Kind of NSFW piece-Daddy's lap

[wackadoodle]

TW: posessiveness and jealousy

I climb into his lap, peeking at his screen as he absent mindedly reaches a hand to tousle my hair. I wriggle closer into him, wanting to feel him against my back, wanting his scent to envelop me like a hug. The movement draws a breath from him, maybe accompanied by a small noise from his throat.

In the dim glow of his screen, I catch our faint reflections. A princess sitting on her throne, whilst her daddy protectively holds her waist in his comforting and warm hands.

Daddy's lap is so inviting and comforting to me. I pull daddy's hands tightly around my tummy and intertwine our fingers. I hate that one day his lap could belong to someone else.

I lift his hand up to my lips and kiss each of his fingers slowly. I'm definitely distracting him from his work. I lick the insides of his fingers gently and he squirms a little. It's ticklish. I lift his hand some more and put it on my face. It feels nice. The weight of his hand. My probably ADHD thoughts wonder if I'd be able to recognize his hands if I were blind. I kiss his palm.

But the sweet appreciation of daddy's fingers aren't enough to satiate my bitter growing need to possess him in this very moment. My hips shift instinctively, seeking friction, and his fingers tighten at my waist like he already knows where this is heading. The cold light of the screen flickers—an unwelcome reminder that I’m supposed to be letting him work, but I want him.

My wiggly butt makes daddy make all sorts of noises and his attention is fully mine. It's not just his attention I want though, it's this lap of his. It's mine.

Daddy's hands move all over me, like he's telling me the very same things. That all of me is his.

His grip guides my movements, steady and firm, helping me help him. He sounds like he needs a lot of help, his old man wheezing makes me wonder if I should get up and call the ambulance or stay and fulfill his dying wish(this is a joke by the way). Somehow our clothes get off. I don’t remember how, not really. All I remember is how good he felt. How good he told me I felt.

And when he sat there, panting, spent—like I had conquered him, like I had claimed what was mine—oh, I felt so good. Especially when he pulled me close, wrapped me in his arms, and murmured against my hair:

"My little princess."

[Baby Manda]

Very descriptive and well written! Thank you for sharing!