Every Little Thing


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Posted by Zorro Daddy on July 14, 2008 at 23:30 [69.248.57.15]

From a Distance:

I see her figure leaning up against the door frame at the end of the hall; she is silhouetted with light from a window. Her legs are long and go all the way up to her hips. My button down shirt covers her body down to mid-thigh. The shirt is unbuttoned by choice.

Her long hair, curled at the moment, dangles down over her shoulders. Her head is lowered slightly, a sign that she knows I’m eyeing her up, and she intends to enjoy it. Her eyes seem to pierce the darkness of the hallway. Her lashes seem to bounce when she blinks. The smile forming on her face makes her cheeks rise up. She’s beautiful.

I walk up to her slowly and:

She gazes up at me, and reaches her arms out to me for my embrace. Her head fits perfectly under my chin, and she nestles herself in my arms. Her hug tells me every little thing.

I can feel her heart beating. I touch the back of her neck, and feel the temperature of her skin rising. Running my hands up into her hair, I breathe in her scent. Her eyes look up at mine, and our lips meet. I can’t put to words how much I love this girl.

She curls her long legs around my waist, and I lift her into my arms, carrying her downstairs. She knows where we are going. I place my hand on her bottom to hold her up. She looks up at me, and smiles.

Why? She’s a DL Girl, and I am her Daddy.

I carry her downstairs. She and her diaper are in need of attention. I lay her on the blanket on the living room rug. She reluctantly lets go of me, and settles to the floor.

Without missing an opportunity to delight her with surprises, I hand her that stuffed animal she’s had since her birth. And her pacifier goes in her mouth.
Her body eases as I unfasten her diaper. She rolls around on the blanket because she likes the make her diaper changes difficult. Finally, my hands become the “tickle monster” to her sides. She laughs and settles herself down long enough to find her legs in the air and my hand cleaning her.

Her legs and bottom lower back down onto the blanket and a new diaper which she never saw me lay out underneath her. I draw the diaper up between her legs and into place, fastening it just in time for her to leap up and pounce on me with a giddy laugh only a little girl could have for her Daddy.

Pinning me to the floor, she wiggles her nose up next to mine. I sit up and with her in my lap; I bury my face in her stomach, and blow raspberries into as she struggles to not spit her pacifier out in laughter. Gently laying her back down on the blanket, I swaddle her in it, wrapping her up and then I lift her up in the blanket.

I place her on the couch. She sits up, and I say, “Don’t go anywhere.” A big smile comes across her face. She knows I’m about to surprise her with something. She lies back down and curls up in the fetal position, trying to wait patiently for what it is. She can hear me in the kitchen.

From behind the couch I hand her a bowl of ice cream…chocolate. She sits up and crosses her legs Indian-style, and begins to eat it. I sit down with my guitar and begin playing it for her. She crawls from the couch to the floor for a front row seat.

And while singing to her, I look down at her. She is lying on her tummy with her feet crossed in the air. The tiniest little bit of her diapered bottom sticks out past my blue button down shirt. And she’s still eating that bowl of ice cream.

I’m reminded of the day I first met. We met in public at an ice cream shop. Very casually, we talked, not about ABDL or diapers or Daddies, but just about ourselves and each other. Little did I know on that day, she was wearing a diaper. She did this to see how it would make her feel while talking with her. So ice cream is a very important part of our lives.

She gets up and goes into the kitchen, getting rid of the bowl in the sink. Without even looking, I know she will be coming back with a can of Coke and a bottle filled with apple juice. She returns with both. She is done with the guitar concert, and wants time on my lap.

It’s become second nature for both of us. She lies on my lap, cracks open the coke with her red fingernails and hands it to me. With her other hand, she hands me the bottle while lowering her head a little. For a few minutes she likes to regress and be bottle fed. Not so much because of the bottle, but because it gives her an opportunity to gaze up at me.

She’s not really interested in being an AB, but she’s a DL at heart. There are moments when she likes to be babied. This is one of them.

I take her in my arms and my lap. She rests her head on my chest and parts her lips to take in the bottle. I slowly trace the contour of her face. Her jaw line, her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose. She reaches up and runs her hands down my cheeks. In a few moments, her eyes will grow heavy.

She finishes the bottle, and I roll her up on top of me. She turns her head to the side as I gently pat her back. She burps, and drifts off to sleep. And there we lay for the rest of the afternoon.

I see her every day, in my mind, in my thoughts, and in my heart.


Email: zorroabdaddy@yahoo.com
Home Page : Zorro's Lair


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