Daddy, Take Me Ch. 16

I woke early, dad's arm loosely on my breast. I wriggled my bum backwards, rubbing myself on his none-too-flaccid manhood. I smiled, as I wrapped my hand around his warm arm. A sudden wave of sadness swept over me, knowing I'd have but another day and a half left of this idyllic time with my dad. This alone time with him had become so intense. I wasn't sure whether it was the connection, or just my inexperience and age. Shaking myself out of this sullen reverie, I slipped from the bed, quietly went to the en-suite, peed, brushed and fluffed up my hair. I crept back to bed, snuggled next to daddy and gazed at his sleeping, handsome face. I slowly ran my smooth legs against his, my slim body pressing desirously on his toned thighs and morning cock. As he began to stir, I gently moved his messy hair from his eyes. He half-opened them and wryly smiled.

"Morning, darling," he mumbled, his warm, strong hand enveloping my butt. "You're up early."

"As are you...daddy," I giggled, gently squeezing his shaft. 'Kay, I know it was corny, but...

"Our last full day, eh, Chloe?" he whispered.

"I know," I sighed, sadness filling my chest as the words came out. "But that's all right, ya know. We'll always have these days to look back on. I...I really can't ask for more," I smiled, and kissed him. "So...we can either lay here all depressed and sullen, or take a walk so you can show me a bit more of my family's Paris, hmm?" I chuckled, as I slid onto his hard body, my little tits smashed against his firm chest, and we kissed. I didn't care that he hadn't brushed yet; I needed him now. My hips and vulva slid along his hard cock, once again splitting my sex. His hands grasped my ass, as he skimmed my willing body up and down his.

His cock was jabbing my clit with every slow movement, his hands on my bum, playing me like a yoyo. My head was buried in daddy's neck, my soft moans spurring our bodies on, as I moved my hips down, dad's cock sliding easily into me on the next smooth pull-up. I let out a long, "Oooooh," and my dad groaned a long, "Fuck...Chloe," as his hands held my butt tighter, directing my pussy where he wanted it. My hips moved with his hands, his shaft desperately penetrating me. With every mad thrust, I leaned into his shoulder and sucked his flesh harder. I could feel dad's fingers slyly between my butt cheeks, prodding and pulling them open, as his finger slid down to my oozing pussy, then back to my tight, little hole. He gently pressed his finger onto my unbroken seal, my hips wildly sliding up and down his stiff pole. I jerked my body down, his stiffness sending small spasms through me. I knew he wouldn't pierce my ass, only play and tease me, which was so fucking erotic! I could hear myself giggle. The feelings he gave me, were beyond anything I had experienced in my twenty-one years.

The more his finger made those slow circles on my sensitive bum, the more my pussy gushed. I felt so wicked, enjoying what daddy could do to me. I spread my legs a bit wider, urging him to take me. I was his. As his finger pressed into my tight hole, I came, my body shaking and quivering at his touch. His finger slid into my bottom, my pussy cumming and daddy spurting his seed inside me. I could just make out daddy's moaning grunts of, "Fuck...fuck...fuc—" matching my frantic, "Ohhhhhhhh...fuck....daddy!" as we came together.

Our chests were slick with each other's sweat, my tits rubbing his chest, my young cunt taking dad's musky cum. I felt his hand spank my ass, my pussy spasming and squirting my sap over his cock and our groins. Daddy lurched four or five, maybe six times, deep inside me, emptying himself in my valley. My lithe hips continued to work his cock, eager for every drop he had for me. I was out of breath, my hair plastered on his chest, as I lay there, daddy still embedded within me.

We lay there in our beautiful, post-orgasmic glow, our bodies sweaty, but quenched. We laughed together, tenderly kissing, touching and breathing on each other. His hands delicately held my bum, fingers still sliding through my crack.

"Morning, dad," I cackled. "I love this," I sighed.

"Mmmm, as do I, Chloe. I'm almost jealous of Maisie," he smiled.

"You should be!" I said, assertively. "But this is different. You know that, don't you? This is us...just us. I...I just feel sad that I have to, well, return you to my mums. I get it, though, 'kay? You'll always be my dad...and that will be more than enough. Always, 'kay," I said.

"Always, Chloe," he tenderly sighed.

Twenty minutes later, with one arm around me, he grabbed the breakfast menu and called down with our order. We knew we had another thirty minutes to relax into the morning glow. My body was flushed, and I could have easily slipped back to sleep, but daddy had other ideas! Breakfast arrived, and was laid on the balcony table, the bell-boy smirking at my prone figure on the duvet. I'd love to read his memoirs!

I'm sitting on our patio still, the warmth of those memories coursing through my pregnant body. I could feel the little one kicking, and I wondered if my memories were affecting its morning. I re-read parts of what I have written, my hand fluttering inside my maternity dress and languidly playing with my now-much-fuller breasts. My fingers leave the laptop's keys and slide under my skirt, wistfully stroking my covered pussy. I lay my head back and moan, my mind back in Paris. I play with my excited nipples, remembering daddy's fingertips and how he'd tease me. I'm replaying every moment we were together; how he'd look at me, touch me, take me. My fingers slide under my skimpy panties and slowly rub my vulva, taking my time and relishing the recollections of our time together. I think of the innocence of those few days, me so precocious, dad being the resolute and strong one. I wondered, when we returned, what our connection would be like. Twelve years have passed, but it feels like last week. I slide two fingers into my gushy cunt, recalling his thickness and how he would play my body, his maturity and experience far beyond mine at that point. I bluntly pull my engorged nipples, milk trickling from my nubs, as I fuck myself with a third finger, my thoughts roaming back to daddy and our hours of lovemaking. My hips and butt are dancing off the comfortable chair, arching my back and recollecting his breath, his tongue and his soft words. These are my little keepsakes, I think, as my baby kicks again and I cum. Not the violent, all-encompassing climax that we shared that weekend, but an orgasm of recollection.

We finished our breakfast, our teasing and flirting growing as the sun rose higher. We took each other's hand, walked to the shower room, and spent, or so it seemed, days washing, cosseting and gelling the other.

If the only thing to come out of this weekend was the way I wanted to live, the all-encompassing, sensual and loving way my parents had loved me. I was learning how to be the lover I needed to be and how I would spoil my Maisie every day...if she allowed me.

We slowly dressed, me in a shorter, above-the-knee dress, though still 'appropriate'. I knew dad would tell me if it wasn't...if his hormones allowed him to! I held up my panties and bra cheekily, asking if these would suit me. Exasperated, he smirked at me, knowing full well my intentions. I quickly braided my hair in a chic, boho mess, dabbed a little of my new perfume behind my ears, and on my wrist, I grabbed my necklace and bracelets and was ready. Before I applied my lipstick, I approached dad, stood on my toes, and kissed him. He pulled back after a somewhat chaste kiss.

"More..." I sighed, and he kissed me again.

"More..." I said, as he pulled away, and he engulfed me, taking me in his arms, his taut hands holding me against his new trousers, and his tongue piercing my lips.

"Mmmmm," I sighed, as we broke away, his hand slapping my young ass. "That's better...daddy," I smiled, grabbing my backpack and camera, and we headed out.

We had our 'list' so headed out into the beautiful spring day. Dad headed down to Montparnasse via the Metro, saying he wanted to show me a place I might be interested in. We walked along the cobbled streets, imagining we were back in the Paris of the '20s. We headed to an old art supply shop, Sennelier, knowing I wanted to choose something for Maggie. I was taken aback by all the old oak cabinets, brimming with anything an artist would need...or want! I almost jumped into his arms.

"This...this is perfect, dad!" I almost squealed. We spent the next hour, at least, pondering, looking, touching and asking for advice. I burrowed through drawer after drawer of paper, brushes and paints, settling finally on ten luscious sheets of A3 cotton paper. It was extravagant for a budding thirteen-year-old artist. Still, she was my sister, so...I chose a beautiful painter's smock, brushes, and an excellent box of watercolour pigments. Dad wanted to pay, as it was rather expensive, but I insisted. The elderly gentleman gingerly wrapped the paper in a cardboard tube and gave me so much advice to give to Maggie. We said our heartfelt 'bonjour et bonne journée' and headed out. I found a vacant shop door, pulled my daddy to me and embraced him, my slick, smooth tongue playing with his, as I tiptoed up to touch his lips.

"Thank you, daddy. Maggie will adore these!" I sighed.

He checked his list, and we headed off 'til we came to a rather old building on the Rue de la Chaumiere, surrounded by newer ones. Daddy approached, and I immediately recognised it as Modigliani's studio. I stared at him, gobsmacked, for lack of a better word, before he knocked at the door. Daddy showed him his ticket, and we were let into his studio. I held onto his arm, squeezing him, afraid to let go lest this was a dream. It was as if Modigliani had just popped out for an absinthe and cigarettes.

"How did you...?" I began to ask, but my question was cut short by his gentle kiss.

"I know how much you admire his work, so..." he answered, with a murmur.

I was struck by the photos of him and his muse, understanding her attraction to this artist and man. I could have spent a week, if not another lifetime, here. Daddy was so indulgent, though, not ready to leave 'til I had my fill of his work and the studio's ambience. We walked out into the blazing sun, shell-shocked and stunned by what we had seen. We stopped off at La Rotonde, a favourite haunt of his, back in the day. The walls were plastered with reproductions of his and others' work. We ordered wine and a few pastries, happy and content, as we took in the day so far.

"You really are something, dad," I smiled. "Every minute we spend together, I see more and more why my mums have fallen in love with you... as I have," I shyly said.

"That's very nice of you to say, Chloe. C'mere...gives us a hug," he smiled...and I did.

We headed over to the Louvre...at last! Daddy had booked us a tour, thereby seeing the highlights, as it would take weeks to go through every gallery. The woman who guided us through the different rooms was incredible, quickly answering my questions with a practised flair.

Dad would be behind me, his arm over my shoulder, pointing out a detail in some Canova sculpture, his other hand on my waist, firmly holding me, as he whispered into my ear. His warm breath tickled me, my butt pushing back on his hidden hardness. He slowly moved his left hand from my waist and brought it around my heaving stomach, holding me tight against him. Our guide only smiled at his gesture of seduction, no doubt a witness to many such encounters over the years. He brought his right hand to my shoulder, still talking to me about the sculpture and the curves Canova was able to evoke, his fingers softly on my neck, up over my jaw and onto my lips. I could only kiss his long finger, a quiet moan telling my daddy he was doing everything right.

Dad would wrap his arm around my shoulder, and as we walked along, onlookers were uncertain if he was my father or my lover. If only they knew he was both. Afterwards, we had a lovely slow lunch at a sidewalk brasserie, dad indulging us both...and giving our feet a rest. I had been messaging mums and Maisie all day, annoying them as much as possible. I was giddy with excitement, as I FaceTimed Maisie, her smile warming me even more. We walked towards the Musée d'Orsay along the banks of the Seine, hand in hand with my iPad stretched out, showing Maisie the views as we walked. I couldn't imagine anything more touristy! We sat on a bench and watched the small boats slipping past us. "I wish you were here between us, mon amour," I sighed to Maisie.

"Someday, soon, hmm? Isn't that what you always say to me?" she chuckled.

"I do...and always will 'til we are," I smiled, saying goodbye and disconnected. I laid my head on daddy's firm shoulder, basking in his manliness, kindness and love. His fingers went to my bare flesh, gently squeezing my thigh with not a worry in the world.

"Come on...one more stop, then we'll head back for a...rest," he sniggered. "We don't want you too tired for our last night, hmm?"

We caught another taxi, so I could see a bit more of the city, as we headed for goodness-knows-where! We eventually pulled up to the Art Nouveau building of the Galeries Lafayette, a grand department store famous for its glittering dome and the shopping. Dad was well aware of my aversion to shopping...but concessions have to be made sometimes! Daddy directed me to one of the rooftop, terraced restaurants with beautiful views over the city. We indulged ourselves with various platters of crab, crayfish and lobster, quaffed down with a lovely, crisp Chablis.

"I hope you'll allow me to pamper you just a bit more when we've finished?" daddy asked.

"Dad...you really mustn't, 'kay? You've done so much so far, so...you really don't have to. Although...I still need Lily's and a few odds and sods, 'kay?" I smiled, taking his hand and kissing it, the other diners paying little attention to us.

We headed around the different floors, admiring the building as much as the goods. I spotted shelves of berets and smiled. I found one for each of my sisters, knowing they'd be thrilled with the small gesture. I had second thoughts and chose one for Maisie and a new one for me, as mine was a tad too small by now. Dad just rolled his eyes. I bought a beautiful diary for Lily, with some lovely pencils and a pen. I spotted another A4-sized leather-bound book, perfect for inspiring her next story. We wandered over to a display of gorgeous leather satchels, perfect for holding these gifts in one place, so I spoiled her a little bit more. We happened to be walking through the jewellery section on our way to the women's wear when something caught daddy's eye.

"No...don't you dare!" I said, sternly.

"No, really...just have a look at this, Little One, okay?" he asked, his seductive eyes pulling me into him. He pointed to an elegant necklace and asked the lady if he could see it. "Here...just try this on. I...I think it'll suit you, Chloe," he said, holding up a beautiful Chaumet necklace in white gold, set with two pear-shaped aquamarines and brilliant-cut diamonds. I had to admit, it was exquisite. I pulled my hair away while he unclasped the boho necklace I was wearing, placed it on the velvet mat, and then wrapped this treasure around my neck. My friggin' God! It was breathtaking. I brought my hand to the piece, holding it against my chest and looked up at daddy.

"It's...it's stunning, dad...but no...it's too much, 'kay?" I said, my breath eventually evening out. He undid the necklace, laid it on the velvet-covered counter and replaced my more handmade, individualistic piece around my neck. He picked up, studied the piece, handed it to the lady and said, "We'll take it," and smiled.

"Dad! No...you can't. It's...too much!" I implored. "It's four thousand bloody euros!" I whispered.

"Nothing is too much for the people I love," he sighed, and kissed me tenderly. "Accept it graciously in the manner it is given, all right?"

Fuck me, I thought.

I was shaking as dad handed me the sumptuous box, the assistant smiling at the more than generous gesture. I wrapped my arms around him and deeply kissed this man.

And to this day, I still wear it, no matter the occasion. It works as well with my dressier dresses, as it does with my summer ones. I love it...

We made it to the woman's wear, but I was adamant, 'No more', but, of course, he paid little attention to my earnest plea. I swear I couldn't help myself; the styles and quality were second to none, as I flipped through rack after rack, finding two dresses for me and one for Maisie, which dad insisted on buying. He talked me into trying on the pieces, a little glint in his devious eyes. I smirked and ignored him, teasing him, as only I could.

"Perhaps...if I need help, you could join me in the fitting rooms, hmm?" I smirked.

"Fuck, Chloe," he whispered. "You would, wouldn't you?" he smiled.

"In a heartbeat, daddy," I chuckled.

I picked up a floral summer dress, turned my head and murmured, "You coming?" I asked coquettishly, and headed for the changing room. "I may need help with this."

Daddy smirked, but followed me. The changing room was huge, with a comfortable sofa, table and a spare chair. I carefully hung the dresses on the hooks supplied and turned to my dad. I slowly unbuttoned my dress, my eyes never leaving him, his flirtatious gaze never leaving mine.

"I want you, daddy," I hissed, opening my dress. I stood there so demurely in my bralette and panties, my socks and trainers still on, as daddy sat on the comfy sofa, his eyes still drinking me in.

"Stay there, daddy. I'll take care of you." I smirked.

I walked in front of him, my fingers sliding through my labia, wetting and readying my pussy for his daddy-cock. I coyly licked my fingers, daddy's cock hardening with every slow motion. I stared at him, as my fingers went to his belt, roughly undoing it and then unzipping his trousers.

"Take it out, dad. Stroke it...for me," I hissed, as he pulled his thick, almost-hard meat out and wrapped his hand around it.

"You're so...fucking hot, daddy," I murmured, as he slowly stroked his cock, pre-cum suddenly oozing from his delicious head.

I walked the two steps to him, looked at him and said, "Touch me, daddy. Are my...panties wet, hmm?" I sultrily asked.

He brought his free hand between my legs and gently ran two fingers along my lacy-covered cunt, my sap sticking to his digits. He brought his fingers to his mouth and erotically sucked them. I shimmied my panties down my legs and left the sodden underwear on the floor, as I lifted a leg up and sat on daddy. My other leg came up, as I grasped his wet, rigid member and rubbed it through my labia.

"Fuck me...dad," I moaned, and impaled my pussy on his stiff shaft. I enveloped his head with my arms, and we sweetly kissed, my hips lurching up and down on his hard manhood. He firmly pulled my hair back, his teeth biting my bare neck, a quiet groan escaping my chest. My pelvis's hips were confident and sturdy, my clit rubbing on his pelvic bone with every rigid push. His hands were on my naked bum, pulling me sharply onto his cock.

My whimpers became louder with every plunge, daddy trying to quiet my desire. He pulled my dress open, his mouth on my shoulder blade, biting and licking me, as he pushed himself into his daughter. We were both so close, our scent filling the room, our grunts sure to cause an interruption to our dangerous liaison. I squeezed my cunt around his shaft, feeling his prick expand, and I came, my juices gushing from me and over daddy's groin. I pulled up, then pushed down again, and he came, his animalistic growl saturating the small room, as his manly, warm sperm filled my valley. He bit me harder, my whimpers louder, as I took my dad, giving myself up to him. We emptied ourselves on each other, our breath ragged and deep. I lifted my reddened face to his, giggled and kissed him, our tongues fluttering in each other's mouths.