For the next few days, I do most of everything for Daddy. I cook and clean and take care of him. I do everything but bathe him, something he insists he do himself, which disappoints me until the third night when I linger a moment at the cracked-open door of the bathroom—something I insist on so that if he falls, I can get to him quickly—and see his c**k live and in the flesh for the first time.
That’s all it takes for me. I see that massive, thick, beautiful member and I know I need it inside me. It’s no longer a question of if, but when.
I don’t do anything about it that night, but the following night, day four, Daddy is up and about more and able to make his own food without wheezing and gasping for breath. He’s not ready for s*x yet, but there’s something he is ready for, something I
