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To every Daddy who puts his little girl above everything else…

Isa1LeviDear Daddy,

I’m eighteen years old now, and I know you can’t help yourself anymore.

Ever since Mom brought you home, I’ve been watching you. At first, you were just a man she was dating, a man so much older than me I never saw you as someone I could be with. You were even older than Mom. The crushes I’d had before were on boys my own age… And it stayed that way until I realized that was exactly what they were – boys.

They never understood me like you did. I remember the first time I cried because of a boy. You held me tight in your arms, smoothed my hair down and told me things would get better, and that he wasn’t worth it anyway. You did it even though you didn’t have to, and you played the role of a parent to a kid that wasn’t yours even when my mom wouldn’t.

That was the first time I saw you as a man, Daddy.

And it was because I could feel your cock hardening under me, pressing into my butt needily. You cleared your throat and moved me off your lap so I wouldn’t feel it, but I know you saw my eyes widen, Daddy. I know you saw me notice, and I know it turned you on, because your pants only tented more, your cock desperate to be inside me. I know, because you kicked me out of your study the next second for no reason at all, and I was upset about it for days until I figured it out.

I’m eighteen years old now, Daddy.

Don’t you think I’m old enough?

Because I do.

And Mom does, too.

Did you know she sat me down today and gave me a pack of condoms? It was the most cringe-worthy display of fake motherly love I’ve ever seen. You and I both know Mom’s never been bothered about me.

My sister was always her favorite.

She doesn’t care about me as long as I get good grades and stay out of trouble. And we all know I’ve always been a good girl. I don’t go to parties, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs. I barely date.

I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy, and I know you’ve noticed.

Don’t think I’ve been ignoring those lingering looks. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how your eyes drink in my body when I wear revealing clothes around the house. Don’t think I don’t know that you want me. I know you’ve thought about it.

I know it’s hard to think about me as a grown-up. When Mom brought you home, I didn’t like you. I could never picture another man taking my dad’s place. Ever since he died, I’ve been holding onto the memory of him, desperate to remember him, desperate to keep the shreds of moments I still recall. I was only four years old when he died, and I’m starting to forget, which hurts a lot.

But when you walked in, I didn’t even see you as a father figure. How could I? You wore a suit jacket and jeans, and I could see tattoos peeking out from under your sleeves. You were enormous, Daddy. Your shoulders so broad, your body so powerful my own shook in response. You had dark hair streaked with gray, and you squinted at me as you walked in. You didn’t say anything apart from hello.

I get it, Daddy. I was just a little girl back then. My sweet sixteen was only a few weeks earlier, and you saw me as just a kid.

I think it’s high time we stopped that, though. I know you’ve noticed me growing up in front of your eyes, Daddy. I know you’ve noticed my body get tighter, my curves get rounder, my lips get fuller. I’ve seen your reaction when I bend down. I’ve seen you lose track in the middle of a sentence when I walk around in a bikini top and cutoff shorts. Don’t pretend like I don’t make you want to lose control, Daddy, because we both know you’re desperate to be the first man inside me.

It didn’t take long for you and Mom to get married. I never really understood it. You never had anything in common, and it only took weeks for the two of you to start fighting. And those fights were horrible. You screamed. She threw plates. It was a mess, just like your marriage. Don’t deny it, Daddy. I know your relationship is falling apart. I know your marriage is just a farce, and I know Mom’s only sticking through it because of that prenup you signed.

If you get divorced before three years are up, you get to keep your money.

If you get the divorce after three years of marriage, Mom is going to be a very rich woman.


Tags: Isabella Starling Erotic