You know exactly what it means.
With a glint in your eye you hop over to the couch and climb on, knees on the cushion, feet dangling over the edge and wiggling work shoes off, looking back over your shoulder at me as I come up behind and lift your skirt.
Little ceremony – I’m already hard and spit-slicked as I tug your panties aside, and push against you. You have to brace and hold still, because I’m taking hold of your hips and pulling you towards me before I’m fully seated in your slit. You know not to let me slip out. You’re also not fully ready for me, but you know that it doesn’t matter. Daddy needs you. And I use you quick and sharp, forcing all the way in by the time I come.
And then, after a minute or two just breathing, it’s the evening routine. Changed out of work clothes – but not those panties, we deal with mail, make dinner, do chores, all with you full of my cream and getting increasingly antsy about it.
Until after the dishes are away, you practically claw my belt open and wrestle me to a place where you can sit on my cock. I’m fully ready, but I know that it doesn’t matter. Sweetheart needs me.