Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! This week’s prompt was to right a story about traffic signs. How about one from the archives about traffic lights, instead? This was originally posted back in February when Daddy came to visit one last time before the move.
“No panties. And wear a dress when you pick me up, babygirl.”
I gulped. “Even if it’s cold outside, Daddy?”
Driving to the airport in a cotton dress, cardigan covering my arms, no bra or panties, my legs bare and chilled, I realized my compliance was simply another form of submission. He’d never asked me to be uncomfortable in this way before. Sure, sure, uncomfortable with the need to climax or in pain, but I’d never allowed myself to be mildly uncomfortable in such a mundane way.
Of course, I knew this request for what it was – easy access to my body, his body.
Sweet greetings in the airport with bear hugs and cuddles. Giggles and hand-holding, we were one of many couples in love that night.
By the time we made it to the car, my teeth were chattering and goosebumps covered my skin. Daddy set his luggage in the trunk and closed it before pulling me close. His mouth devoured mine; his hands roamed at will. I whimpered as I felt a tug on the back of my dress and cool air on my exposed ass. The warmth of his hand seared my bare skin. I clung tighter, my arms around his neck. The thin dress fell from his hands. I breathed deep knowing I was covered again.
“Let’s go, babygirl.”
Moments later, we pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the highway. We came to a red light. His hand caressed my knee, moving my dress up and over my thighs. I parted my legs, granting him easier access. My body tensed as my breath came in shudders. His fingers skimmed my mound and slit. My grip on the steering wheel tightened.
The light changed. Daddy pulled my dress down, covering my legs. I trembled a bit. What is he up to?
Another red light. As the car came to a stop, I stared straight ahead, knowing that whatever happened next, I had no control. His hand softly brushed my dress aside. My knees part, my pelvis jutted forward. I could feel cool air on my moist lips. Gone was the soft touch from before. His fingers rubbed my pussy causing me to moan and cry out. He pushed against my clit. My hips bucked.
“Oh God! Oh, oh, please, mmmm, please, Daddy, can I cum?” I gritted my teeth against the need for an orgasm.
“No you may not.” I whimpered at his words. Green light.
I drove through the intersection still trembling with need. We talked about inconsequential things. Seconds later, another red light. Fuck.
In silent agreement, he pulled up my dress and my legs parted. Terrified of the edging, I couldn’t stop myself from allowing him full access. Swirling, hard fingers pushed against my labia and clitoris. My foot pressed down on the brake pedal to brace myself against the onslaught. I threw my head back as I moaned and cried out. For the briefest moment I wondered about the cars around me. I forgot about them as the need to cum overwhelmed every other sense. I knew the answer would be no. I knew this was a game to see how much I could take.
Green light. Green light. I need a green light. Oh dear God, I need a fucking green light!
I feared not being able to control my orgasm. I feared the next red light. An orgasm was building and speeding toward me like an out of control freight train. This is the longest goddamned red light ever!
Finally, a green light and a momentary respite. As we drove along through the dark night, I hoped for green lights. My wishes were granted for the next 20 miles. Speeding towards home, a red light caught me by surprise. His touch was gentle, but my need was no less insistent. By the time we pulled away from the last red light, I was a shivering, trembling, gasping mess. I would do anything for his touch – which of course, was part of the plan all along.
For my long time followers, sorry for the repeat! It was too good to pass up!