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[My daughter is the female protagonist in the video from No. 17 Middle School] (02) [Author: qianwang007] 

    page views:1  Publication date:2023-03-24  
Author : qianwang007 Word Count
: 3113







... He hadn't eaten much today, but had drunk half a bottle of wine—a rule his daughter set for him: a maximum of half a bottle at a time. He went into the bedroom, changed into his pajamas, and, feeling completely relaxed, lay down on the bed. It felt so good; he really didn't want to shower, he just to sleep. But despite his thoughts, he obediently got up. He didn't want to see his daughter tomorrow morning , eyes wide and cheeks puffed out, saying, "Dad, why didn't you shower last night?" His daughter's door was closed. He hesitated for a moment, then opened it. It smelled wonderful . The light was on, illuminating everything. His daughter was asleep in bed, her phone . Again, she'd probably fallen asleep while playing on her phone or reading comics. It was strange; he hadn't seen her study much, yet her grades were always among the top in her grade. He tidied up the comics, picked up his phone, and casually pressed the home button. A message appeared on the screen: Let's go out and play tomorrow. He casually placed his phone on the comic strip, guessing it was her classmate. Tomorrow was the weekend, and she was a sophomore in high school; going out to play was fine . By senior year, there wouldn't be time to play at all. His daughter lay peacefully in bed, her long, black hair spread across the pillow, a slight blush , her pouting pink lips moving as if she were eating. This was his proud daughter, who brought him delicious meals when he came home at night, crisp shirts when he left in the morning, and always a seat in the front row at parent-teacher conferences. She was his guardian angel, who saved him in his darkest hour, encouraged him in his most difficult time, and warmed him in his loneliest moments. Just seeing her smile made all the difficulties he faced insurmountable. The blanket was kicked to the floor, revealing her long, white legs and pink pajamas. The pajamas had , just covering her nipples, so his daughter never wore a bra after showering. The girl's breasts now stood high and firm, the lace trim drooping in opposite directions, revealing the nipples hidden beneath, which looked exceptionally pink against the backdrop of her pink nightgown. This child… Zhang Qian instinctively reached to put the lace trim back in place, accidentally touching the tender nipple. Even though it was a fleeting touch, he could still feel its elasticity. Zhang Qian paused, walked to the foot of the bed , picked up the blanket from the floor, and gently covered his daughter with it. His daughter was growing up, and looking more and more like the woman he loved madly, the woman who tormented him to the point of death. He hated her; he had imagined many ways to take revenge, yet countless times in his midnight dreams, he was entwined with that woman in a passionate embrace . He loved her. His daughter kicked her foot, the blanket billowed slightly before falling back down, and the scent of flowers wafted towards him. She kicked her foot again, one leg sticking out from under the covers. Pearl-like toes, an elegant arch , rounded ankles, straight calves, slightly protruding knees, and slender thighs created a beautiful picture. The covers were finally kicked off the bed again, and the daughter's entire body was once more exposed to her father. The nightgown, already short, now tucked up to her waist, revealing the girl's most mysterious area. It was a pair of white panties with a cute strawberry pattern. The panties were small, tightly hugging the girl's immature buttocks. Where her legs crossed, they were stretched into a beautiful curve by her body, with a small indentation and a small shadow at the very top of the curve—perhaps a strawberry pattern. Above the panties, two fine, dark hairs playfully peeked out, lying prominently . The panties tightly covered the daughter's most mysterious area, blocking any malicious gazes, but the father had touched that place before, inch by inch, touching that mysterious garden, experiencing that intoxicating sensation. His daughter's youthful yet alluring body lay exposed before him, unguarded. His breathing quickened, and he felt a surge of heat. He tossed the blanket over her, strode out of the room, closed the door, and leaned against it, trying to calm his racing heart. After a long pause, Zhang Qian entered the bathroom. On the sink sat two cups printed with cute bears, one containing a red toothbrush and the other a blue one—a rule his daughter had set. His daughter's rules were everywhere: from not bringing other women home to the color of the toothbrushes , even the number of hours of exercise each week. Others were devoted to their wives, but he was devoted to his daughter. What angered Zhang Qian was that he obeyed all her rules, while she could disregard his. For example, she never followed his rule of throwing her clothes into the laundry basket after showering. This time was no different. Standing in the bathroom, looking at the clothes scattered haphazardly sighed. His daughter was very clean and bathed every day, regardless of the weather. It seemed she had bathed quite late; the bathroom floor was still damp, and the air still held the same scent . Tiny drops of water dripped from the ceiling, enveloping him like a spring drizzle, and his burning heart slowly cooled. He grabbed the hanging bra—a very simple style, very pure, but made of natural the small pair of panties, blue and white striped, also made of natural silk, which wouldn't cause any harm . Just as he was about to put them in the basket, he suddenly felt a little dampness on his hand. He looked at it as if possessed…























































































There were a few yellow stains and a glistening wetness on it. He rubbed it between his fingers; it was slippery, not water,
not ordinary water. The delicate fragrance of flowers, mixed with a hint of musky scent, slowly wafted out, spreading throughout the bathroom
, surrounding the father who owned the underwear, triggering memories he had forcefully forgotten.

In the darkness, that smooth, firm body pressed against his chest, her immature breasts pressed against his arm,
her other hand kneading the other breast, the nipple constantly rubbing against his palm. His hand left the ravaged
breast, stroking the girl's smooth back, moving downwards, gently lifting her underwear, landing on her pert
buttocks, caressing them for a while, finally settling on her swollen, full vulva, touching the silky hair
and the slippery wetness.

"Daddy, I love you."

The daughter rushed forward, hugging her father tightly, her pink lips pressing against his, her small,
darting across his lips.

His daughter lay naked on his bed, pressing his shirt from yesterday against her face. Her other hand
frantically caressed her breasts and clitoris, her movements growing increasingly frenzied.

"Daddy!"

came a high-pitched cry, her back arching into a crescent moon, a few glistening drops of fluid spurting out.

These scenes flashed before his eyes, and he felt as if possessed, completely frozen, his blood rushing,
his body heating up again, unbearably hot. His arm slowly bent, his underwear slowly
approaching his nose, his mouth, the scent of flowers wafting in. Every muscle in his arm cracked and popped
, his bones creaking—was it stopping him or helping him?

His chest burned, his penis throbbing painfully hard. Was it going to explode? Was he going to die? Was he going to go to hell? His
arm suddenly straightened, tightly wrapping the underwear around his about-to-explode penis. It felt like natural silk, like
skin against skin. His hands moved rapidly, the silky sensation shifting from front to back,
then back to front. He closed his eyes, and his wife's captivating face reappeared in his mind. His
body temperature rose higher and higher, the pleasure intensified, and his wife's soft moans echoed in his mind—no, that wasn't his wife,
it was his daughter.

The peak of pleasure arrived; his vas deferens throbbed powerfully, and white semen gushed forth repeatedly, spraying
onto his daughter's pure blue and white striped panties, mingling with the slippery liquid.

The ejaculation stopped, and Zhang Qian collapsed from the intense pleasure, looking at the semen-soaked
panties . He threw them to the ground as if electrocuted, like throwing away a bomb about to explode, or a
hissing venomous snake.

Water continued to fall from above; tears that hadn't flowed even during such pain years ago now streamed down his face,
mingling with the water on his daughter's pure panties soaked with her father's semen, forming a seamless, indistinguishable mass.

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