From that day on, I made it my mission to please him.
Every time I walked in on him with his cock in his fist and lesbian porn playing on the TV, I apologized. Every time he came, I cleaned him with my mouth without being asked. I learned the exact way he liked to be touched, the pressure, the speed, the way he breathed when he was close. I lived for the moments he called me good boy afterward. But I wanted more…
One afternoon I went out and bought a cheerleader outfit at the mall. Short pleated skirt, tight crop top that left my stomach bare, white socks that came up to my knees. When I put it on in front of the mirror, my face burned. I looked ridiculous and perfect at the same time.
My dad got home from his shift a little after six. I heard the front door open and the heavy sound of his police boots. I was already waiting in the living room.
He stopped in the doorway when he saw me.
For a second he just stared. His police uniform was still on — dark blue shirt stretched across his chest, badge catching the light. His eyes moved over the skirt, the crop top, the socks, and something dark and hungry settled in his expression.
“Fuck, Scott.”
My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. I walked closer, the pleated skirt brushing the tops of my thighs.
“I thought you might like it, Daddy.”
I turned slowly so he could see the back of the skirt. My dad made a low sound in his chest, dropped his keys on the table, and crossed the room in three long steps. His hand locked around the back of my neck and he pulled me against him hard.
“I do like it,” he said, voice rough. “In fact, I like it so much I’m going to fuck you while you’re still wearing it.”
He pushed me down onto the couch. The cushions sank under my back. My father stayed on his feet, already working his belt open with one hand while the other kept me pinned by the shoulder. He pulled his cock out — thick, already hard — and looked down at me.
“Open.”
I opened my mouth. He shoved in without warning, pushing all the way to the back of my throat in one thrust. I gagged hard around him. He didn’t ease up. He gripped both sides of my head and started fucking my mouth in deep, steady strokes, like I was his fuck doll. Spit ran down my chin and onto the crop top. Every time he pushed deep I made a choked sound he clearly liked.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “Take it like a good boy. Gag on it.”
He used my throat until my eyes were watering and my jaw ached. Then he pulled out, strings of spit still connecting my lips to his cock, and flipped me over onto my hands and knees. The short skirt was shoved up over my back. I felt him spit once. The thick head of his cock pressed against my hole.
He pushed in, it burned. I cried out into the couch cushion as he forced every inch inside me in one long thrust until his hips were flush against my ass. His hands clamped down on my waist hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck, you’re still so tight.” he growled.
He started pounding into me without giving me time to adjust, deep, heavy strokes that made the couch creak. His balls slapped against me with every thrust. The pleated skirt bounced against my lower back. I could feel him splitting me open, using me exactly the way he wanted.
“You bought this outfit for me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Dressed up like a little slut so daddy would fuck you. Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, Daddy.”
He fucked me harder after that. One hand stayed on my hip while the other fisted in my hair and pulled my head back. The angle made every thrust hit deeper. I came untouched against the couch cushions, shaking and clenching around him. The way I tightened must have set him off, because a moment later he buried himself as deep as he could and came with a loud, rough sound, flooding my hole with thick pulses of cum.
He stayed inside me for a few seconds afterward, breathing hard against the back of my neck. Then he slowly pulled out. I felt his cum dripping.
My father leaned down, kissed the side of my face, and spoke against my skin.
“Good boy.”
I stayed there on the couch in my cheerleader outfit, skirt still pushed up, hole open and loaded, while he fixed his uniform. My whole body felt used and owned and completely his… I would do it again whenever he wanted.
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