Dripping for Both of Them

for you, daddy 🖤

you make me feel wanted in every way that matters. i'm yours. always.

-- your little girl 🩰

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I've known Shay my whole life. But I didn't know how good it would feel to open my legs in front of her--with him still inside me...

We hadn't planned anything special. Daddy suggested we stop in for a drink--just the three of us, like old times. Shay was already downtown finishing a meeting, and the bar was quiet, familiar, close enough to home that we didn't have to watch the clock.

Shay was always around--one of those adult women who existed on the edge of things, with keys to places I wasn't allowed and a voice that never rose above a low hum. When I was little, I called her Aunt Shay, even though we weren't related. She never corrected me. Just let it hang in the air like everything else she didn't say out loud.

She and Daddy have been in business together for years--more like partners than coworkers, though neither of them would say it that way. The kind of bond you build over deadlines, disasters, and decisions made long after midnight. She's never flirted. Never crossed a line. But she notices things.

And tonight, she's noticing me.

It's late. The kind of late where the music fades to something soft and old, and the crowd thins to murmurs and half-empty glasses.

We've taken over a corner booth near the back. Me, tucked beside Daddy. Shay across from us, legs stretched out, wine glass cradled in one hand.

She's quiet tonight. Not cold--just content to watch.

Shay's the kind of woman who doesn't fill silence just to make it comfortable. She builds her sentences like blueprints--carefully, precisely, and only when they matter.

She and Daddy have been business partners longer than I've been alive. They've opened and closed deals together. Fought in boardrooms. Slept on opposite sides of too many hotel walls.

There's no heat between them. Never has been. But there's trust--the kind that lives in silence.

Daddy is casual in public. Never possessive. Never overt. He doesn't touch my thigh or and uses my real name. He just stays close enough to let me know I'm his, even if no one else can tell.

I don't need him to claim me here. I just need to feel him.

And I do. The warmth of his arm resting behind me. The subtle shift of his breath when I lean against him. The way he looks at me like nothing else in the room matters.

Shay watches all of it.

"You always this soft with him?" she asks eventually, breaking the quiet with a voice that curls more than it cuts.

I glance up.

Before I can find words, Daddy turns his head and kisses me.

It's a nothing kiss. Quick. Quiet. Barely there. But it lands like a secret I wasn't ready to tell.

When he pulls back, Shay doesn't blink. She just takes a sip of wine, nodding to herself like she's confirmed something.

Then, softly: "You're a lucky man."

Daddy says nothing.

But his hand brushes mine under the table. And I feel everything in that one touch.

I go to the bathroom a few minutes later. Just to catch my breath.

My heart's been racing since Shay said it--since she looked at me like she saw something I didn't even know was visible.

When I come back, the vibe has shifted.

Shay's glass is lower. Daddy's arm is resting lazily along the booth, like it lives there.

Their conversation quiets as I slide in beside him.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. His hand finds mine again.

I melt against him like it's instinct.

"My place is closer," Shay says casually, like it's just logistics. "You two can crash there if you want."

Daddy looks at me. Always lets it be mine to answer.

I nod.

And it's only after we stand that I realize--I'm shaking a little. Not from fear. From something I can't name yet.

--

Shay's apartment is calm. Clean. All warm wood and soft lighting, vinyl playing in the corner like it's been waiting for us.

She hands me a glass of wine. Her fingers brush mine just slightly when I take it.

No comment. Just a glance.

Daddy settles on the couch. I curl up next to him without thinking.

He strokes the back of my neck like he always does. Not possessive. Just home.

Shay drops into the armchair across from us and exhales like she's been waiting to sit all night.

They're quiet for a while, just sipping their wine while I lean into Daddy, head resting against his chest. His arm drapes around me like it belongs there, and Shay's eyes flick over the two of us--calculating, curious, not unkind.

"You two always like this?" she asks finally, her tone light but not teasing.

Daddy doesn't even look up. "Like what?"

Shay gestures loosely with her glass. "This close. This... locked in."

I feel my face flush, but Daddy just kisses my hair.

"We don't always show it."

Shay nods once. Thoughtful.

"Well," she says, setting her glass down. "If you ever feel like showing it... I wouldn't mind watching."

A pause.

Then as if taking her bait, Daddy leans in and kisses me.

It's not possessive. Not rough. Just true.

His mouth is warm and steady, his hand sliding into my hair as I soften beneath him.

When he pulls back, his voice is barely above a whisper. "It's okay here."

Another kiss. Slower this time. Anchored.

"It's okay to be us."

I nod, already breathless.

His palm presses lightly over my chest, grounding me. Then he turns to Shay.

"How about tonight... we share her?"

Shay doesn't flinch. She just nods and kneels in front of me.

"Only if she wants to."

She looks at me.

"Sweetness," she says softly, "do you want me to see you?"

I nod.

Daddy kisses my neck and whispers, "Good girl."

Shay's hands find my knees first. Then slide up slowly, confidently, until they reach the hem of my skirt.

She pulls them down with quiet efficiency, exposing everything.

Daddy's arms are still around me, steady and warm.

"Just relax, Babygirl," he murmurs. "She's going to be so good to you."

Shay drops to her knees between my legs like she's hungry and I'm the only thing on the menu.

She spreads me open with both hands, palms firm against my thighs, and licks me in one long, filthy stroke--straight up my pussy, slow and deep, like she wants to taste everything I've been holding in.

My hips jerk off the couch. I moan so loud it bounces off the walls.

Her tongue circles my clit, then flattens again, then sucks. Hard. She doesn't warm me up. She just goes for it.

Daddy's arms hold me from behind, firm and grounding, his cock pressed against my lower back.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Let her taste you."

Shay pulls back just long enough to say, "She's fucking leaking, Ron. Her pussy's like syrup."

"She's been dripping since the first glass of wine," Daddy says. "She soaked through her panties on the drive over."

Shay groans, spits on me, then licks it back up with a low hum. "Fucking perfect."

She pushes two fingers inside me like she owns the place--deep, slow, no warning--and my whole body clenches.

She curls them just right. And then starts to fuck me. Hard.

Her fingers slam into me again and again, her tongue still flicking my clit, sucking it, rolling it like she knows exactly how close I am.

And I am--so close. Tense and soaked, thighs twitching, mouth open, panting like I can't get enough air.

"She's right there," Shay says, breath hot on my cunt. "Fucking fluttering."

"Good," Daddy growls. "Make her cum. I want her sloppy before I put my cock in her."

I'm gone.

My back arches, legs tight, pussy clenching hard around Shay's fingers as I cum--loud, wet, wild--everything inside me pulsing and grabbing, spilling down her hand.

She keeps fucking me through it, keeps licking me, like she wants more. And she gets it. Because I'm still cumming, thighs shaking, mouth open, heart pounding.

By the time she finally pulls away, her chin's slick and her fingers are coated.

"She's ready," Shay says, looking up at Daddy. "She's open, dripping, twitching."

And Daddy's already kneeling between my legs, cock in hand, eyes dark with hunger.

"Good," he says. "Now she's mine."

Daddy kneels between my legs, stroking his cock slowly as he looks down at me--spread wide, pussy glistening, still twitching from Shay's fingers.

"She's a mess," he mutters. "Look at that. You fucking wrecked her."

Shay wipes her fingers across her tongue, smirks up at him. "She's still moving her hips. She wants more."

"She's going to get it."

He lines up and presses the head of his cock against my entrance--thick and hot and already leaking--and watches the way I open for him.

I'm so wet, he slides in halfway with one slow thrust, then stops.

I gasp--my hands scrabbling for something to hold, thighs trying to close out of instinct.

"Stay open, sweetheart," his hands pushing them wider. "You wanted to be shown off, Babygirl?"

And then he thrusts all the way in. One deep, unrelenting push.

I cry out--head falling back, body arching.

He groans. "Fuck, yes. Still so fucking tight."

"She took all of it," Shay says, kneeling by my head now. "Just swallowed your cock like she was made for it."

Daddy starts to move. Slow at first--long, dragging strokes that stretch me open over and over.

"She's gripping me," he growls. "God, I feel her everywhere."

Shay leans down, kisses the side of my neck, then whispers, "He's too big, isn't he? That's why you're whimpering like that."

I moan--loud, desperate--completely full, completely taken.

"She's soaking your dick," Shay murmurs, brushing my hair back. "I can hear it."

Daddy fucks me deeper now, harder--his cock slamming into me, hips snapping, balls slapping against my soaked skin.

He grabs my jaw, tilts my face to his. "You gonna cum again like this?" he grits. "With Aunt Shay watching you get bred? With your own father's cock in your soaking wet cunt?"

My mouth opens but no sound comes out.

He slaps my pussy once, just enough to make me jolt.

"Use your words."

"Yes--yes, please--"

"Fucking beg."

"Daddy, please--I want it--I want your cum--fuck me--please--"

He pounds into me, brutal and perfect, and Shay leans in, kisses me deep, her fingers pinching my nipple while I scream into her mouth.

"Cum for us," she whispers. "Be our good girl."

And I do.

I clamp down on his cock, body jerking, every muscle tight as the orgasm explodes through me again--hot and messy and loud.

Daddy slams into me one last time and groans as he spills inside me, thick and deep and so much I feel it leaking out around him while he's still buried inside.

He holds there, breathing hard, hands on my hips.

Shay strokes my hair, still watching the way his cock twitches inside me.

"She's dripping again," she says, voice satisfied. "You overfilled her."

Daddy smirks, pulling out slowly--watching every drop spill back onto the couch.

"She'll take more later."

Shay kisses my temple. "I hope so."

--

She disappears for a while after they finish with me. Doesn't say anything--just leans in, presses a kiss to my forehead, and leaves the room with her fingers still wet. The door clicks behind her, and then it's just us.

Daddy lifts me like he always does--like I'm something small and important. One arm under my knees, the other around my back. I melt into him, half-asleep already.

"You alright, Babygirl?"

I nod. Can't speak. Don't need to.

He carries me down the hall to the spare room. The sheets are cool, the blanket soft, the air quiet except for the hum of late-night traffic outside the window. He lays me down gently, strips the rest of his clothes, and slides in beside me, chest to my back, skin to skin.

His hands move slow. Hip. Waist. Breast. Nothing urgent. Just holding. Just staying.

When I finally roll over to face him, he kisses me--soft, slow, no tongue, no heat. Just warmth. Just love.

"You were perfect tonight," he says, brushing my hair back.

I smile against his mouth. "I liked when you said you would share me with her."

He hums low. "You did, huh?"

I nod again.

His hand drifts down, fingers resting just over my cunt--wet, sore, swollen. He doesn't move. Just cups me.

"I can still feel it," he murmurs. "You're open. Leaking."

"I know."

"I want you like this every night. Full. Loose. Mine."

I tuck my face into his chest, and he pulls the blanket around us tighter.

We fall asleep sticky and aching and safe.

--

I wake to the smell of coffee and the quiet creak of pans in the kitchen.

Daddy's side of the bed is empty but still warm. I stretch, slow and sore, and smile before reaching for Daddy's white dress shirt on the floor and buttoning it enough to be semi-presentable.

The house is bright now--morning sun through the windows, soft jazz playing low. Shay's in the kitchen in sweats, flipping pancakes like she didn't spend the night tongue-deep inside me.

She looks up as I walk in, smirks. "Hey. Coffee's fresh."

I nod, sleepy and wrecked, lowering myself into a chair.

"Your dad's out back," she adds, sliding a plate in front of me. "On the phone. Said something about your mom?"

My stomach flips. "Shit. He told her we'd be home before lunch."

"She'll forgive you." Shay pours another mug. "Probably."

I laugh softly and dig into the pancakes. My body still feels stretched. Full. I shift in the chair and feel slickness between my thighs.

"Eat," Shay says, amused. "You'll need the energy."

A few minutes later, Daddy comes back inside and kisses the top of my head like it's any other morning. His hand lingers on my back. He senses my tension.

"She's fine," he says quietly. "I just told her you crashed late and slept in... I just didn't tell her why. We'll go home soon."

I smirk into my coffee. Relieved.

We finish breakfast together, slow and quiet. No one says anything about last night. No one needs to.

Just warm plates. Soft smiles. And the promise of doing it again.