Daddy's Sweet Little Poppy

You made the mess, you can lick it up,

Chapter Two

Poppy

My whole body jolted. I didn’t even care that it wasn’t enough. He was already sliding his hand between us, pushing my panties aside, and stroking me with his thick fingers until my head tipped back.

Daddy was such a huge man. His c**k felt like the length of my arms and his fingers were thick and strong. One of them slid into my p***y slightly, stroking and teasing my hymen.

“Don’t hide your face,” he said, watching me with his dark eyes. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

It didn’t take long. I was already a shaking mess all morning and just having his fingers inside me was driving me. Daddy always said he loved how responsive I was. Just a few deep strokes, his thumb circling my c**t, and I was gone, crying out as my hips jerked helplessly against his hand.

My cunt creamed hard, spurting juices all over his hands.

When I finally collapsed against his chest, sweaty and trembling, he just held me there, stroking my hair. But when I tried to shift against him, seeking more pleasure that his hot, thick c**k could give to me, he chuckled softly.

“Not tonight, my little slut,” he murmured against my temple. “You’re not ready for that yet.”

I groaned into his shirt. “You’re mean. I can take your d**k, daddy."

He just kissed the top of my head and said, “Go get changed. I'll take you out for dinner.”

Dinner should have been uneventful.

But I had decided to wear the red dress my stepdaddy bought me last week, the one that barely covered my ass and clung to me like paint. I was very curvy and voluptuous. My t**s had developed quickly and at ninteen they were full and round and always ready to pop out. Daddy loved my ass too. Especially when it hung out of short things like my skirt and the gown I currently had on.

The restaurant was very private. It had sections that were enclosed and a waiter was assigned to each section. The waiter in our section could not stop staring at me.

He brought our drinks with his eyes glued to my t**s. He asked if we were ready to order while looking at my thighs.

And I loved every second of it.

Daddy knew that. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel the tension rolling off him as he watched. His jaw was set, his hand gripped my knee when I leaned forward to flash the waiter a little more of my t**s. He could look, but he could never have them.

When dessert came, I knew I was in trouble.

The waiter set down my bowl of vanilla ice cream.

"Here you go miss, you deserve a treat," He grinned really wide, still leering at my boobs.

Before I could thank him, Daddy's hand slid to the strap of my dress.

“Take it off,” he said quietly.

My breath caught. “H-here?”

He didn’t repeat himself and just stared hard at me.

With shaking hands, I tugged the thin straps down until the top of my dress pooled at my waist, baring my breasts completely. My n*****s were already hard from the cool air.

Daddy glanced at the waiter, whose eyes had gone wide.

“Pour it,” he said flatly, gesturing to the bowl.

The waiter hesitated, then picked up the spoon and carefully drizzled cold ice cream over my breasts. I gasped at the shock, arching against the chair.

“Use your hands,” He added.

My pulse went wild as the waiter obeyed, big hands spreading the melting ice cream over my skin, kneading, squeezing my t**s. Oh it felt amazing. Cold droplets rolled down into my dress and my p***y grew hot and wet.

Daddy moved behind me, one hand sliding into my hair and yanking my head back until I was forced to look at him. His mouth brushed my ear.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he murmured. “You wanted him to see you like this. You wanted him to touch you you dirty little girl!"

“Yes,” I gasped, humiliated and turned on all at once.

His hand slid down to my throat, just holding me there as the waiter kept playing with my breasts.

“Good girl,” he growled, kissing the side of my neck. “Then take it. Show me how bad you like being watched.”

I moaned helplessly, clinging to the edge of the table while the waiter enjoyed toying with my t**s, leaving me sticky with ice cream.

When he finally stepped back, Daddy released my throat. He wiped a smear of melted ice cream from my chest and sucked it off his thumb.

I was still breathing hard when Daddy leaned back in his chair, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Clean up,” he ordered.

For a moment I thought he meant to pull my dress back up, but no, his gaze was fixed on my chest, glistening with melting ice cream.

My lips parted. “You want me to…?”

“You made the mess. You can lick it up.”

Heat shot straight through me. My p***y creamed even harder, wetting and soaking the chair I sat on. I slid my fingers through the sticky cream on my breasts, scooping some up, then brought it to my mouth. My tongue darted out.

Daddy's hand landed on my t**s with a sharp smack that made me yelp. “Don’t play. Clean all of it. Now!”

I whimpered but obeyed, pushing my t**s up and sucking all the melted cream on my ow skin. The whole time I could feel both of them watching me. The waiter stood there wide eyed, his chest rising and falling fast.

When I had cleaned one breast, Daddy’s big hand gripped the other, smearing what was left until it dripped.

“More,” he told the waiter.

The poor man’s hands shook slightly as he spooned another scoop onto me, this time letting it run down my stomach. My skin shivered from the cold, and I moaned, my mouth getting wet as I licked it up again.

“Put those t**s together,” Daddy ordered, his voice low.

I pushed my breasts together, and his hand came down in a sharp smack right across them, making me cry out. He was watching me like a predator.

“Open your mouth.”

I did, and he leaned forward, shoving both sticky breasts against my face until I had to lick and suck at myself just to breathe.

“You like being a mess, don’t you?” he asked, rough, pulling my hair until I had to look at him.

“Yes, Daddy. Yes I do,” I whispered, my face burning.

Then Daddy’s eyes flicked to the waiter, to the obvious bulge straining against his trousers and a slow, wicked smile curved his mouth.

“You want to see what our friend’s hiding in his pants, don’t you?” He murmured in my ear.

My pulse jumped. I looked at the waiter's c**k pushing against his pants and it made me cream harder.

“Answer me, Poppy,"

“Yes,” I breathed.

Daddy’s smile deepened. “Good girl. Ask him nicely, then.”

"P-Please can I see your c**k?" My whole body felt like it was on fire.

Daddy’s grip on my hair tightened, forcing me to hold the waiter’s surprised but hungry gaze.

“Show her,” Daddy said simply.