Since I was fourteen, Daddy. We were wrestling on the living room floor, remember. Playing our tickle war and when you finally pinned me down to tickle under my arm, my p***y felt hot and achy and wet when I pressed it to your bare stomach. I loved the feeling of it pressed there, and I couldn’t help but rub it against your hard muscles. But then you stop tickling me, and fussed that I had to start wearing panties under my skirts.”
“Yea, I remember baby.” Daddy sighed working another inch of his c**k inside me. “Your p***y was so wet you left a streak of cream on my abs. It smelt so warm and sweet I wanted to taste you right then.”
I couldn’t help the pout because I missed those days and the time we spent together. “That was the last time you’d play tickle war with me, Daddy.” He had lit
