His Nasty Little Pussy

DADDY STRETCHES HIS LITTLE BALLERINA

“Again,” my stepfather says.

I take a deep breath, straightening my posture as I collect myself. I lift up to my feet, standing on them, but I can’t quite get all the way to my toes, instead resting on the balls of my feet. After a few seconds, I collapse back downward, looking to give my calves and thighs a rest.

I pace for a moment in the small exercise room in the house. It’s been recently converted into a gym solely meant for my ballerina work.

“Again,” he says.

I swallow and repeat, staring into the mirror as I watch my form, trying

to make sure it’s perfect and erect, my spine straight and my arms reaching as

high as they can go. I can do both of those things, but I can’t seem to find my way to my toes, constantly falling back to the balls of my feet. “Babygirl,” my stepfather says, “it’s called en pointe. You need to be on your toes for the maneuver to work. And look, here”-he slaps the back of my bare thigh with the back of his hand-“your muscles are quivering. You need to be flexible yet solid.”

I feel a blush coming on at Daddy’s touch. Even though it’s meant only for correction, I love when Daddy touches my skin. My tight black leotard leaves a lot of skin open for touching-from ass cheeks down-and Daddy doesn’t shy away from touching it when he needs to teach me something. Studying him in the mirror with glances, I marvel at Daddy’s large frame. He’s so bulky, his shoulders so wide, it’s a stark contrast against my super thin body. He couldn’t be anything like a ballerina even if he wanted to.

But I know he’s not trying to. He’s only trying to help me.

He has to weigh more that twice what I do, his 6’2 frame holding it all so well. I bite my lip as I imagine touching his muscles.

But it’s hard to focus on that when my muscles are all so exhausted.

“I know,” I say, falling back down to my heels as I lose my strength, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m just tired.”

He smiles. “It’s okay, but the show is in only a few days. We need to make sure you’ve got all your techniques lined up. We’re putting in a lot of hours lately, but I promise you,” he says, his hand lightly caressing my shoulder, “they will pay off.”

I smile back at him, but I chew my lip right afterwards as the anxiety of my future is eating away at me.

I mean, not really my future. It’s only a bit part, one of the many dancers in the background while the leads talk about this or that. I’m not even sure what the play’s about: it’s not like they give us smaller parts the script to worry about. That’d just be a waste of paper.

But Daddy and I have been practicing hard-mostly ten hour days-and my body’s at its breaking point. But I don’t want to let Daddy down, more so than myself. This is my dream after all, but Daddy’s so proud of me, so taken up by my dream that it’s become his own. He’s working just as hard as I am, and he’s making sure that even though it’s only a small part, I shine the brightest way possible.

I love the man. I love the way he treats me, how my life has become his life. Even if he drives me hard, I know it’s for my own good. It’s like every waking moment from him is checking in on me and making sure I’m keeping up with my regimen.

Something, though, has changed between us. At first it was completely professional, familial, I guess. Focused on work and trying to make the best of my small opportunities. But the more we worked together, the closer we got. It’s hard not to grow attached to a man who’s in your personal space ten hours a day.

And in your dreams the next eight…

That’s right, dreams. I don’t know what it all means, but the past few

days, I’ve been thinking more and more about him. First he was invading my dreams to keep up his training, insisting I keep up with my plies and en pointes. But then my dreams started to take me out of my work-which was fantastic as I finally got to get some rest away from ballet-to lunches and dinners and lazy days in the sun.

And then… well, things turned a little dirty in my dreams. Daddy started seducing me, his hands grazing me and his lips searching my body. I resisted maybe the first time it happened but quickly found myself giving into every taboo advance he pushed on me. I’d get fully into it, our bodies mingling as

Daddy stripped me and finally…

Well, finally nothing. I always wake up just before anything serious happens. It’s only touching and kissing, and my mind fades to black or goes alert when Daddy starts to undo his pants.

Frustrating as hell couldn’t even describe it! Not only that, but I’d wake up wet with an uncomfortable ache between my legs. I never became ashamed of it, actually, just curious. Just curious at my feelings and how much I desired to act on them.

And when Daddy touches the back of my thighs, or when his hand caresses my shoulder in comfort, a surge of adrenaline rushes through me.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Excitement and fear culminate into a tingly sensation that makes me aches for his big body. I know when that happens my feelings aren’t contained only in my dreams. They want nothing more than to express themselves all over him.

“Babygirl, you okay?”

I swallow. I must’ve been just staring at him, my mind relaxed on all the dirty thoughts flowing through me. I nod. “Yeah, yeah.”

He chuckles. “Okay, well, did you hear me?”

“Stretching, right?” I groggily piece together.

“Right. Come on, lets get you over to the barre to help those muscles.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I say, loving the way the word comes out of my mouth. The word has this hyper-sexualized meaning to me, which is kind of humorous when you think about Daddy having no idea about it. It’s like this secret I’m keeping from him but so badly want to share.

We head over to the barre-the ballerina’s hip-height bar meant for stretching and exercise-and I grip both hands on it before lifting my left leg up to the side and leaning it on top of the bar.

I squat slightly on my right leg, wanting to get a good stretch out of my thighs and hamstrings, which have been the muscles most likely to complain.

The pull is intense and I have to concentrate on my breathing to help get past all the discomfort in my body.

“Good,” Daddy says from behind me. “Keep doing that for a little bit.” He takes a towel from one of the chairs in the corner and wipes his forehead and neck, soaking up the workout.

I smirk to myself. Daddy’s sweating while I’m doing all the work! It just goes to show how intense he is about our time together.

And it’s certainly nice when Daddy sweats. It’s one of those things I’ve begun to appreciate way more lately. The smell of his sweat is just… well, it just makes him smell like a Daddy. Musky and powerful, I’ve become almost addicted to it. When that first bead forms on his forehead, I can feel a knot build in my stomach as I truly start to get excited about my workout.

“Babygirl, keep going.”

I lost my concentration. “Oh sorry, Daddy.” I squat again, feeling the tension in my legs grow as I push down on the bar.

Daddy’s hand goes to my extended leg, his fingertips touching my skin lightly.

My heart leaps in my chest and my breathing stop completely, taking a second to restart my body up. My mouth goes dry and goosebumps explode in the region of his hand, and I can’t help but feel a little woozy from Daddy’s contact.

His hand grips a little harder as he pushes it down my leg. “A massage might help loosen up the muscles. I’ve seen your legs quivering a lot more lately.”

I nod, swallowing, unable to form words. I can’t even express to him how good it feels. My body’s reaction is so quick, it’s stunning. My stomach tightens and my pussy burns, arousal flooding me heavily, distorting my thoughts.

My thoughts turn to Daddy wholeheartedly, my stretch and my work entirely disappearing from my mind. All I can focus on is Daddy stroking

my thigh, his hands digging into my flesh as he coaxes the stubborn muscle into behaving.

And coaxes signals up my leg into my pussy, tingling me deep to the core!

Finally, after a minute of absorbing his touch, I’m able to squeak out.

“Daddy, that feels really good.”

“That’s good,” he says, his voice low, an air of seduction clouding everything. I don’t think Daddy meant it to sound that way, but my brain definitely heard it that way.