Her First Time With Daddy

Chapter Three

I got to the restaurant early on purpose. The private dining room was already set, soft lights, white tablecloths, the quiet clink of glassware from the main floor below. I needed a minute to clear my head before facing my wife and the carefully arranged evening she had planned. The restroom on the top floor was the quietest option. I stepped into the elevator alone, pressed the button, and leaned against the mirrored wall, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

The doors started to close, then opened again.

She stepped in.

Young. Mid-twenties at most. Dark hair falling past her shoulders, eyes a little red like she’d been crying or fighting not to. Pretty in a way that hit me low and hard—soft mouth, the kind of body that still didn’t fully understand its own power. She stood near the front, arms crossed, staring at the floor numbers like they might give her answers. When the doors sealed I caught her scent—light, clean skin and shampoo, undercut by the sharp edge of stress and something warmer underneath.

The car began to rise. She shifted her weight and the soft curve of her ass brushed against me. Not a full press at first. Just contact. Then she didn’t move away. The warmth of her stayed. I felt myself thicken against the seam of my trousers almost immediately, heavy and insistent. She had to feel it. She stayed right there, breathing a little faster, the back of her skirt warm against the hard line of my c**k.

I knew what she wanted. Or at least what she was willing to take right now. Whatever had put that wounded look on her face, she wasn’t running from this heat between us.

I leaned in until my mouth was near her ear, close enough that my breath touched her skin.

“Do you want to suck my d**k?”

She turned her head. A small, almost broken smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Not shy. Not shocked. Like the question had already been answered the second the doors closed. The air between us went tight and electric.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened onto a quiet hallway. I guided her out with a hand at the small of her back, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric. She didn’t resist. We found the single restroom at the end of the corridor. I locked the door behind us. The click sounded final and intimate.

She looked at me, waiting, lips slightly parted, pupils already dark. I didn’t waste time.

“On your knees.”

She dropped without a word. The tile was cool under her. I watched her face as I unbuckled my belt and pushed my trousers and briefs down. My c**k sprang free, already hard, thick, the head flushed dark and glistening. Nine inches of heavy need. Her eyes went wide for a second, then lower. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around the base like she was testing the weight of something she already wanted.

“Rub it,” I told her, voice rougher than I intended.

She did. Slow at first, learning the shape of me, thumb sliding over the slit where I was already leaking for her. Her grip was uncertain but eager. I could see the way her thighs pressed together under her skirt, the little restless shift of her hips. She was getting wet just from touching me. The knowledge settled low in my gut like heat. Every stroke of her hand made my c**k throb harder in her palm.

“Suck it.”

She leaned in and took me into her mouth.

Warm. Wet. Tighter than I expected. She tried to take all of me in one go and choked softly, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull off. She pushed again, lips stretching beautifully around the thickness, tongue flat against the underside. I rested a hand in her hair—not forcing, just holding—and let her work. She was messy about it, spit running down my shaft, soft wet sounds filling the small room. Every time she took me deeper I felt her throat flutter. She sucked like she was trying to erase something, or maybe just feel something real. The sight of her on her knees, cheeks hollowed, eyes watering while she tried to swallow me, made my balls draw up tight.

I let her go for a while, watching every filthy second, feeling the way her soft moans vibrated around my c**k. Then I eased her off. She sat back on her heels, lips swollen, breathing hard, chin shiny. Beautiful. Ruined already and we’d barely started.

I pulled her up and turned her to face the mirror. My mouth found the side of her neck—warm, open kisses that made her shiver. One hand slid under her skirt and found her underwear already soaked through. I pushed the fabric aside and ran one finger through the slick heat of her. She gasped, hips jerking. I pushed the finger inside slow, feeling how tight she was, how she clenched around me like she never wanted to let go. One became two. I worked them in and out, curling just enough to make her knees buckle. Her hand shot out to grip the edge of the sink. She was dripping down my wrist, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.

I dropped to my knees in front of her, dragged her underwear down her thighs, and put my mouth on her.

The first taste was pure need—salty, sweet, already flooding for me. I licked a long stripe up the center of her and felt her whole body shudder. Then I focused, tongue flat against her c**t, circling, sucking, then pushing inside where my fingers had been. She was loud now—soft broken sounds she tried to swallow and failed. I held her open with both hands and ate her like I had nowhere else to be and nothing else I wanted. Her thighs trembled against my ears. When she came it was sudden and hard. She flooded my mouth, hips grinding against my face, a high broken cry leaving her throat. I stayed with her through every pulse, licking up every drop until she was shaking and trying to push me away from the sensitivity.

I stood, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and turned her around so she faced the mirror again. I kicked her feet apart, lined myself up against that soaked, swollen entrance, and pushed in slow.

She was tight. So f*****g tight it made my jaw clench. I worked the head in first, then another inch, then another, watching her face in the mirror the whole time. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes stayed locked on mine through the glass, dark and glassy with pleasure. I kept the pace smooth and steady at first, not slamming, just long deep strokes that let her feel every thick inch of me. The wet sound of it filled the room. Her hands braced on the sink. Every time I bottomed out she made a soft punched-out noise that went straight to my c**k.

I reached around and found her c**t with two fingers, rubbing in time with my thrusts. Her head dropped forward. Her ass pushed back to meet me. The last of whatever armor she’d walked in with cracked open. I f****d her like that—slow, deep, deliberate—until her legs started shaking again and she came a second time around my c**k, squeezing so hard I had to grit my teeth not to follow her over the edge right then.

I didn’t stop. I just kept the same deep rhythm, watching her face in the mirror, feeling her pulse and flutter around me, and let the rest of the world stay outside the locked door. The heat of her, the way she took me, the soft broken sounds she made—every second of it felt inevitable. Like we’d been heading toward this exact moment from the second she stepped into that elevator.

And I already knew I wasn’t finished with her.