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It’s warm in here. The water in the bath felt scalding at first, but now that you’re both in it, it’s not so bad at all. You take a sip of wine, red with enough time to breathe. He told you he didn’t know much about wine, but he did okay with this one. Of course the internet printout from some wine information site he thinks you didn’t notice might have helped there. It’s good though.
(Red wine and steamy water smoke in my head is this a good idea?)
You lean back against him in the bath, peripherally aware of his naked body, strangely familiar, behind you, and the pleasantly firm pressure between his legs as you scoot back against him, setting your wine glass down in time for the pipe to come to you. Your turn again? A deep breath, and that honey smoke fills your head and your lungs, as you close your eyes and savor it, the ringing in your ears, the hands on your sides, stroking your soapy slick skin. As you exhale, you feel it hit you. Three hits off this glass octopus in a row, and you felt nothing, but now, oh fuck. Now it’s hard to think of where the wine glass went all of a sudden, and you laugh with him as you feel around for it.
Oh that cheeky bastard. He hid it, and he knew you’d have a hard time with it, it’s behind him now! You turn in the bath, splashing water as you slither up his torso to get your glass back, amazed at the pink and purple glow off the walls as they seem to expand with you breathing, blowing steam at you, filling your head with more clouds, more heat.
(Oh the walls breathe with me and he moves under me we are all together how real does this feel)
And now you’re surprised to find yourself practically mounted on him, your breasts hanging ripe in his face, and you’re sitting on his cock, just about. You’ve slid down him again, with your wine glass empty now, and he’s tucked nicely in between your legs, like the world’s pinkest (and hottest) hobby horse stick. You have a hard time deciding what to do next, and you look down at him as he exhales his turn gently towards your breast as he mouths you hungrily. You can feel his pulse. Throbbing in his mouth on your nipple. Pulsing between your legs in his cock. He’s not in you, but he’s at you, and the rapture on his face as he suckles at you helplessly makes you want to let him do it forever, listening to the sounds of sucking echoing off the wet walls of the shower stall.
(Ooh I feel it pulling that suction on my nipple tugs like string into my sex oh suck it you bastard)
But the whole point of this bath was to get ready. A fun night in after work, and get to pretend to be a little younger than you are. A little, like about 10 years younger, but who’s counting anyway? And with a woozy shake of the head, you manage to climb off him, and compose yourself a bit. You stand up, your back to him, the curves of your cream white ass staring him in the face, inviting, tempting. You can feel his gaze on you, and you know what he’s looking at. You can see the fat pink cock he’s pointing at you, and you can tell where it wants to go, whether he even knows it or not. And judging from the color of his eyes, you think he might be as far gone as you, and barely know why he wants, he just does.
Somehow you manage to get dried and dressed, in the clothes you’d picked out, while he showered off the soap and got ready himself, whatever that meant.
This part is always fun, the dressing up. First, the socks, sheer and white, and you pull them slowly up your leg, snug against you. For a moment you savor the view in the mirror: fiery hair spilling over milky dikmen escort shoulders, bare body all but for those silky sheer socks. You sigh and feel the room spin as your eyes focus on the glistening coral pink between your legs, and you’re almost surprised to find a hand there, teasing yourself with the very act of getting dressed, knowing the intent is to end up undressed again. The air throbs with every stroke, and you barely manage to pull yourself away from that tingling singing edge that nearly tears you ragged with the joy of it.
(Its pretty he saw me and he said pretty I think I’m pretty too I like to look at me like a little mouth to heaven)
Now the socks are on, and you shiver as you tug on the undershirt, a tight white cotton halfshirt. It just barely covers the lower slopes of your breasts, highlighting the bullet-hard nipples standing out from your pale curves. You lose yourself for a moment, staring down at your breasts
(Call them tits feel sounds slutty dirty suck my tits I want your hands mouth on my oh god gorgeous tits)
encased in soft cotton, watching your fingers move in slow circles around the buzzing somehow squirmy little nubs while you remember why a shirt
(Little girls don’t wear bras yet too young for a bra just a slutty little half shirt like I was a little oh my fucking girl)
instead of a bra.
But he’s done in the shower now, have to hurry and get dressed, and on goes the Oxford, white and crisp, buttoned up to just above where the halfshirt stops, and your (oh god my tits suck my feel my) breasts jut out like a saucy little tart, which is just as it should be. You nod to yourself through the violet light in your eyes, buttoning the blazer up, which only serves to lift and scoop together. Ah, yes. Lovely. Again, you look at yourself in the mirror, after buckling your shoes. Perfect little school girl , except for that bare naked (except that hand covering it moving) – well, anyway, time for a skirt, and it clasps snugly around you, the hem hanging just past the curves of your ass, and not a scant inch further, the way you ordered it. Perfect, you think, and feel air on your wet thighs, as you pull on the last garment. Pale green, to contrast with your red hair, your white skin, your pink flesh, the panties he bought for you fit you perfectly. A full back, and a plain satin finish, the front and back connected across your hips by the barest stretch of string, and so low down, you lift up your skirt to look, and the waistband in the front only barely covers your sex in sheeny greeny sateeny…you giggle at yourself again, and stare happily down at your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed (likeagoodgirl) running your hands idly over yourself, feeling that purpley tickly tingle running all over when he comes upstairs, a robe, that’s all a robe and what’s he got under it, it looks sort of.
But he’s talking to you now, and it’s hard to hear him through all the pink cotton candy in the room and in your head. You lose track of what he’s saying but it sounds oh right he’s scolding you. You’re in trouble, he says, what are you doing wearing such a short skirt out of the house, what do you think people SAID when they saw you, they said you looked like just what you dressed like, that’s what they said.
Yes, you say. You want to say more, but you’re embarrassed. Just yes, and you look down at your lap, with your legs splayed open, and you blush from your hair to your breasts and close your legs demurely, hooking your sheer stockinged ankles together and folding your emek escort hands in your lap while he talks to you more, not yelling, but stern, firm. Firm is a word that echoes in your head when you think it, and him being firm with you echoes in your lap.
What were you thinking, he asks, without giving you time to answer. That’s ok, because what you were thinking was you wanted to show off your pretty panties, and he says you did just that, and what are you looking for, some stranger to take you? No, you think, not a stranger. And he keeps telling you, you embarrass yourself, don’t you, and when you think of it you do, you’re ashamed, and it’s so hot and sweet to be so ashamed, to dress like such a slut, you bite your lip and throw your head back as you cum in your panties, saying ohImsosorrydaddyIdidn’tmeanto…
And you say it to him, no daddy. I don’t want a stranger to take me. And you lift your skirt up and show him your panties.
You can see it. It twitches under his robe, and the cloth there seems a little damp. But it’s his eyes that catch you, his face that traps your eye. He sees you, sitting there on the bed. Your legs folded. Your ankles hooked. Your skirt up around your waist, and your smooth slick sex nestled in between your soft thighs, only barely covered by that pale green silk, which is about ten shades darker now that you’ve spilled (oh) what felt like a half cup of cream in them. And he sees all this and how slutty you are and you look at him, knowing that as you lean forward your breasts fill out your blazer deliciously, and you say no daddy. No, I don’t want a stranger to take me. I just want my daddy to. I wanted to show you my panties, and make you want to peel them.
(Peel them so wet you do have to peel them I think I’m soaking them so fucking good)
That’s as far as you get, he moves faster than you thought he could, his robe flapping open for a delicious delirious second when you see that fat pink cock he has, and it looks darker now too darker cause it’s so hard but now he’s got you by the arm, and he’s saying things and oh they’re so firm, he’s so mad at you and that hot shame licks you between your thighs and you drip drip while he’s turning you over. Your skirt, already up, goes higher, and he starts, telling you it’s what you deserve, and don’t you try to fight.
(Oh daddy do it I won’t fight at ALL I want you to)
On the first light stroke, he slaps gently, his hand muffled by the silky scrap of cloth across your ass. You lie there, trembling with it, across his lap, feeling that dark thick stick in his lap, only barely oh. Oh, he spanked you again, and this time harder, but still on your panties. You mewl and wiggle your hips at him, daring him to go further and things spin and spiral in and out and you realize all of a sudden he’s spanking you, spanking you on your ass, and you’re writhing on his lap, pushing your ass up at his hand, and you reach back and tug your panties aside and saying things filthy things as he spanks
(His bad girl I’m so bad and he said pretty when he saw it and oh my fucking spank my pussy daddy)
and you wriggle around, your panties halfway down your thighs now, you feel the cool air on your wet legs, knowing why, loving it, and you bend your hips more sharply. You can feel the air kiss your lips, between your legs, and you know your sex is blowing kisses at him, and he does it, so light, but still stinging and it’s every
(Tongue on my clit cock in my pussy)
(Spanking that made me cum)
(Cock I made go squirt squirt eryaman escort without touching it)
good thing in the world when he lays his hand, swift, smacking, on your hungry panting sex and. And he stands up, over you, lying there gagging for it needing something, begging him to do it, do something, do anything. You close your eyes, and bite your lip, even in the throes of this, in the haze and the sweat, you know that you look (so fucking slutty) so hot he won’t be able-
No, he wasn’t able. Oh, good. Good Daddy. Your panties, back up over your ass, and then the slender little patch of cloth that barely covered your pretty sex, yanked (DADDY!) aside for his cock to snake into you, like thick syrup inside and you can barely.
When he reaches around you, whispering in your ear as his hand finds its way to your (ooo you wanna touch me there don’t you, you wanna touch my sexy pussy) panties and strokes you, slow, easy, his hand over your nearly naked flesh, covered by that wisp of (soaking wet my god you made me) silk, his fingers oh match his fucking and.
He slips them under, his cock thick and full in you, you can feel how plump and stuffed you feel, as he rocks it into you, almost an afterthought, something to prop you up while he (pulls my nipples like a slut and makes me feel so creamy) gently strokes your breasts through your uniform, and not so gently now and then, his hand always working between your legs as he. Oh. He’s pushed in. And he’s fucking you. In your panties. You look down, on all fours, shaking, you look between your legs to see. His hand, blurred in your foggy vision, playing you. Beneath that, the thick slippery lips of your sex are pouted, puckered around his cock as he wriggles it around in you and you hear him talking (he must have been talking for a while) telling you how bad you are, how everyone who sees you dressed like this wants to fuck you, like he is, and it’s your own
(my fault daddy tell me I was bad so bad and fuck me while I)
(on your thick)
fault, you pretty little girl, how could anyone
(they couldn’t I know they see me and want to cum in their pants and sometimes I think they do it)
resist and while he’s saying this you feel him stop rubbing your pussy so sweetly and
It’s slick with your own.
(in my oh god oh daddy in my ass)
He slips it gently in, so smooth, so soft, and he works it gently in as the room goes silent and your mouth hangs open your eyes unfocus as his other hand.
On your pink and throbbing clit. And he’s still plugging you up with it, you feel everything and his cock isn’t an afterthought anymore is it, he’s moving it, not in and out, but around and around and he twists his hips, moving his cock in a circle inside you, rubbing at you, his hands, oh fuck his hands are everywhere and your own hands roam across yourself as you make noises with your mouth, drooling prettily down your chin as he strokes his cum-slick finger in and out of your ass while you feel yourself up, lost in it, so full of him
(yes please I love it there I love my ass I want you to love my ass daddy)
(and my clit is singing yes yes it feels like)
Candy. And smoke. And sex. And love. And all you can do is clench your little hands on your
(tits when you fuck me with your finger up my sexy little butt I can say tits)
self and what.
Is he? He’s rubbing himself, his cock, inside you…you close your eyes again, lost in how it feels, his cock thick and stroking deep into you, his finger working your ass, slicked with your own cream, and inside (ohyes) inside your ass he’s pressing down, against his own cock in your pussy (sluttyhungry), and the friction between them is inside and between and it’s.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32