Daddy Fucks Pregnant Teen Daughter

It was the knock on the front door that gave her away: three light taps; as if she used her pretty pink and turquoise painted fingernails. I threw on my t-shirt and rose from the living room recliner, my heart pounding like a freight train that was barreling toward a certain demise. I thought of that night and the nights of pure passion that had come after. It had been so long since I'd held her, felt her, smelled her, and tasted ... everything. She'd chosen a girlfriend over me, her father, this, I understood, but never came to terms with.

When I opened the front door, there she was, as beautiful as the day I'd first laid eyes on her, and as delightfully unkempt as the day she'd decided to leave me. Holly Marie, my gorgeous eighteen-year-old daughter, stood before me, drenched and dripping from the rain nearly head to toe, her long brunette hair a mess, stuck to her forehead, her shoulders, and her thin upper arms. The day's cool mist came off her maternal form with a mix of her Maui shampoo and her sweet, dreamy, warm coconut and violet perfume. God how I had missed that scent, that draw, her glamour.

I felt my muscles tighten; my bulge lifted as it always had in her presence, that tension and conflict somehow rising in my throat. She looked older and younger all at the same time, like she'd seen too much, and was alone for too long. Guilt clutched hold of my chest and squeezed.

"Jesus, Baby, did you walk here?" I asked, scooting her inside with delicate ease.

"Just a few blocks." She set down her bag on the floor and I pulled her into my arms. For six months I went without her warmth, her skin, her charm, her growing baby bump--the slope of that under-curve that now inadvertently dragged across my cock as I held her--those eyes looking at me like I was her hero. I was more than relieved when her arms wrapped around me--as best they could in her condition--and I felt her fingers clench my back.

"Out of options?" I asked.

"I tried, Dad. And you don't need to judge. Out of money. Out of work." She pulled back.

"I'm not judging, Holly. I'm hoping. A man's pregnant little girl shows back up at his door and ... just tell me you're okay."

She looked into my eyes; she'd been here five seconds and I'd already said too much.

"I don't know why you left in the first place," I added.

"You know why," she said, directing my attention back down to her protruding belly. "It's a girl, in case you were wondering." She moved my hand to her ample bump and the heat from within her radiated hope, love, and family. My family. Our family. My hand instinctively caressed her, dropping below her navel as a light kick poked my fingertips.

"Her name is Emma. Emma Jade."

"That's beautiful, Holly," I said with a smile. "You did good. She's going to be perfect just like her mother."

With a shiver from my girl, I closed the front door and grabbed her hand, and as our fingers interlaced I guided her to the bathroom. "I've been wondering about the baby every minute since you left." I picked up a clean towel and wiped her face gently. "Did I fuck this whole thing up?" I asked. "You and me, I mean..."

"Never." She took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Everything looks good. The doctors say she's very healthy." Holly caressed her tummy. "And she's very active already." Then that familiar pouty expression of hers hit me with everything it had, everything it always had. "Can we stay, Daddy?"

With this, I nearly melted. Relief hit me like a sucker punch to the chest. I'd spent six months pretending I could live without her, convincing myself she was better off gone--even as every empty room in this house whispered her name. And now she was here, asking to stay. Needing me. It wasn't just a second chance--it was redemption wrapped in her voice, trembling and sweet. I wanted to hold her and never let go. I wanted to keep her safe. I wanted... everything. "Of course, you can stay. As long as you need." I kissed her forehead. "Tell me what you need right now, Baby."

"A shower and we need some dinner. I need to pay some bills, lost my phone. Can I use yours?" she asked.

"I'll take care of everything. You take care of yourself and that little one. I don't want you worrying about anything."

"Thank you, Daddy." She smiled and it was so familiar I almost stumbled.

I paid her bills, put her credit card balance back to zero and I cooked her a hot meal. We made her bed with extra blankets and put nightlights in her room, the hallway, and the bathroom. I had my baby returned to me and this time, she wasn't going anywhere.

***

It was 2AM when the house felt most alive in its stillness. No traffic. The clocks ticking loud enough to notice. The hum of night pressed in from all sides. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the kind of silence around me that held its breath, the kind that made you believe anything could happen. Hope curled in my gut like smoke. Regret hung beside it. Then I heard it--the soft shift of footsteps, the almost inaudible creak of a door, my bedroom door. And suddenly, the possibility wasn't just a dream anymore. It was her.

I'd only slept a few hours, maybe, but I found Holly with tears in her eyes, standing over me, her big bump nearly brushing my left cheek. I sat up and reached for the lamp but she stopped me.

"Don't," she whispered. "I'm a mess. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Baby there's nightlights everywhere. I can see ..."

"Pretend you don't."

"What's going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" I asked.

"She's fine." Holly's voice was a few octaves too high. "I'm just having a hard time."

"Sit, baby." I held her hand and she climbed onto the bed. When her body shifted, I saw them. Her breasts, hugged so tightly by her bright white t-shirt, the fabric soaked through as her nipples protruded."

I couldn't help but stare until Holly caught my gaze.

"Pretend you don't see it."

I looked into her eyes. "Baby just tell me what's going on."

She sniffled, the cutest sniffle I'd ever heard from her, and then she sobbed. "My pump stopped working. I've only had it a while, only needed it the last two weeks and now it's not pumping and my breasts are ... full. They're so full they fucking hurt. I can squeeze and squeeze but it's never enough."

Her breasts were ripe, fuller than I'd ever seen them, plump, ample, so rounded. I handed her a tissue from the box on my nightstand and she wiped her tears away, but more came.

"I'm sorry, Holly. I'm surprised you're already producing, I, didn't think that could happen at six months. What do we need?" I asked unable to lift my eyes from her stretched shirt.

"A new pump. A better brand. The doctor said the early milk is thicker than regular breast milk. I don't know why," she cried as if calling out for a lost child. "Last week it was just a few drops but now ... it's this. I can't even touch my boobs they hurt so bad. I can't sleep on my side because of the extra weight, which is causing the pain. It hurts, Daddy."

"Okay. Tomorrow ..."

"Morning!" She cut me off.

I nodded. "Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll go get you the most expensive high-end breast pump I can buy."

"Yeah."

"For now, lay down and let me hold you. I'll be gentle. I'll stay up while you sleep. Okay?"

"Mmhm." Holly nodded.

My heart was, once again, pounding.

I pulled back the blankets and she slowly crawled in. I felt her bare feet graze mine, her smooth legs washed over mine like warm soap sopping over my calves; her hips moved against me and then her belly, full and tight, nuzzled my abs. When her bulging chest pressed against my pecs, I felt the cold wet milk soak me. It dripped from the buildup and ran down my muscles, soaking into the bedsheets. I didn't say a word. We could lay in this mess all night. It's what she needed. It's what I wanted. And when my cock grew between her thighs, I still said nothing at all.

Over the next hour, I felt my baby relax; I felt our baby shift and kick and I saw Holly's tears dry. I kissed her cheek as she closed her eyes. I held her at her thigh and felt her tight panty-line pushing against her smooth skin. But when Holly, at the brink of sleep, shifted her weight, tears fell again and again. I was as helpless in this moment as she was and all my knowledge of being a father seemed far from my grasp. We lay in silence, waiting for the minutes to tick by until I could get her what she needed. We were three hours from any store opening, and a good thirty minutes' drive from the store, to which I needed to get. She was throbbing, and when mommy was in distress, the baby could have been too.

I couldn't have that.

"Holly?"

She opened her eyes and looked into mine.

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

She nodded. I reached up and wiped her tears, slow and careful, like each one might shatter her if I touched it wrong. Her eyes were red, wide, still leaking pain she couldn't name out loud--but I felt it. I saw it in every tremble of her lip, every shallow breath. She looked so small like this, so far from the girl who had stood in my doorway soaked in rain and stubborn pride. I cradled her cheek in my hand. "Let me help, Baby," I whispered.

I pulled at her shirt near her waist, stretching it with my muscles until it tore across her belly--her glowing mound--exposing her tight skin. The rip in the cotton tee extended between her breasts and I yanked the thin shirt in half. Both her boobs fell free from the hold and she winced as they jiggled before me. My fingers grazed them as delicate as rose petals brushing against leaves in a breeze. My lips tasted her face, her forehead, her cheeks, and her soft, nearly chapped, and sticky lips. "I'm going to take care of you, Baby Girl."

Her tits were heavy in my hands--warm and swollen, like ripe fruit about to burst. The skin was tight, stretched with fullness, but the flesh beneath was pillowy, like satin over velvet. She flinched when I touched them--tender to the slightest pressure, but desperate for relief. Her breasts didn't just feel good--they responded. Every brush of my palm made her shift, sigh, and press closer. I could feel the heat rising off her chest, the way her heartbeat echoed through the softness, guiding my touch like a drumbeat.

My mouth met her left tit, her hard bulging nipple and I opened up around her pale areola. Applying pressure, I sucked, immediately feeling a burst of warm wet thickness coat my tongue. Sucking harder, I got a second spurt of her salty, sweet milk. She moaned in pain while my tongue asked for more. I swallowed, as my mouth was already full. When the real taste hit me at the back of my throat, a sensual swig of almost, nutty milk--like coconut water with a hint of almond milk--I became greedy for more. As I felt every shot from her tit spritz across my tongue and teeth, I used my hands to knead her full breast. With three pumps and a hard suck from my lips, my mouth was full again. Swallowing, I felt the warm milk run down my esophagus. My cock ached between her thighs as I nursed from my beautiful daughter. She was adorable, nodding at my aggression, squirming at the tension and pain.

"Don't stop, Daddy. Don't stop," Holly pleaded. "This is so much more than I could get out."

Her hands held my face as I worked on her. I drank from her left tit, then I sucked from her right tit. I moved between them, slurping, lapping, draining what needed to be drained, devouring her rich nutrients, giving her an experience no man ever had before. She whimpered through the painful tugs and moaned with every stream jetting into me, and through it all, we were close. We held each other, kissed each other, and her wet panties and my bulging, stretched boxers nudged each other.

The taste of her hit me harder than I expected--warm, raw, deeply feminine with that edge of sweetness I'd only imagined in dreams. But it wasn't just flavor. It was power. It curled around my tongue, sank into my bloodstream, and lit something primal deep in my gut. I'd meant to help her. To ease her pain. But the more I tasted, the more I wanted. My tongue grew greedy, my hands firmer, possessive. I kissed her not just to soothe, but to claim. Every moan she gave me only pulled me deeper, until the only thing I could think about was sliding inside her--feeling that same heat wrap around my cock, swallowing me whole. I didn't mean to want it this much. But I did. I couldn't stop. I knew now, at some point, I'd take her.

This is when, for good measure, I ripped off my baby's panties. I didnt have a plan; I just moved.

It was primal now. Animalistic. My cock had been throbbing, leaking for too long. I knew exactly what I needed. My boxers came off in a breeze. I pulled myself up, letting my length fall heavy across her belly--then I slid it between her wet, swollen tits. Her milk still clung to them, warm and slick, and I gathered the weight of her breasts in both hands, squeezing them tight around my shaft. The first thrust was sharp, a quick jerk just to feel that friction. I groaned. I was already close. The second thrust caused her breasts to jiggle and I focused on my baby's pretty, needful face; her big eyes looking up at Daddy, her lower lip half trapped between her teeth. So fucking sexy, youthful, and flawless. My angel. As my cock thumped between her big tits and my grip on them tightened, I watched my massive dickhead as it nearly tapped her chin with every push of my muscles.

I titty-fucked my girl, pure wet heat building between us, flesh slick and needy. My hands found her shoulders, and she took over--grasping her tits, pressing them tighter around me. Her fingertips toyed with her swollen nipples, milking herself slowly, and deliberately, pushing more warm streams between us. My cock slid through it all, the slickness easing the friction, the burn fading into something deeper, more dangerous.

"Open your mouth, Holly," I commanded. She did so, wide and ready. With a final plunge between her boobs, I shoved my soaked cock into her mouth and burst, semen rushing and gushing over her tongue, shooting to the roof of her mouth and flooding the back of her throat. Her lips sealed around my penis and I felt her suck it, swallowing everything Daddy put in her mouth, like a good girl. The orgasm was intense--like a swirling galactic event bursting between my legs, stretching through me with perfect precision. A fire of pleasure, ache, release, and guilt shot through my entire being, shaking my hands and legs with its raw force. And in that beautiful moment, I did nothing but stare into Holly's pretty eyes. It'd been half a year since I'd had her. God, how I missed the deliverance.

Holly held my bare ass in both hands as she sucked the last drops from my tip, her mouth still warm and eager. She struggled to take all of me--my thick pipe pressing against the back of her throat. I pulled free, bent down, and kissed her hard. I didn't care that my cum was still on her tongue. I wanted it there.

That pouty look on her face said everything--she knew I wasn't done. Not even close. It begged for attention, begged for her bout of ecstasy... her cosmic shift between those sensually smooth legs. And God, was I ready.

She hesitated when I moved lower, my cock trailing a slick line of cum and milk across the swell of her tight, bulging tummy. Her thighs twitched beneath my hands. I kissed along her knees, up her inner thighs, savoring every inch of this young angel laid out beneath me.

"I haven't... I haven't been able to shave in a while," she whispered, her voice tight with embarrassment. "It's bad, I know. I just--can't reach."

I looked up at her from between her legs, my breath hot against her thighs. "It's perfect," I said. "You're perfect, Baby."

I buried my face in the thick, dark curls at her core, inhaling deeply like it was oxygen and I'd been holding my breath for months. Her scent was different now--richer, fuller, deeply feminine--and it only drove me deeper. My tongue parted her gently, savoring her warmth, and the way she pulsed against me.

She gasped, her back arching as my tongue found the spot that made her breath hitch.

"God, Daddy... so deep..."

I spread her delicate labia, her thick, slick sweetness soaking my tongue. I sucked at her soft pink flesh, licking and massaging her clit with slow, steady pressure. I tasted every inch of my baby between her thighs, every sigh from her lips feeding the hunger in me.

Her breathing grew ragged, thighs trembling against my ears. I stayed locked on her clit, flicking it with my tongue, then pressing slow circles into it with the flat of my mouth. She whimpered--high, helpless sounds that told me she was close. So close.

Her hands grabbed at the sheets, then my hair, then her ripened body, her hips jerking beneath me. She tried to speak but couldn't. Only broken gasps and that sweet, rising moan--God, that sound.

Then it hit her.

Her whole body arched, a long cry tearing from her throat as she came hard against my mouth. Her thighs clamped around my head, her belly tight and quivering, her soaked heat pulsing on my tongue. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop--not until I had every last wave, every shudder, every drop of her pleasure.

When she finally fell back, limp and glowing, I kissed her inner thigh and looked up at her--messy, ruined, beautiful.

I'd dreamt of her pussy more nights than I could count--haunted by the shape of it, the feel, the scent, the way it clenched around me like it never wanted to let go. I'd wake up throbbing, covered in sweat, aching for something I wasn't sure I'd ever get again. Every detail burned into me--how she tasted, how she trembled, how wet she'd get when I whispered things no father ever should. And now, here she was beneath me again--open, warm, perfect. Mine. The waiting was over.

Her chest rose and fell, flushed and heaving, her tits still swollen, still leaking with that rich, sweet release. I straddled them, gripped them tight, and squeezed until her warm milk streamed across my shaft. It coated me--thick, glistening, running down my length like liquid silk, dripping off my balls. I watched her eyes widen as I milked Baby all over my cock, soaking it in everything she gave me.

Then I pushed back her knees, folding her open to the core. My tip found that soaked flesh and I pressed in--slow, deep, claiming inch after inch as her body swallowed me. Her walls clung to me like they remembered every second I'd been gone.

Her pussy sucked at my cock as I pulled back, then slurped me up again when I drove deeper. Tight, wet, hungry--like it never wanted to let me go.

"God damn, Holly Marie." I breathed deeply. "I've missed this fucking pussy." My words came out slow and low, like a secret I'd been dying to confess.

I pumped into her hard, each thrust making her jolt, her tits bouncing and leaking with every ounce of heat I drove between us. She moaned and winced as I fucked my creation. I smacked the back of her thigh, watched it jiggle, and then gripped her bulk--running my hands over the curve of her belly. I caressed that massive bump like it was holy. I craved every part of her, but none more than the place I knew she felt most exposed. Most fragile. And God, how I wanted it all.

I prodded at her inner mound, pressing against that soaked, tender entrance--her cervix slick and pulsing, begging but resisting. The pressure as I leaned into the door to her heart gave me goosebumps and sent chills through my spine. There was more blood in my tip than I could stand, and every nerve in my body screamed to be let in.

I drove into her deeper, harder, watching her eyes flutter--trying to roll back, trying to escape the intensity.

"Look at me," I demanded. "Right fucking here."

Her gaze locked on mine, wide and dazed, her lips parted in a breathless moan.