Ever since that first daddy wet dream Kitty had had, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Daddy's cock. Or his butt. Or his shoulders. Or any part of him.
She was becoming obsessed.
She'd be leaning over the sink as he'd be going to put his dishes in the sink, she'd see his hands, his long, lean fingers - can you even describe fingers as lean?? She didn't know what else to think about them in her mind - his not overly hairy arms... she'd think about what it'd be like to have those arms crushing her body to his chest, her nipples rubbing against his chest, his erection hot on her belly between them... And she'd drop the plate she was holding. Her daddy would ask if she was okay, she'd always say yes, and then go about her business.
Or she'd be sitting down watching TV and see his car pull up in the driveway through their living room window, and as he would walk around to the side of the car and lean in to pull out his briefcase - Daddy was a lawyer - she'd stare at the tight curves of his ass in his slacks and lick her lips, imagining herself biting one of the cheeks. And then, in her fantasy, he'd turn her around, bend her over in the same position, and- then the front door would open and her father's voice would ring out "I'm home!"
Fantasies crowded her brain. She couldn't run from them, she couldn't go anywhere in her house that there wasn't a deliciously erotic vision waiting for her.
She would walk into the kitchen, imagine her daddy eating her out for breakfast on the table, and find herself absentmindedly stroking her breast.