The Cocktail I Never Got to Reach Because of My Daughter

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

The phone vibrated on the dresser. It was a message from Mariela, my daughter. I’m ready, I’m waiting where we agreed. I smiled without realizing it. I pocketed my keys, turned off the light, and went down to the parking garage.

I drove unhurriedly through the lit-up city. I arrived near my ex-wife’s house, where Mariela was still living while she finished her postgraduate studies, 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 as if the world belonged to her.

Three years ago, her mother and I separated. It was one of those civilized breakups that end worse than the screaming kind: 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 needs protecting from the world. I treated her like what she is: a woman who understands exactly what she’s doing.

Maybe that’s why what we have started the way it did, without either of us being able to say when the line bent. One dinner, one drink too many, a conversation that stretched on until an hour no father has any business talking to his daughter. And then suddenly we were on the other side, with her on her knees between my legs, sucking my cock as if she’d been born for it.

She got into the car and kissed me quickly on the cheek, as if nothing had happened.

—Hi, Dad —she said, and fastened her seat belt.

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

She laughed. I started the car and we got back on the road while she told me about her week: the assignment that nearly wasn’t turned in on time, the unbearable professor, the friend who had fought with her boyfriend for the umpteenth time. I nodded and made an 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 climbed up her legs and disappeared beneath the fabric. Heels. A bit of makeup, just enough. I sighed before I could stop myself, and she, who never misses a thing, turned her head and caught me staring at her.

At first she didn’t say anything. She just lowered her gaze to her wrist, looked at her watch, and bit her lip.

—Pull over for a second —she asked softly.

It was six forty. Evening was fading and the streets in that area empty out early. I slowed down, looked for a spot beside the mouth of a deserted 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 that doesn’t happen by accident.

I loved the taste of her mouth: strawberry lipstick mixed with the cool, 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 bit my lower lip gently, slowly, and I understood what I already knew: we’d both been building up two weeks of wanting, just the same.

Because that’s what we were these past months. Father and daughter in front of 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, beneath the dress. The warmth of her skin through the mesh of her stockings clouded my head. I went higher, until I brushed the edge of her panties, and found them soaked through. I pushed the fabric aside and slid two fingers inside her at once, all the way. She was so wet she swallowed them without resistance, and her cunt made an obscene wet sound that snapped my cock hard against my zipper.

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

I finger-fucked her cunt right there, in the car, while she licked my neck and bit my ear. The heel of my hand struck her clit each time I pushed all the way in, and she writhed in the seat, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other lowering my fly. 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 away only a little, her lips glossy and her eyes glassy—. Forget the cocktail. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.

And that was that. The cocktail was cancelled in my head before she finished the sentence. I pulled my fingers out of her cunt 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 meeting up. When we were together, nothing else existed: not the partners, not the investors, not the dinner that so many things depended on. Just her and me. I drove out of the parking lot, sent a quick text with a health excuse, and headed home with her hand inside my pants the whole way, stroking my dick nonstop, 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 turned on. I lowered the straps of her dress slowly and kissed her shoulders, her neck, the line of her collarbone. Her breathing was fast and her eyes were closed, head thrown back, and her hands were already at my fly again, unbuckling my belt, dragging 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 were hard as stone, sucked first one and then the other, until her breathing turned into a continuous gasp and she tugged at my hair begging for more. I loved hearing her like that, losing control little by little, her of all people, the one who looks so composed out in the world.

—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 have no idea 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’d looked at my phone more times than I was willing to admit, invented reasons to text her, jerked off like a stupid kid thinking about her tight cunt, about her mouth opening to swallow me whole. It wasn’t healthy and I knew it. But nothing we did was, and long ago I’d stopped fighting that.

She knelt in front of me without being asked. She pulled my pants and briefs all the way down, grabbed my cock with both hands, and looked at it for a second as if measuring it, with that crooked little smile that drove me insane. 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 head. I closed my eyes and let out a long groan.

—Fuck, princess —I murmured, resting my hand on the back of her neck—. Like that, daughter, like that.

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

I pulled her up before I came. I threw her onto the bed faceup, ripped off her stockings, tore her panties off in one motion. I spread her legs wide and dove in headfirst to eat her cunt.

She was so wet the first lick filled my mouth. I sucked her lips one by one, drove my tongue deep inside 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 spot. I slid two fingers into her while I kept licking and found that place inside her that made her lose her mind.

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

I didn’t stop. I drove my fingers in to the hilt, pressed her clit with my lips, and ran my tongue over it without breaking rhythm. I felt her cunt clenching around my fingers, her whole body tensing, and she exploded in my mouth with a muffled cry, shaking 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 any more.

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

And we crossed it.

I grabbed my cock with my hand and ran it through the lips of her cunt, smearing it with her wetness, teasing her entrance without putting it in. Mariela lifted her hips, searching for me, desperate.

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

I slammed it in at once, all the way. We both moaned at the same time. Her cunt was so tight, so hot, that I had to stay still for a few seconds so I wouldn’t come instantly. Then I started moving, first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in, looking into her eyes every time I buried myself to the root.

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

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

I lifted her legs, put her ankles over my shoulders, and drove into her from another angle, deeper, feeling the head of my cock hit the back of her with every thrust. The bed started banging against the wall. Her tits shook with every удар and she gripped her knees to open herself wider, to take all of it, biting her lip so she wouldn’t scream too loudly.

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 from to the rest of my ordinary life. Just her and me, trapped in a bubble that owed nobody any explanations.

I turned her over and put her on all fours. I grabbed her hips with both hands and shoved it into her again in one go, from behind, looking at her raised ass and her open cunt swallowing me whole. I started fucking her hard, nonstop, making her ass bounce against my thighs with a wet sound that filled the room. I slapped her ass and she cried out, arching even more, asking for another.

—More, Dad, more —she panted into the pillow, her hair stuck to her face—. Tear my cunt apart.

I yanked her hair back and drove into her harder, deeper, watching my cock slide in and out shiny with her juices. I pushed my thumb into her ass while I kept fucking her from the front and she came again, trembling, clenching my cock so hard it nearly dragged my orgasm out of me.

We did it slow at first, then with desperation, then slow again, until we lost track of time, changing positions whenever one of us got close to the end, stretching it out, torturing ourselves on purpose.

At some point she got on top and stayed there, setting the rhythm, 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 all the way down and twisting, feeling me inside, and then she started bouncing up and down, riding my cock like her life depended on it. I took one breast in my mouth, sucked her nipple while she kept moving, and drove my fingers into her ass to help her drop down harder.

—I’m gonna come on your cock —she warned me, voice breaking, never stopping—. Dad, I’m coming…

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

When she finished, she collapsed onto my chest, panting, laughing softly at her own shamelessness, with my cock still inside her. I brushed the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. Outside, the city kept on 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 opened my eyes all the way 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 swallow me whole down to the throat and when to pull all the way back to lick my balls and tease and retreat so it would last longer.

She licked the tip with a flat tongue, in circles, while jerking me off with both hands. She took me in until she gagged and stayed there, her nose pressed to my belly, looking up at me through watery eyes with saliva dripping down. Then she pulled back, breathed, and started sucking me again with her mouth wide open, no hands, letting my cock slide in and out at her pace, down to the base, over and over.

—I’m gonna come, princess —I warned her, grabbing her hair—. I’m gonna cum…

I felt her impatience and her desire as much as my own. When I was one second from the end, instead of going on, she stopped, kissed me slowly, and took my cock out of her mouth. She put it between her tits, squeezing them around my shaft with both hands, and jerked me off like that, with her breasts, looking into my eyes, tongue out waiting for the load. It took four or five thrusts for me to explode. I filled her tits and neck with semen, long thick spurts that ran down to her chin and stained her lips. She ran her tongue along the corner of her mouth, laughed softly, satisfied, like someone who wins a private bet, and licked a finger full of cum.

—Delicious —she said, taunting me—. Just like always.

Sated, both of us, she cleaned herself off halfway with the sheet and we settled down under it. 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 both our sex saturating the whole room.

She’s so beautiful, I thought, watching her fall asleep.

And there, in the silence, the usual fear came over me. This was becoming more intense than either of us had planned. I thought it would be a phase, a detour, something that would burn out on its own. But the longer it went on, the more I noticed her seeking me out, texting 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 would not 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 nobody 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 thing that had happened to me in years.

I held her a little tighter. Outside, the cocktail I never got to reach no longer mattered at all.