The Game

“Daddy,” I say. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Sure, Kitten. What kind of game?” 

“I have a timer,” I take it out as I speak. “One of us will set it for one minute, and that person will do whatever they want to the other person. The other person can’t make a sound. If they do, it’s a point for the other person. After a minute, we switch. Got it?”

“Okay, Kitten,” he says, laughing. “Do you want to go first?”

“Yes, Daddy, I know what I’m doing.” I do my best to sound indignant.

“All right. Any tickling allowed? Can we touch, when it’s not our turn?” Daddy always asks too many questions.

“Ready, go!” I turn the timer, releasing it as it begins to click towards zero. I settle myself between his legs. He smiles, already unbuckling his pants. Once it’s freed, I take his cock in my hand. Slowly gliding my hands up and down, I look up at his clenched jaw he’s adopted to keep himself from making noise. 

I can see the question in his eyes: I love it when he makes noise. Why did I make this game? I hear the tick-tick of the timer. I am wasting time. I stick out my tongue and take him into my mouth. Just how he likes it. Sucking softly, running my tongue on the ridges underneath.

He closes his eyes, starting to lose himself, his lips coming apart. I smile with him in my mouth. It's only a matter of time. A few rounds, maybe.

I feel his hips start to lift from the couch, and feel his hand move to cup the back of my head, cradling it. Not too firm of a grasp.

Ding.

His eyelids fly open like a spring trap. I hear his growl, a mix of disappointment and irritation. I pull my mouth away, wiping webs of spit away with the back of my hand.

“No points yet, Daddy.” I say.

“Yes, I know,” he says, as elegantly as he can. With his trousers undone, he stands, placing a firm grip on my arm. I’m not sure what he is planning until I feel a hard edge touch behind my knees. Obeying the wordless command, I lay down on the table, feeling him pull at my panties under my skirt.

“Daddy,” I let my tone become admonishing. “The timer.”

“I didn’t forget, Kitten.” He pauses, pulling away, and soon I hear the ticking. “No cheating.”

“That’s right, no cheating--oh,” His finger finds its way inside me, his knuckles pushing my underwear aside. Ducking down, he begins to kiss, suck, and tease my clit with fervor, closing his soft lips around me. Forming his free fingers into a V-shape, he coaxes my pussy open, my labia exposing me further. I shake, my legs flexing against his other hand. 

He pauses only to say: “You didn’t even make it ten seconds. Point for me.”

I’ve been moaning and whimpering the entire time.

I sit up on my elbows just as the timer sings, pouting at being tricked as he smiles back.

“I like this game,” he says, smug.

I bound off the table, grabbing the timer and holding the dial to silence it. Then, as I rush through pulling off my shirt and underwear, heat fills the pit of my stomach. I see the smile fade from his lips, his eyes catching my nipples.

“Daddy...this way,” I say, taking his hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

He instantly moves to sit on the bed, but I don’t let go of his hand. 

“Hm?” He makes a noise of confusion when I push us down to the carpet. I place both hands on his chest, and throw a leg over his, my knee brushing against his hardness. He lays down without a word.

Just my skirt and socks remain. I know the effect I have on him. I know the effect that seeing my body has on him. I adjust myself, shifting to pull down on his pants and briefs, tugging plaintively until he takes the hint, lifting his hips and pushing the material to his knees. I straddle him completely, newly able to squeeze my thighs over his larger legs.

“I forgot the time,” I blurt out, breaking the silence between us.

“Then you’ll just have to count,” he replies, holding onto my hips and showing his reluctance to let me leave my new perch.

And so, I turn on the music box in my head. I have always used music to keep track of time, humming my way through tasks and chores.

My hips start to move in time, the pleats and folds of my skirt brushing higher on him, floating over where he is exposed to my touch. His eyes flutter, half-shut, his hands eager to guide me but waiting for me to lead.

20. 

21. 

22.

23. 

I am whispering, moving my body lower until my pussy slides against his shaft. My hands brace against his chest for balance, and I feel the hum of satisfaction come from his lungs through his clamped lips.

“That was a noise,” I say, pausing with triumph.

“It was, young lady,” His voice sounds thread-bare and hoarse. “Keep counting.”

The pile of the carpet is starting to burn my shins. 45, 46, 47… I bounce a little, changing my positioning to where his length lines up with my ass-crack. I let it slide up and down, feeling the smooth skin and ridges rub against me.

I reach 60, and lift my hands, waiting for him to sit up. He gently rolls me over next to him, stroking the leg I hiked up on him immediately after I lay down. He smirks as he looks at my reddened knees.

“Lucky for you, I’m not in that kind of mood today,” he says, tapping my hip to signal that he wants to stand. He gets to his feet, and I stay in place until I see him walk back toward me with a blanket. He flops it down beside me, and I quickly roll onto it, laughing as I hug my knees into my chest. He crouches down, smiling and placing his hands between my raised legs to stroke my belly.

“Pretty kitten,” he whispers. I arch into his touch. “Okay, okay, this is for me, though.”

I watch him join me on the spread, lying prone. I think he will pull me onto his waist, but he takes my hand.

“We are tied, one to one. Bring all that sweetness to me, let’s finish this game.” 

I don’t move at first, unsure of what he wants. He waits for a moment, and then places a hand on my waist, his way of asking for permission to move me around.

He guides me to straddle his face, his forearms sliding around me, forcing me to bend over. I shift forward, and my clit hangs in front of his lips. He quickly closes his mouth around it, latching on with soft licks and suckling. I moan, forgetting the score, the game, my own rules. He uses his hands to rock me back and forth, and I feel him slipping and sucking, my bottom bouncing back and away from the pressure. I am starting to feel the heat.

I tighten, sucking the sensation inside myself, into my center, as I fall back into his mouth, lips, and tongue, a new assault on my flesh. More heat. More.

I want him to slap me, or to grab my hips hard and leave prints, purple and green, on my skin. He is far too focused, so I put one of my knuckles into my mouth and bite down, my eyes squeezing shut just in time for his change of pace, now with his tongue jittering side to side. I shudder, throat full and flowing with groans that struggle to become words and thoughts, but are pushed out, born too soon from my body.

His hand reaches up and grabs blindly at my breast. He can tell I am close. I lean forward more, my lower lips part, exposing my clit fully. I don’t move for fear of losing the sensation, save for the trembling tension in my thighs. I come in a furor, a whirlwind taking my voice, forgetting the game, the timer, the thin walls, my voice cracking like brittle tiles at the end of it, my dry lips shaking and stretching over my teeth. I take my arms out further to hold myself up. 

I hear him laugh through the warm fog of orgasm. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” he says. Still, he lets me move off of him and I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest. He stretches out a hand to enclose me in the warmth of the blanket.

“I lost,” I say, exhausted.

Photo by Elijah O'Donnell