Doing It with Daddy

As for me, I liked it. My tits always have been hypersensitive. Fucking my Daddy’s cock with them was the experience of a lifetime. Leastways it was then, when I first broke the ice.

Me and that ten ton penguin!

*****

If I recall correctly I came three times with Daddy between my tits. Daddy came not at all but I hadn’t really expected him to. As I said already, he was incredibly virile but, having cum once in my mouth, he was hardly likely to cum again in the near future. And, three orgasms in and as excited as heck, I began to believe he owed me.

Not that I’m a taker, understand. I would have happily rubbed him off in my cleavage forever and a day. But suddenly I needed more. And I was sure that more for me meant more for him.

Unclamping myself, freeing him from the tight channel made by my breasts, I stood and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall who knew where. Then, too impatient to take off my knickers, I pulled them aside as I straddled him.

You might not credit it, but that was when my wildest dreams were fulfilled. I’d fucked with my knickers pulled aside before without really thinking about what I was doing. Not that time! Thanks to what must have been an act of God, the wet seam of the flimsy fabric only rubbed harder and harder against my clit. That is to say the more I plunged on Daddy’s cock, the more mind-boggling friction I got!

Don’t get me wrong, Daddy’s big cock ensured I always got a very deep penetration. He went deeper than mere boys by a mile. Yet me going on top made it deeper and better still. Call it a control thing if you will. I could cheerfully do deeper and deeper, knowing full well what I wanted . . .

But the feel of that soggy seam . . .

Put it this way: it really was miraculous. My most cunning planning could never have produced friction anything like that.

Move aside Blackadder, you’ve been eclipsed!

Omigod, if I could create a toy that replicated those sensations . . .

Well, Ann Summers would be pounding my door down.

Not to mention Lovehoney . . .

Chapter Three

I relished several cums before Daddy finally shot into me . . . triggering my biggest and best orgasm in years and years (well, in the two and a bit I’d been sexually active, anyway). Then, only too aware he might appreciate a break in proceedings, I spared him potential embarrassment.

‘I need a pee,’ I announced, deftly removing my soggier-than-ever knickers, ‘and another glass of dry white wouldn’t go amiss. What’s the state of your fridge?’

‘There’s no pee in it,’ he replied, surprising me with a mild dash of crudity. ‘But I’m sure you’ll find something to your taste. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that is.’

‘Would you like another glass of Glenmorangie before I go?’

‘Do I look like I can’t help myself?’

I laughed at that. ‘Okay, get your own flipping whisky. And you’d better make it a double. I will be after double rations when I return.’

I tossed my soaked panties to him as I spoke. ‘Have a sniff of those if you doubt me.’

Catching them, he just stared at me.

‘I know you’ll smell them while I’m gone,’ I added. ‘And I’ll be back hornier than ever.’

Please wait…

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