ry disgu

est friend's daught

legs, her prim-shaped ass and big smile, and eventually jerking over

never

ing at her while he s

to my lap. Playing messed u

e ashamed

hamed o

ever look in a mir

a legal adult, and has al

young for me; wa

g forty in a f

've been dreaming of her every night for months. Not

her breaths coming fast and shallow. She's practically panting, squirming on

ope on her chest, right above her neckline. Woomf, woomf

ubbing our bodies together, h

ally wants this? She wants me the same way I want her? "Be honest,

prodding up beneath her like I might skewer through her

are so bright. She's burning up, lit only by a few dim lamps and t

u

as I shift my hand beneath the fabric. S

r, and Theresa rolls her

e. It doesn'

ance over her shoulder to look towards the stairs, the reminder that her father

along silky skin.

takes the end and presses it harder against her

Thud

st damp cotton panties, and he

thud-

ars and toss it to the sofa. Need

o hear. Her hips shift restlessly, chasing my featherlight touch

hand over her mouth, bu

air together. Two actors argue on sc

ot a single

the house, music to my ears. I sag with relief, a bead of sweat trickling down my

slipping onto the floor. So m

my almost

oam beneath her skirt, touching with greedy fingers. "Look at you. All soaked for Dadd

uldn't stroke between her legs.

at my shoulders, lip drawn between her teeth. Her hips rock against my hand, urging

lf say, the words dredged up from deep in my chest. One hand cups her pussy,

yes. When I press two fingers inside her, Theres

Mine

pulses in

k of my mind. The way she's strangling my fingers, the hazy shock in

of a bastard

g between her legs. Dread crawls up my

n disarray. She won't look at me, but her words are firm. "Don't yo

hand stops moving

hter. And she's-she w

a hisses. "Do

ass. "You deserve so much better than this," I tell hi

"You're what I want, Dr Storm. You're still what I want,

urns into a cough. T

my hand starts moving again under the bla

resses her face against my throat; when I feel the brush of lips, the scrape

ve this, but I want

nt every detail of this mo

g girl. Ride my ha

t. There's another fight scene in the movie,

lap, and Theresa clutches my shoulders for balance, still writhing again

nug channel flutters around my fingers, her slickness is smeared down to

. She slithers off my lap to the side, silent except for the rustl

ocked as she huddles a

y smile, squeezing

movie, and when we say goodnight two hours later