Robot Ponygirls
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Why I'm A Daddy's Girl free porn video
Why I'm a Daddy's Girl
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All very young girls love their Daddies unconditionally, but of course, this may change, as they grow older. I have always been a 'Daddy's Girl' and cherish every moment with him. I quickly learned that even if Mom said 'No' with the right look and plea, her 'No' could become a 'Yes' from Daddy. If upset or crying, his touch seemed to sooth my troubles and he has a knack for making people smile.
We are a close family, and we frequently played games together when young. I remember his 'Monster Stomper' game very well. When I was ready for bed wearing my pajamas, he would pretend to be a monster chasing me into bed. I would run and wrap my little legs around his ankles, sit on his foot and grab his leg tightly with my arms. He would lift his legs up and 'stomp' as he walked with me clinging to him. My face and tiny breasts, merely bumps then, pressed tightly against his leg, while my pussy was firmly against his ankles; as he 'stomped' my little pussy would tingle at his every step towards the bedroom.
Being so young, I never really realized that my face was resting against his semi-hard cock inside his pants and my arms were clutching him there as well. The more steps he took with me bouncing along with him, he got harder and longer. By the time we reached the bedroom, a large wet spot usually appeared on his pants and the faint smell of something like the medications Mom put on my 'ouchies'. He would deposit me into the bed, give me a tender kiss on the forehead. My panties would also be wet as well. I thought maybe I had peed myself with all the jousting around.
When too big to play 'stomper', I had began to earn an allowance for doing chores in and around the house. Washing dishes, cleaning our rooms and that sort of thing. On Friday nights Dad would pay me my allowance. One Friday, he said he was too tired to pay me. I had seen him put his money in his pants pocket, so in my typical daughterly fashion, I ran up to him and hugged him, but this night, my hand dove right into his pocket fishing around for my allowance. Groping for it, and my hand touched a very large lump in his pocket. I started to pull my hand back, when he touched my arm smiling down at me.
"Keep looking, you are getting close," he told me.
I giggled and continued with my hand and fingers moving around in his deep pockets.
Each time, I'd feel on both sides of the lump, but did not find my allowance.
"Daddy, I can't find it. Where is it?" I asked. I kept feeling around the lump but found nothing but the lump.
"Well, it might be under that big lump, use your fingers to move it around and see if you can find it," he answered with a crooked smile on his face. I noticed he had leaned back some, and continued doing as he instructed, pulling the lump back and forth in his pocket. After a few more tries, I was about to give up, when he reached down putting his hand on top of my hand, and helped me adjust the lump. Almost immediately, I saw a huge wet spot appear on the outside of his pants and he moaned low in his throat.
"Keep going baby, it is in there, I promise," as he removed his hand for a few seconds. I pulled the lump back and forth, trying to lift it up. His hand slipped back into his pocket and this time I found several bills alongside the lump, which was getting smaller and smaller.
"Oh, here it is Daddy!" I squealed excitedly, "Thank You," as I rushed off to my room to add the bills to my cigar box of treasures. He stood quietly, with his own hand in his pocket, rubbing the lump till it was gone.
My brother, Steven, sometimes played 'stomper' with us, but not often. He is a 'Momma's Boy' all the way. I swear that if she stops too fast when walking in a room his nose will be up her ass immediately. But then, boys or men, both are rather driven by their cocks always. Mom has always doted on him and he has been spoiled, or so I think anyways, and gotten away with tons of things I could not get away with, even with Daddy overriding Mom's commands.
I am only a few years older than Steven is and I do not recall being jealous of him at all. Many an evening when the lights were out, I saw Mom go to his room in her nightgown. I could not tell if he was asleep or not usually, but Mom would creep in there, sit on his bed pulling his bed sheets down, and fondle his privates. She would pull her top under her boobs and work her hands under his underwear. Eventually I would see his little pecker stiffen and come out of the fly. She would lovingly touch it, wrapping her fingers around him, stroking him. His hips would begin to rise up with her strokes and she would lean down, kissing his stiffy all over, licking it up and down until it disappeared into her lips and mouth. Her head would bob on it as she sucked him. His whole body would shake and he would grab her head, holding her in his hands. His dick would remain in her mouth for a long time before she would release him, pulling his sheets back up then lean in and kiss him on the mouth with her tongue flashing in and out of his.
When Mom ran off with her swinger boyfriend, he was devastated. We never have seen her since that day, the Sheriff arrived one day acting as a process server and delivered the divorce papers.
In the months after that, Steven withdrew, barely leaving his room except for school and meals, I missed Mom as well, but not to the same extent. Daddy was stoic but I could tell he was sad. I would make little jokes and hug him tightly to try to cheer him up and he would brush my hair back with his hands and kiss my forehead holding me close. Then just meander off to whatever or wherever he was going.
At night, I started going to his bedroom, climbing in bed, holding him in my arms while he slept. I cuddled against his back, pressing my breasts on his back, folded myself along the outside of his lower torso. Often he would push himself back against me, but remain sleeping.
I think he knew I was there, but kept his back to me keeping his space private. One evening, I heard him mumbling in his sleep, and he rolled over on his side towards me. His arm d****d across my chest and I lay very still. He continued mumbling so I was sure he was asleep. I rather enjoyed feeling his arm on me. I slowly rolled on my side as well, pressing my back against his body. I loved the warmth he radiated and his hand now lay on my breast. I snuggled myself further back against him and in my thin negligee, my buttocks rested with his cock laying along my crack.
I spent the night being so close to him that way and my pussy tingled and got wet. Over the course of the next week, again and again, I would go to his bed and lay against him, thinking of him while pressing myself against him. On about the third night, I noticed that his cock was longer and standing out from his body more. It also was pressing between my ass crack in a different position. I slowly rocked against him, reaching back and pulling my ass a bit, allowing it to further slip between my cheeks. My wetness seeped thru my panties, and there was wetness on his cock as well.
I was enjoying this new feeling of closeness, his cock between my cheeks. Another night, following the same pattern, I felt his cock between them, twitching. He seemed to be moving his hips against me and his hand was now firmly massaging my breasts, one after another. I kept pressing back against his hips and felt his cock head just touching my pussy, which was completely wet, it felt so good. I rocked a bit harder and suddenly felt a warm spurt of cum hit my labia and run down my legs onto the bed.
I was so shocked, I leapt up and ran from his bedroom into the bathroom. The long white strands of cum were clinging to my labia mixed with my own nectar, both of which were running down my legs. I carefully washed myself and went to my bed. As I lay there I still remember how wonderful the whole experience had been, the hot cum hitting me, my own orgasm before it, all was a perfect ending.
I did not go to Daddy's bedroom any more after that night, but I dreamed of it for many weeks. Daddy seemed much less sad as well after that night, although he never spoke to me about what had happened nor did I.
To this day, I remain a 'Daddy's Girl'.
----------
All very young girls love their Daddies unconditionally, but of course, this may change, as they grow older. I have always been a 'Daddy's Girl' and cherish every moment with him. I quickly learned that even if Mom said 'No' with the right look and plea, her 'No' could become a 'Yes' from Daddy. If upset or crying, his touch seemed to sooth my troubles and he has a knack for making people smile.
We are a close family, and we frequently played games together when young. I remember his 'Monster Stomper' game very well. When I was ready for bed wearing my pajamas, he would pretend to be a monster chasing me into bed. I would run and wrap my little legs around his ankles, sit on his foot and grab his leg tightly with my arms. He would lift his legs up and 'stomp' as he walked with me clinging to him. My face and tiny breasts, merely bumps then, pressed tightly against his leg, while my pussy was firmly against his ankles; as he 'stomped' my little pussy would tingle at his every step towards the bedroom.
Being so young, I never really realized that my face was resting against his semi-hard cock inside his pants and my arms were clutching him there as well. The more steps he took with me bouncing along with him, he got harder and longer. By the time we reached the bedroom, a large wet spot usually appeared on his pants and the faint smell of something like the medications Mom put on my 'ouchies'. He would deposit me into the bed, give me a tender kiss on the forehead. My panties would also be wet as well. I thought maybe I had peed myself with all the jousting around.
When too big to play 'stomper', I had began to earn an allowance for doing chores in and around the house. Washing dishes, cleaning our rooms and that sort of thing. On Friday nights Dad would pay me my allowance. One Friday, he said he was too tired to pay me. I had seen him put his money in his pants pocket, so in my typical daughterly fashion, I ran up to him and hugged him, but this night, my hand dove right into his pocket fishing around for my allowance. Groping for it, and my hand touched a very large lump in his pocket. I started to pull my hand back, when he touched my arm smiling down at me.
"Keep looking, you are getting close," he told me.
I giggled and continued with my hand and fingers moving around in his deep pockets.
Each time, I'd feel on both sides of the lump, but did not find my allowance.
"Daddy, I can't find it. Where is it?" I asked. I kept feeling around the lump but found nothing but the lump.
"Well, it might be under that big lump, use your fingers to move it around and see if you can find it," he answered with a crooked smile on his face. I noticed he had leaned back some, and continued doing as he instructed, pulling the lump back and forth in his pocket. After a few more tries, I was about to give up, when he reached down putting his hand on top of my hand, and helped me adjust the lump. Almost immediately, I saw a huge wet spot appear on the outside of his pants and he moaned low in his throat.
"Keep going baby, it is in there, I promise," as he removed his hand for a few seconds. I pulled the lump back and forth, trying to lift it up. His hand slipped back into his pocket and this time I found several bills alongside the lump, which was getting smaller and smaller.
"Oh, here it is Daddy!" I squealed excitedly, "Thank You," as I rushed off to my room to add the bills to my cigar box of treasures. He stood quietly, with his own hand in his pocket, rubbing the lump till it was gone.
My brother, Steven, sometimes played 'stomper' with us, but not often. He is a 'Momma's Boy' all the way. I swear that if she stops too fast when walking in a room his nose will be up her ass immediately. But then, boys or men, both are rather driven by their cocks always. Mom has always doted on him and he has been spoiled, or so I think anyways, and gotten away with tons of things I could not get away with, even with Daddy overriding Mom's commands.
I am only a few years older than Steven is and I do not recall being jealous of him at all. Many an evening when the lights were out, I saw Mom go to his room in her nightgown. I could not tell if he was asleep or not usually, but Mom would creep in there, sit on his bed pulling his bed sheets down, and fondle his privates. She would pull her top under her boobs and work her hands under his underwear. Eventually I would see his little pecker stiffen and come out of the fly. She would lovingly touch it, wrapping her fingers around him, stroking him. His hips would begin to rise up with her strokes and she would lean down, kissing his stiffy all over, licking it up and down until it disappeared into her lips and mouth. Her head would bob on it as she sucked him. His whole body would shake and he would grab her head, holding her in his hands. His dick would remain in her mouth for a long time before she would release him, pulling his sheets back up then lean in and kiss him on the mouth with her tongue flashing in and out of his.
When Mom ran off with her swinger boyfriend, he was devastated. We never have seen her since that day, the Sheriff arrived one day acting as a process server and delivered the divorce papers.
In the months after that, Steven withdrew, barely leaving his room except for school and meals, I missed Mom as well, but not to the same extent. Daddy was stoic but I could tell he was sad. I would make little jokes and hug him tightly to try to cheer him up and he would brush my hair back with his hands and kiss my forehead holding me close. Then just meander off to whatever or wherever he was going.
At night, I started going to his bedroom, climbing in bed, holding him in my arms while he slept. I cuddled against his back, pressing my breasts on his back, folded myself along the outside of his lower torso. Often he would push himself back against me, but remain sleeping.
I think he knew I was there, but kept his back to me keeping his space private. One evening, I heard him mumbling in his sleep, and he rolled over on his side towards me. His arm d****d across my chest and I lay very still. He continued mumbling so I was sure he was asleep. I rather enjoyed feeling his arm on me. I slowly rolled on my side as well, pressing my back against his body. I loved the warmth he radiated and his hand now lay on my breast. I snuggled myself further back against him and in my thin negligee, my buttocks rested with his cock laying along my crack.
I spent the night being so close to him that way and my pussy tingled and got wet. Over the course of the next week, again and again, I would go to his bed and lay against him, thinking of him while pressing myself against him. On about the third night, I noticed that his cock was longer and standing out from his body more. It also was pressing between my ass crack in a different position. I slowly rocked against him, reaching back and pulling my ass a bit, allowing it to further slip between my cheeks. My wetness seeped thru my panties, and there was wetness on his cock as well.
I was enjoying this new feeling of closeness, his cock between my cheeks. Another night, following the same pattern, I felt his cock between them, twitching. He seemed to be moving his hips against me and his hand was now firmly massaging my breasts, one after another. I kept pressing back against his hips and felt his cock head just touching my pussy, which was completely wet, it felt so good. I rocked a bit harder and suddenly felt a warm spurt of cum hit my labia and run down my legs onto the bed.
I was so shocked, I leapt up and ran from his bedroom into the bathroom. The long white strands of cum were clinging to my labia mixed with my own nectar, both of which were running down my legs. I carefully washed myself and went to my bed. As I lay there I still remember how wonderful the whole experience had been, the hot cum hitting me, my own orgasm before it, all was a perfect ending.
I did not go to Daddy's bedroom any more after that night, but I dreamed of it for many weeks. Daddy seemed much less sad as well after that night, although he never spoke to me about what had happened nor did I.
To this day, I remain a 'Daddy's Girl'.
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