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As requested, here is the follow-up to "Daddy's Little Girl." Hope you guys like it. GJ
It was two days after Lisa Simpson had shown her father Homer what she learned in class dance. Two days after her movements had excited them both. Two days after they had gone to her room and rubbed each other to climax.
It had been wrong. Fathers and daughters should not make each other come. But the next night after they went to bed, Lisa played with her breasts and bud while thinking not of Bart who was away at camp. She did not think of Colin or Nelson or Milhouse. (She never thought of Milhouse.) She thought of her father. Of how good his hand felt on her cunny. Of his erect penis ejaculating against her panty covered slit. She came twice. Before she fell asleep she thought, Tomorrow is dance class.
That same night Homer lay naked in his bed stoking himself. He did not think of his wife Marge, who was on vacation with her sisters. He definitely did not think of his sisters-in-law, or as he thought of them, the Wicked Witches of Springfield. He had seen them half-naked once when they stayed over the house for a weekend and had been unable to get it up for several days after.
Neither did Homer think of Maude Flanders, Helen Lovejoy, Lurleen Lumpkin, or Mindy Simmons, as he sometimes did when he needed self-relief. No, that night he thought of his daughter Lisa. He thought of her young breasts and how their nipples popped up when he touched her under her panties. He thought of how wet she got when he fingered her slit and teased her bud. He thought of her feet on his hard penis the first time she made him come. He thought of her rubbing her panty-covered pussy against his jockey-covered cock and how he had come just after she did.
With each thought Homer rubbed himself harder. And just after he shot his pleasure in the air, and just before he fell asleep, he thought Tomorrow is dance class.
The next day Homer had to work over – a safety emergency that he had caused. Who would have thought dropping a donut in the reactor would create so much trouble? When he finally got home it was late.
Lisa had been home for hours. She had time to prepare. When Homer finally came through the door she handed him a Duff and led him to the dining room. After dinner (and two more Duffs) she asked,
“Would you like to see what I learned in dance class today, Daddy?”
Suddenly Homer wasn’t so tired, especially a certain part of him. He finally noticed what Lisa was wearing – a long robe that fully covered her. As he dared imagine that was all she was wearing he felt himself stiffen. He stiffened more as Lisa led him to the living room couch.
Lisa dropped her robe. She was in white – a loose top with a skirt that came down past her knees. She started the music. Homer recognized it as coming from that movie “10” (the remake with Sara Sloane). Lisa began to dance.
The Bolero started slow, repeating the same theme over and over. Lisa’s movements were simple at first - up on her toes, down to the floor, swaying back and forth. The she spun, her skirt swirling out.
Homer gasped – Lisa wasn’t wearing underwear. She spun again and he realized that she had on the flesh-colored panties she had worn for the Tiki dance she did at the school talent night. Still, his erection did not go down, especially when Lisa bent low in front of him and her shirt gapped open showing her youthful, braless breasts.
The Bolero sped up. Lisa’s dance got faster. She swirled again, this time her skirt flew off. Her top followed and she danced topless for her father, her yellow panties giving the impression of total nudity.
The music got louder. Lisa danced faster – and closer to her father. And then – it was over. The dance was finished. Lisa ended on her knees in front of her father.
Homer looked down at his daughter. Her body was glistening in sweat. Her panties were sticking to her body. Her nipples were erect. Looking up at him, her eyes wide with false innocence she asked,
“Did you like that, Daddy?”
Before Homer could answer Lisa rubbed the bulge in his pants. “I see that you did.” She rubbed him some more then began to unbuckle his belt.
“Lisa, honey …”
“I want to see it, Daddy. I want to see how hard you are, how hard I made you.”
First his pants came off, then his jockeys, his erection springing free. Lisa reached out and stroked his shaft. “You’re so big, Daddy.”
There were things she’d thought of doing – taking it in her mouth, stripping off her panties and impaling herself on it. But there were limits and boundaries. Instead she kept rubbing him, one tiny hand moving up and down his throbbing pole, the other cupping his sack.
Drops of precum formed. Lisa rubbed them around the head of his cock then went back to stroking him.
“Lisa, honey, I’m gonna …”
“Let it go, Daddy.”
Homer did, moaning as his cum spurted over his stomach and Lisa’s hand.
Lisa kept rubbing him until he went soft, then released him and stood up. She gave Homer time to fully enjoy the orgasm she had given him. Then,
“Daddy, make me feel good.”
She sat on Homer’s lap, her back against him. He had both arms around her, one hand playing with her breasts, the other in her panties, rubbing her slit and teasing her bud.
“Oh, Daddy,” she sighed as small shivers of pleasure raced through her. Then her father’s finger found her opening. It was wet and his finger slipped in.
Not even Bart has done this, Lisa thought. Out loud she said, “Not too deep, Daddy,” although she wanted him to put it all the way in, first his finger and then his penis. Her body ached for her father on top of her, thrusting inside her. This thought, her father’s finger going gently in and out of her cunny entrance, his fingers pinching first one nipple then the other, had her on the edge. And when he withdrew his finger, when he ran it up her folds and over her clit, Lisa exploded in joy.
“Oh yes, Daddy! Yes!”
Homer held his daughter as she came. She was finished, she had crawled off his lap and sat beside him.
“I need a shower,” Lisa said, adding, “and so do you, Daddy.”
They showered separately, Lisa going first then waiting for Homer in her room. Homer took what might have been his fastest shower ever, then joined his daughter. Like her, he was wearing a robe.
“You might as well take that off, Daddy,” Lisa said with a bit of a giggle. “It’s not hiding anything.”
Homer looked down, saw that the erection he’d had since leaving the shower was peeking out. Losing the robe, he laid on Lisa’s bed.
With her father flat on his back, his erection pointing to celling, Lisa took off her robe. Homer had been expecting to see her in panties. Instead she was fully nude, her brief wisps of hair doing nothing to hide her young slit.
Lisa crawled on top of him. Like the last time, she rubbed her cunny against his erection, only this time there was nothing between them – no jockeys, no panties. His hardness nestled against her slit, she rubbed herself against back and forth on it, feeling the heat of a man for the first time.
Reaching around, Homer grabbed her ass cheeks, pressed her into to him.
“Oh, Daddy! I wish we could …”
“So do I, Honey, but it would be so wrong.”
Homer found the valley between her cheeks. One finger played with her back hole.
Lisa rubbed her cunny harder against Homer’s pole, harder and faster. She’d never felt anything like this before – the need, the desire, the carnal urging to go further. She was about to roll off her father, spread her legs and beg to be taken when her climax raced through her and she shook in sexual pleasure.
Homer held her as she came. As she lay on top of him, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm she felt his hardness throbbing against her. Rising up, she took him in her tiny hands, intent on masturbating him to climax .Instead, he stopped her.
“Lisa, honey, do you trust me?”
“Of course, Daddy.”
He told her what he wanted. She hesitated just for a moment, then agreed.
Lisa face down, a pillow under her, raising her rear. Homer behind her, over her, his erection in the valley of her cheeks.
“You okay, Honey?”
“Fine, Daddy, you feel good back there.”
Homer slowly began to slide his cock between his daughter’s buns. As she said, it felt good. He had done this to Marge before she agreed to go all the way, and still did it now and then after he‘d made her come a few times.
Thoughts of his wife quickly faded, replaced by the reality of the young girl, his daughter, his Lisa, beneath him, his cock against her tight, young ass. He sped up, his need driving him, fighting the urge to pull away and plunge himself into her vulnerable cunny and to hell with what was right or wrong. But instead he pressed down harder and moved faster, enjoying what he had. Soon he felt it, the tightening of his balls, the throbbing of his organ, the cream rushing to the top.
“Lisa, I’m …”
“Come on me, Daddy.”
Homer exploded with a moan, pleasure spurting from him. Lisa’s hand was under her, teasing her clit as her father had his way. When she felt his cum spatter her back she came along with her father.
Later, both of them satisfied and spent, they held each other.
“Mom comes home tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and Bart comes home the day after. It was nice being alone with you, Dad.”
“Same here, Lisa. But there will be other days when we’re alone.”
“And on some of those days, Daddy, I’ll dance for you.”
Dancing for Daddy
A follow-up to “Daddy’s Little Girl”
A follow-up to “Daddy’s Little Girl”
It was two days after Lisa Simpson had shown her father Homer what she learned in class dance. Two days after her movements had excited them both. Two days after they had gone to her room and rubbed each other to climax.
It had been wrong. Fathers and daughters should not make each other come. But the next night after they went to bed, Lisa played with her breasts and bud while thinking not of Bart who was away at camp. She did not think of Colin or Nelson or Milhouse. (She never thought of Milhouse.) She thought of her father. Of how good his hand felt on her cunny. Of his erect penis ejaculating against her panty covered slit. She came twice. Before she fell asleep she thought, Tomorrow is dance class.
That same night Homer lay naked in his bed stoking himself. He did not think of his wife Marge, who was on vacation with her sisters. He definitely did not think of his sisters-in-law, or as he thought of them, the Wicked Witches of Springfield. He had seen them half-naked once when they stayed over the house for a weekend and had been unable to get it up for several days after.
Neither did Homer think of Maude Flanders, Helen Lovejoy, Lurleen Lumpkin, or Mindy Simmons, as he sometimes did when he needed self-relief. No, that night he thought of his daughter Lisa. He thought of her young breasts and how their nipples popped up when he touched her under her panties. He thought of how wet she got when he fingered her slit and teased her bud. He thought of her feet on his hard penis the first time she made him come. He thought of her rubbing her panty-covered pussy against his jockey-covered cock and how he had come just after she did.
With each thought Homer rubbed himself harder. And just after he shot his pleasure in the air, and just before he fell asleep, he thought Tomorrow is dance class.
The next day Homer had to work over – a safety emergency that he had caused. Who would have thought dropping a donut in the reactor would create so much trouble? When he finally got home it was late.
Lisa had been home for hours. She had time to prepare. When Homer finally came through the door she handed him a Duff and led him to the dining room. After dinner (and two more Duffs) she asked,
“Would you like to see what I learned in dance class today, Daddy?”
Suddenly Homer wasn’t so tired, especially a certain part of him. He finally noticed what Lisa was wearing – a long robe that fully covered her. As he dared imagine that was all she was wearing he felt himself stiffen. He stiffened more as Lisa led him to the living room couch.
Lisa dropped her robe. She was in white – a loose top with a skirt that came down past her knees. She started the music. Homer recognized it as coming from that movie “10” (the remake with Sara Sloane). Lisa began to dance.
The Bolero started slow, repeating the same theme over and over. Lisa’s movements were simple at first - up on her toes, down to the floor, swaying back and forth. The she spun, her skirt swirling out.
Homer gasped – Lisa wasn’t wearing underwear. She spun again and he realized that she had on the flesh-colored panties she had worn for the Tiki dance she did at the school talent night. Still, his erection did not go down, especially when Lisa bent low in front of him and her shirt gapped open showing her youthful, braless breasts.
The Bolero sped up. Lisa’s dance got faster. She swirled again, this time her skirt flew off. Her top followed and she danced topless for her father, her yellow panties giving the impression of total nudity.
The music got louder. Lisa danced faster – and closer to her father. And then – it was over. The dance was finished. Lisa ended on her knees in front of her father.
Homer looked down at his daughter. Her body was glistening in sweat. Her panties were sticking to her body. Her nipples were erect. Looking up at him, her eyes wide with false innocence she asked,
“Did you like that, Daddy?”
Before Homer could answer Lisa rubbed the bulge in his pants. “I see that you did.” She rubbed him some more then began to unbuckle his belt.
“Lisa, honey …”
“I want to see it, Daddy. I want to see how hard you are, how hard I made you.”
First his pants came off, then his jockeys, his erection springing free. Lisa reached out and stroked his shaft. “You’re so big, Daddy.”
There were things she’d thought of doing – taking it in her mouth, stripping off her panties and impaling herself on it. But there were limits and boundaries. Instead she kept rubbing him, one tiny hand moving up and down his throbbing pole, the other cupping his sack.
Drops of precum formed. Lisa rubbed them around the head of his cock then went back to stroking him.
“Lisa, honey, I’m gonna …”
“Let it go, Daddy.”
Homer did, moaning as his cum spurted over his stomach and Lisa’s hand.
Lisa kept rubbing him until he went soft, then released him and stood up. She gave Homer time to fully enjoy the orgasm she had given him. Then,
“Daddy, make me feel good.”
She sat on Homer’s lap, her back against him. He had both arms around her, one hand playing with her breasts, the other in her panties, rubbing her slit and teasing her bud.
“Oh, Daddy,” she sighed as small shivers of pleasure raced through her. Then her father’s finger found her opening. It was wet and his finger slipped in.
Not even Bart has done this, Lisa thought. Out loud she said, “Not too deep, Daddy,” although she wanted him to put it all the way in, first his finger and then his penis. Her body ached for her father on top of her, thrusting inside her. This thought, her father’s finger going gently in and out of her cunny entrance, his fingers pinching first one nipple then the other, had her on the edge. And when he withdrew his finger, when he ran it up her folds and over her clit, Lisa exploded in joy.
“Oh yes, Daddy! Yes!”
Homer held his daughter as she came. She was finished, she had crawled off his lap and sat beside him.
“I need a shower,” Lisa said, adding, “and so do you, Daddy.”
They showered separately, Lisa going first then waiting for Homer in her room. Homer took what might have been his fastest shower ever, then joined his daughter. Like her, he was wearing a robe.
“You might as well take that off, Daddy,” Lisa said with a bit of a giggle. “It’s not hiding anything.”
Homer looked down, saw that the erection he’d had since leaving the shower was peeking out. Losing the robe, he laid on Lisa’s bed.
With her father flat on his back, his erection pointing to celling, Lisa took off her robe. Homer had been expecting to see her in panties. Instead she was fully nude, her brief wisps of hair doing nothing to hide her young slit.
Lisa crawled on top of him. Like the last time, she rubbed her cunny against his erection, only this time there was nothing between them – no jockeys, no panties. His hardness nestled against her slit, she rubbed herself against back and forth on it, feeling the heat of a man for the first time.
Reaching around, Homer grabbed her ass cheeks, pressed her into to him.
“Oh, Daddy! I wish we could …”
“So do I, Honey, but it would be so wrong.”
Homer found the valley between her cheeks. One finger played with her back hole.
Lisa rubbed her cunny harder against Homer’s pole, harder and faster. She’d never felt anything like this before – the need, the desire, the carnal urging to go further. She was about to roll off her father, spread her legs and beg to be taken when her climax raced through her and she shook in sexual pleasure.
Homer held her as she came. As she lay on top of him, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm she felt his hardness throbbing against her. Rising up, she took him in her tiny hands, intent on masturbating him to climax .Instead, he stopped her.
“Lisa, honey, do you trust me?”
“Of course, Daddy.”
He told her what he wanted. She hesitated just for a moment, then agreed.
Lisa face down, a pillow under her, raising her rear. Homer behind her, over her, his erection in the valley of her cheeks.
“You okay, Honey?”
“Fine, Daddy, you feel good back there.”
Homer slowly began to slide his cock between his daughter’s buns. As she said, it felt good. He had done this to Marge before she agreed to go all the way, and still did it now and then after he‘d made her come a few times.
Thoughts of his wife quickly faded, replaced by the reality of the young girl, his daughter, his Lisa, beneath him, his cock against her tight, young ass. He sped up, his need driving him, fighting the urge to pull away and plunge himself into her vulnerable cunny and to hell with what was right or wrong. But instead he pressed down harder and moved faster, enjoying what he had. Soon he felt it, the tightening of his balls, the throbbing of his organ, the cream rushing to the top.
“Lisa, I’m …”
“Come on me, Daddy.”
Homer exploded with a moan, pleasure spurting from him. Lisa’s hand was under her, teasing her clit as her father had his way. When she felt his cum spatter her back she came along with her father.
Later, both of them satisfied and spent, they held each other.
“Mom comes home tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and Bart comes home the day after. It was nice being alone with you, Dad.”
“Same here, Lisa. But there will be other days when we’re alone.”
“And on some of those days, Daddy, I’ll dance for you.”
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