His Nasty Little Pussy

DADDY’S SICK AND NEEDS MY BODY.

My heart sinks when I hear the news. Even my stepfather’s voice falters when he responds to the doctor over the phone.

“A-And you’re sure?” he asks.

The doctor’s voice is an emblem of finality, solid and clear over the speaker. “Yes, certain. Tests show the clots rising consistently. It’s a bizarre condition, and we can’t exactly tell you why it’s happening, but we know what helps you out. You just need to keep up your routine.”

I shake my head. Routine is such a nice way to put it, if only to ignore the indecency of the act.

“Every day?” Daddy swallows.

“Yes, every day. Possibly multiple times to be on the safe side. It’s not ideal, but you have to look at it like you’re brushing your teeth. You make it a habit. Something you don’t think about but just do. Your prescription for

brushing would be something like, ‘Twice a day, for the rest of your life.’

You have to treat this in the same manner.”

Daddy sighs, blowing air out in frustration. He collects himself before speaking, though. “Okay, doctor, I’ll keep at it.”

“I know it’s tough,” the doctor says. “We’ll be looking into it to see if there are any medications that might help. But, again, you need to keep up with your routine. Without release, the clots could build, break off, and lead to an aneurysm or a heart attack, so we can’t falter in treatment.” Daddy nods, says something, but I’m not paying much attention. I can feel the blood drain from my face when the idea of fatality runs through my

mind. I can’t believe Daddy is this close to possibly dying. I can’t lose him, not like I lost my mother.

And the horrible thing is how connected the two scenarios are. It all started shortly after my mother passed six months ago. It was a hit and run. Daddy and I were entirely distraught, like normal, and it took us a long time to get through it together. God, I’m grateful I have him in my life so I didn’t have to go through that all alone. My mother was an outcast in her family, so almost no one showed up to her funeral, and certainly not many people I actually knew.

It was just me and Daddy really grieving her in the small funeral parlor.

But after a few months, something else started happening to Daddy. At first, he kept it hidden from me. It’s obvious why, but it didn’t take me long to realize something was up with him. He’d lock himself in his room for fifteen to thirty minutes every day-sometimes multiple times per day-and when he’d finally come out, he’d be all sweaty and stressed out, like he ran a marathon.

I’d let him be and deal with it for a little bit, but eventually I became too worried to leave him by himself. He seemed so upset and desperate, I hated how much it was hurting him, and how I couldn’t actually help because he kept it away from me.

Finally, knocking on his door repeatedly, he finally let me in one day. Sweating and stressed, I could see the massive erection in his pants, throbbing against the fabric with a fierce intensity I can’t even explain to you.

I didn’t even know a dick could behave like that.

And, yeah, I was weirded out for a few seconds on why Daddy was so aroused. At first, I thought he was just grieving my mother’s loss by-I don’t know- masturbating his sadness away. I don’t know how guys do it. I know

they’re supposedly horny all the time and maybe he just needed relief after losing the woman he loved after so long.

But after a moment of hesitation, he explained to me he’d been doing this multiple times a day, every day, and that he didn’t want to. His dick was getting so hard it would start to hurt, and the only way to relax his dick after hours of intense erections was to jerk off, releasing all the built up tension in one go.

Believe me, the young, naive me of a few months ago would have found it hilarious, but after just losing my mother, it made me incredibly nervous for Daddy. I begged him for a few days to go see a doctor until he finally relented, calling me his ‘little lady’ who wouldn’t let him get away with poor health.

After a number of visits and tests, Anxiety Induced Penile Clots is how the doctor described it. It was something completely new in the medical literature, so his nomenclature revolved around the physical description of it.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Most likely it occurred because of the stress of dealing with my mother’s death, and Daddy’s body was having trouble handling it.

How to fix it? Sexual release would drain the excess blood from Daddy’s cock, canceling out the priapism forming every day, and break up the clot. Unfortunately, the solution was only temporary, and they only knew it worked because Daddy had already been doing it inadvertently for months before showing up. The clot would reform in a matter of hours, maybe a day at the latest.

The phone call we got today only made the diagnosis concrete. And Daddy was going to have to jerk off every day to keep himself from keeling over!

You think a man would be excited to hear he’d have a medical reason to masturbate without judgment, but when Daddy hangs the phone up, his face is a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” I ask, reaching my hand across the kitchen table and gripping his. I don’t want to let this man go, and his warmth brings comfort to my ailing soul.

He nods reluctantly. “Yeah, little lady, you don’t have to worry about it.” I scoff. “Daddy, I’m going to worry so hard for both of us. You don’t understand, it frightens me so much to hear about your illness.”

He smiles softly. “I know you’re worried, but Daddy can handle this.

You don’t have to fret for both of us.”

Daddy winces and adjusts in his seat, and I can tell an erection is forming. It’s fast, hits him hard, and makes him pretty uncomfortable. He stands up, and I can see the clear outline of his cock in his jeans, pushing strong against the fabric, screaming to get out. I blush, biting my lip and lowering my eyes.

“I’m sorry, little lady,” he says, lowering his hands over his bulge, blocking it from view. “I don’t mean to embarrass you like this.” He clears his throat, “I’m going to go take care of this, okay?”

I nod and Daddy heads off to his room, locking the door. The heat in my

face is embarrassing, but only because I don’t mean to make Daddy feel selfconscious about his illness. I’m the most important person in his life. I’m the last person that should be judging him.

And maybe I’m a blushing because the sight of Daddy’s cock is kind of exciting at the same time. I don’t mean it, I swear! But what’s a girl going to do when a mean, angry cock is staring at her through the pants of a man she’s

always found attractive? Not only that, but his dick is so engorged, it makes it appear super thick and long, making it even more tempting. And the more I see it, the more I want it, in my mouth, my pussy, my ass…

I shake my head, my brunette locks flowing over my face as I drop my head. I sigh. I can’t be thinking about stuff like that. Daddy’s in serious trouble, and I have to make sure I’m as supportive as I can be, not some horny

little girl who’s going to make this all way more awkward than it needs to be.

I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling at this moment. I mean, he must be scared he won’t even be able to work, what with a painful erection threatening to show up at any moment and force him to have to deal with it.

It’s unenviable, and it must be weighing on Daddy’s mind pretty heavily. The only thing I can do is keep an eye on him and make sure he’s doing everything he can to feel better.

Over the next few days, I watch his movements like a hawk. Not because I’m a slut or something, but because it seems like something is off. Every time Daddy escapes to his room, it seems to take him longer and longer to come out. He looks even more exhausted than usual, and then he has to go back to his room more often in the day.

I confront him on it, and he reluctantly tells me, “It’s not working like it was before.”

“Why?” I ask.

He sighs. “I think because it’s become a chore. I was”-he clears his throat, warning me it’s going to get personal-“masturbating because I thought I wanted to. But now that it’s prescribed to me-like it’s an obligation

-I can’t seem to shake the nagging thought about how unfulfilling it all is.”

“So what’s happening then?”

“It’s making it harder to orgasm. I have to work at it for longer, and then it’s weaker. Not much comes out, and it seems if it’s weak, it doesn’t have as much of a release as before, and I have to go back to the room to start all over again.”

I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This is really eating away at him. I lean in to hug him, sucking in his aroma and muscles, hoping my touch can calm him at the same time. “It’s okay, Daddy. We’ll figure it out, okay?” “How, little lady?” he asks, frustrated, kissing the top of my head. “I can’t be masturbating five times a day. That’s not a life a man can live.” I feel the tears well in my eyes as I look up at him. “Daddy, don’t talk like that! I don’t want you going anywhere.”

He smiles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything like that. I’m just having a hard time with it, you know?”

I nod against his chest, settling into the crook of his pecs. I can’t let this eat away at him. I need to do something to help him out, because it’s not just unfair to me if he dies, but it’s unfair to him that the loss of his wife would do him in next. He doesn’t need to saddle himself with that guilt of tainting her memory.

I’ll help him however I can.

“Daddy…” I look up at him, holding him tighter than before as I weigh my words.

“What is it?” he says, his hands sliding down my back, sending shivers up my spine as the nasty thoughts pour through my head. There’s even a tiny twinge of something under my skirt as I twist my legs from side to side. I try not to, but I feel the redness flow up to my cheeks. “What if I help you?”

“How?”

“What if I help you… release?”

His eyes narrow, incredulous, “You can’t mean, like, help me orgasm, right?”

I swallow, looking into his eyes for a few seconds as I find the bravery to admit it to him. I nod lightly. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

Daddy shakes his head, “Little lady, there’s no way you can do that.

You’re my stepdaughter, and I would never do that to your mother.”

I nod quickly, wanting to acknowledge just how strange the situation is. “I know, Daddy, I know. But this isn’t normal, and I know you’d never do anything to stain the memory of mom, but…” I sigh, thinking of the right

thing to say. “Daddy, I can’t lose you because we were too stubborn to try the solution staring us right in the face.”

“But… baby, I-”

“I know, Daddy, you don’t need to tell me how weird it is. I know it is, but your routine isn’t working like it used to, and what happens when it stops working completely? Where you can’t come because you’re just not feeling

it? It’s fatal, right?”

He bites his lip, gazing deeply into my eyes.

“What if”-I swallow-“having sex with me gives you real relief, real release, and you never have to masturbate again? It no longer feels like a chore?”

“Are you saying-”

I nod, the heat in me rising. “Every day, Daddy, as much as we need to make you right again.”