I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t Daddy’s little slut. It started when I was just a little girl, innocently playing dress-up in my mother’s old lingerie. Daddy would walk in on me, and instead of scolding me, he would simply smile and tell me how beautiful I looked. He’d pull Me onto his lap and stroke My hair, whispering in my ear that I was Daddy’s little slut.
As I grew older, my daddy’s words and actions only encouraged me to explore my sexuality. I’d catch him watching Me undress through the cracked door of My bedroom, and instead of feeling violated, I felt empowered. I began to dress more provocatively, always aware of the way my daddy’s eyes would follow me.
One day, I walked into the living room wearing a skimpy nightgown. my daddy was watching a football game, but his eyes immediately locked onto me. He couldn’t help but reach out and touch my leg, and I didn’t protest. Instead, I leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of his hand on my skin.
Without a word, Daddy led me to his bedroom, and I knew what was coming. I had been waiting for this moment for years. As we laid on the bed together, Daddy slowly undressed me, taking his time to admire every inch of my body. He kissed me gently, and I could feel the desire building inside him.
Daddy guided my hand to his crotch, and I could feel his arousal. I unzipped his pants and took him in my hand, stroking him slowly as I moaned with pleasure. I leaned down and took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his shaft. Daddy groaned, his hands tangled in my hair as I pleasured him.
When Daddy could take no more, he flipped me onto my back and entered me, filling my petite pussy completely. I moaned with pleasure, wrapping my legs around him as he thrust into me. We moved together, our bodies in sync as he chased that release.
As we lay together, panting and spent, Daddy looked at me with a mixture of pride and desire. “You’re my little slut, Kira,” he whispered. “And I’m so proud of you.”
From that day forward, me and my daddy indulged in our secret relationship. we would steal moments together whenever we could, always aware of the danger and the taboo nature of our encounters. But for me, there was no shame in being Daddy’s little slut. I loved the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, and the way he made me feel. And I knew that I would always be his little slut, no matter what.