The afternoon sun hung low over the suburban backyard, casting long shadows across the makeshift softball diamond. Katrina, or Kitten as her dad always called her, wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. At 18, she was in peak athletic form—toned legs from endless sprints, a flat stomach peeking from under her cropped tank top, and curves that had started turning heads at school. But here, with her father, it was just them, like always. He'd been her coach since she was a kid, teaching her the swing, the stance, the grit. Lately, though, their sessions felt charged, her glances lingering on his strong arms, the way his t-shirt clung to his chest after a few pitches.
'Focus, Kitten,' he called out, his voice deep and reassuring as he lobbed another underhand pitch her way. He was in his early forties, still fit from his construction job, broad-chested with salt-and-pepper hair that made him look ruggedly handsome. 'Keep your eyes on the ball, not daydreaming about boys.'
She smirked, adjusting her grip on the bat. 'No boys, Dad. Just trying to hit a home run.' The truth was, her mind had been wandering to him more than she'd admit—innocent at first, like admiring his laugh lines, but twisting into something hotter when she'd catch him changing shirts after mowing the lawn. She shook it off, stepping into the batter's box they'd drawn with chalk on the grass.
The ball sailed toward her, slow and predictable. She swung with all her might, but her foot slipped on a divot in the dirt. The bat twisted in her hands, sending the softball rocketing not at the imaginary outfield, but straight into his crotch. It hit with a sickening smack, right between his legs, and he crumpled instantly, knees buckling as he hit the ground.
'Dad! Oh shit, I'm so sorry!' Katrina dropped the bat, sprinting over and dropping to her knees beside him. Her heart hammered in her chest, a mix of panic and that forbidden thrill bubbling up. He was curled forward, one hand cupping his balls through his jeans, face contorted in agony. 'Breathe, Dad, just breathe. Let me see.'
He waved her off weakly, gasping. 'It's... fuck, Kitten, that smarts. Give me a sec.' Sweat trickled down his temple, his thighs tensing as the sharp pain throbbed through his groin. She hovered, hands fluttering, wanting to help but unsure how. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and his cologne, a scent that always made her stomach flip.
'Here, lean back against the fence,' she said, slipping an arm around his waist to guide him. He groaned but let her, settling against the wooden slats with his legs splayed. Up close, she could see the outline of his package straining against the denim, swollen from the impact. Guilt gnawed at her, but so did curiosity—had she really just clocked her own dad in the nuts? And why did the sight of him vulnerable like this stir something low in her belly?
'I'll grab some ice from inside,' she offered, but her voice lacked conviction. Instead, she placed a tentative hand on his knee, squeezing gently. He looked up at her, blue eyes hazy with pain, and for a moment, they just stared. The backyard felt isolated, the neighbors' houses distant, the world narrowing to just them.
'Kitten... it's okay,' he murmured, but his hand covered hers, holding it there. The touch sent a spark up her arm. She bit her lip, shifting closer on her knees, her shorts riding up to expose more thigh. 'No, it's not. I hurt you. Let me make it up to you.'
Her fingers trailed up his inner thigh, slow and exploratory, testing the waters. He tensed, breath hitching. 'What are you doing?' But there was no real protest, just surprise laced with something darker. She met his gaze, her cheeks burning. 'Helping. Like you always help me.'
Emboldened, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a soft, apologetic kiss. He froze for a heartbeat, then his mouth parted, tongue brushing hers tentatively. The kiss deepened quickly, hungry, his free hand cupping the back of her neck to pull her closer. She tasted coffee on his breath, felt the scratch of his stubble against her chin. Her body responded instantly, nipples hardening under her tank top, a damp ache building between her legs.
'God, Kitten,' he whispered against her lips, voice rough. 'This is wrong... but fuck, you feel good.' She smiled into the kiss, her hand sliding higher, palm grazing the bulge in his jeans. He was half-hard already, the pain mixing with arousal in a confusing rush. She rubbed him through the fabric, feeling him thicken under her touch.
'Tell me to stop if you want,' she breathed, nipping at his lower lip. But he didn't. Instead, his hips shifted, pressing into her hand. 'Don't stop, baby girl. Touch Daddy like that.' The words sent a shiver down her spine, dirty and possessive, unlocking something wild in her.
She fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking as she unbuckled it. His zipper followed, and she tugged his jeans open, exposing the gray boxers tented with his erection. Hooking her fingers in the waistband, she pulled them down, his cock springing free—thick, veined, the head flushed purple from the earlier hit. It bobbed in the air, pre-cum beading at the slit.
'Look at you, Dad,' she murmured, wrapping her hand around the base, stroking slowly from root to tip. He was hot and heavy in her palm, pulsing with need. 'So big, even after I hurt you.' She pumped him firmer, thumb circling the sensitive underside, watching his face contort—not in pain now, but pleasure.
He groaned, head falling back against the fence. 'Shit, Kitten, your hand feels amazing. Stroke Daddy's cock harder.' She obeyed, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, her other hand cupping his balls gently, rolling them to ease any lingering ache. They were tight, drawn up, heavy with the promise of release.
Leaning down, she kissed his chest through his shirt, then lower, trailing her lips along his abdomen as she jerked him off. His muscles clenched under her mouth, abs flexing. 'Yeah, kiss it better, baby,' he urged, fingers threading through her ponytail. She obliged, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his hip bone, then the crease where thigh met groin, inhaling his musky scent.
Her tongue darted out, licking a stripe up the underside of his shaft, from balls to tip. He bucked, a low curse escaping him. 'Fuck, yes. Lick Daddy's dick like a good girl.' She did, swirling her tongue around the head, savoring the salty tang of pre-cum. Her mouth watered, eager to take more.
But she teased first, foreplay stretching the moment. She sucked just the tip between her lips, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed shallowly, her hand still pumping the rest. Saliva coated him, making each stroke slick and audible. His thighs trembled, spread wide for her, inviting her in.
'Kitten, you're driving me crazy,' he panted, watching her with hooded eyes. 'Suck it deeper. I want to feel that pretty throat.' The command made her pussy clench, wetness soaking her panties. She released the head with a pop, then slid her mouth down halfway, relaxing her jaw to take more. Her tongue pressed flat against him, massaging as she hummed, vibrations buzzing through his length.
She gagged when she pushed further, the head nudging her tonsils, but she didn't stop. Breathing through her nose, she forced herself down until her lips met her fist at the base, nose buried in his coarse hair. 'That's my girl,' he growled, hips thrusting up slightly to fuck her face. 'Deep-throat Daddy's cock. Choke on it for hurting me.'
Tears pricked her eyes from the stretch, but the praise fueled her. She bobbed rhythmically, throat working around him, saliva dripping down her chin onto his balls. Her free hand slipped under her tank top, pinching her nipple, then lower to rub her clit through her shorts. The friction made her moan around his dick, the sound muffled and obscene.
He gripped her hair tighter, guiding her pace. 'Look at you, fingering that wet little pussy while you suck me off. Such a naughty daughter.' She pulled back for air, gasping, strings of spit connecting them. 'Only for you, Daddy. I want to make you cum so bad.'
Diving back in, she went all out—head pistoning, throat convulsing with each deep plunge. His balls slapped her chin, wet and rhythmic. 'Fuck, Kitten, I'm close. Swallow every drop.' His body tensed, cock swelling in her mouth, and then he erupted, ropes of hot cum shooting down her throat. She gulped it down, milking him with swallows until he shuddered, spent.
She eased off slowly, licking him clean, then crawled up to straddle his lap. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a messy kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. 'You're incredible, baby girl,' he murmured, hands roaming her ass. 'But now it's your turn.'
The sun dipped lower, but their practice session was far from over. Inside, the house waited, promising hours of exploration—her on her back, legs spread, his mouth between her thighs; then him buried deep in her pussy, claiming what they'd both craved. The accident had cracked open the door; now, they'd walk through it together.