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Ever since the divorce, I had struggled in the romance department. I was never great with technology, but I'd heard about dating apps and decided to give them a shot. Unfortunately, most of the women I came across weren't interested in a guy my age—they were either looking for a quick fling or something that just didn't feel right to me. That wasn't my style at all.

I was ready to give up and focus solely on being a single dad. But then she made her move—and everything changed. My daughter, my baby girl, my Rosie. God, she was thirteen years old at the time when she crawled into my bed, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. I was in shock, demanding to know just what the hell was going on, but she kept touching me, rubbing her small hands over my body, whispering about how I didn't need to be alone anymore, how she was here now and would take care of my needs. God, I'm a strong man, but I have my limits, and that night, I caved, surrendering to a love I never thought I'd find again.

I...I didn't penetrate her that night, at least not with my cock. She looked so petite lying in my bed with her underwear off, her body so smooth and flawless. I didn't want to hurt her. Her breasts were beautifully formed, two delicate rosebuds with small, pink nipples, her hips beginning their graceful transition into womanly curves, and her pussy...so smooth, pink, and hairless. I remember holding her in my arms as I fingered her gently, sharing sweet kisses with her, and teaching her how to use her tongue. Sometimes I'd kiss down her neck or suck on those perky little nubs. I could practically fit her entire breast in my mouth.

I'll never forget how intensely she came for me, her lips parting to whisper 'Daddy...', her eyes, green as emeralds, shimmering with such love and trust as I continued to rhythmically pump my fingers in and out of her, each movement deliberate, coaxing her closer to the edge.

"It's okay, Princess," I whispered, my voice low and soothing, "let go for me." And she did, her hips bucking wildly, her body arching off my arm and the bed in a breathtaking display of ecstasy as she wailed, her squeals of delight piercing the quiet night. Her orgasm ripped through her like a storm, her muscles clenching around my fingers, her juices flowing freely, soaking my hand in her sweet, warm essence. I brought my fingers to my lips, licking them clean, savoring the pure, honeyed taste of her, a flavor that was both intoxicating and divine.

I didn't even cum that night; the sight of her pleasure, the trust in her eyes, was enough to satisfy me. I couldn't bring myself to ask for more as she lay there, clearly spent, her body limp and glowing with the afterglow. Instead, she nestled against me, her curves fitting perfectly into my embrace, and we cuddled, her breathing slowing as she drifted into sleep, her head resting on my chest, her warmth a comforting weight in my arms.

I took her virginity a few days after that night, and we've been inseparable ever since. That was three months ago, and since then, our relationship has blossomed into something deep and profound. I've taught her so much, guiding her through the intimacies of our love—everything from blowjobs to handjobs—making her moan and squeal in every room, on almost every surface of our house. I wore a condom the first few times, but I was able to get her on birth control, and that quickly became unnecessary. The first time I creampied her is forever burned into my memory, feeling the bare skin against skin, her tight, velvety pussy squeezing me dry as I pulsed my thick seed deep inside her. There was so much for her slender frame to handle that most of it leaked out between the seams of my dick and her pussy lips, a warm, sticky testament to our passion.

Inside the safe walls of our house, we were like newlyweds, exploring our newfound passion every chance we had, but outside, I kept things strictly parental and nothing else. The last thing I needed was the cops breaking down my door or my ex-wife discovering our secret and coming at me with an army of lawyers, even though she had signed over full custody to me. For the most part, I'd like to think I did a pretty good job of keeping my hands to myself in public. Tasks like going to the grocery store or picking her up from school were flawless and without issue. I felt confident I could control my desires while out and about. Then came the basketball game.

To be clear, as far as anyone noticed, nothing unusual happened at that game, but rather, it was what happened to me internally. See, one thing about Rosie is that she's an amazing athlete. She plays basketball with the skill of someone twice her age, and her dream is to someday make it to the WNBA. I had been to plenty of games and practices as her father, but this time, it was my first as her lover since the new season had started. Before we left the house, we shared a deep, passionate kiss for good luck, I told her. Our tongues danced together, my hand squeezing that pert little ass I adore over her basketball shorts. But once we stepped outside, it was business as usual.

I did hold her hand while driving, nothing too out of the ordinary, but she let go once we reached the parking lot of her school's gymnasium. It stung, but I completely understood why she did it. I gave her a peck on the forehead before she jogged off to join her team, leaving me to climb the pull-out bleachers and find my seat. I preferred sitting near the top to get a clear view of the entire court without anyone peering over my shoulder. I clapped loudly and cheered for Rosie's name as she was introduced over the PA system, as did the rest of the crowd since she was one of the most popular and talented girls in the region. I was prepared for the usual dominant performance from the Lady Foxes, Rosie's team's mascot, but I wasn't ready for how watching her play would affect me with these new, love-filled eyes.

The gym was filled with the sharp squeaks of sneakers on the polished wood floor, the shouts of encouragement, and the smell of rubber and sweat. At first glance, I looked no different than the rest of the parents, but inside, my control was slipping.

Every time she sprinted down the court, her body moving with a grace and determination that was uniquely hers, I felt a surge of pride mixed with an intense, inappropriate arousal. Her shorts clung to her, the fabric shifting with each step, highlighting the curve of her young buttocks. It was a sight that stirred my heart and my loins in ways I knew I shouldn't feel outside of the house.

Her uniform was simple, designed for movement, yet it couldn't hide the burgeoning signs of her femininity. The hint of her budding breasts under the jersey was like a magnet for my eyes, a subtle reminder of her transition from child to young woman, which in our secret world, had taken on an entirely different meaning.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on the game, on her skills, on anything but the way her body moved. But it was futile. With each jump, each shot, and each moment she wiped the sweat from her brow, I saw not just my daughter, the athlete, but my lover, the object of my deepest, most taboo desires.

The game was intense, her team battling for points, her determination clear in every action. But for me, the battle was internal, fighting against the rush of lust with each glimpse of her skin, the way her hair stuck to her forehead, the flush of exertion on her cheeks.

I had to remind myself constantly, 'She's your daughter, keep it together.' But the reminders did little to quell the physical reaction I was having. I adjusted my seating, and tried to think of mundane things, but her presence was too strong, too enticing.

When she scored, her celebration was innocent, but to me, it was charged with an electricity only we shared. I clapped, my applause genuine but also a cover for the need to compose myself. Watching her, I felt like I was on the edge of a precipice, teetering between the roles of father and lover, the lines irrevocably blurred.

The game ended, her team victorious, and I stood to cheer, my heart racing for more reasons than one. As she looked up at me in the stands, her smile was for everyone, but there was a flicker in her eyes, a secret acknowledgment that made my heart skip and my desire flare once more.

I knew I had to get out of there, to find a moment alone to regain some semblance of control before I saw her up close, before the scent of her sweat and the flush of her exertion would be too much to bear. She had scored the game-winning point, a three-pointer from just beyond the line that soared gracefully and flushed through the net, never touching the rim as the buzzer rang loudly through the gym.

"Daddy!" she squealed, running to me and wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. Her head came just up to my chest, her body pressed so close to me that I could feel every curve. The intoxicating aroma of her girl sweat mixed with her lavender jasmine deodorant made my heart flutter and my cock throb.

"I'm so proud of you, my little MVP!" I said, ruffling her strawberry-blonde hair. She smiled at me, her eyes twinkling in a way that she fully understood what she was doing to me. Little minx. I was fully ready to take her home and ravage her, when one of the photographers from the school newspaper, "The Fox Hole", ran up, asking if he could take some pictures of her for Monday's edition.

"Daddy?" she said, looking at me for permission, knowing the raw desire that was making me sweat. But as horny as I was, I couldn't deny her her moment in the sun. This was her accomplishment, and she deserved the recognition.

"Go ahead, my MVP," I said, placing my hand gently on her back. "The car isn't going anywhere." She smiled at me, her face so warm and trusting, and posed for a few photos. I couldn't help but notice her basketball shorts had ridden up slightly, giving her a wedgie that made it nearly impossible not to stare at her pert, young ass.

"Perfect, perfect," the photographer kid said, "can we get one more of the all-star and her proud Dad?"

"You most certainly can!" I said, smiling wide as I stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. With her back turned towards a corner of the gym and no one watching, I gave her perfect ass a tight squeeze over her basketball shorts, quickly pulling out the wedgie for both our sakes. To her credit, she kept a perfect game face, not even acknowledging my inappropriate squeeze. Once the photographer had his fill of pictures, he disappeared into the crowd, probably to take more pictures of the other girls or their coach.

"You know," I whispered, leaning down so only she could hear me, "Daddy is going to fuck you very hard when we get home."

Her face remained neutral, but I saw the tiniest smirk curl up at the corner of her lips.

"Promise?" she whispered back, her voice laced with a teasing promise of the pleasure to come.

The car ride home was agonizing. I took every shortcut I knew, even running a red light and nearly blowing through a stop sign.

"Daddy, relax!" my Rosie said, though I caught the flicker of panic in her eyes at my recklessness. "We have all weekend—it's only Friday!" She was right, of course. In my eagerness to get her home, I was putting both of us at risk. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to steady my grip on the wheel and regain control. I couldn't let my hormones drive me—literally or figuratively. I had to remind myself that I was a forty-something-year-old man, not some eager teenager racing home from prom with the cheerleader. I needed to be responsible.

With a steadier focus, we made it home in one piece. Rosie looked more at ease now that I wasn't flooring the pedal down narrow streets. Outwardly, I remained composed, but inside, the fire of love and desire still raged like an unrelenting inferno. Every part of me ached to scoop her into my arms, to carry her like a bride crossing the threshold into her honeymoon suite. But instead, I took her hand, savoring the anticipation. The gravel path to our front door stretched before us, feeling as endless as an airport runway.

Once inside, the door was locked, blinds shut, sealing us in our private world. Our lips crashed together, the taste of her, a mix of sweet innocence and the faint tang of sweat from her game, intoxicating. The scent of her was a heady mix of her natural girl-sweetness and the delicate fragrance of lavender and jasmine from her deodorant, a scent that filled my senses, driving me wild with desire. I couldn't wait; my hands moved with an urgency that matched the pounding of my heart, driven by a need to peel her out of that clothing.

"Daddy," she giggled as I kissed up and down her neck, my lips trailing fire along her delicate skin, "don't you want to hop in the shower with me first?"

"No," I growled, burying my nose in the curve of her neck to inhale deeply of her intoxicating scent, "I want you like this, raw and real."

I started pulling off her shorts with a haste that spoke of my desperation, revealing those toned yet slender legs, their flawless pale skin so smooth and perfect it seemed to glow. The sight was complemented by a pair of snug-fitting cotton panties, orange with a repeating pattern of a yellow cartoon sun wearing sunglasses, a playful contrast to the heat of the moment. My thumbs hooked under the waistband of her panties, tugging them down with the utmost care and devotion, as if unwrapping a sacred gift. Once they had slid past her perfect legs, I eagerly held the damp crotch of them up to my face, taking a deep whiff, the wonderful, musky scent rewiring my DNA and flooding me with incredible pleasure. The aroma was a siren's call, igniting every nerve in my body with a primal need to claim her.

Her pussy was a work of art, so smooth and flawless, pink and tight, not a single hair marring its perfection—something she tended to with meticulous care every day, shaving at the first hint of stubble.

"Take a picture, Daddy, it'll last longer," she teased, her voice a sultry whisper as she watched me devour her naked lower body with hungry eyes. Without a word, I pulled off her basketball jersey top, leaving her in just a plain black sports bra, the fabric damp with her perspiration as I slid it up her slender torso. The scent of her sweat hit me, musky and intoxicating, and I buried my nose in it, taking a deep whiff, my cock throbbing painfully in my jeans, straining against the fabric with an urgency that matched my desire.

Her body was an artwork of youth, smooth, unblemished, her skin so soft under my touch it felt like silk. Her breasts were just beginning to form, small, perky, barely out of a training bra, a testament to her youthfulness. My pants fell to my ankles, my need for her palpable, and I pulled her onto my lap, her nakedness against my skin, the heat of her body warming me. She positioned herself above me, her eyes locked with mine, filled with a mix of love and lust. As she lowered herself onto me, the sensation was like nothing else, her tightness, her warmth, enveloping me, her body so soft, so yielding yet so incredibly arousing.

She began to move, bouncing gently at first, then with more urgency, her small breasts swaying slightly, her skin so soft under my hands as I guided her hips. The room was filled with the sounds of our union, the wet sounds of our bodies joining, her soft moans, and my deep groans, all blending into a symphony of our forbidden love. I kissed her deeply, our tongues dancing, tasting each other, then moved to her breasts, my lips and tongue worshipping them, the feel of her nipples hardening under my mouth, her skin so smooth, so responsive. 

"You smell amazing," I whispered against her skin, breathing in her scent, the hint of her sweat, her deodorant, all mingling with the musk of our arousal.

"You feel so good, Daddy," she gasped, her voice a melody of pleasure and youth, her movements becoming more confident, her body moving with a rhythm that was both innocent and seductive.

"How did I get so lucky?" I murmured, my hands roaming over her back, feeling every curve, every soft inch of her. Knowing she was on birth control gave me the freedom to love her fully, without fear, and the thought of cumming inside her, filling her young pussy over and over, was the ultimate expression of our bond.

I was lost in her, my hands unable to stay still, roaming over her naked body with a reverence that was both worshipful and desperate. Her skin was slick with sweat, each touch a slippery, sensual dance of fingers against flesh. I traced the curve of her spine, felt the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, my palms cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples, drawing soft moans from her lips.

Her movements intensified, each bounce a deeper connection, her breath coming in sharp gasps that mingled with my own. I watched her, mesmerized by the way her body moved, the way her hair fell in damp strands around her face, the way her eyes, green as emeralds, locked onto mine with a love that was both pure and forbidden.

"You're mine," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, my hands gripping her hips now, guiding her, urging her on. "My beautiful girl."

"Daddy," she moaned, her voice a melody of pleasure, her ass slapping harder against my thighs, the sound a percussive beat to our lovemaking. Her skin was hot under my touch, slippery with sweat, each contact a spark of electricity that fueled my desire.

I couldn't stop touching her, my hands exploring every inch—her slender arms, the soft swell of her stomach, the delicate curve of her neck. I kissed her, our lips meeting in a dance of tongues, a kiss that was both tender and wild, a fusion of love and lust that had no beginning or end.

Her rhythm grew frantic, her bounces more desperate, her moans louder, more urgent. The room was filled with the scent of our sex, the sound of our bodies, the heat of our connection. I felt the climax building, the tension coiling tight within me, but I held back, wanting to prolong this moment, this union of our souls.

"You're everything to me," I murmured against her lips, my hands now on her ass, squeezing, pulling her down harder onto me, feeling her tightness, her warmth, her love.

"Daddy, I love you," she gasped, her voice breaking with the intensity, her body trembling as she neared her peak.

"I love you too, Rosie," I groaned, the words a vow, a promise, as we moved together, our bodies a perfect symphony of desire and devotion, bound by a love that was as beautiful as it was taboo.

My hands found her hips, my fingers wrapping around her slender waist, the contrast of my large hands against her delicate frame intensifying the intimacy of the moment. I guided her up and down, my thrusts meeting her bounces, pushing her closer and closer to her climax. Her body was a vision of ecstasy, her skin slick with sweat, her moans a melody that drove me wild.

Her movements grew more desperate, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her little ass slapping against my thighs with a rhythm that was both primal and passionate. I could feel her tightening around me, her orgasm looming, her green eyes locked on mine, filled with love and need.

With a sudden surge of desire, I leaned forward, capturing one of her perky, small tits in my mouth. I sucked hard, my tongue swirling around her nipple, then gently bit down, the sharp sensation breaking her resolve. She cracked, her orgasm slamming into her, her tight pussy squeezing me with a force that was almost unbearable. Her moans were loud, and raw, but I silenced them with a kiss, my lips devouring hers, swallowing her cries so our neighbors wouldn't suspect a thing.

The sensation of her climax, the way her body convulsed around me, pushed me over the edge. I came hard, my orgasm explosive, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside her, each pulse a declaration of my love, my need, my devotion. The warmth of my release mingled with her tightness, the connection between us so profound it felt like our souls were merging.

When we finished, her moans and cries silenced and my cock had ceased its pulsing inside her, I let my lips fall from hers, pulling her close to my chest as she panted, her breath coming in hard gasps. One hand rested on the small of her back for support, the other gently combing through her shoulder-length hair.

"You're so beautiful, so sexy," I said softly, "You're my MVP, both on the court and in my arms." I held her close, feeling the warmth of my own seed seep out of her, a testament to our union.

"Thanks...Daddy," she panted, lifting her head up, her hair matted with sweat, to kiss my cheek. "But I really would like that shower." I chuckled softly, answering her with a sweet, soft kiss, then carefully pulled my semi-rigid cock out of her, its girth glistening with our mutual cum. Standing up, I scooped her petite body into a bridal carry, my jeans kicked off with a gentle foot, and walked up the stairs with my girl.

"Anything for you, my MVP. Anything for you."