I'm Thinking Of Daddy

"Daddy," she follows afterwards, moaning out the word. The sound of it is enough to make me moan back, a guttural noise that I simply cannot control as she rips it out of me.

"You're thinking of Daddy, aren't you?" she teases, "Good Daddy who thinks so highly of you. Good Daddy who won't fuck his little girl, won't be her first. Won't take your cherry, no matter how sweet it'd be."

I whimper and I start to turn but her hands slide in perfect time to my nipples and she pinches, making my back arch and a cry caught somewhere between pleasure and pain tumbles out of me.

"Oh you are so sensitive," she pushes my buttons, "Were you this sensitive for Daddy, when he made you cum?"

"I was," I confess to her breathlessly, "He touched me so good, it felt like my body was melting and exploding at the same time."

"Who is better? Him or me?"

I blush and I turn away, but that's answer enough for her. I hear her chuckling next to me, feel her hand slide up and turn my lips back to hers and then she kisses me quick and deep, pressing her tongue past my lips to tease against me.

"That's okay baby," she says, "I'd hope it was him. There really is nothing quite like the capable hands of an experienced lover, and he strikes me as the kind of older man who is very generous with his attentions. It's a shame, really, that he would deny you the pleasure of having him first but I suppose I can understand his reasoning."

I nearly cry out, clenching tight as I think of what I'm missing from him.

"I don't," I tell her, "I don't understand it at all."

Rachel doesn't miss a beat, "You don't? I suppose I get that. You see, baby, he would be too much for you. Too good. A first time from a man like him would make it hard for you to accdept anyone else. He would absolutely ruin you.

"No what you really need is a boy. Someone selfish. Someone fumbling. Someone who is thinking of themselves first."

She pauses before her proposition, and the moment she says his name I picture him and everything he's done to me and everything he wants to do.

"Blake, maybe," she says, almost truly considering it, "Someone who will get a little too eager and push himself a little too far. Someone trying to prove something so he winds up letting you down and you turn to the next hard cock to satisfy yourself."

"Or maybe Jake," she proposes next and I moan at the thought, "Oh that's right. That big cock and that hard body and all that **** and pleasure. He was good for me but he'd barely be able to help himself with you and he would fuck you so hard he'd probably break you in half. Leave you walking funny for a few days afterwards and searching for someone gentle who will let you be dominant."

"Of course maybe that drive would be what drives you into the arms of a man like Eddie," she shocks me with that name and I tense, not wanting to think of him like that, "Eddie strikes me as the kind of guy you could twist around or could twist you up in equal measure. I've been thinking about him a lot today, since we ran into him. Wondering what kind of cock he has and whether it would be good enough to make you addicted to it but I get the feeling he might snag me, but you might be the wrong sort of fun for him."

"What do you say?"

I am turning my head back and forth, trying to deny the sensations rushing through me and the fantasies tangling up in my head. All of the men I've even been remotely close to and a dozen more along the way teasing and tasting and tempting and pleasing me and torturing me too, just for good measure.

And the fact is that I know what I want but I don't know how to get there. I only know that whatever man comes into my mind presents a clear and present danger to me, at least if I want to keep my virginity intact.

Because right now? Right here? There is only one thing that I want.

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