His Nasty Little Pussy

BABYGIRL’S NASTY PROPOSITION

“Daddy, can I talk to you?”

I gave her a wary look as the warning bell chimed in my head. The only time Paisley referred to me as Daddy was when she wanted something. Paisley wasn’t my real daughter. She was my wife’s. We married five years ago, and everything was fine until Paisley turned 18. It was as if a switch hit and one of Satan’s spawn emerged.

The little brat was staying out past her 10 PM curfew, putting her phone on airplane mode, skipping school, and even got caught hanging out with friends she knew better than to be around.

Her mother warned her that one more bad report card, and she was going to be grounded until graduation. And if she didn’t graduate? Shit. She’d better pack, because she’d be going to live with her dad and his new wife, both of whom were very religious and had an even stricter set of rules. Now of course, at 18, Paisley didn’t have to listen to us. She was legal enough to do whatever she wanted. But Paisley had never had more than a summer job, so unless she wanted to work in a drive-thru for the rest of her life, she was going to do her best to stay in our good graces.

“What do you want?”

“I need you to sign my report card.” She smiled at me sweetly, standing just a few feet away from me while I played on my phone.

Paisley was 5’4″ with D cup breasts, a taut waist, and swelling, childbearing hips. I could imagine this was exactly what her mom looked like in high school, because they were carbon copies, even down to the black hair and pretty green eyes.

“Why can’t your mother do it?”

Her eyes widened, and I could tell she was freaked out by the idea. “Mom can’t see this…” She held a panicked look. “She’ll kill me if she sees it.”

I held out my hand and she placed the envelope in it. I opened it up, and wasn’t surprised to find it marked with absences, reprimands, and concerned comments from her teachers. Paisley missed more than the maximum amount of days in school, and the best grade on her report card was a C-. “Well, well, well,” I shook my head. “Looks like someone’s about to repeat senior year if they don’t get their act together.”

Paisley’s green eyes increased in distress. “Daddy, please don’t say that.

I’ll go to class, and I’ll behave. I promise. But can you please sign this for me so Mom doesn’t find out?”

“There’s no way in hell,” I spat. It helped to think of the disgusting attitude she held towards me, especially when her mother and I attempted to address her bad behavior. As far I was concerned, the little brat could get shipped off to her dad’s house. Good riddance.

“Please, Daddy, please…”

“No. Get out of my face.”

She disappeared back to her room.

After a while, my wife texted me. Apparently, one of her friends had a crisis and she’d be coming home late. Being the understanding husband I was, I grabbed something for myself and set an extra plate in the microwave.

After that, I took a shower and sat in front of the couch, vegging out to ESPN, where I would stay until bedtime.

Paisley had been pretty quiet after I sent her to her room, and that was fine with me. If anything, the silence was welcoming. Her mother would have killed me if I signed that report card, especially in the condition it was in. I yawned, ready to for bed, and reached to turn off the TV. But just as I did, a large slamming sound caught my attention, coming from upstairs.

Alarmed, I made my way up, calling out to Paisley.

“Paisley,” I called. “Paisley, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer and her door was closed. From what I could tell, the light was off as well.

Considering the circumstances, I was getting worried. I opened the door and flipped on the light, thinking maybe we had an intruder. Instead, I was shocked to find a boy face-planted into the carpet. If I recalled, he was one of the guys on the football team, and the very one we banned Paisley from hanging out with.

He groaned as he lifted his head up, and his eyes widened in shock when he saw my furious expression.

My spoiled, insane, stupid stepdaughter was too much of a bimbo to keep herself out of trouble. Now she had to go and drag someone’s son into this fracas.

“Sir, sorry, sir,” he said, bumbling as he attempted to sit up. “She told me you were asleep, that nobody was home-”

“Keep your excuses and get the fuck out of my house,” I said. He started to climb back out the window, but I stopped him. “No, I’ll show you out the proper way. We don’t need you to be injured before the big game Friday night, now do we?”

He reddened, embarrassed at the fact that I’d identified him as a member of the football team.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

I pointed at Paisley, who looked shocked and horrified. She was wearing a slutty pink outfit. A crop top and pink shorts, baring her teeny midriff. I could see her busty tits begging for attention underneath that outfit. “You, young lady, stay put. Don’t move an inch if you know what’s good for you.” She nodded, eyes huge with fear of what I threatened with those words.

After showing the young man out, I informed him it would be in his best interest to stay far, far away from my stepdaughter if he knew what was good for him – or his coveted spot on the football team. I doubt he’d ever have the balls to try again.

As I made my way up the stairs, I shook my head at Paisley. She couldn’t behave if you paid her.

“You know your mother’s not going to believe this shit,” I hissed. “First you come home with the world’s most fucked up report card, and then, after you’ve failed to do anything to make me feel confident in supporting your poor behavior, you take it a step further and sneak a boy into our house.”

“He’s not any boy, he’s my boyfriend!” Paisley shot back.

“Not anymore, he’s not.” I crossed my arms.

A look of anguish crossed her face. “You can’t do that! You’re not even my real dad.”

“Oh, I know I’m not your real dad, but this is my house and these are my rules. And I will make sure to call your ‘real dad’ in the morning to let him know how his little girl is behaving.” A light bulb sprang in my head.

“Wait, maybe I’ll just call him now, and send him a picture of your fucked up

report card.”

“NOOOO!” She roared. I could see her little teenage life flash before

her eyes. Her chest started heaving, and it was so sexy, but I was steeled with resolve to drive home my point.

“You can’t,” she begged. “Please don’t. If you don’t, I’ll behave. I promise.”

“You have to behave anyway.” Tears started streaming down her delicate face. Too bad I didn’t give a fuck. She was a drama queen. This was just another one of her grand performances. “Stop whimpering and take off

that ridiculous outfit you’re wearing. Tomorrow your mother is going to take you shopping. You’re getting rid of all these little trashy outfits you have stashed in this room.”

To prove a point I opened a drawer, finding it filled with thongs, sexy panties, and other filthy clothing I know that neither her mother, nor I, would have ever purchased for her.

The thought of Paisley in these items should have disgusted me. Instead they turned me on, and I could feel myself beginning to fantasize in ways I shouldn’t have.

I pulled the entire drawer out and tossed everything on the floor, yelling obscenities to mask the growing erection that threatened to make itself known.

“What are you doing!?” She cried, chest heaving.

“Throw all this shit out!” I screamed. “NOW.”

Paisley dropped to the floor, sobbing hysterically as I pulled all her clothes out of all her drawers and dumped them on the floor. I yelled at her to pick everything up and put it in a trash bag, because there was no way in hell

I would deal with a “stupid and slutty girl for a stepdaughter.”

On her knees, listening to my words of humiliation, she looked so sexy.

I couldn’t keep my cock from straining through my pants, and it wasn’t long before Paisley paused to stare at my crotch.

“Daddy,” she gasped in horror. “You’re hard!”

“You should be picking up these trashy clothes off the floor and putting them in a garbage bag,” I hissed. I stormed out the room, dick raging for a release, and went to retrieve garbage bags. I came back in the room and threw them on the floor next to her, but her eyes were still frozen on my cock. “Daddy,” she said, this time her voice much lower. It purred, a little sexy drawl I couldn’t help but notice. She scooted toward me, on her knees, giving me an illicit view of teenage lust in those pretty eyes. “Daddy, if I… suck your cock, will you sign my report card, and let me see my boyfriend?”

My dick leaked at the proposition. My wife was a great lay, but she hated to suck cock. And considering that she was gone for the evening and still not home, my balls tingled at the idea of some kind of action.