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Daddy critiques her party costume. He likes it. A lot.

The nature of their relationship had never been romantic, although she knew from his sister that he had had strong feelings for her. They had always enjoyed their encounters as pure pleasure - giving and taking freely, with no promises and no frills. He had never undressed her slowly, preferring to give his attention to her body. And now he began to remove his own clothes methodically, as if they were an old married couple. She was glad this hadn't changed. She didn't want to feel anything different from before, and it left her in control of how she revealed herself to him now.

He lay back on the bed, his hands under his head, watching her as she undressed. For a moment, she stared at his impressive erection. She had forgotten how big he was. She smiled to herself as she remembered the first time she had seen his cock, how her eyes had almost popped out of her head, and how she had been sure it would hurt her. But he had never hurt her. He was attentive and skilled, and the memory of his expertise caused her insides to squirm and her juices to flow.

She had started with her pants and panties, not ready as yet to expose the changes in her body. She turned away from him to take off her shirt, laying it carefully on the armchair, and removed her bra with her back to him. She swallowed and took a deep breath before turning to face him again and approach the bed.

He sprang to a kneeling position, reaching his arms out to her and seizing her by the waist to haul her towards him. Just as he used to do. They knelt there together, their bodies intertwined, their lips and tongues melded, his erection pushing so hard into her abdomen that it seemed as if it had created the crevice that marked her stomach. He pulled her to the side and tipped her onto her back, pulling away from her mouth to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her eyebrows, and breathe slowly over her face to her ear, which he delicately traced with his tongue.

His hot breath set the fire. The touch of his hand on her breast, gently squeezing her nipple between the lengths of his middle and forefinger, ignited it. His lips and tongue and teeth brushed her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, and travelled over the soft mound of her other breast, coming to rest on its tip. As his tongue swirled around her nipple, the fire raged within her, quickening her breathing and causing her to moan. She raised her pelvis to rub herself on the thigh he had pressed between her legs. She wanted him. She had always wanted him. And now she ached for him; ached for him to make her cum; ached for him to make her feel beautiful again.

His hand left her breast and continued down her body. Her stomach muscles clenched; partly in apprehension, partly in anticipation; but his fingers did not falter, neither avoided nor lingered on the blemish of which she was so conscious. She felt his touch glide down her outer thigh, finding that sensitive spot behind her knee, feeding the flames. He shifted his leg enough to allow his hand to pass on its journey back up her inner thigh, to the moistness of her pussy.

His fingers danced over the most sensitive parts of her, slick with the juices of her desire, teasing the flames higher until they flared. She cried out with the release it brought her - a release, also, from the doubt she had unconsciously carried within her for some time.

She was more than ready now, ready to feel him inside her, ready for him to fill her up, ready to ride him the way he liked. He rolled over onto his back pulling her up to straddle him. She liked the way he did this, the way he'd always let her have control at first. She shifted onto his thighs so she could get reacquainted with that part of him that had given her so much pleasure in the past. He was ready too, throbbing beneath the touch of her palm, glistening with his own wetness oozing from the eye of his head.

She hesitated then, unsure of how this would work out.

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