The Cocktail I Never Got to Reach Because My Daughter Stopped Me

I was in my room finishing getting dressed when I gave myself one last spritz of perfume. The suit fit me well, the usual one, the one I reserve for important meetings. That night I had a cocktail event with a couple of partners and two investors I’d been chasing for months, the kind of people who decide who they do business with based on how you look when you walk through the door.

My phone vibrated on the dresser. It was a message from Mariela, my daughter. I’m ready, I’ll see you where we agreed. I smiled before I even realized it. I grabbed my keys, turned off the light, and went down to the parking garage.

I drove slowly through the lit-up city. I got there near my ex-wife’s house, where Mariela was still living while finishing her postgraduate degree, and I saw her come out through the gate with those long strides she’s had since she was little. At twenty-six, she still walks like the world belongs to her.

Three years ago, her mother and I separated. It was one of those civilized breakups that end worse than the shouting ones: neither of us hated the other, we had simply become strangers under the same roof. Mariela was already grown when it happened, so I never treated her like a little girl who needed protecting from the world. I treated her like what she is: a woman who understands perfectly well what she does.

Maybe that’s why what we have started the way it did, with neither of us able to say when the line got crossed. A dinner, one drink too many, a conversation that dragged on to an hour no father ever talks to his daughter at. And suddenly we were on the other side, with her kneeling between my legs, sucking my cock like she had been born for it.

She got into the car and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, like nothing at all.

—Hi, Dad —she said, buckling her seat belt.

—Hi, princess. Ready to be bored by my partners?

She laughed. I started the car and we got back on the road while she told me about her week: the deadline she almost missed, the unbearable professor, the friend who had fought with her boyfriend for the umpteenth time. I nodded and made the occasional comment, but the truth was I looked at her more than I listened.

That night she was especially beautiful. She wore a short black dress and dark stockings that ran up her legs and disappeared beneath the fabric. Heels. A bit of makeup, just enough. I let out a sigh without meaning to, and she, who never misses anything, turned her head and caught me looking at her.

At first she said nothing. She just lowered her gaze to her wrist, looked at the time, and bit her lip.

—Pull over for a second —she asked softly.

It was six forty. The evening was dying out, and the streets in that area emptied early. I slowed down, looked for a spot beside the mouth of an empty alley, and parked. I was about to ask her what was wrong.

She didn’t let me.

She leaned over the gearshift and kissed me. A slow, hungry kiss, the kind you don’t give by accident.

I loved the taste of her mouth: strawberry lipstick mixed with the minty freshness of her breath. I took her by the waist to pull her closer and deepen the kiss. It was like holding something delicate and dangerous at the same time. Mariela gently bit my lower lip, slowly, and I understood what I already knew: she had two weeks of need built up, just like I did.

Because that’s what we had been for months. Father and daughter to the world, lovers behind closed doors. And two weeks without fucking was too much for both of us.

One of my hands found her knee and slid slowly up her thigh, under her dress. The heat of her skin through the weave of the stockings clouded my head. I went higher, until I brushed the edge of her panties, and found them soaked. I pushed the fabric aside and slipped in two fingers, all the way to the bottom. She was so wet they sank in without resistance, and her pussy made an obscene wet sound that made my cock go rock hard against my zipper.

—Fuck, Dad —she gasped against my mouth, arching her hips to drive them in deeper—. I’ve been wet since I left the house.

I finger-fucked her pussy right there in the car while she licked my neck and bit my ear. My palm hit her clit every time I shoved all the way in, and she twisted in the seat, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other undoing my zipper. She pulled my cock out and wrapped her hand around it, squeezing hard, stroking it up and down with that urgency I knew so well.

—Take me to your apartment —she murmured, breaking the kiss only a little, her lips shining and her eyes glassy—. Forget the cocktail. I want you to shove it in me until I can’t walk.

And that was that. The cocktail was canceled in my head before she even finished the sentence. I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and brought them to my mouth, sucking them in front of her. Mariela watched me do it and bit her lip, then tucked my cock back into my pants with a quick kiss, promising with her eyes everything that would happen in twenty minutes.

That was always the danger of being together. When we were together, nothing else existed: not the partners, not the investors, not the dinner on which so much depended. Just her and me. I pulled out of the parking spot, sent a quick message apologizing with a health excuse, and headed home with her hand inside my pants the whole way, stroking my cock without pause, squeezing my balls, forcing me to drive with my legs spread and my teeth clenched.

***

Twenty minutes later we were in my room.

I kissed her against the wall before we even reached the bed, with nothing on but the lamp in the corner. I slid the straps of her dress down slowly and kissed her shoulders, her neck, the line of her collarbone. She was breathing fast and her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and her hands were already back at my zipper, undoing my belt, pulling my pants down to my thighs.

I opened her neckline and pulled the fabric down to her waist. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I kissed her breasts, bit her nipples until they turned hard as stones, sucked one then the other in turn, until her breathing became a continuous gasp and she was tugging my hair, begging for more. I loved hearing her like that, losing control little by little, her who on the street seems so completely in charge of herself.

—I missed you —she said, her voice broken, grabbing my face with both hands so I’d look at her—. These two weeks felt endless. You can’t imagine how many times I touched myself thinking about your cock.

—I know —I answered against her mouth—. Me too.

And it was true. In those two weeks I had checked my phone more times than I was willing to admit, made up reasons to write to her, jerked off like a damn idiot thinking about her tight pussy, her mouth opening to swallow me whole. It wasn’t healthy and I knew it. But nothing we did was, and a long time ago I had stopped fighting that.

She knelt in front of me without being asked. She pulled my pants and boxer briefs all the way down, took my cock with both hands, and stared at it for a second, as if measuring it, with that crooked little smile of hers that drove me crazy. Then she opened her mouth and took it all the way in, down to the throat, and I felt the hot back of her mouth closing around the glans. I closed my eyes and let out a long groan.

—Fuck, princess —I murmured, resting a hand on the back of her neck—. Just like that, daughter, just like that.

She sucked me with hunger, with her whole face, not caring about the saliva running down her cheeks to her chin. She took my cock out of her mouth, licked my balls one by one, spit on me, and took me back in until she was choking on it. I looked at her from above: my daughter on her knees, with her dress fallen to her waist and her tits out, swallowing my cock like it was the only thing in the world that mattered to her. I felt that if she kept going ten more seconds, I’d fill her mouth with cum.

I lifted her before I came. I threw her onto the bed on her back, tore off her stockings, ripped her panties away in one pull. I spread her legs wide and went down headfirst to eat her pussy.

She was so wet that the first lick filled my mouth. I sucked her lips one by one, drove my tongue into her, found her clit and worked it with the tip, fast, without giving her a break. Mariela was moaning at the top of her lungs, clutching the sheets, the headboard, my hair, arching her back every time my tongue hit the exact right spot. I slid two fingers inside her while I kept licking her and found that place deep inside that made her lose her mind.

—Dad, Dad, oh Dad —she kept repeating under her breath, as if it were a secret that shouldn’t be said even in my own house—. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, don’t stop…

I didn’t stop. I drove my fingers all the way in, pressed her clit with my lips and ran my tongue over it without breaking rhythm. I felt her pussy clamping down around my fingers, her whole body tensing, and she exploded in my mouth with a muffled scream, trembling from head to toe, soaking my face. I swallowed everything she gave me and kept licking her slowly until she pushed my head away because she couldn’t take it anymore.

I climbed on top of her. We looked at each other for a second. We always looked at each other for a second, as if confirming that both of us wanted to cross that line again.

And we crossed it.

I grabbed my cock with my hand and ran it over the lips of her pussy, smearing it with her slick, teasing her entrance without putting it in. Mariela lifted her hips, looking for me, desperate.

—Put it in already, Dad, please —she begged through clenched teeth—. Don’t tease me.

I shoved it in all at once, all the way to the hilt. We both moaned at the same time. Her pussy was so tight, so hot, I had to stay still for a few seconds to keep from finishing instantly. Then I started moving, first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in, looking her in the eyes every time I drove into her to the base.

—You like it like that, don’t you? —I whispered in her ear, never stopping my thrusts—. Your dad driving it all the way in.

—Yes —she panted—. Harder. Fuck me harder.

I lifted her legs, set her ankles on my shoulders, and sank into her from another angle, deeper, feeling the bottom of her with the tip of my cock on every thrust. The bed started slamming against the wall. Her tits bounced with every hit and she gripped her knees to open herself wider, to take all of me, biting her lip so she wouldn’t scream too much.

I kissed her neck while I kept fucking her, stroked her naked back, felt her heat and the impossible softness of her skin. I don’t know when it stopped being a game, I thought. Being with her was a place I never wanted to return to from the rest of my ordinary life. Just her and me, locked inside a bubble that owed no one an explanation.

I turned her over and put her on all fours. I grabbed her hips with both hands and shoved into her again in one stroke, from behind, watching her ass lifted and her open pussy swallowing me whole. I started fucking her hard, nonstop, making her cheeks bounce against my thighs with a wet sound that filled the room. I slapped her ass and she screamed, arching even more, asking for another.

—More, Dad, more —she panted into the pillow, her hair stuck to her face—. Ruin my pussy.

I yanked her hair back and drove into her harder, deeper, watching my cock come in and out shining with her juices. I stuck my thumb in her ass while I kept fucking her from the front and she came again, trembling, squeezing me so hard with her pussy that she almost ripped my orgasm out of me.

We did it slowly at first, then desperately, then slowly again, until we lost all sense of time, changing positions whenever one of us was close to the end, stretching it out, torturing ourselves on purpose.

At some point she got on top and stayed there, setting the pace, looking down at me with her hair falling over her face and her tits swaying in front of me. I held her hips and let her do it. She moved slowly at first, sinking down all the way and twisting, feeling me deep inside, and then started bouncing up and down, riding my cock like her life depended on it. I took one of her tits in my mouth, sucked her nipple while she kept moving, and drove my fingers into her ass to help her come down harder.

—I’m gonna come on your cock —she warned me, voice broken, without stopping—. Dad, I’m coming…

She came like that, sitting on top of me, mouth open and eyes closed, clenching me so hard inside that I felt every pulse of her pussy around my cock. I loved watching her take charge, deciding how much and how, because in those minutes there was nothing left of father or daughter: only two people searching for each other with an urgency that answered to no one.

When she finished, she collapsed onto my chest, breathless, laughing softly at her own shamelessness, with my cock still inside her. I brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. Outside, the city kept going with its night and its cocktails and its important meetings. Inside, none of that existed.

***

It must have been close to one in the morning when I fully opened my eyes again.

Mariela was between my legs, sucking me again, glancing sideways at me to see the effect she was having on me. I let out a long breath, let my head fall back onto the pillow, and surrendered to what she was doing. She had learned how to read me: she knew when to stop, when to squeeze the base with her hand, when to take me all the way to the throat and when to pull back completely to lick my balls and tease and retreat, so it would last longer.

She licked the tip with the flat of her tongue, in circles, while jerking me off with both hands. She took me in until she was choking and stayed there, her nose pressed against my belly, looking up at me with watery eyes and saliva dripping. Then she pulled back, breathed, and went back to sucking me with her mouth wide open, no hands, letting my cock go in and out at her pace, all the way to the bottom, over and over again.

—I’m gonna finish, princess —I warned her, grabbing her hair—. I’m about to cum…

I felt her impatience and her need as much as my own. When I was one second from the end, instead of keeping going, she stopped, kissed me slowly, and took my cock out of her mouth. She put it between her tits, squeezing them around my cock with both hands, and jerked me off like that, with her breasts, looking me straight in the eyes, tongue out, waiting for the cum. It only took four or five thrusts for me to explode. I filled her tits and neck with semen, long thick streams that ran down to her chin and stained her lips. She ran her tongue over the corner of her mouth, laughed softly, satisfied, like someone winning a private bet, and licked a semen-covered finger clean.

—Delicious —she said, teasing me—. As always.

Both of us sated, she wiped herself off halfway with the sheet and we settled down lower in the bed. She curled up against my chest, still sticky-skinned, and I stroked her hair, still smelling of her perfume and mine mixed together, and of the sex of both of us soaking the whole room.

How beautiful she is, I thought, watching her fall asleep.

And there, in the silence, the usual fear came over me. This was getting more intense than either of us had planned. I thought it would be a phase, a detour, something that would burn itself out. But the more time passed, the more I noticed her seeking me out, texting me at odd hours, wanting more from me than a couple of stolen hours every two weeks.

I was afraid my daughter was falling in love with me. Really afraid.

And yet I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t going to be the one to break her heart. I would give her whatever she wanted, everything she wanted, until the day she decided to end this. This secret relationship between lovers that no one was supposed to know about, that I didn’t even know how to name when I was alone, and that was, as hard as it was for me to admit, the most alive I had felt in years.

I held her a little tighter. Outside, the cocktail I never made it to still meant absolutely nothing to me.