#3.9k

A familiar voice breaks through your inner monologue. “Hey there, Miss McCree! We on for some more lessons tomorrow?”  

You perk up and peel away your Pop’s side. “Oh hey, Lucio! Sure thing, I’ll be there!” You say as you wave wildly at him. Returning the amount of enthusiasm that Lucio gave you with your own. It’s only polite.

“Looks like somebodies smitten,” Daddy teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Am not!”

He puts a dramatic hand on his chest. “I’m a man who knows when a little lady is smitten.”

You scoff, and roll your eyes per the usual. But then you size him up, and state a matter of factly, “you do not.”

“You know I could teach you a few moves right now if you want. There’s no music, but I think we can make do,” Lucio says.

That actually seems like fun so you agree with it. “Sure!” As you're moving away to take Lucio’s hand, your Pop snatches up your wrist. It startles you, but only because the grip is strong. Not harsh, but insistent. Quick. You look at him with wide eyes and an obvious question. "What, Daddy?"

“Ya leavin’ me?”

Jealous, he’s jealous! Being a sweet girl you refrain from stating the obvious. Even if you’re simmering with a gloat. “Y’know daddy if you don’t want me to dance with other boys then your gonna have’ta ask for my hand.” Swinging your hips from side to side, you grin coyly. Snatch his hat from atop of his head and place it on your own. “Cause I feel like dancin’.”

Jesse places one hand on the small of his back. Bends forward, extending his other hand. “May I have this dance, Little Darlin’?”

Placing your hand in his, you give him a similar little curtsy. “Of course, you may, Daddy.”

You look back to Lucio giving him a shrug that says, “What can ya do?” Pop pulls you in close, places one hand on the midsection of your back. Takes your other hand and extends it out to the side. Your cheeks may be bright red apples, but you’re loving every moment of this. So many people are staring, all of them thinking that this impromptu father-daughter dance is just so damn precious. Typical of the cowboy and his cowgirl.

Thicker than thieves the McCree’s. Never a moment when they’re not being darling to each other. Pictures have already been taken. Off-handed comments made about how they’ll send them your way. You’d like to think that if you were back in the privacy of your own little home with your Pop, that this would be the moment when you might gather the courage to kiss him. Long and passionately just as you’ve been longing to do.

“Eh, Daddy? Would’ja whistle for me?”

“Sure thing, hun,” he says starting up a familiar tune. You’re favorite whistle. It ain’t got much melody to it, especially not for dancing. But you adore it anyway.

Suddenly McCree dips you. You giggle delightfully, throwing your head back. Your leg lifting gracefully between his legs. Knee-grazing the crotch of his jeans. When he brings you back up he tries to hold you at a distance. Rethinking his decision, he opts to quickly bring you back in, flush his chest. Angling his hips away from you, chest heaving against your cheek.

You’re about to tease him about being winded. Are you just that heavy? Can't he dip his daughter without losing his breath? But then you feel it against your hip. The bulge in his jeans. You don’t mean to bring any attention to it. You’re just so shocked to feel this when you’re awake and alert. Not in your dreams, or in brief lucid moments when you wake up to feel it rutting between your thighs. Not daring to stay awake for long enough to allow your body to tense up and scare him off. You can’t help but glance at it for the briefest of moments.  

No matter how brief it might have been, your Pop notices. McCree may look calm to others, but you can feel all of the tension seizing up his muscles. How badly he wants to bolt. You’re about to give him the sweetest of smiles, tell him that everything’s okay, when he states that he’s going to go out back to smoke a cigarillo. You’re only able to get out a strangled, “Wait—“ Before he’s already gone, and Lucio is garnering your attention.  

Not wanting to make your Pop’s departure seem like a big deal you give him your attention. Instead of waving him away, and running after your Daddy like you had really wanted to. One conversation turns into another one. Then another one, as more people join in. Forming a little circle of co-workers, and trainers. Commanders and lieutenants, holding liquored drinks. Making lewd jokes and talking about the latest news. Eventually, you’re able to leave the fray without any suspicion, using a polite smile, and saying, “sorry folks, a girl can only hold it for so long.”

Leaving the room you are determined. Sure that you’re not gonna let this incident go to waste. You’re gonna march out there and plant one onto your daddy’s mouth. Take in whatever smoke he’s holding, into your own lungs. Take it outa him, all the stress and guilt. Give him the relief he needs, that he deserves to have.  

McCree’s got a spot. A certain section just outside, near the facility track, that he likes to seclude himself into. Where he can go and smoke “in piece” without all the judgmental people who’d harp on how bad the habit is for him. Truthfully you’re one of those people. As you’d like to have your daddy around for as long as possible. But damn if you don’t love the smell of tobacco-- especially when it’s lingering on him.

When you round the corner, you're stopped dead in your tracks by the scene that you find there. Your daddy’s got that woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. Her head bobbing up and down, Jesse's eyes shut tight. The lit cigarillo clutched between pointer and middle finger, down at his side. His head looking so devoid without his hat, eyes shut tightly in concentration.  

You dip back around the corner quickly. Slamming your head back into the concrete so hard that you see stars. You’ve never been so pissed, so jealous that your chest hurts. It feels like your ribs are contracting in on themselves, heart thumping so hard you can feel it in your ears. Your entire torso turning into a giant expanse of heat. You should leave, most definitely go, and pout about it in your room. Peeking your head back around that corner is only going to make it worse. Going to make the tears welling up in your eyes flow down your flaming cheeks.

You do it anyway, despite knowing what’s good for you. Just in time to see the woman pull her mouth away, trailing long clear strands of saliva. Revealing your Pop’s soft cock. Did she already make him cum? Has she swallowed down his load?

“A-am I doing something wrong?” She asks. Her hand still gripped around his base, lazily stroking up and down. Trying to coax the blood into his dick. Having no more luck than she was when she had it engulfed in her mouth.

McCree shakes his head. “Naw, it ain’t you.” Shoos her hand away from his member and shoves it back into his pants. She seems to want to be understanding, but can’t help but look dejected, cause she is. The cowboy she’s been clambering after don’t want her. They’re both looking ashamed, the woman, and your Pop. While you're practically glowing with pride. You can forgive him for this. After all, he doesn't know any better. You take your leave, with newfound confidence. Hell-bent on making it back to your apartment before your Daddy does.  

Tonight’s the night you break the dam. Open the floods gates and let it all flow freely. Give your daddy what he deserves, and get what’s been coming to you.

McCree's bedroom is dark save for the low light of his bedside lamp. Jesse's head cradled in his own hands. Dejected, defeated. He had that pretty woman down on her knees. His soft cock, filling up the space of her mouth, as she was trying so hard to beckon the blood to flush into it.

The woman knew what she was doing too. Had a technic that would drive any normal man inside of himself, but not him. No, cause that woman couldn’t even compare to the simple contours of your body. Even when he found himself shutting his eyes to try and imagine your face down there, plush chap-stick lips, wrapped around his shaft, it still wasn’t enough.

He’d lost it as soon as he left you in that room. Knowing, good and well that you felt his shame that time. He’s gonna have to man up, apologize. Face his chagrin head on and—

“Daddy?” No, no. He can’t. Not right now, he’s not ready. He keeps his face buried in his hands. “Daddy? Are you alright?”

“Fine-- I’m fine. Just-- let daddy have his bed to himself tonight, alright?” He sighs out a shaky breath. “We’ll talk in the mornin’.”

Slowly you pad your way over to him. Each step deliberately placed. Stop just short of your knees touching his own. His eyes catch the sight of your bare feet first. Inching up the beautiful curves of your ankles. Up and up, over to your bare knees, and the wide expanse of bare thigh. Your crotch just barely covered by two fists holding down the bottom of one of his shirts. His cowboy hat atop your pretty little head.  

Thump, thump, thump. Faster than a hummingbirds heart in his ears. “Oh, sugar. Why’re you wearin’ that?” It’s been nearly a year since he’s seen that thing. He thought it had been lost to the void of the communal laundry room.

“Cause it reminds me’a you.” The corners of your lips pulling softly with a timid smile. “I wear it all the time when you're gone.”

“That’s real sweet, Pumpkin.” His hearts about to beat right out of his chest. So is yours, keeping your eye trained on every little nuance of his face. You’ve got that shirt pulled so tightly that the fabrics accentuating your tits. Nipples hard, and they’re the only thing he can focus on. How badly he wants to latch on. Suckle and nuzzle his face into those fleshy pillows.

Jesse’s so lost in the fog, that your knees sliding into place on either side of his hips startles him. When he looks up your leaning forward, cupping his face in your little hands, you kiss him. Humming, musically; leaning into him wantonly. Pressing your body deeply into his own.

You pause, just to get a look at him. Remove his hat dramatically, plopping it down onto the bed. Before you plant your lips back onto his own. Dragging your nails down his sideburns, sliding them back onto this scalp, all the way to the nape of his neck. Giving him wild goosebumps that run rapid down the length of his spine. He groans, a man tortured. Asks, as you between fevered kisses, “what the hell are we doin’?” You don’t have an answer for him. Just a wet open mouth, and a persistent tongue.

Lord, he’s swimming in it. All of the flowers, all those curls. The warmth, your fevered breath against his mouth. So damn in the deep that he’s nearly drowning. Drowning in how damn good your hands feel, as you shove them up underneath his shirt. Caressing his the small of his back, tracing the lines of his spine. His cock straining against the tightness of his jeans; the hardest he’s been in years. But his gut continues to fight him, tooth and nail.

McCree snatches up both of your arms. Pulls his face away from yours. His chest is heaving, head spinning. You’ve got to go. He keeps his eyes shut tight as he begs, “Darlin’, baby, I’m so sorry, but you gotta go. Go back to your bed, now. Just—“

“Dad,” you say in a commanding tone.

No ‘Y’, just Dad. “Dad’s” reserved for moments when you especially need him to listen to you. So he does. Jesse opens up his eyes, releases his hold on your arms. Very slowly you bring a hand back up to his face. Like you're tryna pet a skittish animal. Pet the sweat stuck hair back away from his face. Give him that saccharine smile and say, “It’s, okay.”

Bobbing your chin up and down, you weave your fingers into his hair and say it again, “It’s okay.” Place two flat palms on his chest, one on each pec, and push him back onto the bed. Plop right down on his swollen cock, still hidden away behind his jeans. Undulate your hips, close your eyes and moan. You’re not wearing a thing under that shirt of his. The bulge of his cock feeling like heaven for an engorged clit.

Jesse's chest seizes up again. His breath freezing up in his lungs. Laying down you press your forehead against his own. “Daddy s’okay, I want you,” you say with another roll of your hips. “I want you,” a whisper, accompanied by a tiny whine against his mouth.

Sitting back up, you're still rolling your hips back and forth. Slip your fingers under the front of his shirt. Use his happy trail as a guide, following it all the way up to his chest. Lift your hips briefly so he can get a gander at your bare pussy. “You’ve got every right to it, Daddy.” For a moment you pause your undulation. Dig your fingers into his pecs. Say, in complete earnest, “nobodies ever gonna love me like you do.”

McCree wholly agrees. Show it by finishing the removal his shirt. Tosses it off to the side of the bed. “That’s right, Darlin’… that’s exactly right.” Suddenly all of his floodgates fall. Setting forth all of the ministrations he’s been holding back for ages. Reaches out his arms and holds your hips flush against his crotch. “You’re my little girl aren’t’cha?”

Your breath shudders from your chest as your resume your gyrations. “I always will be, Daddy.”

Jesse uses his grip on your hips to roll you over onto your side. Slips a leg between your own, to press his knee up against your cunt as he tugs the shirt up your body, holding it just under your chin. His eager lips finding one of your perky nipples quickly. His hot, wide expanse of a mouth engulfing it entirely.  You arch your back, allowing him to have better leverage. Even if he’s suckling so eagerly. Tugging at your virgin tit so hard that it stings. It seems to soothe him, the rest of the tension melting away from his broad shoulder blades. Relaxing into your body. Moaning and groaning over your erect little nub. Laps and flicks his tongue, kisses the darker space around it. His beard tickles and scratches so much that you can help but giggle a little.

When he’s had his fill, he rolls you over onto your back. Slips the shirt over your head, so that you’re now butt naked. Suddenly you lose some of the confidence you had waltzed into this room with. Pulling your arms up against the chest that your daddy was just lavishing with his mouth.

“What’s the matter, sugar, you feelin’ embarrassed?”

You giggle, your chest heaving underneath your forearms. “A little.”

Jesse takes your wrists and plants them down firmly on either side of your head. “You don’t gotta thing to be embarrassed about, Angel.” He steadily releases your wrists, careful to make sure that you’re gonna keep them there.

He presses his lips deeply against your own, “there’s no,” moves down into your neck, “hidin’,” down over your clavicles, “this perfect,” between your breasts, “pretty,” litters your tummy with wet kisses, “little body,” he says as he stops at your navel.

“Not from me, Honey.”

He continues his way down, licking his lips every so often to make sure his trail stays glistening. Makes a home between your legs, face pressed lazily against your inner thigh. Enamoured by your plump, juicy cunt. Looking like he’s about to feast on the best meal he’s ever gonna have. Pop wraps one arm around your leg. Brings his metal one up, middle finger extended to insert it inside of you.

It’s only one, but it still causes your back to arch. Your hands to grasp at the sheets underneath you. “Oh. Is that sensitive, Pumpkin?” He teases as he pulls the digit back out and sinks it back in all over again. And over again, and again...

It’s when his mouth latches onto your pulsating clit, just the way he did to your tit, that you think you just might lose your mind. It almost feels like it might be too much for you. Like you might start begging him to stop, it feels so damn good. His tongue lapping between your folds. Wet mouths sounds, and heavy breathing as he kisses your nub. It may have been years since the last time your daddy did anything like this, but he certainly hasn’t lost his touch.

McCree slips another finger in, focuses in all his effort on flicking his tongue quickly against your sensitive little spot. Your body continuously writhing, hips lifting and falling back down to the bed.

No matter how much your back arches, or how much you may keen, he keeps at it. Staying latched on, ‘til your hands have found their way into his hair. Gripping so tightly it burns, whimpering “daddy” over and over. Thighs shaking, moaning so loud that surely someone must hear you. “Oh-- oh my god, please-- daddy, have mercy.”

Jesse grants you mercy. Pulls away after one more hard suck and a quick flick of his tongue. Sits up on his knees so he can slink his belt out from the loops that harbor it. Drinks in your body, with the flick of his wrist that undoes his zipper. Shakes his head from side to side. “Baby girl, you’re unreal.”  

You’d be a fucking liar if you said you’ve never seen a dick before. Well, at least not one in person. But the point is your daddy’s cock is the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen. Intimidating as it’s here in the flesh, bobbing and jerking with every intake and exhale of his breath. Knowing that he’s getting ready to lay down on top of you and sink it into your virgin flower.  

You spread your legs for him. McCree leaning in to run his meaty head along your folds. Pressing gently into your entrance, just to tease. Leaning forward you grab his hips. Whine and beg, “Come on, Daddy, stop teasing, break me open.”

The pupils of his eyes widen, as he slowly crawls on top of you. Placing elbows on either side of your head, careful not to plant any pressure onto the hair splayed out, framing your flushed face. Reaches down between your bodies to line up and thrust into you. Only enough to sink the tip in, but it’s still enough to take your breath away. He whispers, “Where the hell’d you learn to talk like that.”

Not really a question, more of an observation. As he doesn’t allow you enough time to grant him an answer. He mashes his mouth against yours, lowers himself down. The bulk of his body pinning you down onto the bed. His cock sinking further into your chaste, velvet. Throwing your legs up you lock them around his waist. Wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hand on the back of his head.

It doesn't hurt, not much at least. It more like an immense pressure like your never felt before. He rocks into you slowly at first, gentle strokes. Not quite giving you all that he’s got. Sinking into you a little bit further with every little whimper of “more” that’s breathed against his lips. Until, eventually you slide your hands down the slope of his back, to press your fingers into dimples of his cheeks, encouraging him to settle in all the way to the hilt.  

The groan your daddy lets off in your ear sounds so nice it seems like music. “Fuck, darlin’ you’re just the softest thing--” Another groan, boarding on a growl. McCree’s hips picking up pace, your nails digging into the small of his back. Whimpering with every rut, every long drag that ends with a snap of his hips. Throw your head back and cry out, as a particularly deep thrust jabs against your limit.  

It feels so good, and you’re just feeling your daddy so much, your hips gather a mind of their own. Rolling in tandem with the timing of his thrusts. “Oh-- damn sugar, that’s good-- oh, you’re so good for me.” Even faster now, skin to skin slapping and shared moaning filling the void of silence.

You’ve never felt so full, so warm. All the pressure, that feels like fuzzy ecstasy in your core. Just a few more quick, deep thrusts away from releasing. Jesse’s chest shake’s against your own with each labored breath. Mouth agape against your cheek. Hot, bellows of air wafting your hair about. You're so lost inside of yourself, that you barely hear him say, “baby, I love you so damn much.”  

“L--love-- you too, Daddy.”

You’re both so, very close. Just on the brink of releasing together. “Ah! Daddy-- I can’t wait to have your baby--” A harsh thrust cuts you off. “Cum in me, please,” you beg. Suddenly his body seizes up, hips remaining flushed with yours. A string of curses flowing from his lips to your ear. You cum together as he’s draining his hot, load inside of you. Rope after pent-up, milky-white rope. Your heels digging into his spine, nails raking across his shoulder blades. As your hips continue to roll underneath him, chasing after every last bit of him that you can get.

Jesse collapses on top of you. A big mass of sweaty muscle, and hair blanketing over your body. “Am I crushin’ you, Sweet Pea?”