Her Daddy's Dick Ch. 03

Not once in life did I ever imagine making sexual comparisons between my daughter and my wife, but there I was, letting the hot water of a shower roll over me, doing just that.

I'm no researcher or anything, but what made it a kind of interesting train of thought was that my wife, Denise, was tutor to my daughter, Vicca. So, what my daughter did in the bedroom was either from her momma's teachings or her own sexual instincts.

Some might argue, well, what about the Internet? She could have learned some things there, couldn't she?

Maybe, but she chose not to as far as I could tell. We had one computer, hardwired to the web and setting in the nook of the kitchen. I knew about Internet history, and it hadn't ever been erased. Vicca had a cellphone, but I didn't pay for no smart phone or data or whatever. It was a call or text-only phone.

Plus, I knew my girl. She didn't care about social media or YouTube or anything.

So, as the hot water soothed me, I considered the two ladies.

Denise appreciated my cum. She did. She always swallowed it with a smile. When I squirted it on her neck or her tits, she liked to swipe it up with her fingers and suck them clean as a chicken bone. I don't quite know what she did when it was in her pussy or her ass, but she always seemed grateful for it. She thanked me and kissed me and told me she was lucky to be the woman I had chosen above all others.

Maybe it was Denise's teachings and that word "cherish." Maybe it was just in Vicca's nature. I don't rightly know, but Vicca didn't just appreciate cum. The girl adored it.

She swallowed it—like Denise, yes. But not at all like Denise either. When I came in Vicca's mouth, her face just looked rapturous. If she missed a drop, it was intentional, and she had a plan in mind for that drop. It was going to be enjoyed somehow. Most of the time, Vicca took me so deep my seed went straight to her tummy.

Vicca licked it up when it was on her body—like Denise, yes. But not like her either. Vicca grew visibly and audibly aroused by it. She sought it out, hunted for it on her body, and she was disappointed when there was no more to be had. When I was spent, Vicca would eat up all the cum, say on her tits, and then she would finger herself, climaxing in no time at all.

But, that wasn't the only difference between the women.

Denise adored having her pussy licked; Vicca did, too, but not in the same way. Denise loved it, it seemed to me, because I was choosing to pleasure her. Vicca loved it because she knew I liked pussy. She knew it turned me on to give her pleasure, and she knew I would be hard like hickory when I finished.

And when I was hard like hickory, she knew she could coax more cum out of me.

***

My wife's fourth stroke ended her life.

It was late March, and I was on Denise duty. I didn't hear a thing. I woke up beside her, and she was gone. Cool to the touch. I figured it had been another stroke because while her right eye stared blankly ahead, her left one had wandered off to the side.

Vicca was inconsolable; I felt numb. I think Vicca was young enough to hope for a miracle, to not really believe her momma was truly gone. To me, Denise had left us after the third stroke, and I mourned her then.

When Vicca's brothers and their families came home for the services, she sprung to life with joy. She adored her little nephews and nieces, and they loved her.

It was a strangely happy time for me, too. Seeing the boys work the ranch again was a pleasure. Watching them argue about which way to do things, hearing old stories and old jokes, I loved it. And I liked having a bunch of ankle-biting whipper-snappers zipping around and calling me "Grandaddy."

The only part that was a bit disconcerting was my son, Trenton. He was our youngest, and the loss of his momma hit him hardest among the boys.

He was—and I think any parent will understand this—he was our hard-luck kid. Nothing ever worked out right for Trenton.

He broke the most bones as a kid. He was the one who got caught the most doing stupid shit. He crashed my truck—three times. When Trenton made enough to buy his own cattle, all ten of them died from Bovine Respiratory Disease. The second time he bought his own cattle, the truck carrying them from auction crashed, and only two survived.

My other two ranching sons had both established themselves in Wyoming. One had 600 cattle; the other had 450. They were on their way, growing their stock and growing their land. The sons that weren't ranching were having some success, too. My oldest was a Master Chief in the Coast Guard. The other ran a construction business in Lincoln.

Trenton and his wife had three little ones, the oldest was just three. It was as clear as daylight that Trenton loved his children and didn't much care for his wife, nor she for him. She seemed antsy, like she couldn't leave fast enough. She routinely ignored him. He'd ask her a question, and it was like she never heard a sound. She and Trenton's youngest was a five month-old, and that woman went out every night without a word. Five months old.

I figured she was drinking.

It was tough seeing Trenton and his wife so miserable together. Trenton was as happy a kid as there ever was. Vicca looked up to him when she was just a little girl. He was a hard worker and a strong fella, the tallest and strongest of all our boys.

Trenton's wife made them leave the day after the funeral. The rest headed back in the week following. I hated seeing my kids and grandkids go. Vicca was broken-hearted, too.

The night my construction business son and his family left town, the last to go, Vicca and I had a fire going in the hearth, and she stared at it in silence. Her big eyes were wet and glassy, and every so often I heard a sniffle.

"Vicca, does seeing them children running around make you want to go off and find a husband?"

She thought about it for a second. Staring at the fire, she said, "No. No, I don't want any children of my own. I just want to be here, keeping this ranch alive."

"What about a man—a younger man?"

"You're my man, Daddy. Always will be."

"And when I'm old and gray?"

She said, "You'll give the ranch to one of the boys, and I'll stay on, keeping the ranch going."

I thought about it for a minute and said, "Trenton. Has to be."

"I figured."

"Vicca?"

She looked at me.

I didn't say anything.

She smiled in a bittersweet way, saying, "Yes. I want you to make me your woman tonight."

Vicca led me up the stairs, but I stopped her. I hauled down her jeans and sucked on the soft flesh of her ass. My fingers found the wetness of her pussy and drove into her.

It wasn't enough. I needed to taste it, and I did.

"Yes, Daddy," she encouraged. "Lick my pussy."

She stopped me just as she was about to hit her peak. Gasping, she said she wanted me to take her the way a bull takes a heifer.

She took my hand, and when she began to turn the corner at the top of the stairs, I stopped us. Pointing at the master bedroom, I said, "This is your room now if you want it."

She grinned, and we went in together. I stripped her naked; she did the same for me. After gently stroking me a few times, she climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, hauling some pillows under her body.

I got behind her, and I scooped her tits from under the pillows so I could see their thick curves protruding from both sides of her body.

Then, all the confidence she had built up over the previous months together seemed to absolutely vanish. Vicca hunkered down. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid. She waited for me, and I could see her trembling.

With all of the experience she had gained over the past months, she was still a virgin, I admitted, but no virgin had ever had so much cum inside or on her body as my Vicca had.

I said, "Vicca?"

She just nodded.

Then, some strange things went down. I bent down to look at her pussy and I watched a drop of her fluid plummet onto the bed. A second one took its place and clung to her. There was a wet spot beneath her. Not big, but there.

I rose, took hold of my erection, and led it to her. The moment the tip made contact, Vicca gasped loudly. Her body flinched.

I repositioned myself and did it again. Again, Vicca gasped, but she didn't flinch. I applied some pressure. Vicca was tight for sure, and despite all the lubrication she'd made for herself, her body provided some real resistance to the knob as it drew her apart. But when it drove inside of her—just the front bulb—she moaned so forcefully that I stopped cold.

Vicca gasped at me to stop. Her pussy began to throb on the tip of my erection. She cried out in pleasure and her arms gave way.

She was having an orgasm, I realized.

I waited there, listening to her lovely moans for some time, and then after catching her breath, she pushed herself up. Her face came around, and she apologized.

"For what?"

"Cummin' so fast."

"That really ain't a problem when it's the woman does it," I said.

She grinned and asked me to go on. I did.

If I didn't know better, I would have thought from all of her hollering and panting that my cock had found the wrong hole, but I finally got the entire shaft buried into her.

And she climaxed again with my erection just setting there.

When her cries ended, she panted and yammered on about how she didn't know how good it would be and how it was the most unbelievable feeling in the world. She told me she loved me and she apologized for the second time.

When I felt her bear down again, I began to thrust. She had her third orgasm, not a minute later, but I didn't stop this time, despite all of her ecstatic hollering and gasping.

I fucked her through another one before mine came along. And if I thought she fussed a bit before, I had no earthly idea.

When Vicca felt my pleasure build, she began having another one—her fifth in maybe fifteen minutes. Her peak hit when she felt my semen begin to fill her body. She hollered without inhibition, and I would have been annoyed if it hadn't been so fiercely and beautifully feminine.

I rested my head on her back, and she told me she loved me. She told me that she was my woman now. When I drew out of her, she slid off the pillows, and in two minutes she fell asleep, exhausted.

***

I woke up on my back. Something felt real relaxing, and I looked.

Just as naked as when I fucked Vicca in the night, I saw the tower of my cock pointed at the ceiling. Vicca, buck naked herself, was on her tummy between my legs. Our eyes met, and she didn't change or do anything other than note that I was now awake.

She was sucking one of my nuts. Her eyes were riveted to my cock, but she wasn't really looking at it. She had that appearance of a person so focused on a task that I knew she barely took in what her eyes were seeing.

Vicca pushed my nut out from her lips, quickly inhaling the other one. She tugged on it gently with her suction. I felt her tongue slither all around it.

When she let it slip out, her hand was there to catch it. She cupped my entire sack and raised it. Then, I watched her tongue unfurl, and she began to lick everywhere on it.

They were slow licks, but it didn't feel like Vicca was trying to pleasure me. She was, of course, but that didn't seem like her full intent. It was more like she wanted to pamper me, show me how dear I was to her.

She never said a word, and she spent long minutes down there, licking my nut sack like a cow might clean her newborn calf.

Vicca worked her way all over it several times, but on the last, she started to lick my cock. She rose to her knees, but she never used her hands. She moved her body to get her head in the right spot.

From the base to the very tip, Vicca licked—cleaned with her tongue more like—my cock. After every slow, luxurious drag of her tongue, Vicca closed her lips around it and swallowed whatever it was she had collected on the previous pass.

When she sat up, displaying those big titties, she asked, "Can I sit on it, Daddy?"

I nodded.

Vicca spun around, reached between her legs, and positioned my cock against her pussy. She slowly lowered herself upon it. It was a slow process, and throughout it all, Vicca grew in excitement. At first, her breathing was relaxed, and she only let out the faintest of hums. By the time I was fully inside her, she was panting and voicing drawn-out moans.

She rocked on top of me about five or six times before her body gave way. With my erection buried deep, she tipped forward on her hands and cried out an orgasm. I felt her pussy throb.

Once her cries abated, Vicca rose from me and spun toward me. On her hands and knees, she inspected my cock.

It glistened with her lubrication.

She dragged her tongue up the shaft, and whatever it was she tasted, it made her eyes draw shut and her jaw fall open with a low, sensual gasp.

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at me as if embarrassed, as if she'd forgotten I was there.

She shyly muttered, "I—I just wanted to know what we taste like together, Daddy."

"Like it?"

She nodded, and she asked if she could sit on it until I came.

I nodded and told her to do it facing me. She smiled and did it. I caressed her tits, and Vicca very bashfully asked, "Daddy, you know how if we do it this way, your seed might kind of spill out?"

I nodded.

"Can I—do you mind it if...?"

"I know how you like it, Vicca."

She turned a bit pink and said, "I'm sorry, Daddy, but I just really do. That make me a bad girl?"

I nodded and said, "But in a good way."

She smiled and fucked me.

She came a second and third time, and after I climaxed, Vicca fingered herself to a fourth climax while she cleaned our combined fluids from my cock with her tongue.

***

It was a blowjob that got me.

Vicca and I were having our first real battle—a bitter one—about three years after I made her my woman.

The fight was about me, really. I was getting older, and I couldn't admit it to Vicca, but my body was not handling the physical aspects of cattle ranching like it used to.

Vicca had been gone for two weeks, out visiting each of her brothers and their families. When she got back that afternoon, she found me laid up. I had thrown out my back moving the bulls a few days prior.

Vicca told me to hire more hands.

I said, "Hell, no, I won't."

We had it out, hollering and spitting—me sitting up in bed, Vicca at the threshold with her hands on her hips. I wouldn't budge. She was steamin' mad, called me a "stubborn old turd." Then, Vicca kicked me out of our bedroom.

I moved into my old bedroom; we didn't speak that night or the next day.

In the evening of her third day back, she came to me in silence. She sat on the bed beside me and reached for my pants.

I smacked her hand away.

"Daddy, now don't be a fool. You need this. It's been more than two weeks."

I shook my head.

She explained, "You don't deserve anything for how bull-headed you're being about more hands. So, I'm just going to use my mouth."

"I ain't hiring no more hands."

Vicca's eyes flashed fear. Just as quickly, her face grew stone-cold, and she said, "Fine. It don't hurt me none."

She rose and left.

She was beside me in the morning when I awakened. The sheets rested on my thighs just under my pajama bottoms. A morning-glory hard-on stood there, and Vicca's fingertips lightly caressed it.

Seeing I was awake, she said, "You sure you ain't gonna hire no more hands to help you?" When she finished speaking, her fingers rose and hovered over my erection.

I knew she'd anticipated this moment—me with a wake-up boner—and planned to exploit the situation. It made me angry. "Not hiring anyone," I said, meeting her eyes and not flinching.

Vicca grimaced. She dipped a hand inside her nighty and scooped one of them mighty breasts free. Leaning over me, she dragged the soft flesh along the shaft. Then, she rose slightly, supporting herself with her hand, and she let her breast hang freely. Her nipple perched on the very tip of my cock, right there on the exit hole it sat.

Vicca wiggled her chest, watching the little nub jig there for a moment. She asked, "You sure?"

When I told her no, that fear returned to her face. She sat upright and quickly hid her anxiety behind a scowl, but her eyes glanced twice at my cock. Vicca tucked away her breast and left without a word.

I hated saying no; I needed her dearly.

My back feeling mostly better the next morning, I worked that day. Vicca remained in the house—in protest, I figured. For supper, she left a cold meal on the table, and I heard the television on in her bedroom.

I went there.

She was sitting up in bed—her back against the headboard—and watching some show. When she saw me, she said, "Just one, Daddy."

"One what?"

"One extra hand is all I think we need to help you."

"Told you I ain't hiring any. Not-a-one."

Vicca shut off the television and asked, "You as stubborn with Momma as you are with me?"

I stepped towards her, not answering.

She continued, "Cause I need to know if I'm really your woman—same as Momma was—or if you treat me different cause I'm your little girl."

I stopped. It was a good question. Itching my jaw, I said, "You're not the same woman as your Momma."

"That ain't what I asked, Daddy."

"Let me finish, girl."

She sighed.

"Since you ain't the same," I went on, "things are bound to be a little different."

"But am I your partner here on the ranch the same way Momma was? I mean, if Momma instead of me was telling you to hire an extra hand, would you have done it?"

I shoved my hands in my pockets and said, "I woulda fought her on it, too."

Vicca's face relaxed.

I went to her.

She looked up at me and said, "It's been two and a half weeks since we been together as man and woman, and I want to take care of your needs." She reached up. Her fingers dragged down my shirt and over my crotch. She clutched my cock and balls through the jeans, rubbing little circles with her thumb.

I nodded.

"You know how I get worried about you, about this," she said, gently squeezing my crotch.

I nodded.

She stared at the tube-like indentation in my jeans where her fingers kneaded, saying, "Only just say you'll think about it—think about hiring a hand, I mean—and I'll let you have what you want."

I nodded as if thinking about it, but I wasn't. I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and drew out my half-hard cock.

"This mean you'll think about it?" she asked.

I shook my head.

She scowled.

I caressed her cheek, and those big doll's eyes watched me fearfully. Cupping her chin, I drew her lips and my cock together.

She kissed it and looked up. "You're not gonna hire no one?" she asked.

Feeling the tiny wash of air from her words and her breath on the bulb of my cock, I said, "No."

Close-lipped, she blinked at my erection. Her eyes took it in about the same way a little girl might survey an ice cream cone covered in sprinkles.

I muttered, "Tell me you won't go asking about hiring no more, and you can have it, Vicca."

She shook her head, uttering something I couldn't quite hear.

"Tell me."

"I won't ask about it no more," she whispered.

"Okay."

The moment that word escaped me, Vicca's jaw fell open and with a sweet sigh, her lips engulfed the tip. I wasn't completely hard yet, so I watched her lips follow the shaft as it wobbled left and right. She gathered more.

When I felt her lips nuzzle into my pubic hairs, when I felt her nose on my tummy, I groaned deeply.

She let slip a long, high moan.

Twenty seconds later, she pulled off. Looking at me with glassy eyes and ribbons of drooping saliva connecting her lips and my shining cock, she muttered, "I can't help it, Daddy. I need this. You ain't mad at me for giving up are you?"