thing inside me and fuck?” she said before taking another drag.
“Yes … Oh … Fuck … Yes …”
Once more, she blew the smoke right in his face, which again made his dick bubble. “Will it spit inside me? Will you pump that sticky goo into me? I think I’d like that … I think it’d feel so nice to have Daddy’s spunk inside me. .
. but first I want to see it shoot out. ”
“Why You filthy …”
“Oh yes,” she interrupted him. “Filthy and wicked. I’m a bad girl. I'm Smoking. Sucking Daddy’s cock. And wanting to make daddy's dick explode into the air in front of me. . . Then, letting him stick it into me … Wanting him to fuck me … Will you lick me too, Daddy? Will you lick my nasty cunt?” She said this with her head tilted to one side and as she brought the cigarette to her lips for another seductive drag. Then she naughtily blew the smoke slowly up past his hard cock, and into his face again.
"Oh Fuck! You nasty, bad girl," he rasped, and breathed in her exhaled smoke. She curled her cigarette holding hand back around his stiff angry boner. After getting a good firm grip, she began jerking on it gamely.
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"I'm gonna blow all over your face if you keep that up. " His hard dick stood straight up next to her soft and girlish face while she masturbated him. This excited her, prompting her to beg. . .
"oh daddy, teach me a lesson. . . please?" she cried as she shamelessly beat off his stiff dick. "I'm sorry I'm so bad!" The sticky secreted mess coating his erection made the handjob noisy. Loud squishing sounds filled the air while her hand squeezed and jacked. Heavier breathing also filled the air as he quickly approached the point of no return.
With the cigarette perched between her fingers, the filter scraped up and down the sensitive hard flesh as her gripping fist moved rapidly along the veiny shaft of his erection. The feeling of that felt exquisitely nasty to him. The feeling, in combination with watching this naughty display threw him over the edge.
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“Oh shit,” he groaned on the very edge, sperm already surging from his balls and speeding up the shaft. “I’m going to. . . " he caught his breath as a spasm wracked his body. . . "Oh god! Wank it. With your hand. Wank it hard, you bad little whore!”
"I'm sorry, Oh, I'm so-o-o-o sorry da-a-a-dy!" Her hand pumping up and down vigorously.
"This," he grunted, "is the only way to deal with you if you insist on being so BAD!"
"Yes daddy! Teach me a lesson!!" she screamed, her hand a virtual blur in motion, squeezing and shucking his bloated, sticky penis.
The first spasm of semen sloshed out and into her fist on one of the up strokes as her hand squeezed the throbbing head. And then suddenly, on her next down stroke, the stuff squirted forcefully. It shot straight up in a thick spurt from his exploding erection. It hung in the air, seemingly suspended there by some unknown force, before arching down and slapping across her face.
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He groaned and grunted, his body convulsing, as streamer after streamer of hot jizm began spunking up from his ejaculating cock and splashed against her skin. At some point during one of the many jizz shots, she let go of his ejaculating dick, the spurt following her hand to her face while she quickly brought the cigarette up to her lips. She took another drag from the cum saturated filter as he grunted, his cock violently spitting more cum squirts through the space separating them, only to splash right against her face and hand.
"Oooo,mmmmmmm" she moaned around the filter as more ejaculating spurts of semen flew through the air and struck her nose and cheeks.
"You dirty nasty girl! SMOKING and JERKING your DADDY off-f-f-f-f!" His stomach contracted as his cock convulsed again. "How DARE you. . . Ahhh," he moaned, his dick blowing out yet another voluminous spurt of clear cum. It flew through the air and splashed against her pursed lips and onto the cigarette which was squeezed between them while she took that long drag. Freshly squirted cum dripped from the filter and from her lips and fingers as she pulled the cigarette away from her open mouth. She inhaled the smoke and licked her lips.
"This is what you get. . .
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," he groaned, another spurt launching from the piss slit, hitting her face and dripping down to her breasts. . . "f-for smoking and jacking off daddy's dick!"
The white blouse, hanging loose around her body, grew translucent as splashes of stray semen spattered against the fabric, along with the stuff gooping and falling from her face. She began blowing her smoke through pursed lips, onto his exploding dick, and up toward his face. Meanwhile, several more heavy spurts of hot sperm struck directly against her smoke-blowing lips, draping across them, and then dripping in strands from the pucker. Once again she returned her cigarette holding hand back to clutch and jack his exploding cock. By this time the hard shaft was coated in a copious amount of slippery semen, and was hard to grasp. But she kept it up, running her sticky hand up and down his spasm-wracked dick, pumping at him for as long as the glop poured out of that evil eye.
"Oh GOD daddieeee!" she squealed, pumping his spitting dick. "I'm sorry my smoking did this to you!" Cum glopped down over her cigarette, coating her jacking hand and making the naughty handjob more slippery. A stray final shot of cum spurted straight up and came back down landing on the head of her cigarette putting it out.
"Ahhh! You smoking whore!" She move her clutching hand up his shaft, squeezing his dick head and forcing the final dregs of his orgasm to bubble out. The position of her fingers had the filter tip of her cigarette squished up against the oozing piss slit, so the last of his cum glopped out over the end.
"Oh daddy! Look what you've done to me,"suddenly letting go of his dick, laying back in the chair she’d vacated earlier and opening her legs.
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“Kiss me, Daddy,” she purred. Thick chunky dribbles of his outpouring slid in a viscous ooze down her cheeks as she licked and cleaned the cum off her cigarette filter. She spread her legs wider, offering her sex to him.
“You taste of cigarettes,” he said quietly after they’d kissed. “Cigarettes and wine, and now cum? What a dirty girl. What am I going to do with you?”
“Have a little talk with me, Daddy,” she whispered in reply.
And he did. She lay across his lap, her buttocks uppermost, a target for his palm. Daddy had a good, long talk with his nasty girl, his drying semen turning to a semi-liquid, semi-solid lumpy crust on her face.
Her buttocks glowed a hot pink, stained with the imprint of his hand, and he made her kneel on the sofa. He stood behind her and surveyed the blush he’d caused to rise on the taut flesh. Her sex oozed desire, the lips heavy and pouting.
“Are you going to fuck me, Daddy?” she asked, her voice quivering as she reach for another cigarette.
She didn't have to wait long for the answer to that question. He slid into her as she lit up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her molten sex, eliciting a long, low groan of pleasure from the woman’s mouth while she took the first drag from the fresh cigarette.
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As he fucked into her body with sharp, efficient strokes, the detective sergeant of the Metropolitan Police wondered how long he could hold back – wondered how long he could hold out before he filled a Minister of Her Majesty’s Government with semen. .
