Double Dare(246)

And slowly, oh so slowly, I sauntered over to his chair. Cocking a hip sassily, I stood between the vee of his legs before running my fingers through that ink-black hair, bending down to whisper against his lips.

“Daddy, it doesn’t matter which cherry you pop first. Just as you long as you take them both,” I mewled, and suddenly found myself sprawled across his lap face down, my boobs and stomach mashed against his legs, my butt hanging off the edge.

“Oof!” I squealed. “What the?”

But a smack descended on my left cheek, leaving it red and stinging.

“Ouch, what’d you do that for?” I shrieked, turning halfway to look at the big man. “Why’d you do that?”

But Drake frowned at me, pinning me down.

“You do as Daddy says,” he rumbled. “And you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Cleo, not answering Daddy’s question. Now which one do you want popped first?” he asked again.

“Daddy, I thought the question was just rhetorical,” I squealed, trying to explain myself. But without further ado, another slap rang out, this time on my right cheek.

“Which one?” he ground out harshly.

And my body flooded with sensation because Drake was now pulling my shorts down so that they were mid-thigh, my peachy orbs on display, my pink slit running wetly.

“Daddy,” I tried again, “I want …” but my sentence ended in a languorous moan as Daddy trailed his finger over my slit, dipping in the wetness, touching my little nub for a moment, caressing it before moving to my ass.

But I still hadn’t answered his question and this time Drake was fast. He flipped me over so that I was face forward on his lap and when he slapped me again, it was on my pussy.

“Ohhh!” I whined. It felt so good, my little clit vibrating from the touch, the way his fingers immediately smoothed over the sting, running through my folds. “Ohhh!”

“Baby girl,” whispered Drake harshly, his eyes never leaving my face. “Once more. Which cherry do you want Daddy to pop first?”

And without even thinking about it, I blurted, “Pussy! Pop my pussy cherry first, please Daddy!”

And Drake finally dropped a kiss on my clit, flicking it with his tongue, murmuring against my cunt.

“That’s right baby girl, when Daddy asks you a question, you answer right away,” he rumbled, lapping at my pussy. I heaved and gasped on his lap, my voice becoming a whine of pleasure as he licked my pinkness, pulling my labia apart to sample my clit, tease me a bit before settling into a deep suckle.

“Oh,” I moaned, writhing on his lap, “Yes, Daddy, please!”

By now, my tits had fallen out of my tank and I was playing with my nipples, pulling and twisting them, rolling the hard pebbles between my fingers.

But suddenly Drake slapped my pussy again, making me jerk up with a shocked gasp before melting again into a puddle, every nerve on fire.

“Daddy,” I panted, “what’d I do this time?”

“You don’t touch yourself until I tell you to,” he ground out, eyeing my breasts possessively. “Those tits, that ass, that cunny, they belong to me,” he said coolly. “No one touches them until I say so, and that includes you.”

My face colored. Oh god, Drake was so possessive but it made me feel fantastic inside, I wanted it so badly, wanted to sample him, feel him in me even more. And suddenly I had an idea.

Slowly lifting a knee I looked him in the eye, baring my cunt to him, the pink pulsing and slick.

“Daddy, you know I’m a virgin still,” I reminded him coyly, holding my pussy lips apart, giving him a view up my pulsing channel. “I just have one request. Will you lick my hymen before it breaks?”





CHAPTER SEVEN


Drake




She was so dirty and I loved it. Cleo was my dirty virgin and I loved every second of it, the way she was laid out on my lap now, her tits falling out of her tank top, her pussy bare, those little shorts a heap on the floor.

And I loved how she was so bold even though I’d just spanked her. Asking me to lick her hymen? Oh shit, yes.

But I wanted to do just more than just lick. I lifted Cleo so that her cunny was poised above me and slowly trailed my fingers over her lower lips, her snatch bare and smooth like a baby’s. She whined, her eyes closed, her hips gyrating against my hand.

“Does that feel good, little girl?” I whispered. “Does it feel good when Daddy massages your twat?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes! Yes! More, please,” she panted in my ear as her vagina ran heavily, drenching my fingers in her juice. I would have been happy to touch her forever, fingering her, exploring her hole, except that I’d promised to taste her hymen. I picked her up as she clung to my large frame and strode over to the couch, placing her on her feet in front of it. She wobbled like a newborn colt, turning to look at me with a hungry, questioning air.