The rain outside tapped a rhythmic pattern against the window, blurring the street lights into a soft glow. Inside, the living room was a sanctuary of warmth and familiarity, filled with the scent of my mother's apple pie. I sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around me, feeling anything but comforted. My thoughts swirled around the same topic that had consumed me since the afternoon—how my boyfriend had decided we should "take a break," just when things were getting serious. The TV flickered with a romantic movie, but the scenes only deepened the ache in my chest.

Daddy walked in, noticing my tear-stained face immediately. He paused, the plate of warm pie in his hand hovering in the air. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" His voice had concern, a stark contrast to the coldness that had filled my world just hours ago. I couldn't hold it in any longer, and the floodgates of my emotions burst open. Between sobs, I recounted the heartbreaking conversation with my ex, how he hadn't even had the decency to look me in the eyes when he said those words.

Daddy's expression grew stern, his jaw clenched tight. He set the plate aside and sat beside me, pulling me into his arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, like the warmth of the sun after a storm. "Oh, baby girl," he murmured, stroking my hair. "You don't need someone like that. You're worth so much more." His words were soothing, but the pain was still raw. I knew he was right, but the feeling of rejection was a heavy burden to bear.

For what felt like an eternity, we sat there, the only sound being my muffled sobs and the steady rhythm of his heart. It was strange, but comforting, to feel his warmth so close. His scent, a mix of aftershave and something uniquely him, filled my nose and made me feel safe. My thoughts began to wander, and before I knew it, the idea took root. If my boyfriend didn't want me, why not give what was left of my innocence to someone who truly cared? Someone who had always been there for me.

I pulled away from him, wiping the last of my tears. Looking up with a tremble in my voice, I said, "Daddy, I know this might sound weird, but... I want you to be the one to take my virginity." The words hung in the air, thick and heavy with meaning. He looked at me with shock, his eyes wide. "What? No, baby, that's not right," he said, his voice gruff with denial. But the way his gaze lingered on my swollen lips and the way his hand hovered over my thigh told me he wasn't entirely opposed.

He took a deep breath and spoke again, his voice firmer this time. "You're my daughter. I can't do that." But his eyes searched mine, looking for a sign that this was truly what I wanted. The desire to be close to him, to feel his love in a way that was both taboo and comforting, grew stronger with each second that ticked by. I knew I had to push him, to show him that I was serious. I leaned closer, my breasts pressing against his chest, and whispered, "Please, Daddy. I want to give it to you. To show you how much you mean to me."

My hand reached out tentatively, sliding up his arm. His muscles flexed beneath my touch, and his eyes searched my face for any hint of doubt. But all he saw was determination and a yearning that had been building for longer than I cared to admit. He didn't pull away when my hand reached his shoulder, instead letting it rest there, as if weighing the gravity of what I was asking. The air between us grew thick with tension, the only sound the distant patter of rain and the thunder of my racing heart.

Suddenly, Daddy's eyes darkened with something other than shock—desire. I could feel the heat radiating from him, his body responding to my closeness despite his moral objections. "Baby," he started, his voice thick, "you know I can't—" But his words were cut off as I leaned in and kissed him softly, my lips trembling. His hand on my thigh tightened, his breath hitching, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

Our kiss grew deeper, more urgent. His hand slid up my thigh, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric of my panties. A moan escaped my lips, and I knew he heard it, felt it. The sound seemed to break something within him. He pulled back, looking torn, but the bulge in his pants told me the battle was already lost. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hand cupping my cheek. "But are you sure about this?"

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his. "More than anything, Daddy."

Daddy's expression was a tumult of emotions—conflict, arousal, love, and a hint of fear. But as he looked into my eyes, something shifted within him. He leaned back into the kiss, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand slid up my shirt, caressing my bare skin and sending shivers down my spine. His touch was gentle yet firm, a silent declaration of his intentions.

Our kiss grew more heated, tongues exploring each other's mouths with a hunger that neither of us had ever experienced. His hand traveled lower, cupping my breast and squeezing gently. I moaned into his mouth, arching my back and pressing into his touch. His thumb brushed over my hardened nipple, sending a bolt of pleasure through me.

As we kissed, I reached down to unbuckle his belt. His hand stilled briefly, as if he were giving me a chance to change my mind, but I was insistent. With trembling fingers, I unzipped his pants, feeling the heat of his erection against my hand. He groaned into my mouth, his hips moving slightly as I wrapped my hand around his thick cock. It was warm and firm, pulsing with the beat of his heart.

Daddy gently broke the kiss, his eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt or fear. All he found was a burning need that mirrored his own. "You're so sweet, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. He stood, lifting me in his arms and carrying me to his bedroom, the room that had once been off-limits to me, now a place of unexplored passion. The soft light from the hallway cast a glow over the rumpled sheets, creating a sacred space for what was about to happen.

He laid me down on the bed, his movements careful and deliberate, as if he were handling something incredibly precious. His gaze raked over my body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He began to strip off his clothes, revealing his muscular chest and abs, the hair leading down to his erection making my mouth water. I watched, my heart racing, as he removed his pants, his cock springing free, thick and veined. I bit my lip, my hand sliding down to my own panties, feeling the wetness that had gathered there.

Daddy noticed my hand and stilled, his own hand hovering over his shirt. "Let me," he said gruffly, his voice strained with desire. He reached down and began to peel the fabric away, revealing my bare skin inch by inch. His touch was gentle as he slid my panties down my legs, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt vulnerable, exposed, but also incredibly powerful. This man, this strong, protective figure, was undone by me, and it was intoxicating.

As he stood before me, naked and aroused, I reached up to touch him, my hand shaking with anticipation. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the muscles in his chest flexing. His cock bobbed with his inhale, and I couldn't help but stare. It was so much bigger than I had ever imagined, and the thought of it inside me sent a thrill of excitement through me. He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing down on me, and I could feel his heat.