Little Edie: A New Daddy

Edie (14yo) meets her new daddy in the local park toilets...

It had been six months since Dad was arrested. Six months since the neighbors heard Edie screaming—not in pain, but in orgasmic pleasure —and called the police. Six months since the cops kicked in the bathroom door and found him wrist-deep in her rectum, her tiny body convulsing on the tiles as she came. Six months since Rosie lost her chance to experience Daddy’s live, since Mum collapsed against the doorframe sobbing, since Edie lost her lover.

Her bumhole missed his cock. Missed it like a phantom limb—aching, hollow, spasming at night when she pressed her fist inside herself and pretended it was him. She'd tried toys, tried cucumbers from the fridge, her hockey stick handle—they felt nice—but nothing filled her like Daddy’s thick, pulsing cock. Nothing stretched her the way he had. Her arsehole twinged sometimes when she sat in class, a dull reminder of what she'd lost.

The group home was full of girls with sob stories—dads who hit them, uncles who touched them, brothers who traded them for drugs—but none of them understood. None of them knew what it was like to have their whole body rewired for one man's pleasure. She needed a new daddy. Someone who’d use her properly. Someone who wouldn’t get caught.

Edie sat on the edge of her bunk, fingers tracing idle circles on the plastic mattress. Across the room, a social worker—Ms. Harlow—droned on about “healthy boundaries” and “reclaiming agency.” Edie tuned her out, focusing instead on the woman’s throat. The way it moved when she swallowed. How it would look stretched around a thick cock. She wondered if Ms Harlow like it in the bum, or maybe she fucked dogs too? Edie had only been with a dog once—when she was nine—but she remembered it's knot locking inside her sphincter as it pumped cum deep into her bowel. She wondered if Ms Harlow had ever felt that—the impossible stretch, the burning fullness. Probably not. Most adults were so boring.

The group home had a strict curfew, but Edie had learned how to slip out unnoticed—through the bathroom window, over the chain-link fence, into the dusky anonymity of the city. Tonight, her feet carried her toward Riverside Park, where the public toilets stood half-hidden by overgrown shrubs. The men’s side, specifically. She’d been here with Daddy loads of times, kneeling on the piss-slick floor of a cubicle while he filmed her sucking strangers cock through rhe graffiti-scarred goryhole in the partition wall.

The smell hit her first—piss and bleach. Edie inhaled deeply, her pulse raced and her cunt clenched. She'd missed this. The cracked porcelain urinals, the graffiti-scrawled stalls, the sticky floor beneath her bare knees as she knelt in the far cubicle—the one Daddy always used. The one with the jagged hole in the partition. She licked her lips. Already, she was salivating.

Outside, footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate. The footsteps slowed. Stopped. Someone entered the cubicle next to hers. Edie’s breath hitched. She pressed her palm flat against the partition, fingers brushing the rough edges of the hole. A shadow shifted beyond it. Then, the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

The cock that slid through the hole was massive— veins standing proud along its dusky length. It twitched in the stale air, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. Edie whimpered. Daddy had been big, but this? This was beautiful. Her mouth watered. She didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her pink tongue darting out to lap at the slit, tasting salt and musk. The cock jerked in response, a low groan reverberating from the other side of the partition.

Edie wrapped her small hands around the base. She stroked slowly, smearing pre-cum down the shaft before taking the head into her mouth with a wet pop. The stranger—whoever he was—breathed out sharply. Edie loved that sound. The sound of men unraveling. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking greedily, her tongue swirling around the ridge as she worked him deeper.

The cock twitched violently against her tongue. Edie moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips jerk forward, shoving another inch past her lips. She suckled on the stranger’s cock with eagerly, her spit slicking his length as she bobbed her head—slow, then fast, then slow again, teasing him with the inconsistent rhythm Daddy had taught her. Then flicking her toungue against his piss slit and around the ridge of his cockhead. She could feel him swelling, the veins pulsing against her lips as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper. The tip hit the back of her throat—and she gagged, just once, before relaxing into the stretch.

The stranger growled—a rough, approving sound. She loved this part. Loved the way her throat bulged obscenely around a man’s cock, loved the way her eyes watered, loved the way her breath hitched in short, frantic bursts as she forced herself to take him deeper. She leaned forward, her small hands gripping the base, her nose pressing into the partition. The cock in her mouth twitched—a warning—but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she swallowed around him, her throat muscles fluttering in tight, rhythmic contractions, milking him with deliberate, practiced motions. Edie fucked her own throat on him—bobbing, gagging, swallowing—her saliva dripping down the shaft in thick, sticky strands.

Uck, uck, uck—Edie’s gagging sounds bounced off the toilet cubicle walls like wet applause. The stranger’s cock plunged deeper with each jerk of his hips, his pelvis smacking the partition, making the entire stall shudder. Her throat wasn’t just full—it was rewired, every involuntary spasm trained to suck him deeper, not fight him off. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t need to see. She knew the drill: nose pressed to rough wall, lips sealed tight around his base, the salty-bitter taste of precum flooding her tongue as she hollowed her cheeks like a whore who’d missed her calling.

Then she pulled off with a wet pop—sudden enough to make him curse—and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. Not enough. She needed him properly inside her. Not her throat—her bum—deep in her bum. That hungry, twitching hole still loose from years of Daddy’s use but starved for months. Edie scrambled onto the toilet seat, one foot planted on the cracked porcelain, the other foot braced against the stall door. The position hiked her skirt up, exposing her bare, hairless cunt and the puckered gaping little rosebud—still glistening faintly from the spit she’d rubbed there earlier in anticipation.

She reached back, fingers rapping around the shaft still glistening with her spit, and dragged the head downward until it kissed her twitching hole. Edie slowly impaled herself backwards onto the stranger's cock with a shuddering gasp—no prep, no easing into it—just the brutal, beautiful stretch as her body remembered its purpose.

One sneaker squeaked against the porcelain toilet seat for purchase as she ground down further, her bare cunt dripping onto the grimy tiles below. The angle was perfect—his thick cock spearing upward, pressing against that sweet spot inside that made her toes curl violently. She could feel every ridge, every throbbing vein rearranging her insides. Her thighs trembled as she adjusted, lifting slightly before dropping back down with a wet slap of flesh against flesh.

Her arsehole made wet sucking noises as she fucked herself backward onto the stranger’s cock—each plunge deeper forcing her body to accommodate him, her muscles fluttering wildly around the intrusion. The pain was sharp, glorious, sending sparks up her spine as she bottomed out, her cheeks pressing flush against his pelvis. She'd strain to lift herself up—just enough for the head to catch on her rim—before dropping back down with a filthy, squelching slap. Her fingers buried in her hungry cunt, rubbing hard circles against her clit as she rode him.

The stranger groaned—a deep, resonant sound muffled by the partition—his hips jerking forward to meet her downward thrusts. Edie whimpered, her breath hitching in short, frantic gasps as the stretch burned deliciously. The cock inside her was thicker than Daddy’s, the angle sharper, the ridges more pronounced—and she loved it.

Edie came hard—suddenly, violently—her body seizing around the stranger’s cock as pleasure ripped through her like a live wire. Her cunt clenched around nothing, her fingers slippery with her own juices as she rubbed her clit raw, her orgasm tearing through her with merciless intensity. The stranger growled, as her arsehole milked him toward his own climax. Fucked she'd missed this.

The man must of figured out he was fucking a little girl by now, but he didn’t stop—if anything, his thrusts grew rougher, as he fucked upward into her tight, juvenile hole. Edie’s squeals echoed off the graffiti-scarred walls, her tiny body jolting with each brutal snap of his hips. She could feel him swelling inside her, the telltale pulse of an impending orgasm—but she didn’t want him to cum yet. Not like this. Not without looking at her.

With a wet pop, she pulled off his cock, scrambling off the toilet seat before he could protest. Her knees hit the piss-slick floor hard as she crawled under the partition, emerging in his cubicle like a feral little creature. The man—broad-shouldered, late thirties, wedding ring glinting under the fluorescent lights—stared down at her with wide, dark eyes.

"Fuck," the man hissed, his cock twitching in the air between them—thick, angry-red, glistening with her spit and the slickness from her stretched hole. His fingers dug into her shoulders, not pushing her away but holding her there, his gaze flickering between her childish face and the way her tiny fingers already crept back toward his shaft. "How old are you?"

Edie grinned—slow, wicked—her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Old enough to make you cum twice before your wife texts you back," she murmured, her small hands wrapping around his cock again, stroking lazily from root to tip. The man groaned, his head thudding back against the stall wall as she leaned in, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the head. "Wanna finish in my bum?" she whispered against his skin, her breath hot. "Or should I suck you clean and you can finish in my mouth "

He looked hesitating, but is inner pervert won—his fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her forward onto his cock with a ragged groan. Edie grinned against his skin, triumphant, her lips sealing around him as she sucked hard—knowing she'd won. The stranger's hips jerked upward, fucking her face in short, desperate thrusts while she hollowed her cheeks, milking him toward climax with practiced ease. His breathing turned ragged, his grip bordering on painful—just how she liked it—as his cock swelled against her tongue.

She could taste her own arse as his cockhead breached her throat—bitter-salt-musk—her nostrils flared against his pubic bone as he slammed deeper, his balls slapping her chin in wet, rhythmic smacks. The stranger’s wedding ring scraped her scalp, the metal cold against her feverish skin as he dragged her forward onto his cock with every thrust, her gag reflex long since trained away. Edie’s fingers dug into his buttocks, her nails biting crescents into his flesh as she let him use her throat like a cocksleeve—just like Daddy taught her.

He was fucking her face like a rentboy arsehole—hard, fast, desperate—his hips snapping forward with enough force to make her skull bounce off the stall wall. Edie’s vision blurred from the impact, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she swallowed around him, her throat muscles fluttering in tight, rhythmic contractions, milking him with deliberate, practiced motions. The stranger groaned, his thighs trembling, his fingers tightening in her hair until her scalp burned.

She could feel it coming—the telltale jerk of his cock, the way his breathing fractured into ragged gasps. His thrusts turned erratic, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out inside her throat one last time—and then he came. Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded her esophagus in pulsing waves, each one forcing her to swallow frantically to keep up. Her throat bulged obscenely, struggling to accommodate the sudden deluge, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him dry.

The stranger groaned, his grip loosening slightly as the last of his orgasm shuddered through him. Edie stayed where she was, her lips sealed tight around the base of his cock, milking every last drop with tiny, kittenish sucks until he twitched with overstimulation. Only then did she pull off, her tongue darting out to catch the stray drops beading at his slit. Then she nuzzled his balls—soft and heavy against her cheek—inhaling the musky scent of sweat and sex before pressing a wet kiss to each one.

The man looked down at her—his cock still slick with spit and cum, his breathing ragged—as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand, smearing a stray droplet across her cheek. Edie grinned up at him, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips, tasting salt and bitterness and victory.

His expression was unreadable—caught between horror and something far darker. Edie watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, his wedding ring glinting under the flickering fluorescent light. Then, without warning, he picked her up by the waist like she weighed nothing and looked her straight in the eye.

"How old are you and what the fuck are you doing here?" The stranger's voice was rough, his grip tightening on her waist—not hurting, but holding her there, suspended between his body and the graffiti-scarred stall wall.

Edie kicked her legs slightly, dangling like a doll in his grasp. "Twelve," she lied easily, watching his pupils dilate. His cock twitched against her thigh, still wet from her mouth. "And I'm here 'cause I'm in care and I need a new daddy." She tilted her head, pressing her cheek against the damp fabric of his work shirt. "Will you be my daddy?"