by Writing Shark
You play tennis with your baby girl
“Ohgodshit…” Your voice is strained and you taste blood as your daughter’s solitary chuckles chase you across the tennis court.
“You have to stretch your arms further,” Gemma laughs loudly and happily. You’ve never seen her so relaxed under her mother’s guidance and you love your little angel for the amused little piglet grunts.
The way she holds her taut belly, the pale patch of white skin between her black sports outfit. She’s been so happy since you fucked her and a father is there to make his daughter happy!
“I taste blood, damn it,” you gasp and give her the tennis ball to serve. Dozens of balls are already lying on your side of the court and so Gemma comes to you at the net, leans over and takes the ball.
“It’s because of small bleeding in the lungs, Daddy.” Her eyes look at you through her large sunglasses that only make her face look more childish and delicate. Gemma is so naive and the fact that she obviously doesn’t even notice how horny you are for her is the best thing about it.
“I fuck young girls regularly,” you whisper, stroking discreetly over the nylon of her tracksuit, right where her delicate nipples are beginning to show.
“But that’s a different kind of showing off,” she whispers, pulling her lips in as her nipples stiffen at your touch. “That’s… different…” She looks at you. “Better.”
“Another game?” you ask, grinning.
“You decide about me, Daddy.” There are other people on the tennis court and some are waiting to play in your area. But you’re Americans, you don’t care about other people.
“Today you decide, Gemma.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She leans forward, far over the net, clings to your body with her delicate arms and kisses you on the cheek as her foot bends upwards. “One more set then.”
“Shit…” you mutter as Gemma turns away. But she isn’t mean to you and shows you her cute little bud in her cute little shorts.
“When I was changing, I noticed an area,” she says, putting her hand on her baggy sports pants, right above her ass. “One set and then I want to thank you for the training…” She giggles and gets into position, legs spread and bowing before you, wigling her ass.
“If I survive that long,” you grumble, but smile kindly when you realize that you are more focused on Gemma’s fun than on her tight… little… sexy ass in those… sexy shorts and…
“Daddy! You have to move!” Another point for your daughter who has already won the game of life.
“Fuck.”
‘I miss you three,’ you write to your wife as you sit on a bench at the edge of the square. There is hardly any shade and you are sweating even more, but you don’t leave your baby girl alone. Gemma continues to play tennis, this time with another girl you don’t know and make sure she knows that her daddy is always there to watch her. Good fathers watch everything their daughters do to protect them.
‘We miss you too, honey,’ Hellen writes back. ‘Fuck Gemma in the ass when she beats you at tennis,’ she suggests and follows it with a winking emoji. You have to grin, you were planning to do that anyway. ‘Are you sure I can do it alone?’ Another grin from you. After Hellen has overplayed her hand once, she is cautious, as you would expect her to be. You have told her often enough that you support her and have forgiven her, but it is not a woman’s role to make intelligent decisions, Hellen knows that.
‘I believe in you, honey,’ you write, glad to have a woman who allows you to support her emotionally. ‘You are strong and beautiful and brave. And you love Alice.’
‘I think it’s happening today. Maybe tomorrow. And you’re so far away.’
‘Trust our daughter.’ You write ‘our’ deliberately. ‘Alice is just as much your daughter as mine and she loves you. She will listen to you and do exactly what we need from her.’
‘You are my husband. I trust you. I just don’t trust him. But I trust your daughter.’ The three dots appear before you can answer. ‘Our daughter. Thank you, darling.’
‘I love you, Hellen,’ you write, then you raise your head briefly when you hear the laughter of two girls. ‘So be good and if you behave, I’ll tell you everything I did with our daughter and her friends on this vacation.’ Hellen sends a heart, a smiley with hearts in its eyes, an eggplant with three drops and a cat.
“Women,” you grunt, then put your phone down and concentrate on Gemma and the girl who took your place on the field.
“Daddy!” Your daughter comes dancing up and throws herself around your neck while you take a closer look at the other girl through your sunglasses.
“This is Imani,” Gemma introduces you, stands next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder.
“Hello, Sir.” Imani extends a hand to you and you know exactly what kind of girl she is. You know what kind of girls Gemma attracts, you can read Imani’s face like the faces of every shy, cute and insecure girl, you know what circles she comes from, you see the expensive outfit that the chocolate-brown girl is wearing… And you know what Gemma has planned for her.
I expected you to want me alone, baby girl, you think. But you want to be like your big sisters.
“Hello Imani,” you say and shake the girl’s delicate hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gemma has told me a lot about you.”
“Really?” You look at Gemma, stern like a father but curious like a friend.
“You said no boys,” Gemma murmurs, clasping her hands behind her bottom and rocking from side to side. You press your legs a little closer together. “After what I did.”
So you want to play it like that? Okay. You look at Imani, who looks away, embarrassed, then Gemma nudges her in the side.
“Go on,” she whispers. “He isn’t that bad if you are nice to him.” Then she stands in front of you, presses her tight legs together, bounces on her feet and pushes her loosely tied hair behind her ear. “Daddyyy? Imani wanted to ask you something.”
“Really?”
“Y-Yes,” the girl stammers. You notice that she comes from a good family and is naive, shy and inexperienced. No dad, you guess. And her mother probably wants too much of her. I’m going to fuck this girl to the stratosphere. Good girl Gemma Princess. “Mister Winters, I know Gemma is actually under observation because she was… bad… but…” You don’t release your stare and Imani falls victim to you like a young, wide-eyed seal falls victim to a shark. Daddy issues. All too easy. “Your daughter is really, really nice… you raised her so well… and I wanted to ask…” But she can’t get it out and you know that if you don’t help the black girl now, she won’t see Gemma again and you’ll never see Imani naked. You groan theatrically.
“You like my daughter, want to have her as a friend and ask for my permission?”
“Yes, Sir!” Imani exclaims in relief as you smile mischievously.
“Please, Daddy,” Gemma begs. “I’ll be good too. No alcohol… for the baby… And I’ll always tell you where I am.” You frown.
“We’ll always stay close to you, Sir,” Imani offers. “It’s just… I don’t have that many friends back home… and my mother…” You already knwo all about her, doesn’t need to her it from a girl.
“You’re shy, aren’t you?” The girl with the bouncy hair nods and shakes her hair. Another sigh from you.
“I can’t say no to my princess.” You say nothing. “Yes.” Gemma flies against you.
“Oh, thank you, Daddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Then she stands up and makes an urgent gesture with her head. “Imani… come on…”
“Oh, yes.” The girl steps in front of you, wants to shake your hand at first, but then remembers and hugs you too. Shyly and carefully, she puts her arms around you while you feel her small breasts under her jersey. “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that. Verry much.”
You really are a nice father.
Writing Shark 