On Daddy's Knee

*All characters are 18 years old and older.*

I kiss Daddy’s weathered face;
He knows I will take him anywhere.
I can transport him to heaven, if he prefers –
Something mother can no longer do.
Ribbons and bows tie in my hair,
and my knees are exposed from my crooked skirt:
It's plaid and short, pleated and blown,
as I sit upon his knee and lick my ice cream cone.

He says my tongue is seductive;
The boys I kiss certainly do agree with that.
Daddy doesn’t like this, doesn’t like it all.
He doesn’t like it when I share my Paris kisses.
They are his, he claims, as he takes a drink.
He likes his drinks like I like my boys: big and tall.

He strokes my pleated braids;
He weaves them in the mornings with bad intent.
I’d like to sign over my body in ink.
But he knows it’s his to enjoy and possess,
in a restaurant or store, jagged nails under my dress.
I have just started wearing makeup;
Better late than never.
He erases my lip-gloss with one sweeping thumb.

He is rough with his physique;
Big and legs spread, he’s always generous with his lap.
And if I get too nasty with someone else,
he gives my pert and round butt a little slap.
He owns my ass, rubbing it and saying it is his.
I do not mind at all; webbed fingers with his fizz.

I rub his stubble with my fingers;
It feels like sandpaper against my painted nails.
I am his doll, his little bimbo piece of ass,
and I am proud to give my body unselfishly.
The wall tilts vertical, so that we make it in to a bed.
My big boobs bounce as he rams into me.
How I melt when he calls me ‘Sunshine.’
How I melt when his love is hot enough to see.