The Real Thing Pt. 01

Amanda: Daddy I don't understand.

Amanda: What do you mean?

Amanda: Daddy, please don't make me send it back. It's so pretty.

Daddy: Guys can be really gross Amanda. I just want you to be safe.

Amanda: Gross?

Amanda: OMG Daddy! You don't think it looks sexy or anything? I just thought it was pretty.

Daddy: Princess yes, it's a very sexy outfit.

Daddy: This is really hard for Daddy. You've just really grown up. I never thought I would see my Baby Girl wearing something like that.

Amanda: Oh no. You don't like it...

Daddy: Hold on. I certainly didn't say that. Like I said, it's a sexy outfit and my reaction would be different if I saw it on a woman in a club instead of my daughter.

Amanda: What would you think Daddy?

Amanda: Please Daddy, you have to tell me. Please don't be mad!

Daddy: I would hope that she understands how an outfit like that makes a man feel.

Amanda: How does it make you feel?

Daddy: If I saw a woman wearing something like this I would be very attracted to her, especially if she had a nice body.

Amanda: Daddy do I have a nice body?

Daddy: Princess, you can't ask Daddy questions like that.

Amanda: OMG you think I'm fat and ugly!

Daddy: Princess, no! Stop.

Amanda: Yes you do. You're just saying that to be nice. You can just say I'm pretty. I bet you can't say anything specific about what you like, can you?

Amanda: You can't. Daddy I know you're trying to be nice...

Daddy: Princess you have a beautiful body.

Amanda: No I don't! I'm crying now Daddy.

Daddy: Your breasts look very nice in all the outfits you've shown me.

Amanda: You're just saying that.

Daddy: Princess, you're voluptuous like your mom is. Plenty of guys like curves. I'm one of them.

Amanda: Really?

Daddy: Yes, really. Guys go crazy for boobs like yours. It's one reason I was attracted to your mom. She has big boobs like you.

Amanda: But I feel so fat Daddy.

Daddy: Baby Girl. It's ok if you're a little chubby. Your belly looks so cute in that top. Big girls like you are soft and curvy. Just because you see only skinny women on TV and stuff doesn't mean that you don't look good. So many guys like women who look like you.

Amanda: Are you one of them, Daddy?

Daddy: Well... yeah I am. I love curves.

Daddy: Doesn't this make you a little uncomfortable Amanda?

Amanda: Why?

Daddy: Nevermind. You have other clothes, right?

Amanda: So I can keep it?

Daddy: Yes, Baby Girl. We're just going to have a talk about this one too when I get back.

Amanda: Am I in trouble, Daddy?

Daddy: Amanda, my god... no. Daddy won't get mad at you for any of your clothes.

Amanda: You promise?

Daddy: I promise.

Amanda: Yes, Daddy.

I had a few more. And I started to scroll through them, feeling the heat rise in me.

Daddy: You have more, right?

Beaming, I stared at my screen. Daddy had loved these. And somewhere deep down, I knew he was hard and even imagined him stroking his magic cock while he looked at them. My pussy was flooded with wetness now and my hand came involuntarily to my tit and gave my erect nipple a squeeze and rolled it. I told myself that I was horny because the pictures made me look sexy. It had nothing to do with Daddy or him wanting me.

But he did want me. I knew it. And somehow the discomfort and even shame it brought me made me that much more horny.

Daddy: Princess? Do you have any more?

Amanda: Maybe

Daddy: Well then show Daddy the clothes you spent his hard earned money on.

Daddy: Princess you looked very pretty in those pictures. I'm very proud of you that you sent them to me. I know how you feel about how you look.

He was impetuous now. Daddy always had such a cool head, and it shocked me a little to make him feel like this. I had seen him give Mom kisses and even cop a feel when he thought I wasn't looking. But this. This was thirst. I knew then that I had to save those other pictures for later. Teasing him like this felt naughty.

Daddy: Princess.

Amanda: Daddy's getting greedy.

Daddy: No, I just want to see the others. I think I have the right to see them.

Amanda: Yes, Daddy. But I think it's better for you to see them later or maybe see them in person. Let your girl have some secrets.

This isn't the kind of thing Daddy would get mad about, was it? He would see it all eventually, even if it had to be in person.

Amanda: It won't be much longer Daddy. I have to give you something to look forward to.

Daddy: Baby Girl, don't tease your Daddy.

Amanda: *giggles* I'm not. Isn't it getting pretty late over there? Mom is probably waiting for you to come to bed.

Daddy: I guess so. But I need to tell you your next assignment. I've ordered your favorite pie for you at Deb's.

Amanda: Banana cream?

Daddy: Yes. I remembered.

Amanda: I didn't know Deb's was still open.

Daddy: Your assignment is to eat it. DO NOT save some for your mom and I.

Amanda: The whole pie?

Daddy: Yes. And for proof I will need a video of you eating it. Remember when you were little and you only wanted to eat things with your hands?

I paused. This isn't what I expected from Daddy. Why would he want me to eat the pie with my hands? It sounded gross, and that was only a phase I went through. I barely even remembered. And he wanted me to video it.

Daddy: Princess, I need you to know that you hear me and understand. Eat the pie with your hands.

Amanda: Yes Daddy.

Was Daddy mad that I didn't send all of the pictures? Was this some kind of punishment? It didn't seem like him. He didn't punish me much, even when I misbehaved, and then he was straightforward and not weird like this.

Daddy: Daddy expects you to do what he says. He knows that you're in a bad space and he can't be there. So this is a treat.

Amanda: Yes, Daddy.

Daddy: Pick up the pie tomorrow morning. Have the first slice when you get home.

Amanda: I will, Daddy.

Daddy: Good girl. I love you Amanda.

Amanda: I love you Daddy. Goodnight.

—

I couldn't keep my hands off the shoebox under the bed and that morning my cries shook the bedroom walls. I scrubbed the toy in the sink and put it back under the bed. "Thank you Daddy," I whispered, "I love you." Despite my confusion with Daddy's instructions I was excited to pick the pie up at Deb's. Daddy and I had always gone there when I was little and he would let me get a banana cream pie, even though he liked cherry and Mom liked lemon meringue.

Deb's was nestled down at the waterfront. Though it was more of a sleepy place when I was little it was a tourist trap now, surrounded by fancy restaurants and hotels. Deb Czaky herself would often greet me years ago when we would visit. She had passed away a decade before and business was out the door, so the bakery was full of strangers.

I'm not that shy, especially around people significantly older than me, as the cashier was. But having stayed inside by myself for several days made being out in the open feel weird. This time of year the sun was out and so the place was packed. They even had a line for pickup, which moved much faster than the pay line.

I told the man at the counter my name, struggling to make eye contact. The pie was there, all cold and white and beautiful in its plastic container. My mouth watered just looking at it. Sweets like this were my weakness. I didn't have a problem limiting bread or meat. I even quit soda when I left for college. But pie, cookies, chocolate were all a weakness of mine.

Daddy had told me to eat a piece first thing when I got home and to finish it before they got back. A whole pie in a couple of days? Was Daddy trying to fatten me up? The thing was, with Daddy's permission I felt freed from responsibility and would gladly eat the whole pie. I pondered this as I drove up the hill, passing what Daddy called the "Goonies House." But he not only wanted me to eat it with my bare hands but wanted me to record it too. There was something odd about it. It seemed gross too. I didn't want to mess my hands up just to eat a pie. But Daddy had bought me this pie so I felt like I owed him. Besides, this was Daddy. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn't listen to him?

Soon I rounded the corner and the old house loomed over me. It was over a hundred years old, being one of the houses untouched by the fire in the 1920s. Even though it reminded me of when I was little, it was still a bit scary at night. Then again, maybe that was why. I remembered how the creepy owl in the kitchen made me feel, about how the house made the creaks and thumps at night that Daddy called it "settling." I wished again that he was home with me.

I cut a big piece of pie, probably big enough to make me sick, but I didn't care. I pulled up a chair at the old kitchen table and set up my phone. I braided my hair in two long french braids down my back so I could keep them out of the way while I ate. I paused. On second thought, it seemed they would be better down my front. I was wearing the tank and shorts I had shown him earlier, braless and everything. Daddy always liked my hair in braids, in fact , he had taught me how to do it. As I started recording, I gave him a cloying smile. "Well, Daddy, I got the pie, see?" I held up the plate and made a few adjustments to my camera. "And as you can see, no spoons or forks. But a lot of napkins." I gestured to the pile next to me. "Don't know why you want this, unless you're being a mean daddy and I'm in trouble for not sending you all my pics. But I guess it doesn't matter."

I dipped my finger into the white cream on top of the pie, realizing that I didn't know exactly how I was going to do this. The crust was too weak for me to eat it like a piece of pizza and the pie slid through my grasping fingers. I was able to pull out a chunk of banana and pop it in my mouth. It was exquisite. Deb's never changed their recipes. I crinkled my nose, feeling the need to ham things up. "See how hard it is, Daddy?" I licked the pie filling off my fingers. Why did I get such a big piece?"

My ungainly fingers slid into the pie again, trying not to let too much of it drip through my fingers. I managed to grab a piece of crust. Now I was genuinely annoyed. Daddy had for sure planned this to fluster me. Though he was deadly serious most of the time, he would change it up by playing tricks on me sometimes. That mostly serious demeanor would make it all the more jarring and effective when he did. I showed the tips of my fingers into my mouth, getting the crust and as much of the filling in as possible.

The pie on the plate was half mashed. I was able to scrape a sorry collection of crumbs and filling off the plate and shove my sweet fingers into my mouth again. "Daddy, how am I supposed to do this?" I scowled in my frustration. I wanted to get up and get a fork, but it seemed mean and additionally ungrateful to disobey Daddy here.

Thinking of a fork gave me an idea. Instead of pinching and grabbing the pie I would try scooping it. I got my impetuous fingers under the pie and to my delight I scooped up the biggest piece yet. It had filling, banana chunks, and crust all together. I held the substantial dollop up. "Ha, Daddy! It's not so hard to eat now, is it? You thought you could get me with this, well you-" The pie slipped out of my hand and fell right into my chest just above the low neck of my tank top. It nestled in my cleavage and began to drip down the front.

"Shit," I muttered. "Sorry, Daddy. I know you don't like it when I cuss." I dipped my finger into my cleavage, managing to get most of the pie, but smearing the rest. I shoved it in my mouth, getting cream on my chin and cheeks. I went down to get some more off my tits. They jiggled as I rubbed them. Jesus, what a mess. And so embarrassing that Daddy could see me rubbing and jiggling away like this. It was lewd.

I froze. A strange feeling came over me, as if I could see Daddy red faced and hot on the other side of the camera. I stared up at it. As the pieces fell into place, I felt my own cheeks get red. Sure enough, it was noticeable on camera. My armpits felt hot and I felt my internal humidity rising. "Daddy..." I whispered. So this was his game? It wasn't about punishment or making me feel like a little girl again. Could it be? Did Daddy do this just so he could see me lick my fingers and see my tits creamy and jiggling? It couldn't be like that. Yet, assuming this was the case, it all made sense.

I gulped, and felt my nipples start to harden. Daddy wasn't as reluctant as he pretended to be. He wanted to play. Now my hands were trembling and it made it all the harder to scoop up the pie and get it into my mouth. I stared up at the camera, pulling my fingers from my sweet mouth. Propriety demanded that I be grossed out or offended at this, or maybe even refuse to believe what this was and play dumb. But Daddy's desires were as clear as day here. Last night I had been in control with Daddy begging me for more. But this morning...

But I knew I had to eat the pie, so I struggled as glob after glob slid off my fingers and made a creamy mess all over my tits. Some even dripped on my shorts. I felt embarrassed, almost humiliated. How could Daddy ask me to do a degrading thing like this? The thought brought an unbidden squirm as I felt a tingle down below.

But it didn't have to be like this. Daddy thinks he can embarrass me with this. Well, if he's expecting me to be a cowed little girl, he had another thing coming. Shoving the pie in my mouth, I brought my messy fingers out. I stared into the camera. Daddy needed to see I knew exactly what was going on. Never moving my brazen stare, I licked up and down each finger, then inserted them into my mouth to suck them clean. "Is this what you wanted, Daddy?" I said in a voice simultaneously meek and defiant. "You wanted your girl to get so messy that she has to lick herself clean. What a mean Daddy." I ran a wet finger over the tops of my tits. It was close enough to my nipple that it sent a little shiver through me. I inserted my dirty finger into my mouth, slowly thrusting it in and out as my lips clung to it. After my fingers were out I gave him a smile, full of innocence.

I licked up bit after bit of the pie, stopping occasionally to get some of the goo off my tits. I even pushed them up, licking the tops to get the cream and filling right off as simply and directly as possible. My nipples were as hard as they could get and they were glaringly visible in the camera as I pushed my ample tits up to my face. I was sopping wet now, and would need to change my panties as soon as I finished. My heart raced.

Soon the pie was gone, a plate dotted with crust, cream, and filling the only bit of it left. I felt sad it was over, and my mind raced to think of some way to stretch it out. I wanted to show Daddy what a good girl I could be. Eyeing the dirty plate, I had an idea. I lowered my head down to the plate. My eyes darted back up to the camera. I saw my image, my blue eyes on fire. My tongue leapt from my mouth, flattening with my thrusts against the plate. I licked and licked, keeping the plate on the table but holding it so it didn't move.

My face was red on fire now. In my head I pictured Daddy's rigid cock in his pumping hand. That was my wish, that I could bring the cum out of his pumping member. I imagined the plate being covered not with pie crumbs, but with Daddy's hot, slick cum. A shiver passed through my body. I tried desperately to slow myself down so I could savor this. My clit hardened and engorged. It was all I could do not to shove my hand down my pants and get my gasping release.

But the very last crumb stuck to my lapping tongue. I held up the plate to the camera. It was spotless. "Got it all, Daddy." I opened my eyes wide and doelike. "Did you like what you saw? Thank you for the pie. It made me feel so good. I hope this makes you feel good too. Bye-bye. Love you." I turned off the camera, not even bothering to get up from the table before entering my pussy.

—

Daddy: Your mom and I have a busy day tomorrow. We have a mini cruise and won't be back until late. She made me promise to turn my phone off. I will text you then. Love you.

That was it. I had waited all day for Daddy to at least acknowledge the video I had sent him, hopefully to have some comment. I would even have been happy with being in trouble. My phone pinged again.

Daddy: Your homework is to find a guy in town you knew when you lived here and go out on a date with him.

What the fuck? I had been eager to do the other chores Daddy had given me. So why would he give me a pain in the ass like this to do? I could count on two hands the number of dates I had had in college, and with most of those I had asked the guy. But Daddy didn't know this. I had never told him about the abysmal experience I had with boys in college. The way Mike had wrinkled his nose when I asked him out. When Ben went out with me because he had lost a bet. Even the guys who just stood me up and ghosted me hurt a lot.

I felt tears of anger and shame. Why was Daddy doing this to me? Did he think he was doing me a favor, helping me "get out there" and socialize? My stomach twisted as I stared at his words on my screen. He was all the way in the Caymans, there was nothing he could do to make me. Tomorrow night I could tell him I went out and he would be none the wiser.