Daddy-Poo loves his SEXY Little Cheerleader, Baby and she loves him back, twice a month! More
The kitchen door to the garage opened and slammed shut. "Daddy-Poo, I'm here." Oh good, Baby’s here. "I'm in the living room, Baby." The room brightened when she came through the door in her black cheerleader outfit still holding her black and silver pom poms. When she posed a coy, sensuous smile, I fidgeted. "How was practice?" She plopped down in the occasional chair across from me and flicked her wrist. "The usual." "What do you mean?" "You know. The other cheer leading girls ignore me or treat me mean." I frowned. "That's terrible. Why?" She shrugged "I guess they're jealous of me." I studied her. She stood five-feet, five-inches tall and weighed about one-ten. She was blessed with a lean, athletic, shapely figure. Wavy, reddish brown hair, cascaded down her neck, and over her shoulders, framing her gorgeous face. My manhood stirred as her seductive, sienna eyed stare gave me impure thoughts. "But why, Baby? You're so good, and pretty? And…God knows you're sexy!" The corners of her luscious lips curled up. "Thank you. You're sweet. That's exactly why they are jealous—that and because all the cute football players like me.” She shrugged. “It doesn't matter, I just do my thing." As I digested what she said about football players, she rested back into the chair and lifted her right leg over the arm of the chair, allowing me a peek at what lay beneath. I gasped and my heart leapt into my throat at the unobstructed view I had of Baby's sexy, smooth, hairless privates. "Oh my God! You're not wearing panties!"
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Little Dickins is a pen name of my pseudonym of my nom de plume, which shall remain as anonymous as my real name. When I want to get down and dirty I assume the persona of Little Dickins. If it's possible to do, I'm not afraid to write about it.