Posted by: littlegirlyone | February 10, 2007

about stories

One of the things that I started doing (upon request) when I started seeing John was writing my fantasies in fiction form. For some reason, it’s easier for me to tell him what I want in this slightly indirect way, than to tell him directly. This is one of my “problems” but also one of my most little girl traits. It’s a love/hate characteristic that is completely irrational and silly, and also completely intertwined with who I am: I cannot, for the life of me, ask directly for sexual favors or talk about sexual things in front of him, and sometimes I can’t even think about them for long, without blushing, giggling, hiding my face, turning away, or doing some combination of above. Sometimes, I call this “schoolgirling.”

This is both a charm of mine, and a curse. Afterall, I’m a 25 year old, sex-positive, educated, feminist, grown-ass woman, and I certainly don’t enjoy thinking that I have uncontrollable prudish tendencies. And, I can discuss sex quite openly, with men or women, in a social setting, without any indication of these problems. But put me on a “date” or in a room with a dominant man (the more dominant he is, the worse I get) and watch me melt into a 14 year old at the mention of anything remotely sexual. Even mild flirting can get me blushing, shifting my eye contact, avoiding. I would imagine it’s a form of flirting, except I have no conscious control over it, no ability to stop it, and no way to avoid it, really except to avoid the conversation to begin with (and that’s no fun). It’s so bad that I can’t even email or IM without having this reaction, most of the time.

So, when John and I first met, it was through a website. He sent me a message, and I responded. We did this for a while, and finally met for a drink, had an instant attraction so strong I could barely breathe next to him, and planned to have our first rendezvous. You’ll have to excuse my abbreviated version of these events – I will give you a much more detailed post about them later, as they were quite pivotal and, I’m sure you can imagine, quite hot. But I am attempting to give you some background for the story I’m about to post, so the abbreviated version will have to do. In anticipation of meeting somewhere “private,” AKA a hotel room, he insisted that I expose my fantasies to him. I can’t remember exactly how he asked (I will have to look at the IM), but I remember the circumstances.

I had confessed that I keep a password-protected word document as a journal. It’s quite 21st Century, and a bit impersonal, but I wouldn’t dare to write about my sex life anywhere but in a locked document! Since we first started corresponding, I have vigilantly kept every email and IM he’s sent along with an archive of my replies, frustrations and replies I’ve never sent, and general journal stuff. The document has grown to almost 100 pages at this point. I guess I really did need a blog! Anyway, I had confessed to him that one of the things in the document was a list, that I started one day on a whim, about the various fantasies that I have, or various turn-ons that I’ve noticed recurring. I don’t know why I told him about it, because of course, he demanded to see it. And it was terrifying. I sat frozen. I tried to get out of it. Of course, on my end of the IM, I was blushing furiously. But after he’d demanded it, and reminded me that the only way any of them were going to happen was if he saw it, I sent it. And sat paralyzed, waiting for a response. He was very good to me, so accepting and reassuring. He swore that his own list would have many of the same fantasies, and that he felt it was right we should have met for this reason. I was pleased with the result, but not with the terror it had taken to get there. I think he must’ve known what he’d demanded of me. To be sure, I told him I felt like I’d just shown someone the insides of myself, like the guts. Nothing pretty, or sexy, nothing I take any pride in. Guts. It was awful.

Having that wonderful, Daddy-sense, the next time he wanted to hear about my fantasies, he took a different tack. He proposed that I write him a story. And did I ever! So below, you can read my very first erotica, and my first of many fantasy stories. Nothing like this has ever happened to me, but it is a nice peek into what he calls my “dirty little mind.”

Enjoy!

You are sitting in your car with the lights and engine off, watching me walking out of the library, across the walkway to the parking lot. I can’t really see into your car because of the glare from the streetlights, but I get the feeling that someone is watching me from in there, and it makes me pause for a second.

You see me pause, and look in your direction. You see me toss my head and decide I’m being silly, and head right past your car on the way to mine. As I walk by, I glance in your car briefly, catch your eye as if to tell you that I knew you were watching me. But I smile, and keep walking, opening my trunk, throwing my backpack in, and then, somehow and all of a sudden, you are right there. Behind me, pushing me back a little with your closeness. I am looking up at you, so tall and staring down at me with those eyes. I am giving you this little smile: all bottom lip and eyelashes. Trying to cute you. But I can’t see your face well, and I don’t know if it’s working at all. So I just keep trying to guess what you’re going to do, standing so close to me, pressing me back against my car.

Little girl, why are you out so late? You ask, pushing me back further so I am stuck between your body and the car. I don’t have an answer, and you don’t wait to hear it anyway, grabbing my arms and holding them up near my head. I am melting, loving every moment of feeling trapped by you, stuck against the cold steel car frame in the cold Fall air. I feel your knee pressing into my thighs, in between my thighs, making me spread my legs to let you. So much of your weight is pressing into me right now, and then comes the best part: you lean even further in, even more, and kiss me while I melt into your knee between my legs. I love kissing – so much that it makes me wet. Soon I am grinding down on your knee while you kiss me. It feels amazing. The cold night air seeping into the cracks between our bodies. My panties getting wetter and wetter from dry humping your knee.

But then you stop me. I dont want to stop kissing you, and I certainly don’t want to stop rubbing my pussy on your leg. But you tell me I have to stop now. And you make me wait. And wait. And everytime you see me move my hips just a little bit, you pull back a little bit, so I get less pressure, less of you.

Come with me on a ride, you say. And because I just want more, of course, I go.

When we get in the car, you tell me to put my head in your lap. When I don’t do it immidiately, you grab me by the back of the head, not hard, just very firm, and turn my face to look at you while you tell me again: Little girl put your head down in my lap.

I lay my head down on your thigh, you push me so my face is right near your cock, which is warm, and pressing through your jeans. This makes me happy, being right here in your lap with your hand tangled in my hair. You put the car in drive, and we go. I don’t know where we’re going, and you don’t let me sit up to see. I keep my head down in your lap, and I try to get you to let me take your cock out and play with it. I blow warm air in your lap. I rub you with my face. I do everything short of making a grab for your zipper because I know better. I have to wait, you told me to wait.

Finally we stop somewhere. You tell me you’re going to get out and take care of some things, and I am supposed to keep my head down. No peeking. When you go, I lay there staring at the wheel, waiting. It feels like forever until you come back. You open the driver’s door.

Come on, you say. We go into a little house-motel room, and you tell me to take off everything but my underwear and come sit on your lap. You sit and watch me taking my clothes off. My face is burning, and I lower my eyes while I kick off my shoes, unzip my jeans and pull them down. I step out of my clothes and walk over toward you. I stand next to you sitting in the chair, begging you not to make me sit down. Just let me stand here, I think. But you take my hand and pull me over you, and soon I am sitting on your lap in just my panties. I am so uncomfortable, I don’t want to look at you, but you tell me to look you in the eye.

Baby, you say, I thought you were going to be a more patient girl. Don’t look away from me right now. I want to watch you answer me. Were you being a patient girl when you were dry humping my leg in your school parking lot?

But – I start.

No, you say, just tell me the answer. Were you being patient when you were humping my leg in your school parking lot?

No, Daddy, I say. Burning.

That’s right, you say. You were not being patient. And were you being a patient girl when you were trying to put my cock in your mouth in the car?

No, Daddy.

Tell me. No What?

No I was not being patient when I was in the parking lot.

Doing what in the parking lot?

Rubbing on your leg when you kissed me.

Rubbing what on my leg? No, I don’t want to tell you. All I want to do it pull my eyes away from yours. But I know you are going to make me say it, and so, I take a breath and say:

I was not being a patient girl when I was rubbing my pussy on you in the parking lot. And I was not being a patient girl when I was trying to play with your cock in the car.

What were you trying to do with my cock, little girl?

I was – oh Daddy, please don’t make me say it! I want to look away.

No, tell me. Tell me while you look in my eyes.

I was trying to put your cock in my mouth, Daddy.

Why?

Because I like it.

Just “like” it?

No, I love having your cock in my mouth Daddy.

And you weren’t being patient were you, baby?

No, Daddy.

And now I have to punish you for not waiting, don’t I baby?

Yes, Daddy.

Good. Now lay your tummy across my lap so I can give you your punishment.

Oh, don’t hurt me too bad, Daddy, I beg, as I place my feet on the floor and bend over your lap. My tummy barely hits your thighs when I feel your hand on my ass. It stings. Swat, swat, swat! Then pause. I feel you grab my panties and pull them to the side of my dripping wet pussy. I feel your fingers running up and down, feeling how incredibly wet I am. Then swat, swat, swat! Then more fingers, this time pushing into me a little bit. I am trying so hard not to push back on your finger, not to move at all. I am trying so hard to show you I am being patient. You take your fingers out of my pussy, and bring them, wet with me, to my mouth where you push your finger in, and make me suck your finger while you spank my ass even harder. My ass is definitely red now. I can feel it, hot against your hand. I can feel your cock under my tummy getting harder. I suck your finger in my mouth some more, hoping you take the hint.
By the time you tell me to get on my knees in front of you, and I almost jump with excitement. But I am trying to look patient, so I move slow, deliberate, locking eyes with you, looking up and waiting.

Baby, do you want my cock now? You ask, as you stick your fingers in my mouth again. Watch me suck and lick your fingers, eyes on yours, begging you. Ok. Getting to suck my Daddy’s cock is one of my favorite things. I feel you place your hands on the back of my head, feel the smoothness of my tongue covering you with spit, and the way it goes all the way to the back of my throat, filling my mouth up, hitting the back, making my gag a little, and my eyes tearing up as it goes all the way back and down my throat. Fucking you with my hot little mouth, looking up at you, into your eyes. Feeling my pussy melt even more. I want to stay here, sucking you just like this all night. . .


Responses

  1. this was so erotic. 🙂 you know, you don’t have much of an excuse not to post regularly because now you’ve told us that you have 100 pages of material, already written and waiting to be shown to the world. anxious for more…

  2. I’m thrilled that you enjoyed it. Thank you. I will do my best to post regularly, because as you pointed out, I don’t have much of an excuse.I worry sometimes that my fantasies are too strange, so its really nice to hear that someone else enjoyed one of them.

  3. I’ve been exploring some of this stuff with someone recently, and it’s pretty fascinating . . . interesting ground, psychologically.

    I’m new to your blog and reading back to front to experience things in order, but I’m very glad I found you. Thanks for writing.

    XO

    • Thank you for commenting, and welcome. I agree with you, the Daddy/girl dynamic is fascinating from a psychological standpoint. I have some posts that touch on my analysis of my own kink, and I’m always interested in reading about other people’s insights, both into themselves and into me. It’s great to have a new reader leaving comments on old posts!


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