Sweet before Spicy

a little bedtime story (NSFW)

Content: Daddy/girl, Mommy/girl. All characters are consenting adults.

…

It’s very late and the remaining party guests are either reluctantly resigning themselves to going back to “reality” or adamantly insisting they stay for just ten more minutes to prolong their time in this magical play space. I watch as couples help each on with their coats, covering fetish wear, whip marks, and love bites before they board the last night bus. Their faces look tired but content. It’s been a good night. We’ve all had a lot of fun.

An exasperated Daddy attempts to hurry their partner into her jacket and shoes but the bratty girl is making a fuss: deliberately getting her sleeves twisted and stepping out of her pink glittery sneakers before the laces have been tied. I catch the Daddy’s eye and smile gently, “Do you need some help?”

“We’ve got a taxi coming. She’s refusing to leave.” The Daddy and I know each other from previous parties. We’ve never played together but I’ve admired their calm strength and strict adherence to their role. Tonight, however, I can tell the effort of being the one who makes things happen is beginning to take its toll. The party is over. It’s time to go home.

I walk over to the girl and gently straighten her sleeve so she can slip her arm in. “Do you want Mommy to help you?”

She glances over to her Daddy for reassurance and then says, “Yes, please,” instantly compliant and demure.

“Good girl,” Daddy tells her as they button her jacket while I crouch down to tie her laces. “Let’s go and get the taxi.”

“Can Mommy come too?”

There’s a pause as we each run through our mental checklist of protocols and boundaries. I haven’t met this girl before but she is cute. In different circumstances, we could perhaps be mistaken for sisters: both round of face with full lips; her hair is styled in a pixie cut while mine is a little longer; we’re similar in age, stature and build. I feel a little narcissistic as I realise the extent of my attraction to her and just how much I’d like to fuck her.

The Daddy is also my type. They’re a soft butch but – as I’ve witnessed umpteen times at these parties – soft on the streets doesn’t mean they’re gentle between the sheets. I like their edge. That feeling of restrained power waiting to be unleashed.

The Daddy answers first, “That would work for me.”

“Let’s all go home then,” I reply, taking the girl’s hand in mine and letting the Daddy lead the way to the exit.

…

Their apartment isn’t too far away and we spend the taxi ride smushed together on the back seat: the girl in the middle. She leans her head on my shoulder and the weight of it suggests she’s close to sleep.

By the time she stumbles through her front door, I can tell she’s eager in spirit but way too tired for any more fun tonight. “How about Mommy tucks you in?” I ask and she heads straight to the bedroom without complaint. She strips off in front of me and I watch appreciatively. Then I lift the covers for her and draw them up under her chin. “You’ve been a very good girl,” I tell her as her eyes drift closed. I stroke my fingertips lightly over her forehead and she sighs contentedly.

“Will you be here in the morning?” she asks. “I’d like it if you were.”

“Sleep first,” I tell her. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Mommy? Can I have a kiss goodnight?”

Our lips meet in a soft, exploratory kiss and I feel a rush of lust that centres on my breasts and pelvis. For a moment, I’m tempted to slide my hand under the covers, to trace the contours of her hips and belly, and work a path between her soft thighs. Instead, I break away from our kiss and whisper in her ear, “Night night, little one. Sleep tight. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”

The Daddy is waiting for me on the sofa. Two tumblers of whiskey decorate the coffee table, along with Daddy’s watch, wallet, and phone. They pat the seat beside them and I gratefully drop onto the overstuffed cushions.

“Thanks for that,” they say, motioning to the closed bedroom door whilst handing me a tumbler. “We’re open,” they clarify, “consensual, poly, power exchange. It’s been nearly a year now. She’s very sweet when she’s not being a brat.” The Daddy chuckles as they take a sip of their drink.

“And what about you?” I ask, swirling my whiskey over a single ice cube. “What are you when you’re not being Daddy?”

They look surprised and a little offended at my question. “I’m always the Daddy.” I see them glance at my breasts as they speak. I undid a couple more buttons on my silk blouse when I left the bedroom and I know the lace of my bra is on show.

“Of course, you are. It’s tiring though, huh? You know, if you’d like, you could rest for a moment. Here.” I smooth my hands over my wide thighs. “You could just swivel yourself around, put your head on my lap, and let Mommy take care of things for a while.” I feel my cunt wetting simply at the thought of their face being so close to me.

The Daddy takes another slow sip of their drink and then replaces the tumbler on the table. They lean towards me, brushing their lips over the exposed swell of my breasts, before gently lowering their head to my thighs. The solid presence and weight of them sends an electric charge through me.

“Would you like me to stroke your hair?”

The Daddy nods, shifting the weight of their head so now it rests even more firmly on my crotch. I reach for the short curls that frame their face and gently tease them.

…

Read Part 2 here!

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Photo by Vinicius "amnx" Amano on Unsplash