Daddy's Little Scootaloo by Perv Anon


                                            Inspirational Art: http://imgur.com/rQNHeiN


                                            >"Scoots! Stay behind, there's something I want to talk about!"

                                            >"Sure, whatever!" the girl shouts back with a wave, turning to see her friends giving her curios looks.

                                            >"What's the coach want with ya, Scoots? You in trouble er somethin'" Applebloom asks.

                                            >"Eh, who knows? probably just wants to talk about what we're having for dinner or something."

                                            >"Oh yeah, Coach Anon's your dad, isn't he?" Petunia comments.

                                            >"Stepdad, yeah," answers Scootaloo with a roll of her eyes. "Listen, I'll see you girls at lunch, I gotta go talk to the old man."

                                            >Turning around and running up to the coach, who had a stern expression and his hands on his hips, the other girls shook their heads pityingly.

                                            >"Boy, I can't imagine what it must be like to have Coach Anon as a dad."

                                            >Yeah, with how hard he drills us during class, he must be real hard on her at home."


                                            >Be Coach Anon, staring disapprovingly down at your daughter.

                                            >"What's up, Anon? I kinda wanted to hang with my friends before next period," the middle schooler says with a hint of heat.

                                            >Rebellious even at school, you'd break her of that soon enough.

                                            "Well, you should've thought of that before you skipped out on taking a shower... again."

                                            >Even with her tan skin, you can see the girl's cheeks warm up as she crosses her arms and looks away.

                                            >"How do you know that? You've been watching me in the locker room, perv?"

                                            "Well, your hairs perfectly dry for one," you begin, leaning forward and taking a sniff. "And you smell like B.O."

                                            >"Wha-? No I don't!"

                                            "Oh, yes you do. How many times do I have to remind you that you aren't a little girl anymore, Scootaloo? You can't skip showers anymore."

                                            >"It's not like I'm bothering anyone," she mumbles, face absolutely burning now.

                                            "Seeing that I've had other teachers complaining to me about it, I'd say it is bothering others," you lie.

                                            >"What!?"

                                            "Mhmm, which is why I'm not letting you leave until you clean yourself off."

                                            >"You can't do that! This is bullshit!" she shouts, getting your frown to deepen.

                                            "Are we going to have to wash your mouth out, too? Enough arguing and hit the showers, young lady."

                                            >The strict tone was the same you used at home when she refused to do her chores, so she knew that arguing was pointless.

                                            >With a growl, she stomps past you and towards the showers, the door slamming shut behind her.

                                            >Waiting a minute, a small smile fights its way onto your lips, and you follow after her.

                                            >Quietly, you enter the girls locker room, being sure to ease the door shut behind you so as not to alert the other occupant of your presence.

                                            >There Scootaloo was, peeling her orange tank top off and tossing it on the floor next to her green cargo shorts, grumbling as she stood in nothing but sky-blue panties.

                                            >In the silence of the empty room, the scuffing of your foot across the floor echoed off the walls, and Scootaloo whips around.

                                            >"W-what are you doing in here, p-pervet!?" she yells, covering her budding breasts with her arms.

                                            >They are barely A-cups now, but you'd have to see about getting her a training bra soon enough.

                                            "Seeing as how you usually just sit in here while the other girls shower, I figured I should make sure you actually clean yourself this time."

                                            >"T-that's messed up! You're messed up!"

                                            "I'm just a coach concerned over his student's lack of personal hygiene. Now, are you going to take those off and jump in the shower, or do you plan on going through the rest of the day with soaked underwear?"

                                            >Blushing fiercely, she tells you to turn around and not look, which you do, and you soon hear a quick ruffling of fabric and bare feet pattering across the cold floor.

                                            >Then the squeak of faucet being turned, and running water.

                                            >You turn around and sit on the bench, looking over to Scootaloo's discarded outfit.

                                            >Casually, you reach down and grab the panties, turning them over in your hands a few times before holding the crotch under your nose.

                                            >Yes, that training bra would be needed quite soon if the young, but maturing scent was any indication.

                                            >And if she's anything like her mother, she'd quickly outgrow that.

                                            >Your wife was quite the busty women, after all.

                                            >Deciding enough time has passed, you stand and follow Scootaloo's example, stripping down before moving to the shower's threshold.

                                            >The girl had chosen the shower farthest to the left, probably in an attempt to avoid your gaze, and was now lathering her short, purple hair.

                                            >With her eyes closed and the thundering of water hitting tiles, she doesn't notice your slow approach until your hands grab her shoulders.

                                            "I hope you're being thorough, Scootaloo. We wouldn't want any more complaints, after all."

                                            >With an eep, her head whips around while her hands fly to cover her privates.

                                            >"W-what the fuck, old man!? Get out of here!"

                                            "Watch your language," you growl, squeezing her shoulders harder. "I'm just here to make sure you're cleaning yourself properly."

                                            >"Y-yeah right, freak. Like I don't know how to clean myself. I'm thirteen."

                                            "Oh? Well, did you clean here?"

                                            >Your hands slide from her shoulders, down her slender frame, to her pert rump, giving it a squeeze.

                                            >She squeaks, but doesn't get a chance to say anything before your left hand slides lower.

                                            "Or here?"

                                            >Your calloused fingers run over her slit, brushing against her hand.

                                            >"W-w-what are y-you-"

                                            "You know, you really should start shutting your computer down when you aren't using it. It's a waste of energy for one, and it lets anyone walking by your bedroom check your browser. Erasing the histories another good idea, but you should probably close the porn tabs first. Daddy Pounds Baby Girl? Daughter Sucks Father's Fat Cock? That's quite a kink you've got there."

                                            >The entire time you were talking, you worked your fingers along her virgin pussy, teasing the entrance while your other hand reached around to fondle her small breasts.

                                            >You give one of her stiff nipples a pinch, and lean towards her ear.

                                            "I've got to say, excellent choice."

                                            >She's panting now, eyes quickly losing coherence while her hands cover yours, either to pull them away or keep them there.

                                            >You're guessing the latter.

                                            >"B-but, Mom..."

                                            "Doesn't need to know a thing. We're just doing some father-daughter bonding. You know how she wishes we got along better."

                                            >Your hard cock bumps into her backside, and she unconsciously pushes back against it.

                                            "Do you want this Scootaloo?" you ask, still bent over so your head is next to hers.

                                            >"..."

                                            "If you don't, we can stop right now, I'd understand. I mean, I am just a gross old man, right?"

                                            >You work your middle finger up to the first joint into her.

                                            >The tightness subverted by how incredibly wet she is.

                                            >Her fluids distinct from the warm shower water as you rub it between your fingers.

                                            >Slick.

                                            >When she still doesn't say anything after ten seconds, you begin to pull away, only to be halted by her tightening grip on the hand over her chest and a desperate, "Wait!"

                                            "Oh, do you want it?"

                                            >"... Y-yes."

                                            "Yes, what? Who am I?"

                                            >"Yes... Anon."

                                            "No," you say, moving close once again. "Who. Am. I."

                                            >She's huffing loudly now, tan face beet-red, her hips gyrating against your hand.

                                            >"Y-yes.. Daddy. Please, f-fuck me."

                                            "That's my girl," you respond standing straight as your lower hand moves to her hip and the other trails up her neck.

                                            "Finally behaving proper, but that doesn't mean I can let the rest of your misbehavior go. Not showering when you're supposed to, talking back, swearing at a teacher and your father during school hours. No, you definitely need to be punished."

                                            >She starts to turn to give you a perplexed look, but the fingers that had been threading her hair tighten and push her head forward.

                                            >Face harshly pressed against the tile wall, you don't give her time to register what is happening before you slam your cock into her cunt all the way to the root.

                                            >Sheathed in her freshly deflowered pussy, you let her scream at the top of her lungs.

                                            >The sound of her crying echoes off the walls as blood trails down her legs and spirals down the drain.

                                            >You hold still for a minute while she settles down, but don't give her time to speak before you slowly start pulling out her with some effort.

                                            >You watch entranced as your manhood slides from that impossibly tight snatch.

                                            >The pink inner lips gripping your length and her entrance stretched into a perfect 'o' around your bloody member.

                                            >You can tell it's going to take a good deal of strength to work in an out of Scootaloo with any sort of speed with how tight she is.

                                            >Luckily, you're a gym teacher for a reason.

                                            >Just as her sobbing subsided, you force yourself back, eliciting another scream from your daughter.

                                            >"D-daddy! P-lease stop!"

                                            "I'm sorry... sweetie... but this is for... your own good," You grit out between labored thrusts.

                                            >Your work to loosen her combined with the increasing lubrication allows you to move faster, and soon you're pistoning into the little girl.

                                            >The hand in her hair joins the one on her hips, no longer needed to keep her in position as she braces her palms against the wall.

                                            >Every time you enter her, she's forced onto her tippy toes, and a loud slap reverberates off the walls.

                                            >Ah-ah-ah- D-daddy?"

                                            "Mm, yes, sweetie?"

                                            >One side of her face pressed to the wall, her open eye looks back at you.

                                            >"M-more..."

                                            >Grinning you oblige, picking up speed.

                                            >You're both going to be bruised and sore after this, but oh so satisfied.

                                            >She's screaming again, but this time it's not in pain.

                                            >You plow her straight through her first orgasm with a man and don't slow down a bit.

                                            >Pressing through the vice-like grip of her rippling walls and ignoring the splash of fluids washed from your thighs by the shower stream.

                                            >You fuck her through three more peaks until her eyes are rolled back in her head and she's drooling.

                                            >She isn't even fazed by the soap scum touching her tongue from the wall.

                                            >She's dead to everything but the cock buried deep in her pussy.

                                            >She feels it pulse and twitch, and it sends her onto her forth orgasmic wave.

                                            >her hands finally slip and she falls, her face hitting the tile.

                                            >Her lower half is held up by the steel cock embedded within it, however, and you quickly feel your own orgasm approach.

                                            "Ah fuck, here it comes, baby girl. take all of poppa's cum like a good daughter," You growl, thrusts a blur at this point.

                                            >You take her gurgling as a yes and bury yourself one last time before unleashing the first of many thick ropes of cum.

                                            >Pressed directly against her cervix, you no doubt flood her womb with your virile seed, and for a moment, you imagine what it would be like to have a daughter of your own to mold to your cock.

                                            >The thought fades as your orgasm finally tapers off, and you stumble away from Scootaloo to lean your back against the wall.

                                            >Without you to support her, she rag-dolls the rest of the way to the floor, chest heaving as thick, pearly white cum flecked with red spurts from her abused and gaping hole.

                                            >Where your hands gripped her hips stands out white against her tan skin, the color slowly fading back to a golden brown.

                                            >Neither of you say a word, to busy trying to catch your breath and regain your composure.

                                            >Scootaloo is first to speak, pushing herself up on shaking arms to look back at you.

                                            >"So, d-did I do good, Daddy," she breathes, a tired, dopey smile on her lips.

                                            >You simply smile back.


                                            >"Dad!" Scootaloo calls, running to jump into your arms and give you a hug.

                                            "Hey, there's my girl!" you laugh, squeezing her before holding her at arms length. "So how was the slumber party? Fun?"

                                            >"Yeah, but I was the last one to fall asleep. The rest of the girls are a bunch of babies."

                                            "Hey, not everyone is as mature as you. Cut 'em some slack."

                                            >She rolls her eyes.

                                            >"Whatever, I'm gonna go put my sleeping bag in my room, then I'll tell you all about it." She leans in to whisper. "especially all the juicy details."

                                            >You smile as she runs inside, hearing her greet her mom on the way.

                                            >"I don't know what you did, but I'm glad she's finally warmed up to you," Loosey Loo comments, stepping onto the porch.

                                            "We just found some common ground is all. Turns out we have a lot of shared interests."

                                            >Your wife smiles, leaning in to peck you on the cheek.

                                            >"Well, whatever it is, I'm thankful for it. She needed a good father figure in her life. And I can't think of a better one than you."

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            "Yeah... me neither."


                                            PART 2. Inspirational art http://i.4cdn.org/mlp/1501713756759.jpg


                                            >"Augh, it's sooo hot. When is the AC gonna be fixed?"

                                            "When I figure out why it's not working. Be patient, Scoots," You answer, not taking your eyes off the unit in the window.

                                            >Your wife is lucky enough to be working in a nice, air conditioned workplace right now while you and your daughter are stuck inside this oven of a home during a heatwave.

                                            >With the AC on the fritz again.

                                            >You swear it's busted more often than it's working.

                                            >And Loosey is too much of a miser to just let you buy a new one, which means you have to try and get it running while sweating your balls off.

                                            >Joy.

                                            >"Soooo hoooot."

                                            >And there's that to deal with too.

                                            "Then take off the jacket. Don't see why you're wearing it to begin with when it's a hundred degrees in here."

                                            >"Because I look bomb in it, duh. Sweetie got it for me, and it's like the only cool thing to ever come out of her sister's workshop."

                                            "Yeah, well, not dying of heatstroke is pretty cool in my opinion," You reply, dropping some little screws into a cup so as not to lose them, before pulling the front of the unit off.

                                            >"Augh, fine, I'll strip. Happy?"

                                            "Mhmm."

                                            >You're staring through the jumbled interior, using a damp cloth to removed some clumps of dust before you really start tearing things apart.

                                            >The sound of a zipper being undone comes from behind you and you hear a sigh of relief before two feet hit the floor.

                                            >"You were right, that did help some," Scootaloo said, moving to your side.

                                            "...You know, Scoots, most people wear a shirt under there jacket."

                                            >She waves dismissively as you glance at her sideways.

                                            >"Eh, too hot for that. I'm not wearing underwear either."

                                            >You sigh, closing your eyes.

                                            "Scoots..."

                                            >"What? it's hot. I mean, look at all this sweat, I'm covered in it."

                                            >She runs a hand slowly down the front of her open jacket, down her glistening chest, a shit-eating grin on her face.

                                            >"Especially down here," she says, hand reaching the brim of her shorts and not stopping.

                                            >She grabs the zipper and pulls it down, revealing the smooth skin of her pubis before sliding her fingers over it and down her shorts.

                                            >You feel your pants tighten as you watch her fingers work beneath the fabric and she moans cutely.

                                            >"Mmm, just look at all this... sweat," she says, pulling her slick fingers out and holding them up for you to see.

                                            >She spreads them apart, clear strands of what was definitely not sweat stretching between the digits.

                                            >You weren't sweating from just the heat anymore.

                                            "Okay, Scootaloo, that's enough, it's too hot for this right now."

                                            >"What? I'm not doing anything," she replies, not a shred of innocence in her voice as she gives you bedroom eyes and sticks two moist fingers in her mouth.

                                            >God, your clothes were really hot right now.

                                            "Scoots, you know exactly what you're doing, so cut-"

                                            >You stand up straight and go to take step towards your stepdaughter, intending to close her jacket and send her to her room.

                                            >Until your foot hits the cup full of a dozen little screws and they scatter into the carpet.

                                            >You both stare down, Scootaloo's undone shorts falling to her ankles.

                                            >"Okay, that was totally your fault."

                                            >With a growl, you whip your shirt over your head and glare down at the little girl before you, getting her eyes to widen.

                                            >Fine, if she wants to play this game so bad, then you'll play.

                                            >maybe you can get some work done wants she's fucked unconscious.

                                            >Undoing your pants and whipping your girth out with practiced ease, you bring a foot between Scootaloo's legs, pinning her shorts down while grabbing her under the arms.

                                            >With a grunt, you lift her into the air, shorts left behind, and pull her close.

                                            >She instinctively wraps her arms around your neck and her legs your hips while you use one hand to line yourself up.

                                            >"Ahh!"

                                            "This is what you wanted, right, Scoots? To be impaled on Daddy's cock!" You growl, entering completely in one powerful thrust, her excitement and sweat making her perfectly slick.

                                            >"Yes, Daddy!" she shouts, rocking her hips against your lower stomach to grind your dick against her deepest barrier.

                                            >You give your slutty daughter exactly what she wants, hands moving to her hips and lifting her halfway up your length before slamming her back down.

                                            >"Ahh! Yes! Harder, Daddy!"

                                            >You slam into her again and again, loving the sensation of her rippling walls around your manhood.

                                            >Her fluids mix with your pre and run down your legs, staining your pants and socks while more drips from her and into the carpet.

                                            >You'd have to clean that before your wife got home, but right now, you didn't care.

                                            >You look at Scootaloo's expression of pure bliss, sunlight from the window directly behind her placing her in silhouette.

                                            >Making her look even more beautiful.

                                            >You lunge forward, capturing her mouth with your own.

                                            >She squeaks into you, surprised by the sudden makeout session, but quickly sinks into the kiss, her hands moving through the hair on the back of your head and her tongue dancing with your own.

                                            >The two of you are like this for fifteen minutes, breaking apart only for air before diving back into eachother's mouths, until she pulls away and speaks.

                                            >"D-daddy, I'm going to cum again."

                                            >This'll be her third, and you can tell she won't be able to go on much longer after.

                                            >Luckily, she won't have to.

                                            "Me to, baby girl, I'm close."

                                            >"I-inside," she breathes, eyes half-lidded. "I want it inside."

                                            >You want to tell her no.

                                            >That you couldn't keep risking it.

                                            >But you don't.

                                            >You can't.

                                            >Because your already cumming.

                                            "Oh, baby girl!"

                                            >Throwing your head back, you roar, boiling cum surging up your cock and into your daughter's blistering sex.

                                            >She cums at the same time, and throws her head back.

                                            >Her hands slip loose from your sweat-soaked shoulders and she falls.

                                            >You still have a tight grip on her hips though, holding her in place as you fill her to overflowing.

                                            >She hits the AC unit with her elbows, propping herself up through her orgasm.

                                            >There's a sputter, and the hunk of junk kicks on, blasting her back with cold air.

                                            >The two of you stare, first at each other, then back at the working AC, then back at each other, panting.

                                            >Then you both burst into laughter.

                                            >You take your daughter with you to the couch for a breather.

                                            "Well, guess that's fixed," you say with a chuckle.

                                            >Scootaloo gives you a big grin.

                                            >"Yep, your welcome."


                                            >"Oh, it's chilly in here. I take it you got the AC running," Loosey Loo says as she steps into the living room.

                                            >You and Scootaloo are curled up together on the couch, fresh out of the shower and fully clothed.

                                            "Yep, turns out she just needed a good pounding, is all."

                                            >"Yeah, I helped with that!" Scootaloo chimes in, pride clear in her voice.

                                            >Your wife giggles.

                                            >"Well, thank you, sweetie. See Anon, I told you we didn't need a new one. I know what's going on in my own house."

                                            "Uh-huh, honey, you know everything," You say teasingly, getting a hushed giggle from your daughter.