Daddy is still inside me on the kitchen counter when he starts moving again. Slow at first, deep strokes that push his cum back into me with every thrust. I can feel it leaking out around his cock and dripping down the cabinet. My legs are wrapped tight around his waist. My arms are around his neck. The kitchen smells like sex and coffee.
He fucks me like that for a long time, never pulling all the way out. Every time he bottoms out he grinds against my clit, making little sparks shoot up my spine. I am already sensitive from the three orgasms he gave me upstairs and on the counter, but my body does not care. It wants more.
“You feel that?” he asks against my ear. “That’s my cum inside you. I’m fucking it deeper.”
I can only moan in answer. He bites the side of my neck, not hard enough to leave a mark that Mom would notice, but hard enough to make me clench around him. His hands slide under my ass and lift me slightly so he can thrust up into me harder. The new angle makes me cry out. My head falls back against the upper cabinets again.
He keeps the pace steady and deep until I come for the fourth time that morning. It is a smaller orgasm, but it still makes my thighs shake and my nails dig into his shoulders. He groans when I tighten around him and finally pulls out. A thick mix of his cum and my wetness spills onto the counter and down the front of the cabinet.
Daddy looks at the mess and smiles. “We’re going to clean that later. With your tongue.”
He helps me down. My legs feel weak. Cum runs down my inner thighs as I stand. He does not give me anything to wipe with. Instead he takes my hand and leads me toward the living room.
“On the couch,” he says. “On your back. Legs open.”
I do what he tells me. The leather is cool against my bare skin. He kneels between my legs and just looks at me for a moment—my messy hair, the dried cum on my stomach and breasts, the fresh cum still leaking out of me. His cock is still hard and shiny.
He leans down and licks a long stripe up my thigh, collecting the cum that has dripped there. Then he pushes his tongue inside me again, cleaning me out slowly. It is filthy and hot at the same time. I watch him do it, my chest rising and falling fast.
When he is satisfied he sits up, pulls me by the ankles so my ass is at the edge of the couch, and sinks back into me in one smooth thrust. This time he does not go slow. He holds my legs wide open and fucks me hard. The wet sound of our bodies is louder than before. My breasts bounce with every thrust. I reach down and rub my clit because I cannot stop myself.
“That’s it,” he says. “Play with that clit while Daddy uses your cunt.”
I come again with my fingers moving fast and his cock slamming into me. He does not stop. He keeps fucking me through the orgasm until I am whimpering and oversensitive. Only then does he pull out, stroke himself a few times, and come across my stomach and the soft hair above my pussy. More thick ropes land on my skin.
He uses two fingers to spread his cum over my clit and rubs it in slow circles. “You’re going to stay messy all day,” he tells me. “Every time you walk, you’ll feel me dripping out of you.”
I nod, too fucked-out to speak.
We stay on the couch for a while. He lies beside me and plays with my body like it belongs to him—pinching my nipples, sliding his fingers through the cum on my stomach, occasionally pushing two fingers back inside me just to feel how wet and open I am. Every time I start to get close again he stops and makes me wait.
After some time he stands up. “Shower. Now.”
I follow him upstairs, still naked, still leaking. In the bathroom he turns on the water and pulls me under the spray with him. The warm water runs over us. He washes my body slowly, his soapy hands moving over my breasts, between my legs, over my ass. He spends a long time cleaning his cum from my skin, but he leaves some inside me on purpose.
When I am clean on the outside he turns me to face the wall, lifts one of my legs, and pushes back into me from behind. The shower makes everything slick. He fucks me under the water with one hand on my hip and the other reaching around to rub my clit. The steam surrounds us. My moans echo off the tiles.
I come with my forehead pressed against the wet wall and his name falling from my lips. He follows soon after, filling me again. This time he stays inside me while the water rinses over us, soft and slow, until he finally softens and slips out.
We dry off with the same towel. He does not let me put clothes on. Instead he wraps the towel around his own waist and leaves me naked.
“Kitchen,” he says. “You’re going to make breakfast. Naked.”
So I do. I walk downstairs again with nothing on. The house feels different now. Every room has already been claimed by what we did. In the kitchen I start making eggs and toast while he sits at the table and watches me. His eyes never leave my body. Every time I bend to get something from a lower cabinet I feel his stare on my ass and the wetness still between my legs.
When the food is ready I plate it and set it in front of him. He pulls me onto his lap instead of letting me sit in my own chair. I end up straddling him, still naked, while he eats with one hand and keeps the other between my legs. His fingers move lazily inside me the whole time he finishes his breakfast.
“You’re going to sit on my cock while I drink my coffee,” he says when the plate is empty.
I lift up just enough for him to free his cock from the towel. Then I sink down onto him slowly. He is only half-hard at first, but he grows thicker inside me as I settle. He drinks his coffee like this—me full of him, my arms around his neck, my face against his shoulder—while his free hand strokes my back and occasionally squeezes my ass to make me move.
We stay like that for a long time. Sometimes he tells me to ride him slowly. Sometimes he just holds me still and lets me feel him throb. When the coffee is finished he stands up with me still on his cock, carries me to the living room, and lays me on my back on the carpet.
This time he takes me slower. Almost gently. Long deep strokes while he looks into my eyes. One of his hands stays in my hair. The other holds my thigh open. It feels more intimate than the rough fucking from earlier, and somehow that makes it even hotter.
I come quietly this time, with my face buried in his neck and my legs shaking around him. He follows a minute later, grinding deep as he fills me for the third time that morning.
When he pulls out he does not let me close my legs. He stays kneeling between them and watches his cum leak out of me onto the carpet.
“Look at that,” he says softly. “My cum is going to be in every room of this house by the time your mother comes home.”
I swallow. “What if she finds out?”
He leans down and kisses me, slow and deep. “She won’t. You’re going to be a good girl and keep Daddy’s secret. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He smiles against my mouth. “That’s my girl.”
He stands and pulls me up with him. “Come on. We’re not done. I want you on the dining table next.”
My stomach flips with excitement and nerves at the same time. The dining table is where we all eat together when Mom is home. The idea of him fucking me there makes my cunt clench around nothing.
He sees the look on my face and chuckles. “Greedy already? We still have the whole afternoon and all of tomorrow.”
He leads me to the dining room by the hand. When we reach the table he lifts me onto it like I weigh nothing and spreads my legs wide. The wood is cool under my bare ass. He steps between my thighs, looks down at my messy, used cunt, and slowly pushes back inside.
I am so full of his cum already that the slide is easy and wet. He starts thrusting hard right away. The table shakes. The legs scrape lightly against the floor. My back arches and my hands grip the edges.
“This is where you sit across from me at dinner,” he says between thrusts. “Next time your mother is here, you’re going to remember exactly how I fucked you on this table. You’re going to feel it every time you shift in your chair.”
The words push me over the edge again. I come hard, crying out, my body clamping down on him. He does not stop. He keeps fucking me through it until I am shaking and oversensitive, then finally buries himself deep and comes with a low groan.
He stays inside me while we both catch our breath. His forehead rests against mine. His cock twitches with the last pulses of his orgasm.
“Two days,” he whispers. “I’m going to ruin this cunt for anyone else.”
I can only nod, already knowing it is true.
He pulls out slowly and watches more cum spill onto the polished wood of the dining table. Then he dips two fingers into the mess and pushes them into my mouth.
“Clean it up,” he says.
I suck his fingers clean without hesitation.
Daddy smiles, dark and satisfied. “Good girl. Now turn over. I want your ass in the air. We’re not leaving this table until I’ve filled you one more time.”
I turn onto my stomach on the table, cheek pressed against the wood, and wait for him to take me again.
Outside, the morning sun is climbing higher.
Inside, Daddy is only getting started.