By Friday morning, Daddy wasn’t sick anymore. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?
I came home from work, changed into something less…well, less work-like…and Daddy and I went to lunch. To talk about our relationship.
The entire afternoon was lovely. Lunch at our favorite bistro. Coffee (tea for me) at Starbucks. Sitting on a park bench in the sunshine with a cool breeze. We talked about our relationship. We talked about our future. We talked about our past. We strategized and planned our next moves.
While little was mentioned about it, we were all too aware that our time together was shortening. Daddy gave it to me straight – no more plane tickets to come visit. Not if he was going to get things taken care of on his end for us to be together by June. I nodded my acceptance. I willed myself not to think too much about it. The idea of not seeing him for more than a few weeks always leaves me short of breath and wracked with anxiety.
Sooner than we wanted, the afternoon ended. We had to pick up the boys and move forward with the evening. I drove to the daycare, and I began to dissolve.
By the time we had one boy picked up and were on our way to the next one, I could barely keep my eyes open. A dull throb in my temples earlier in the day had morphed into a searing but pulsing, pounding headache. The dusky light of the early evening was too bright for my eyes. My hands trembled. I swallowed over and over again, nausea rolling through my stomach.
“Want me to drive home?” I could hear the concern in Daddy’s voice, even as he tried to keep it light for the 4 year old in the backseat.
I nodded miserably. When we pulled in to the parking lot, I gratefully handed over the keys. Tears threatened to spill as I realized I was going to be sick on his last night.
When we arrived back to the house, I walked upstairs and collapsed across the bed, grateful for the dark room. I couldn’t move or speak.
All three of my boys (yes, I consider Daddy one of my boys) gathered around, clearly concerned. Daddy came around the bed and squatted down next to me.
“Babygirl, what can I do?”
I burst into hysterical sobs. He gathered me close and let me cry. I don’t know if I cried because of the pain in my head or my heart, probably both. He shushed me, kissed my forehead, handed Mr. Teddy over, anything to sooth me. I could feel my boys crowding closer, worried about Mom. I choked back the sobs.
“Rest, babygirl. I’ve got the boys.”
I closed my eyes and slept. Daddy checked on me a few times, once to let me know he was getting dinner for the boys. Two hours later, I opened my eyes. My head didn’t hurt quite as much, but I was as weak as a kitten. I wanted to hide under the covers, but I knew I was losing precious time with Daddy. I stumbled down the stairs, legs trembling, nausea threatening to overwhelm.
We managed to make it through the next few hours with no further drama from me. Finally, we went to bed, and I dissolved again.
With food in my belly and a little time spent talking kinky fuckery online, I almost felt normal again. We readied for bed.
“Daddy, may I come to bed?” I can only imagine how pathetic I must have looked and sounded. Without hesitation, he acquiesced. I could feel the tears threatening again. We had to leave early the next morning to get him to the airport, and I dreaded sleeping.
With no warning, Daddy rolled on top of me, pinned my arms to the bed, and looked deep into my eyes. I wanted him – I always want him. But I couldn’t muster a strong response to being forcibly held down. I was glad that I wasn’t required to make any decisions or have much say. I waited, wondering what he had in store.
He licked my nose! I giggled. SLURP-SLURP! He did it again! I laughed and giggled like a child. In that moment, it was the funniest thing ever. We laughed and joked, silly kids playing in bed.
Then his grip on my arms changed. The look in his eyes darkened. I dissolved one more time.
He began to play my body like an instrument. He plucked my nipples until I sang. He pinched and tweaked. At his command, I masturbated while he watched and continued to deliciously torture my nipples. I gushed and squirted, soaking the bed.
When he tired of watching, he spread my legs wide and dove in. His tongue flicked against my clit as I screeched and writhed in ecstasy. He sucked and nibbled. He slapped my pussy over and over again. My lips were sensitive to the slightest touch. He tortured me with his hand and tongue. I came over and over again.
Finally, finally, he lifted himself over my body, rubbing his cock over my swollen, tender slit.
“Is this what you want, girl?” His growls sent me over the edge. I reached between us, grabbed his cock, and guided his shaft into my waiting cunt. I pulled him closer, my nails digging deep into his ass. He thrust in and out of me, over and over again, faster and faster. My nails raked his skin, marking him as my own. I growled and grunted my pleasure. Wanting more, I held my legs as wide as possible and sighed when I felt him sink deeper.
Holding my hair to keep my head still, he pounded my body over and over again. Sweat covered both our bodies. We grunted obscenities to one another, our animal need taking over.
“Cum for me, you fucking slut.”
My body tightened as I spasmed around his cock. Seconds later, he buried himself even deeper as his own body went rigid, shooting his cum inside of me.
Orgasmic aftershocks hit us both for several moments. Time passed as we each caught our breath and found the strength to move again.
Later, snuggled up close, we talked about the day – our conversation, my sudden illness, our kinky fuckery. Neither of us wanted to fall asleep, but eventually, sleep won. For the moment, I was done dissolving.