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“Just a taste,” he whispers in my ear as his arms squeeze my breasts underneath my dress. 

I feel his hands slide across my ass. I close my eyes while his hands move closer to my wet spot. His breath warms my neck and smells of chocolate and mints. But, just as his fingers are about to puncture my opening, I hear my father enter the room we’re in right now.

He covers his hand over my mouth to quiet my heavy breathing, and I watch silently from the closet as my father searches for something. 

Then, my dad, frustrated that he can’t find whatever he’s looking for, stomps back out of the bedroom. 

“That was too close,” I whisper, nervously. 

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says. “I love your dad, but he’s completely clueless. Let’s keep going.”

“I d-don’t know,” I say back, lips trembling. 

I touch the skin on my cheek. It’s hot and flushed. 

He touches the insides of my folds, and now I can’t deny that I’m really horny right now for him because I’m soaking wet. But, I also can’t fuck my father’s best friend in his own house. Even if his friend is Daddy to me. It’s just too disrespectful. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go…” I tell him. 

I open the closet door and quietly leave Daddy behind as I return to the dinner party happening downstairs. 

* * *

I rejoin the party and take my place as a set piece for my parent’s temporary fame as the hosts of the annual St. Patrick’s Day party. Everyone is wearing a different shade of green, and I know it’s only a matter of time before someone shares an annoying comment for not denying my Irish heritage. 

I survey the room and notice that many of dad’s friends are attractive to me right now. I lock eyes with Matt Kennon, one of the Partners at my father’s firm, and exchange a harmless flirting glance with him. What I’m feeling is definitely a result of being so hot and bothered by what almost just happened upstairs. Also, the fact that I have a thing for older guys. 

And yet, when Matt Kennon walks towards me, I want the other way. I know that flirting anymore with him would just make me sad that I don’t get to be with Daddy right now. 

* * *

The party continues along as all adult parties do. With music I don’t like, with conversation topics I don’t fully understand, and with occasional attempts from my parents to show me off to all the partners in the room, not realizing that these men aren’t interested, at all, in my academic accomplishments. At least, not as much as they are in undressing me mentally and imagining me bent over one of the hard, sturdy desks in one of their offices. 

My tummy flutters as I notice that none of the Partners at the firm are staring as hard at me as Daddy. Because it’s him that I want most of all. 

If I were less of a timid person, I would already have snuck away with him back upstairs in a hiding spot big enough for just us two, where his fingers could continue their mission inside my channel. 

“I’m telling you guys, you need to hire a personal trainer for your daughters if you don’t want them to get injured. I mean, if you ask me girls shouldn’t be playing sports at all, but that’s a whole other issue,” my father says. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Daddy says to my father. “It seems to have done your daughter a lot of good. She is in really great shape.”

“Yes, that’s true. Oh, and that’s my point! The personal trainer I hired a few months ago finally got my little Emma to stretch before she works out. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” My father asks, suddenly noticing that standing nearby. 

“Y-Yes,” I say. 

“Of course, the personal trainer I hired is herself, a woman. Can’t have some big, brawny man putting his hands all over my baby girl,” my dad says. 

“No, can’t have that,” Daddy says, his eyes following and watching me as I begin to pace nervously through the room. “Still, it’s important that whoever is stretching her out knows what they’re doing.”

I bite my lip, feeling badly that if my father knew what Daddy meant by that comment…if he knew what I was doing with his best friend, he would be so hurt.

* * *

I stay out of sight for the next twenty or so minutes, just checking my phone and avoiding eye contact with the guests. 

Eventually, I decide to look for Daddy. Even if I can’t do anything with him, we can, at least, still talk. But just as I begin scanning the room, I feel someone brush my hair behind my ear. 

“You need to go to the bathroom. Don’t you?” Daddy asks. 

“Mhmm…” I whisper. 

I practically start shaking when my father turns his head and sees Daddy talking to me with his hands wrapped around my waist. But, to my surprise, Daddy doesn’t seem to be upset by it. 

Daddy walks back into the crowd of people. I glance over my shoulder as I quietly make my way to the guest bathroom near the back of the house. 

I turn the knob on the bathroom door, and when I flip the light on, I see that Daddy is already there waiting for me. 

“It’s torture not being able to touch you,” he says, his voice a lustful a growl. “I’m desperate for a taste of this little pussy, baby girl.”

I feel a pang of guilt hit my chest from Daddy calling me baby girl, just like my father does. But, the worry is replaced by the pleasure I experience when Daddy lifts me onto the sink and then buries his face in between my thighs. He lifts my legs over his shoulders and pulls my hips into him. His tongue slowly curves into my channel, igniting it with wet heat. 

“BABY GIRL?!” My father calls out to me, knocking on the bathroom door. 

“No, it’s me, Bill,” Daddy says to my dad. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m just looking for Emma. She better not have snuck out with one of her friends!” My dad yells back. 

Before we even hear my dad leave, Daddy is grinding my pussy on his mouth. I squirm and wiggle as his tongue pushes in and out of my tight ring, occasionally lashing my clit.

Daddy’s mouth brings me to the edge, and all of my guilt for disrespecting my dad in his own house like this temporarily melts away as I explode on Daddy’s face. 

“Oh…OH, GOD!” I scream. 

Daddy stands back up, grinning. He washes the lower half of his face with warm water from the sink and then slowly opens the bathroom door. 

“Lucky, your parents are playing their terrible music so loud they can’t hear us,” Daddy says. 

* * *

A minute later, I sneak out of the bathroom and walk left through several rooms that cut across the house and back to the party. 

When I reach the kitchen, though, my mother grabs me by the wrist and brings me over to the bottles of liquor sitting on the countertop. 

“Young lady, I told you that your responsibility at this party is to make sure that you mix drinks for anyone who wants a cocktail. I won’t have your father’s friends using too much alcohol in their mixed drinks and getting so drunk they have to sleep over like the last time we threw a party,” my mother says. 

“Sorry, I…” I begin saying. 

“Shh, I don’t want to hear it. Just…just make Barbara Powden a drink. She’s been bugging me for the last minutes about getting one. She said it doesn’t matter what it is just make it purple or pink,” my mom tells me. 

“Yes, mom,” I say. 

As I begin to look around for the things I need for this cocktail, my dad walks into the kitchen. 

“There you are, Emma! I’ve been looking all over the house for you. Where’d you go?” Dad asks. 

“I was just…” 

“Don’t worry about it. Look, let’s get some fresh air. I need to talk to you about something serious. And, I think you know what it is,” my dad says to me with an unusually stern tone. 

“O-Ok, Dad,” I say, so uncomfortable that I practically want to crawl out of my skin. 

I think that he knows.

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