This started with a picture; the aim was a short 1000 word story with a creampie-eating scene. The tale took on a life of it’s own but I do like it. It’s long … (but it’s not the length that counts, it’s what you do with the words!)
There wasn’t an adult in the land that didn’t know what her family did. There wasn’t a tabloid editor on Fleet Street that hadn’t paid out hard cash for sex tapes containing her or her family. They were notorious; famous almost. Salacious details of the exploits became Internet folklore, the stuff of legend.
Everyone knew of the McAllister family. The father, Clifford, had “betrayed” his expensive education and status. He was, technically, the 2nd Viscount of Greysford but he was no “toff.” The billionaire had added to his vast inherited fortune with a suite of highly profitable pornographic studios. The stepmother, Rebecca, was sixteen years his junior, and a retired pornographic actress. The billionaire’s wife’s supposed nymphomania was well-documented and much ridiculed in the tabloid press who were merciless in their cruel condemnation of the brunette’s sexuality. The eldest son, Michael, organised exclusive sex parties in fashionable city hotspots such as Soho, Monaco and Dubai, while the eldest daughter, Alexandria, was a world-famous dominatrix in New York. The upper-class family oozed sex and scandal, lust and licentiousness. They lived for obscenity, ignored the ridicule.
It was the youngest daughter, Katherine, who I came to know. She was the girl was secretly recorded sodomising the International footballer on her eighteenth birthday with an ten-inch strap-on. It got her on the front and back pages of the national tabloids, as the video of the cocky England international doing unnatural things to a black rubber dong brought him much derision from the fans. Football terraces are unforgiving.
Katherine was also the girl who captured my heart and my lust.
Not that I had any inkling that she would. I met her on Freshers’ Week at University; the campus accommodation officer assigned us to rooms on adjoining corridors. I was captivated by her personality from the very first time I met her: there was no power in my room, and I knocked on adjacent rooms to ask if they had the same problems with their electricity before I complained.
Pure beauty opened the door: soft, radiant skin and deep blue eyes that oozed seduction. She had long, straight blonde hair that reached her shoulder blades and a warm, friendly smile that beamed as she looked at me.
And she was naked. I had to double-take.
I gulped, almost forgetting my reason for knocking on her door; the girl who had spent so much time in every national newspaper was beckoning me into her room. She was a minor celebrity, and I got to see all of her. It was a dream, a wild fantasy. I had masturbated to the video on the Internet porno-tube sites and seeing her so vividly au-naturel was an erection causer.
She knew this; a wry grin seeped from her lips as she glanced at the bulge in my shorts. I naturally looked around her room: her bin overflowing with discarded boxes of sex toys. She had boxes of condoms and lubricant on her shelf and there was an erotic novel on her bedside table. She offered me a drink from her drinks fridge as she needlessly introduced herself. I knew of Katherine McAllister.
But I didn’t know Katherine McAllister. I may have thought I did, but I only had preconceptions and as I found out, they were wildly inaccurate. She was smart: unbelievably clever and incredibly astute. The more time I spent with her, the more I realised the odious comments from the Internet trolls were tragically wrong. We had enlisted onto the same Mathematics course and it became natural for us to study together; we became good friends as we mutually enjoyed each other’s company. I helped her connect her laptop to the University network and we spent several evenings drinking alcohol, curled up on her bed by ourselves or with other students, as we watched films or just chatted the night away.
And Katherine rarely wore any clothes in her room, or mine. She encouraged me to do the same and sometimes I did. It was dangerous: the incredible sexiness of the liberal beauty was an arousing sight and I frequently had to hide erections from her. In hindsight it was silly, but I didn’t want to damage my blossoming friendship with a fantastic confidante by inappropriately revealing my stiff cock to her.
Katherine’s love life was tumultuous. She raced through boyfriends at a phenomenal rate and had even more one night stands; she confided her secrets to me. Her descriptions of her sex and the angst it caused tortured me. I longed for a relationship and her rampant sex contrasted with my unintended and unwanted abstinence.
She realised my desperation and she loved to tease. One cold, November evening we had tickets for free entry to the local student nightclub. We had agreed to go and at the agreed time, I banged on her door, dressed and ready to drink the night away. She beckoned me into her room: still naked and wet from the shower. “We’ll be late,” I moaned, but Katherine rarely cared for punctuality, rubbing her lithe body with her pink towel and smirking as my eyes took in the delicate curves of the beautiful student. I never tired of her gorgeous body, and she loved to exhibit herself.
She mewed as she rubbed between her legs; deliberately touching her bare mound with her fingers when rough towel was discarded onto the floor. She fell onto the bed. “Won’t be a moment,” she panted, opening her bedside table to retrieve one of her hundreds of sex toys. “Make yourself … comfortable!”
The pink vibrator drew groans from her lips as she pressed it against her crack, sliding the toy along her slit as I stared at the sight in front of me. I was shocked by her lewdness. Did she want me to watch? Did she even forget it was me present and not one of her many lovers? The exhibitionist whimpered as her toy swept over her clit, rotating the trembling rubber toy against her sensitive regions.
I watched: my erection pressing against my cotton briefs as her fingers darted over her hairless mons to control the vibrating dildo and press it against her opening. I felt a shiver as the head slowly disappeared, ensnared by her pussy and exchanged for a cacophony of loud groans and yells.
Her body seized and shook; her dripping snatch adoring the quivering toy slamming against her G-Spot. She erupted into a climax and she lay motionless on the bed, drained and sated.
“I needed that,” she simpered, discarding her toy in the en-suite’s sink and pocketing a packet of condoms into her handbag. She would need them; she always did.
When I talk to Katherine about that moment now, she confesses that she was sending me a signal: she was trying to capture my attention but at the time I thought she was out of my league. In a way I still do, but back then, she was completely unattainable. She was my friend, and I treasured her friendship. I thought she had no sexual interest in me because I was not sexy.
Even when she travelled to my house for the New Year celebrations at my family’s modest abode and we spent the night naked in my double bed, curled up together and holding each other tight as we drifted away into slumber, we could be nothing more than a rich girl with a poor friend.
What could I offer her? She had the pick of any man, she had more money than I could ever earn and everyone loved her. I couldn’t even offer her good sex: I didn’t have the experience. Three times with a nervous, fumbling girlfriend didn’t make me experienced, and she loved men who were.
My birthday arrived in February; she treated me a revolutionary new male masturbator: a curved vibrating pad that stimulated the head and frenulum. I blushed when I opened the wrapping; my cheeks blushed when she tugged at my pyjamas to my knees to try it on me.
Her soft hands swept over my pubic hair as she pushed me onto my bed and rolled her hands over my erect prick. “Do you have any lube?” She asked: a patently absurd question to ask a man who had not had sex for over a year. “Oh never mind.”
Her lips rolled over the head of my shaft; I nearly came. My legs quivered as I groaned, feeling the cool rush of gentle sexual stimulation warm my loins. The wet moistness felt divine; her lips sensually fantastic. The toy pressed against my cock and she flicked it on, smiling as I gasped. The vibrations were intensely satisfying, my cock pulsing under her touch as my loins squirmed.
She smiled at my writhing, watching as my mind fogged from the lust. “And then you get your lover to suck the end of your cock until you come,” she seductively suggested, running her tongue across my prick and sucking the glans.
“Oh no! Oh God! Katherine! Katherine!” I cried, panicking as I felt the familiar surge of my arousal past the point of no return. I held onto my orgasm, whimpering and panting as my muscles agonising burnt. I could hold on no more. She needed to stop sucking; I was about to cum in her mouth. “Katherine!” I squealed desperately through my pants, as my body drove me into a climax; the first surge of my semen squirting onto her tongue.
I was mortified; she smiled. The minx was unmoved by the waves of cum flooding into her mouth. She nonchalantly swallowed my deposit, and beamed. “But …”
“What? Good toy isn’t it?”
“You … ate my spunk.” Katherine shrugged. “That’s … wow! Just disgusting but …”
“It’s not battery acid,” she teased, running her hands over my spent body. “It’s nice. Try it.” She caused a flood of arousal as her fingers gripped the base of my cock and swept upwards, milking the last of my cum onto her dainty fingers.
My heart quickened. “I’m not gay!”
“I never said you were.” She held her fingers to my lips and cocked her head. “Honestly, try it. For me!” I screwed up my face but Katherine was insistent, and I relented by poking my tongue out to the mess dripping from her skin. She wiped her finger on my tongue as I tentatively touched my cum, causing me to splutter as her fingers brushed against me.
My first impressions were that while it wasn’t “nice,” it wasn’t disgusting either: a slightly bitter, thick taste: a little musky and earthy but not unpleasant. My ex-girlfriend said it tasted horrible, but it just didn’t.
She giggled at my expression. “If you learn to like it then I’d let you fuck me bareback as long as you go down on me afterwards.” She stared at me, watching my mind processing what she said. “I love to feel cum sucked out of me. It’s so … hot!” My heart pounded as she raised an eyebrow, blowing me a kiss and left me on the bed as she washed her hands and the toy in my en-suite.
In many ways, I thought she was joking; it was all part of the Katherine McAllister legend and charm but she was serious as I discovered the following day. She came into my room with the briefest of knocks, naked except for her handbag. This was usual. I was still in my tartan pyjamas that she despised and was talking to my mother on the phone when she gently closed the door behind her. She gripped my waist and slowly inched my sleepwear bottoms to my knees, mischief plastered on her face.
I waved my hand at her, but she saw from the frantically disguised smirk on my face that I was prepared for her games. She blew gently on my cock, coaxing it into a full engorgement while I talked on the telephone, trying to put her machinations into the back of my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to process my niece’s birthday party or my Dad’s new car. I tried to not feel the warm breath swirling over my cock, or the gentle touch of her finger rubbing my balls. Or the luscious tongue sliding over my glans, causing me to whimper. I bit my lip and tried to cover my crotch with my spare hand, but Katherine slid her body up mine, taking my hand along her torso and onto her pert bosom.
I whimpered again; my mother asked if I was distracted. I lied, as Katherine’s pussy teased the top of my erect cock. Her fingers twirled against my nipples, her deep blue eyes simmering with lust. I barely listened to my conversation. She immersed my dick in her teenage pussy, rocking energetically on my sensitive cock and groaning loudly.
“Are you alone?” My mother asked again, sounding a little exasperated. I bit my lip and racked my brains for an answer.
“A friend’s just come in. Been running,” I squealed. “Gotta go. Hurt themselves.” Katherine laughed as I discarded the phone by my pillow, watching her breasts as she leant forward so they fell against my face. Her hips ground down on my crotch: riding my cock faster and faster.
It had been a long, long time since I had last had sex, but it felt better than I had ever remembered: the fiery sensations firing across my genitals as she rocked her hips with wild abandon. I was there; I was ready to climax. I muttered her name; I warned her. She kissed me, burying her tongue in my mouth as her golden hair fell around my face, sweeping across me as she brought me to orgasm.
I came stronger than I had ever come before, my cock squirting several waves of warmth into her cunt as I yelled profanities and proclamations to God. She smiled, gently rocking back on my prick as I recovered from the intensity of my climax.
“Remember. We had an understanding,” she reminded me as she moved up the bed to straddle my face. I moaned in complaint; she squeezed my ears with her thighs. I felt the first drip of my cum land on my lips, looking up at her hairless pussy. It looked gorgeous and filthy: globules of semen hung from her moist pink like stalactites in a cave.
I heard her wave to a friend out of my window as I apprehensively swirled my tongue against her creamy pussy. She mewed at every touch of her dripping cunt with my lips, as I sucked our mess from her moistness. It felt dirty, it felt taboo but it was what Katherine wanted. She looked over her mound and into my startled eyes as she bucked her hips on my mouth, letting gravity draw the goo onto my lips.
It tasted sweeter than before: her nectar was gloriously sapid as my tongue pressed against her cunt. Her body trembled as I flicked her button; the intricacies of cunnilingus flooding my memory as my mouth swept up and down her slippery cunt.
She climaxed twice; her crotch grinding my head into my pillow as she came, expelling the last of my creamy deposits into my mouth.
“That’s the first bareback fuck I’ve had for months,” she confessed, as she climbed off of me. “I love ’em so much!”
We talked; that day was the start of something wonderful. We had an agreement: not a day would pass when I wouldn’t screw the delightful Katherine but I promised to eat my cum from her pussy afterwards. We fucked on the dancefloor at the student nightclub, and then I gave her head under the table moments later. We shagged several times in the fields at sunset and a car layby overlooking the town. We did it in three shop changing rooms, a cemetery and a bus stop. But most of all we fucked in our bedrooms. Every fuck was followed by sloppy cunnilingus as I slurped our cum from her cunt, and although she rarely came from sex, she always came from me eating her out. She loved sensation of my lips sucking her hole, or swirling against her slippery clit.
She had boyfriends too. Monogamy wasn’t in her dictionary. Some of them knew about me, most didn’t. I never had anything to do with them and our paths never crossed, until just after Easter. She came into my room at 4am with the briefest of knocks. She pulled me from my slumber, I could barely make out her frame in the half-light. She insincerely apologised as she sat on my face. “Eat me!” She cried. “Just eat me.” I smelt the familiar aroma of cum, the unique taste I knew so well and the tell-tale drops of cum glistening from the light of my alarm clock. “Please.”
“But Katherine …”
“Just do it. Do it and I’ll do anything for you. I need you too. I … just please.”
How could I refuse? My dick had already responded to her requests, and the realisation of my secret fantasies, with an erection. I swirled my tongue against her snatch. She cried loudly, gasping and panting with saturated lust as I sucked the gloopy cream from my friend, feeling the slide of her lover’s mess as it flowed onto my lips.
My arousal surged, I wanted her to plant her mouth on my cock or to play with my firmness. I rolled my lips against her hole and sucked, drawing his cum into me, as she squealed, bucking her hips as I ate her. Her legs quivered against my head, her loud cries signifying an orgasm smashing against her body, as she collapsed against my chest.
I had never heard her come so loudly or so quickly; I rolled my tongue against her clit, sweeping across the demanding student’s wetness to send her into a trembling mess of horniness, sated by screams of orgasmic satisfaction. “I’ve got to get back,” she whimpered, struggling to get to her feet after her third, most powerful, climax. She shrugged her shoulders. I wanted her to stay for the rest of the night, she refused. “Sorry. I’ve told him I’ve gone to the bathroom to get cleaned up while he used the en-suite!”
“You little …”
“I owe you,” she promised and blew me a kiss. “I owe you big time.” With those parting words, she slipped into the achromatic darkness of the corridor and returned to her boyfriend.
Her nocturnal presents became a regular feature until they split up; there wasn’t an evening that went past without me sucking cum from her pussy: the provocative sight of semen dripping from her snatch always made me horny and it drove the sassy student to new heights of arousal.
I got a lot of sex; Katherine got even more.
But when she had unprotected penetration I was always around to suck the cum from her, delighting her cunt with long licks of my tongue. It became part of my sexuality: I loved to eat creampies from the hot snatch of my friend.
We left the first year of University as the best of friends, and I was invited to stay at her family’s mansion over the Summer break. I was nervous: her father would surely want the best for his daughter. I could not offer him that.
However, if Clifford McAllister had any reservations about the young man his daughter had introduced as her “special friend” then he didn’t show it. He showed me around his Grade I listed mansion, shared his finest spirits with me and then showed me his library: dozens of metres of shelving containing erotica, magazines and DVDs, floor to ceiling and covering every topic imaginable. If I wasn’t tipsy from the alcohol, I would have been embarrassed by the smut.
But the McAllisters didn’t do embarrassed, or decorum. I wasn’t allowed to use their swimming pool until I removed my swimming trunks and then Katherine’s stepmother openly admired my package, drawing attention to it’s “cute hang.” My friend giggled, rubbing her hand over my shaft and openly jerking my cock into an erection to flirt.
Rebecca giggled as Katherine teased me, although as my friend had confided in me, Rebecca was akin to a big sister not a stepmother. She never remembered her mother. Katherine was barely twelve months old when the socialite died in the car crash and since the age of nine, all she had known was a woman who acted more like a bigger sister than a parent, and thought of her as her father’s wife rather than a parental figure. Jerking me into a throbbing erection was just “games and banter.”
That’s not to say everything in that first day was about sex; they were good people who had a lust for life, and I enjoyed the water fight and barbecue just as much as fooling around in the water, kissing Katherine and toying with her clit.
That evening however, Katherine and her stepmother argued: screaming loudly at each other as their row moved from the kitchen into the garden. “I’m nineteen in two weeks,” my lover shouted. “I’m old enough. I want to go.”
“Tell her,” her stepmother demanded from my friend’s father. “It’s not a place for young ladies. They’ll be … lots of men there. It’s for adults.”
“I am an adult,” she seethed.
“And you can’t go from the nice innocent messing at little-old University into the real world. Your boyfriend and you aren’t ready, poppet. The answer is no.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my …”
“… your special friend?” The older woman taunted. “We know about special friends. He’s your boyfriend, love. And the answer is still ‘no.’ You and your boyfriend aren’t going.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my … kinky lover. And this is right up our street. It’s what we do. It’s what I want to do!” She turned to me. “Tell her.”
I nervously looked at Clifford and Rebecca, watching me for a sign of weakness. “I … umm … well she’s not my girlfriend. We just … ummm …”
“Hey, we’ll talk about it in the morning,” her father suggested. “When everyone is sober and a bit calmer.” They didn’t talk; they rowed in the morning, and the afternoon, and the evening. I had no idea at the time what her they wouldn’t let her do, or why; it was none of my business. But it was only when I threatened to go to my home a hundred miles away because of the animosity that Katherine had caused, did my friend begrudgingly relent to accept the decision.
“Maybe next year” was offered as a compromise; Katherine snarled. I’d not seen her so angry before and only tying her to the bed, and setting her vibrators onto their highest settings as they trembled against her cunt did I get any sort of smile from my indignant lover.
But fate smiled upon her; the event she was forbidden from attending had someone “drop out” and Katherine overheard her stepmother talking on the phone. It reignited the argument until Rebecca turned exasperated to me, and asked. “What would you do if you saw another man fucking your girlfriend?”
“Ummm … if that’s Katherine, wait until they’ve finished and go down on her. She insists.”
Katherine yelped in delight. “See. See … I told you. It’s not a problem. It’s what we do. Please …”
“Poppet, it’s not one man. It’s …”
“It’s loads, I know. But not a single guy has come in my cunt since Christmas without him sucking it back out.” Her eyes flicked towards me and then back to her stepmother. “Please, I really, really, really want to do this. And you’ll be there. Please. I’ll be fine. More than fine.”
And that pleading was how Katherine got her own way. They relented. The Michael McAllister sex party had been organised for a Notting Hill estate and I was given an expensive tuxedo jacket for the event.
“Don’t worry about the bottoms,” Katherine airily said as her beautification extended to waxing and moisturising before adorning a tatty tracksuit.
The chauffeur drove the party of four to the fashionable suburb of expensive London. Katherine and her stepmother disappeared to “get ready” as soon as we entered the house, while Clifford and myself had to leave our lightweight trousers and shoes in the limousine.
It felt weird to be bottomless: she shirt tails of the designer tuxedo barely covering my loins. Katherine had promised me that dozens of porn stars would be present as well as scores of celebrities. I was excited about meeting them and Clifford introduced me to stars from the television and the Internet: he was a big cheese and I was his “daughter’s partner.”
A couple of drinks gave me courage; I chatted to a children’s television presenter about her “slutty” University days and a city trader about how Porsches are better for in-car sex than Alfa Romeos.
The host called us to attention, the nearly naked man welcoming us to his exclusive party. Four double doors opened, and Clifford pulled at my arm to join him.
That’s when I saw her; the picture that has stayed with me for years; my lover wearing bright red tights, holding the hand of her stepmother wearing deepest black tights, walking past me to the two benches. The guardian leading her husband’s daughter into her first gangbang. It sounded wrong. To the outside world it was sordid, but it was just another normal day in the McAllister family.
“The game is red or black,” her father told me. “They are going to spin the roulette wheel.” I hadn’t noticed the croupier. I had noticed, however, the scores of half-naked men filing into the room; I recognised some of them as pornstars. All muscular Adonises with swinging cocks and balls full of cum. Destined for my friend.
Destined for my special friend, discarding her tights at the foot of the bench.
“Definitely,” I muttered; my cock rose at the thought of the sex I’d see; watching the pounding of my friend filled me with excitement. She looked so flawless and untainted: her hair elegantly smooth, her skin radiant and her pussy untouched. I knew by the end of the evening she would be a mess: taken by the scores of men eager to fuck the eighteen year old. She would look like a slut, a brazen hussy. But to me, she would look perfect.
“Can I go down on her?” I asked; suddenly realising the person I was seeking permission from was her father.
“It’s expected,” he replied with a sly grin. “I understand we share a common interest in our ladies. We like them well-fucked and with pussies full of cum!”
I nodded, watching as the first man spun the roulette wheel. The well-built stud spun red 18. It had to be. A cheer swept through the crowd as we gathered to watch the black porn star walk onto the small raised stage. He presented his ebony cock to my slut, pressing his hips forward to push his dick into her face. She kissed it as her fingers swirled against her clit, slowly sucking on his glans to bring him to his fullest erection. I studied him as Clifford studied me; watching intently. Watching for my reaction.
The stud grunted, the bulging muscles in his chest rising as he breathed in deeply. Panted. Whimpered. I looked at every inch of him and her, tracing his hairless torso with my eyes: from his dark nipples to his mass of curls at the base of his thick, long cock.
And it was thick and long. I was bottomless in a room full of porn stars and I felt a rush of inferiority: if they were chosen for their size, I would never compare favourably. But those thoughts evaporated from my attention the moment he seized her legs, drawing his cock into her teenage pussy with a gentle push.
I stared at his muscular arse, entranced as he rhythmically thrusted into my girl. I heard Katherine’s groans and cries; her squealing of intense excitement as he pounded her cunt hard into a vocal climax. She shrieked; her cries echoed in the small chamber as he squirted his cum into her. I saw some of his cream leak out, my cock flitted expectantly.
I longed to kiss her, sweep my lips down her body and plant my tongue at the edge of her cum-filled pussy. I wanted to bring her to a climax, I wanted to draw her legs up high before I sucked every drop of seed from her quivering cunt. I wanted her.
My erection never flagged as man after man fucked the women senseless, drawing their choice at random from a simple spin of a roulette wheel.
I watched older men and younger men ravish her. I enjoyed every race of man, every size of man and every age of man fill my friend with cum until a gong sounded. Clifford called my name; I had barely moved all evening, entranced by the sight of my Katherine getting fucked by dozens of studs. It was my turn.
She didn’t need to suck on my cock to bring me to hardness: I had spent the evening leaking pre-cum onto my loaned tuxedo and legs. Her eyes watered as I licked my lips; her cunt was pooled with cum, white deposits coated the leather bench she lay on. My cock slid effortlessly into her cunt; they cheered.
Porn stars cheered as I impaled my friend. She beamed at me, lustfully squalling as I drove my cock into the cum. It squelched; it slipped inside of her and gloopily moved against my prick. It felt incredible as I rampantly fucked my lover; she gasped at the ferocity of my thrusts but my lust was desperate. I focused on her smudged make-up and ruffled hair. I squeezed her tits and stared into her deep blue eyes as I rammed harder and harder into her well-fucked cunt.
Her orgasm was deeply intense: her pussy gripped my cock tightly as she came, forcing a rush from my prick as I squirted more cum into her brimming pussy.
We stayed motionless for a moment, staring at each other and reading each other’s mind. I could wait no longer. Neither could Katherine.
Her eyes begged me to do it, to do what she had dreamt of.
I pushed away from her and slid down her body, taking a moment to stare at her messy cunt. It looked perfect; sexy and desirable. Filthy and used. It was deliciously perfect.
Sapid, musky, bitter and sweet at the same time. I licked her crack, sweeping a mouthful of cum onto my tongue and raised my head to look at her; so she could see me. I showed her the mess in my mouth and swallowed: savouring the sex slipping down my throat.
She whimpered, writhing on the bench as my lips dived into her snatch, eagerly devouring at the products of the sexual marathon. I sucked mouthful after mouthful from her hole, swallowing big globules of semen.
My cock was digging into the leather bench, painfully erect as Katherine shrieked with every touch. She had long given up counting orgasms, and my tongue was sending her into a long, deep phase of constant arousal. Her cunt convulsed with every touch of my tongue; her panting ragged and her cries desperate.
But still the cum kept flowing; there was always more. And every climax brought another cheer; it was sinful decadence and rampant debauchery at its very best. And we loved it, every orgasm made us hornier, every climax expelled more semen into my waiting mouth.
I had cum covering my face and dripping down my throat. I had cum in my eyebrows and on my nose, in my hair and on my chest. It felt so dirty and so naughty, but it felt fantastic.
I sucked more cum from her cunt, watery and sweet, as the gong sounded again. She reluctantly tapped the top of my head and crossed her legs. My slut rose from the bench, reattiring herself with the tights so they barely covered her arse. She held onto the hand of her well-fucked stepmother, walked away from me and past everyone to the small private changing area at the back of the room.
“I think … no I know … I so love your daughter,” I muttered to her father, wiping the cum from my face with my hands as I stared at her wiggling arse. The delightful girl blew me a kiss as she reached the door to disappear from view. “She’s … just amazing.”
“Yeah. She is,” he replied with a smirk, and squeezed my shoulder. “Welcome to the family!”
I do not know the origin of the picture; it was found on Tumblr