Little Edie: Cock Sleeve

Rob uses his daughter Edie's (14yo) throat and arsehole...she loves the abuse.

Rob left the bathroom door wide open as he showered. The steam curled around his naked body, as he slowly soaped up his semi-flaccid cock, knowing full well that Rosy would be passing by any moment to grab her schoolbag. He heard her footsteps—light, quick—and he adjusted his stance, angling his hips just so. The glass shower door hid nothing.

Rosy froze mid-step, her cheeks flushing pink as her gaze locked onto him. Rob pretended not to notice, running a hand through his wet hair, letting water drip down his chest before trailing lower—gripping himself gently, just enough to coax the foreskin back. Rosie stopped and stared. She was transfixed by the sight of her father’s soapy cock—fat and heavy, twitching slightly as if sensing her attention. A whimper escaped her lips, but she didn’t move. Rob smirked under the spray, letting his fingers slowly wank himself under the pretense of washing.

He pretended still not to notice her standing there—just a few feet away—her breath shallow, her fingers gripping the strap of her schoolbag tight enough to turn her knuckles white. The water cascaded down his body, rivulets catching the light as they slid over his thick thighs, his taut stomach, the coarse hair at the base of his cock. He rolled his hips slightly, letting the head peek out from his fist, glistening with soap and water.

It was stiffening now, thickening under his slow, deliberate strokes—and Rosy’s breath caught audibly. Rob finally glanced up, feigning surprise. "Oh! Rosie, love, didn’t see you there." His voice was casual, but his hand didn’t stop moving, slick and unhurried.

Rosie bolted away, her face crimson, her heart hammering so loud she swore he could hear it. But she didn’t go far—just around the corner, pressing her back against the wall, her thighs pressed together tightly. She could still see the way his cock had twitched in his hand. Her stomach twisted, hot and strange. She shouldn’t have looked. But she had. And worse—she wanted to look again.

Edie emerged from her bedroom just as Rosie stumbled down the stairs, breathless and flustered, her schoolbag nearly slipping from her shoulder. The older girl tilted her head, eyes narrowing—sharp, observant. She knew that look. Daddy had been teasing again.

"Seen something interesting?" Edie asked, leaning against the banister with a smirk that was far too knowing for a fourteen-year-old. Rosie's face burned hotter, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "N-no! Just—just running late!"

Edie laughed, and turned the corner toward the bathroom—only to find her already stepping out, towel slung low around his hips, water still clinging to his shoulders. Her gaze dropped immediately, shamelessly, to where the damp fabric clung to the outline of his cock.

"Enjoying the view?" Rob murmured, voice thick with amusement. Edie pull her nightie off over her head, tossing it aside without hesitation. At fourteen Edie still look like a child—flat chested, narrow hips, her blonde curls messy from sleep. But her eyes were hungry, her fingers already working the towel loose from his waist.

Rob didn't stop her. He never did. Ever since he caught her with the family dog when she was seven—tiny fingers buried in the dog’s fur, gasping as its tongue flickered between her legs—he’d known she was special. His little whore. His secret.

The towel hit the floor with a wet slap. Edie dropped to her knees without being told, her small hands gripping the backs of his thighs as she leaned forward, her pink tongue darting out to lick the moisture still clinging to the head of his cock. Rob groaned, his fingers tangling in her messy blonde curls. "Fuck, you’re eager this morning," he muttered, his hips jerking slightly as her tongue circled him, teasing, before she took him into her mouth with a wet, sucking noise.

Edie suckled on her fathe cock like a hungry calf at the teat, her lips stretching wide around his girth, her cheeks hollowing obscenely. The wet sounds filled the bathroom, mingling with Rob’s low groans—rough, satisfied noises that made her pussy throb between her skinny thighs. She loved this. Loved the taste of him— salt and musk. Loved the way he gripped her hair, not too hard, just enough to remind her who was in control.

Rob leaned over and closed the bathroom door, the lock sliding into place with a click. Downstairs, Amy clattered pans in the kitchen, oblivious, while Rosie’s footsteps faded toward the front door. The shower still ran—steam fogging the mirror, the sound masking the wet slurps as Edie bobbed her head, she been suckibg Daddy’s cock since she was seven, and she was pretty good at it.

Rob sighed, watching her throat bulge obscenely as she swallowed him deeper. Her tiny hands clutched at his thighs for balance, her face flushed pink with effort. Saliva dripped down her chin, slicking the base of his shaft as she worked him with desperate, sloppy enthusiasm. He groaned when she managed to force the head past the tight ring of muscle in her throat—her slender neck distended grotesquely, her breath hitching in short, frantic bursts.

Edie's eyes watered, tears streaking down her cheeks as she gagged around him, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she pressed forward, her nose brushing the coarse hair at his groin as she swallowed convulsively—milking him with the rhythmic contractions of her throat. Rob growled, tightening his grip in her hair, hips jerking instinctively. The sensation was unreal—hot, wet suction dragging along his cock as if her very body was determined to wring every drop from him.

Her small hands slapped at his thighs—panicked, instinctive—but he held her there, buried to the hilt. He could feel her heartbeat through her throat, wild and rabbit-quick, and the vibration sent sparks up his spine. "Take it," he ground out, voice rough. "Just like Daddy taught you." She whined—high, muffled—but the sound only made him harder. He eased back just enough to let her gasp a ragged breath before shoving deep again, his balls slapping against her chin.

Edie’s vision blurred at the edges, tears spilling freely now. She could feel the stretch burning in her throat, the pressure against her windpipe making her chest convulse in silent, frantic protests. But beneath the discomfort, something darker writhed—hot and slick between her legs. She loved this. Loved being used, loved the way his cock owned her, loved the thick, salty taste of him coating her tongue. Her fingers dug into his flesh, nails leaving crescent moons behind as she tried to anchor herself.

Rob didn’t give her time to adjust. He started to slowly fuck his barely pubescent teenage daughter mouth. His hips, driving into her throat with measured thrusts—each one forcing her slender neck to accommodate him. The wet, guttural sounds of her gagging filled the steam-heavy air, mingling with the slap of skin against skin. He fucked her face like she was nothing more than a warm, willing hole—no gentleness, no pause. Just the relentless push and pull of his cock stretching her tight little throat open again and again.

Edie’s hands fluttered weakly against his thighs, her body trembling with the effort of keeping up—of swallowing him down like the good girl he’d trained her to be. Drool slicked her chin, dripping onto her flat chest, her skin flushed pink with exertion. Rob groaned, low and satisfied, watching the way her throat rippled and convulsed around him. He knew he wouldn’t last long—not with her like this, not with the way her tiny body strained to please him, just as he’d taught her. Every desperate gag, every choked whine, every involuntary flutter of her throat was a testament to he love—twisted and obsessive, but undeniable.

Suddenly, Rob’s hips stuttered, his fingers tightening brutally in her hair as he shoved her down onto him one last time—holding her there, nose pressed into his pubic hair, her throat stuffed impossibly full. He came with a rough, guttural groan, his cock pulsing thick ropes of cum straight down her throat—too much, too fast. Edie’s eyes flew wide, her body jerking as she tried to swallow, but it was too much. The pressure built—hot and insistent—until with a wet, choked splutter, spunk erupted from her nostrils in thick, pearly strands, dripping onto her upper lip and chin.

Rob let go.

Edie gasped—air rushed back into her lungs in a raw, shuddering inhale—and she slumped forward, coughing violently as ropes of cum dribbled from her nostrils, her lips, her chin. The taste of him lingered thickly in the back of her throat, coating her tongue, clinging to her sinuses. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, smearing it further, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Between her legs, she was soaked—her childish, akmost hairless cunt throbbing with a pulse that matched the aftershocks of his cock twitching above her.

Edie caught her breathe—then slowly, deliberately, she lifted her fingers to her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick the pearly strands clinging to her skin. She sucked them clean one by one, her pink lips closing around each digit, her gaze locked onto his softening cock—still glistening with her spit, his release. Rob watched, as she lowered her head to the floor, and lapped up the droplets of cum that had fallen onto the tile with kittenish swipes of her tongue.

When she looked up at him—cheeks flushed, lips wet—he chuckled darkly, sinking onto the closed toilet lid. His cock twitched against his thigh, still slick from her mouth. Edie didn’t hesitate. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, her small fingers gripping his knees as she leaned in, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, cleaning him with slow, worshipful licks.

Rob sighed, tilting his head back against the tank. "You’re filthy ," he murmured, watching her tongue chase a stray drop of cum near the base. She grinned, nipping at his inner thigh before nuzzling his balls—breathing him in, her nose brushing the wiry hair. His fingers trailed lazily through her curls. "Want more?"

She nodded eagerly, her lips parting as Rob guided the head of his cock toward her mouth once more. He chuckled low in his throat, "see if you can swallow it all this time, slut." Edie whined softly.

"Actually, get in the showe,r" Rob murmured, nudging Edie with his foot. She obeyed instantly, scrambling into the stall with the eagerness of a puppy. The tiles were still wet, and her bare knees slipped slightly as she knelt under the lukewarm spray. Rob stood outside and aimed his cock straight at her upturned face—already semi-hard again from her desperate little display.

His stream of golden piss hit Edie square in the face—hot, acrid, splattering across her closed eyelids and parted lips before she even realized what was happening. She gasped instinctively, choking as the bitter flood filled her mouth, her throat working frantically to swallow the sudden deluge. Rob held himself steady, watching with dark satisfaction as his teenage daughter knelt obediently under the shower spray, her tiny hands braced against the tiles, her blonde hair plastered to her skull by the force of his piss.

"Drink it straight from the tip like a good girl," Rob murmured, watching with hooded eyes as Edie leaned forward, her lips parting like a baby bird begging for food. The stream hit her tongue first—hot and bitter, flooding her mouth with a sharp, salty tang that made her nose wrinkle. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed closer, sealing her lips around the head of his cock, letting the piss funnel straight down her throat in thick, gulping swallows.

The shower spray mingled with the golden rivulets running down her neck, her flat chest, the sparse blonde curls between her legs. He could hear he gulping down every drop, her tiny throat working frantically to swallow it all. Rob sighed, fingers tightening in her wet hair—until a sharp rap at the door froze them both.

"Rob? Breakfast's ready," Amy's voice cut through the steam, muffled but unmistakably close. Edie kept sucking dutifully—unphased by her mum's proximity. Rob didn't move either—just pressed a finger to his own lips, smirking down at his piss-soaked daughter.

"Down in a little while!" Rob called out, his voice steady—unnervingly casual—as Amy's footsteps retreated from the door. Edie, still on her knees beneath the shower spray, let out a quiet, wet giggle, her tongue darting out to catch the last bitter drops dribbling from his hardening cock.

"Fuck, I'm horny this morning," Rob muttered, his fingers tightening in Edie's piss-damp curls as he glanced down at her kneeling form. His cock, already twitching back to full hardness, glistened under the shower spray—a thick, veined promise of what was to come. Edie knew that look. Daddy wanted something tight. She loved it when he got like this—possessive, impatient, his voice rough with the kind of need that made her stomach flutter.

He pulled Edie out of the shower by her wrist, droplets spraying across the tiles as she stumbled after him—skin still damp, knees pink from kneeling. The bathroom mirror was fogged, but she caught glimpses of herself in the fractured clarity: piss-streaked hair and swollen lips. Daddy didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. He bent her over the sink, one hand splaying across her lower back while the other gripped his cock, smearing the last traces of spit and piss along her puckered little hole.

Rob reached for Amy’s moisturizer—the expensive lavender-scented one she kept by the faucet—and squeezed a thick dollop onto two fingers. Edie shivered when the cold lotion touched her, her breath hitching as his middle finger circled her rim. He’d been stretching her there since she was nine, whispering praises as she whimpered, teaching her how to take him in her special hole. Now, at fourteen, her sphincter was pliant—a well-trained little hole that would accept whatever Daddy chose to put inside.

His middle and index fingers slid into her with practiced ease, stretching her tight ring in slow, deliberate circles. Edie bit her lip, her hips twitching backward—already trying to fuck herself on his fingers. Rob chuckled darkly, twisting them deeper, feeling the way her muscles fluttered around him. "Needy little thing," he murmured, his other hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. "You can play with your clit if you want."

Edie didn’t hesitate. Her small fingers dove between her legs, rubbing frantic circles over her swollen, hairless pussy. She was so wet—her juices making slick, filthy noises as she rubbed herself raw and fingered her tiny cunt. Her breath came in ragged little pants, her forehead pressed against the cool porcelain of the sink. Behind her, Rob’s fingers worked her arse open—scissoring, twisting—until she was loose enough for him to slide a third inside.

Rob watched her hips jerk, her childish body writhing between his hands—one gripping her hip, the other buried knuckle-deep in her tight little arse. Her own fingers buried knuckle deep in her tiny twat, rubbing herself raw and fast and desperate. He could feel the way her muscles fluttered around his fingers, the way her tiny hole sucked him in deeper with every ragged breath she took. It was obscene—his fourteen-year-old daughter bent over the sink, her flat chest pressed against the porcelain, her fingers jammed into her hairless cunt while he stretched her other hole wide open. He'd been doing this to her since she was a skinny little preteen—training her to love both holes being used like a good little whore.

Rob pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, watching her hole wink around nothing for a brief moment before he slicked his cock with the remnants of Amy's lavender lotion—the scent cloying and floral, out of place in the filthy tableau before him. The head of his cock bumped against her fluttering rim, pressing insistently against the tight ring of muscle until it gave—slowly, inch by beautiful inch—her body swallowing him down like a warm, wet sleeve. He groaned, low and satisfied, as her tiny body stretched around his adult girth, her breath hitching in short, frantic bursts.

Edie’s fingers stuttered against her clit—her rhythm faltering—as her father’s cock breached her. She could feel the stretch burning in her arse, the pressure against her sphincter making her toes curl against the tile floor. But beneath the discomfort, something darker writhed—hot and slick between her legs. She loved this. Loved being filled, loved the way her daddy's cock owned her, loved the thick, salty taste of him lingering in the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into the edge of the sink, nails scraping against porcelain as she tried to anchor herself.

Rob didn’t give her time to adjust. He sank deeper, his hips flush against her tiny arse in one smooth, steady thrust—forcing her body to accommodate every thick inch. Edie gasped—a wet, choked noise—her fingers back on her clit, rubbing in frantic, uneven circles as her body trembled under the invasion. Daddy was so big. Always so big. Even after years of training, her arse still struggled to take him—her muscles fluttering wildly around his cock as if trying to pull him deeper, even as her body protested.

Rob gripped her hips tighter, his thumbs pressing bruises into her delicate skin. He pulled out slowly, watching the way her hole clung to him—stretched smooth by his shaft, glistening with lavender-scented slickness—before sliding back in hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Edie squealed, her fingers slipping from her clit to brace against the sink as her daddy’s cock punched the air from her belly. The sensation was overwhelming—burning stretch, relentless pressure, the undeniable fullness of being speared open. She could feel him throbbing inside her, hot and alive, every vein and ridge mapped against her tender inner walls.

His balls slapped against her tiny, hairless slit with each deep thrust—a heavy, rhythmic smack that echoed through the bathroom. The impact stung, but Edie arched her back further, desperate for more. She wanted the sting, wanted the reddening of her pale skin where his sac smacked her raw. Each collision sent sparks up her spine, her pussy aching with need—empty and throbbing while her arse took Daddy’s cock like a greedy little sleeve. Rob groaned, his pace deliberate, his thrusts deep enough to make her stomach bulge obscenely with every inward push.

Edie’s fingers dove back between her legs, her middle finger slipping easily into her soaked slit—too easy, too loose from years of abuse. But she didn’t care. She needed to cum. Needed it so bad she could scream. Her fingertip found her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles—the way Daddy had taught her when she was little with her first orgasm trembling through her. The pressure built fast, her breath coming in sharp, whining gasps as she fucked herself on her own fingers, her arse stretched wide around Rob’s cock.

And then—suddenly—she was there. Her thighs locked, her back arched, her tiny body seizing as pleasure ripped through her like a lightning strike. She came with a choked, wordless cry, her cunt clenching around nothing while her arse spasmed wildly around her father’s cock. The orgasm tore through her mercilessly—waves of white-hot ecstasy that left her trembling, her vision blurring at the edges, her fingers slippery with her own juices as she rode it out.

Daddy felt it the moment she clenched around him—those tiny, involuntary spasms that always gave her away. He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her steady, fucking her through her orgasm with slow, deliberate strokes. Edie whimpered, overstimulated and shaky, her fingers slipping from her swollen clit as the aftershocks rippled through her.

Her arsehole making squelching sucking noises as Rob fucks his daughters tight hole with slow deep thrusts. Edie’s limp body draped over the sink, barely able to hold herself up, her tiny barely budding tits pressing flat against the cold porcelain. Rob watches in the fogged mirror—the way her blonde head lolls to the side, her pink mouth slack and wet, that fuck out expression girls get when they’ve been properly ruined.

He feels his own orgasm rising—a slow, molten heat coiling at the base of his spine—as her tight little hole milks him with desperate, involuntary clenches. Her body still twitching from her own climax, her arse fluttering around him like a greedy little mouth trying to suck him deeper. Rob groans, his thrusts turning erratic, his hips stuttering as he bottoms out inside her again and again.

Edie whimpers—high, broken—as the overstimulation makes her toes curl against the tiles. She’s loose-limbed now, her forehead pressed to the sink, her fingers limp against her own damp skin. She knows what’s coming, can feel the way his cock swells inside her, the way his grip on her hips turns bruising. Daddy’s close. And she loves it—loves being the one to take him like this, loves the filthy, wet squelch of her well-used hole as he fucks her raw.

Rob’s rhythm fractures—his thrusts turning sharp, erratic—and with a low, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing deep inside her arse. Edie feels it—the hot, thick spurts of cum flooding her tight. She moans softly, her body trembling as she milks him dry, her muscles fluttering weakly around his softening shaft.

Then—with a wet, obscene pop—he pulls out.

Cum dribbles out of her bum in thick, milky strands, sliding down the backs of her skinny thighs. Edie whimpers, her fingers gripping the edge of the sink as her arsehole winks lazily, still stretched wide from Daddy’s cock. Rob smirks, running a thumb through the mess, collecting the spillage before pressing it back against her fluttering rim. "Push it out," he murmurs, voice rough with satisfaction. "Let me see it all."

Edie obeys, her muscles clenching weakly—forcing another gush of white onto the tile floor with a wet plop. Daddy watches as the last of it oozes down her inner thighs, sticky and warm.

"You look beautiful like this," he murmurs, tracing the curve of her spine with one finger. Edie shivers, pressing her forehead against the sink. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do next. She slipped off the sink onto all fours, her knees pressing into the wet tiles, her small arse still dripping with his cum. Rob stepped back, watching as she lowered her head to the floor, her pink tongue darting out to lick up the mess he'd made of her—like a kittencat cleaning spilled milk.