I lingered outside Claire’s door, my hand hovering over the handle as I listened to the soft, broken sobs escaping from inside. My daughter, my little girl, was in there, crying over a boy who didn’t deserve an ounce of her tears. I couldn’t stand it any longer. With a deep breath, I gently knocked and then opened the door.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her back hunched over as if the weight of her heartbreak was too much to bear. When she looked up at me, her eyes were swollen and red, filled with a pain that made my heart ache. She looked so young and vulnerable, and I hated that she had to endure this.
I walked over to her, my footsteps slow and deliberate as if any sudden movement might shatter her fragile state. I sat down beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but not touching her just yet. Claire looked stunning, even in her sorrow. She had put so much effort into getting ready tonight. Her dress was a deep, rich blue that shimmered under the light, clinging softly to her curves. It was short, showing off her long, smooth legs, and the neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the elegance of her young figure. Her hair, usually so wild and free, was styled in soft waves that cascaded down her back, framing her delicate face.
I could see the remnants of her makeup—once perfect, now slightly smudged from where she had tried to wipe away her tears. A soft sheen of gloss still clung to her lips, and a hint of shimmer on her eyelids, though now it mingled with the wetness of her tears. The contrast between how beautiful she looked and how broken she felt made my heart twist.
“Dad…” she began, her voice so fragile it almost broke me. “He… he wasn’t coming.”
My chest tightened as I listened, anger simmering beneath my sorrow. “What happened, sweetheart?”
Claire swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as they twisted in her lap. “I called him Dad. I didn’t want to, but I had to know. He said he was… busy.”
“Busy?” I asked though I could already feel where this was going.
She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “He was driving some girl across town,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “He said she needed a ride and didn’t want to say no to her.”
My jaw clenched as I listened, the rage bubbling up inside me. How could he do this? How could he leave her standing there, looking as beautiful as she did, waiting for him while he drove another girl around? The thought made me sick.
“I don’t understand, Dad,” she continued, her voice trembling. “I thought tonight was supposed to be special. I spent all this time getting ready, and… he didn’t even care. I thought… I thought I was important to him.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as she broke down, her sobs wracking her small frame. Her tears soaked through my shirt, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was holding her, protecting her from the cruel reality that had shattered her night.
“I’m so sorry, Claire,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve so much more.”
She cried quietly, her body trembling against mine, and I could feel the depth of her pain, how deeply this betrayal had cut her. It wasn’t just about the boy but about the hopes and dreams she’d pinned on tonight, on this moment that had been stolen from her.
After a while, she pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at me with a mixture of sorrow and something deeper, something almost desperate. I reached up, wiping away the tears on her cheeks, my thumb brushing gently against her soft skin.
She stared at me, her eyes filled with a vulnerability that broke my heart all over again. There was a pause, a moment where the room felt too quiet, too heavy, and then she spoke, her voice so soft I almost didn’t catch it.
“I need to feel loved, Dad,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need something… I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could see the emptiness she was feeling, the deep, aching void left behind by this boy’s carelessness. All I wanted to do was fill that void, make her feel whole again, and remind her of the love surrounding her.
I held her gaze, my heart breaking for the pain she was in. “You are loved, Claire,” I said, my voice firm, though my emotions threatened to choke me. “You’re loved more than you’ll ever know. And I’ll be here every step of the way to ensure you never forget that.”
“No, I need someone to show it, I…” Her words trailed off, but the desperation in her voice was unmistakable. She wasn’t just asking for comfort; she was pleading for something deeper, something to fill the void left by the boy who had let her down. I could see it in her eyes—the longing, the confusion, the need for affirmation, for someone to make her feel valued, cherished, and, most of all, loved.
I felt a surge of protectiveness rise up in me, a fierce determination to make sure she knew her worth, to make sure she knew that no one could define her value except herself. But in that moment, I also saw the innocence, the vulnerability of my little girl, teetering on the edge of womanhood, grappling with emotions that felt too big for her young heart.
I held her gaze, my own eyes softening as I took her hands in mine. “Claire, listen to me,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need anyone to show you your worth because it’s already there. It’s in you, in your heart, in everything you are. You are loved, deeply, unconditionally. And not just by me, but by everyone who truly knows you.”
She blinked, more tears spilling down her cheeks, and I could see the battle in her eyes—the struggle to believe those words, to let them sink in and replace the emptiness with something real she could hold onto.
“But, Dad…” she whispered, her voice shaky, “I just feel so… alone. I need to feel loved, not just hear it. I need something… someone to show me.”
Her hand rested on my thigh, rubbing it up and down, “Dad…”
I felt the weight of Claire’s words, her plea echoing in the quiet room, and the raw vulnerability in her voice tearing at my heart. She was seeking something more than just comfort, something to fill the void left by the boy who had so carelessly shattered her spirit. Her hand on my thigh, a gentle yet desperate touch, made my breath catch.
I knew she was confused, her emotions swirling in a storm too powerful to navigate alone. My instincts screamed to protect her, guide her through this dark moment, and show her that love wasn’t something she had to seek out from someone who didn’t value her.
“Claire,” I whispered, my voice barely steady, trying to find the right words. “I know you’re hurting and how badly you want to feel loved. But this isn’t the way, sweetheart. You don’t need to prove your worth to anyone, at least to someone who doesn’t see how special you are. I love you, your family, and those who truly care about you.”
Her eyes, still shimmering with tears, searched mine as if she was trying to find something solid to hold onto, something to ground her in the chaos of her emotions.
“But Dad,” she murmured, her voice trembling with fear and longing. “I just feel so empty, so lost. I need something… someone…”
Her hand went near my crotch, “CLAIRE, what are you doing?” I asked, my voice thick with surprise and concern. I couldn’t believe what was happening, that my sweet, innocent daughter was reaching for me in such a way. I knew she was hurting and wanted to comfort her, but I also knew this wasn’t the right way.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I just don’t know what to do. I feel so alone, and I thought… I thought maybe this would help.”
My heart ached for her, and I could see the pain and confusion etched on her face. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts and find the right words to say.
My cock started getting hard in my pants; no, I can’t do this, it’s my girl. I saw her cleavage, and my cock got harder.
“Sweetie, what you are doing,” I said as she pulled down my zipper and she took out my cock.
“Dad, you’re hard; oh wow, did I make you hard? Did I do that?” she said, and I could only look at her in shock.
“Claire, stop, please,” I said, trembling with concern and an unexpected stirring of desire. I gently took her hand and pulled it away from my now-exposed cock. “This isn’t the way to fill the void you’re feeling. I understand your pain, and…” I was cut off by her mouth as she took my cock.
“Claire,” I gasped, my body tensing as she slowly took me into her mouth. Her lips were impossibly soft, enveloping me in warmth as she began to suck gently. My mind spun, torn between shock at what was happening and an undeniable surge of pleasure.
Claire’s head began to bob up and down, her tongue swirling around my tip as her hand gripped the base of my cock. It was so profoundly wrong, but I couldn’t deny my body’s reaction. Each stroke of her mouth felt like a jolt of electricity, my hips arching involuntarily, driving myself deeper into the warmth of her mouth.
“Claire, stop,” I breathed, with shock and desire. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and dark, filled with a burning need that I couldn’t ignore.
But she didn’t stop she bobbed her head up and down faster, “Claire, we can’t do this,” I moaned, my hands threading through her hair as I fought to resist the overwhelming pleasure. “This isn’t right, sweetie. You deserve so much more than a quick release.”
She whimpered softly, her lips still wrapped around me, and I could feel the desperation in her touch. It was as if she was trying to find something to hold onto, something to fill the void left by the boy who had shattered her heart.
With a deep breath, I gently pulled out of her mouth, my cock slick with her saliva. I could see the confusion and hurt in her eyes, the longing for something that I couldn’t give her, not like this.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” I whispered, my voice heavy with regret. “This isn’t the answer. You deserve to be cherished and loved for who you are, not just for this.”
She got up and pulled her dress off, unclasped her bra, took her panties off, and lay on the bed.
Claire looked up at me, her eyes filled with a burning need, and I couldn’t deny the response in my own body. Her perfect, young body lay before me, a vision of innocence and vulnerability, and the contrast between her youth and her desire was almost overwhelming.
I crawled onto the bed, hesitating for a moment, my mind torn between what I knew was right and the desire to ease her pain. But then, I saw the resolution in her eyes, the stubborn determination to see this through, and I knew I couldn’t deny her.
Slowly, deliberately, I lowered myself over her, my body aligned with hers, and our eyes locked as I guided myself to her entrance. Her breath hitched as I pressed against her, and I could feel her tense, waiting for what was to come.
With a gentle, yet firm push, I slid inside her, my body sinking into her warmth, and the pleasure that washed over me was almost indescribable. She was so unbelievably tight, so incredibly hot, and the feeling of her gripping me was beyond any other sensation I had ever experienced.
But then, I saw her face, the raw emotions etched on her delicate features, and I was snapped back to reality. This wasn’t about pleasure or desire; this was about filling the void, about showing her the love and care she needed in that moment.
I began moving slowly at first, taking my time to build the rhythm, to draw out the pleasure for both of us. I could feel her body responding, the tension in her legs as she wrapped them around me, the gasps and moans that slipped from her lips. Her nails dug into my back, and I could feel the intensity of her feelings, the depth of her pain, and the resolution to see this through.
As I picked up the pace, driving myself deeper into her with each thrust, I watched her face, the awe and wonder that slowly transformed into something more—something primal, almost desperate. Her eyes darkened, her lips parted, and the breaths that escaped her lips became more ragged with each passing moment.
“Mmmm fuck me… ah… yes, Dad, just like that,” she moaned, her fingers digging into my back as she arched her hips to meet my thrusts. I could feel her body tightening around me, the pleasure building with each stroke, and I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer.
“Do you like daddy in your coochie? Ooh fuck, you’re so tight as fuck,” I moaned out the words as I just looked down at her shaved tight cunt, taking my hard cock.
Claire’s eyes rolled back, and she let out a low, deep moan as I thrust into her, filling her with my cock. Her walls gripped me tightly, the sensation making my pleasure spiral higher.
I could see the pleasure written all over her face as I began to move inside her. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted slightly as she matched my pace, her breaths becoming shallow and fast. She seemed lost in the pleasure, a small smile gracing her lips as her body rocked with my movements.
I leaned down, pressing my forehead against hers, and my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. I felt a mixture of guilt and desire, a fierce determination to take care of her, protect her, and show her the love that she so desperately needed.
I picked up pace, “Hold on, sweetie,” as I started to hammer her pussy hard, real hard.
As she neared her release, the sob caught in her throat, dissolving into a gasp. “Yes, daddy. Fuck me, oh Daddy; I’m going to cum, ah!” Claire begged, her legs gripping me tighter still.
At this moment, she belonged to me, and I fucked her with all the tenderness and love her anguished heart yearned for. Her aching pussy convulsed around my aching cock, drowning in pleasure, her innocence sacrificed to satisfy us both.
Every pulse of her pussy gripped me tightly and ignited my senses further, sending me deeper, higher, and wilder into a whirlpool of euphoric delight.
Claire’s cries filled the room, echoing off the walls as her body trembled beneath me. I could feel the waves of her orgasm pulsing around my cock, each one stronger than the last, until finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
With a deep, guttural moan, I let go, my body shuddering as I released myself inside her. I collapsed onto her, my breath heavy and ragged as I tried to catch my breath.
“Claire,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I never should have let that happen.”
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with confusion and sadness. “Why, Dad?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted to make me feel better.”
“I do, sweetheart,” I said, my voice shaking with regret. “But this wasn’t the way. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your vulnerability like that. You deserve so much more than a quick release. You deserve to be cherished and loved for who you are, not just for this.”
She nodded, her eyes welling up with tears once again. “I know, Dad,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know what to do. I felt so alone, and I thought maybe this would help. It actually did help; I don’t care what we did. It was so good. Didn’t you like my pussy.”
“I did, Claire,” I admitted reluctantly. “You are a beautiful, desirable young woman; any man would be lucky to be with you. However, how we did this was wrong, and I should never have let it happen, especially with my daughter.”
I was about to pull out, but she clenched her legs around me to keep it inside her, “Keep it in a bit longer.”
I stayed there, still buried inside her, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, the warmth of her body radiating through mine. We lay there in silence for a few moments, neither of us saying a word, just lost in the aftermath of what had happened.
I knew I needed to pull out, to put distance between us and the actions that had taken place, but I also knew how much she needed this, the comfort and reassurance that came from the closeness of our bodies.
After a while, I slowly pulled out, the loss of the warmth and intimacy a tangible ache in my chest. I looked down at her, her eyes still glazed with pleasure, her body flushed and soft from our encounter.
She looked so vulnerable, open and exposed, and I couldn’t deny the surge of protectiveness in me. I brushed her hair away from her face, my touch gentle and soothing.