Daddy caught me masturbating part6
- 2 years ago
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Daddy Dick: Part 1 free porn video
She met him at the gym - not a crowded, shabby, council-run gym, but the gym of businessmen and women. A steely, solid, serious-minded place. She had been using it for years because it was handy for the office. It was her private place, The would in which she could devote herself to her body. Feel strong and alive and fiery. In the silence of her shower, she would let her fingers roam up her taut belly to caress her 34C titties, and then down to her shaved pussy: just enjoying her firmness, softness and sweetness. What with the high of endorphins from her workout, it was no wonder she sometimes got aroused while she was still on the gymnasium floor, particularly when there were men like William walking around. He was in his twenties m, built like Chris Hemsworth and just as tall; what really attracted her to him was the way he wore a hooded sweattop and baggy jogging pants. She knew from these that he was serious and building his body, not just about showing it off - and she guessed, quite correctly, that he was not gay.
She struck up conversation by the water cooler. It was easily done. She knew she was good looking, and here she was in spandex, directing all her energy at him. She didn’t look eager: this was a serious business. But she wanted him to fuck her into the middle of next week. And although the conversation was all about the heat of the showers, he interpreted her correctly from the start.
Things had to be done right, though.
He took her out for dinner. He looked even bigger and stronger in a Savile Row suit. He had one of those haircuts that are the province of.young men: like a pomaded Mohican. He was serious about treating her like a lady. He ordered steak and demolished it like a machine. He said all the right things about business. They were both, after all, in the money making business. They were both serious and successful.
His big hand brushed hers as they shared a dessert. He bent low, bringing his mouth to the spoon, lapping salty caramel with precision and delicacy. He was showing her what he could do. When he was done, the spoon gleamed and her panties were wet.
He wanted her.
He invited her to his house on the Sussex Downs, and she demurred - it was one of those months when there was too much to do, her diary was packed, stuffed full. She would be exhausted. He would have to wait.
This he seemed happy to do. He told her he would welcome her in a month’s time, after all the hard work. He would help her relax. Unwind. Become herself again.
And when the time came, the weather was blazing hot. The Downs were drying out in the sun, trees glistening, the air thin and yielding. He had told her - not asked her - to bring swimwear. Now he showed her the pool, surface glittering in the sunlight. She arrived on the poolside in a black bikini top. He was in a bathrobe, but he dropped it. He was tall, hairless, sculpted. He looked hard but she could not be sure. She longed for contact.
Their mouths, first. Their tongues intermingling in the heat of the day as they stood on the brink of the pool. She could smell his lust for her. She could feel him raging to invade. Now his mouth worked down her throat, stubbles chin lightly brushing the tops of her breasts. Kissing slowly downward until he was pulling at her bikini top with his lower lip. Then the top had slipped and his firm teeth were ever so gently on the sensitive tit.
She purred.
“Sit,” he told her.
There was a wooden bench piled with cushions. She sat, looking at him. He knelt, kissed her again, travelling from mouth to nipple to belly to grin. He began to attend to her. In a serious fashion. Slowly, deliberately, listening to her and responding or teasing as appropriate.
Now he stood, and rugged down his swimming trunks. She couldn’t help a slight feeling of disappointment at his size. Everything about him was the ultimate in sexuality and she had been imagining something of seven or eight inches to match. Still, it made it slightly easier to blow him, and she worked with some of the same attentiveness he had shown her.
She had just undone her bikini top and thrown away her bottoms when the phone rang.
“Jesus,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Leave it,” she told him, precum on her lips, a longing to be touched in every limb.
“We both know there are some calls one can’t ignore,” he said, smiling and pulling up his swimwear. “But I won’t take long over it.”
And he was gone.
She was slightly pissed off. She tried to enjoy simply sunbathing on the poolside. But her body was pulsing. Her pussy had been primed by his supple tongue. Her fingers drifted down to it, just to keep the fire burning.
She could hear him, very remotely, talking on the phone. So, what was that footstep on the patio?
A man stepped out into the sunlight. “Oh,” he said.
She gasped, and withdrew her fingers from her wet hole to cover up her large tits. She could smell her juices as well as her sweat and felt certain he could scent them too. He was silhouetted against the sun. He made no move to withdraw, as though it were his right to look her up and down in this (or any) state.
“Do pardon me for interrupting,” he purred. “My son did ask that i avoid him today but as I heard him on the phone, I naturally assumed you were not here yet. A gentleman ought not to leave his lady for something so tawdry as business.”
“I have to agree,” she said. “Perhaps you were a poor role model.”
He laughed urbanely and sat in a chair close by. He couldn’t take his eyes off her body. She took him in. Somewhere in his forties with the same genetic disposition to height, handsomeness and strength as his son. She found she didn’t mind his gaze.
“Maybe,” he said. “But if anything, I have always been too attentive to the fairer sex. They have always had a hold over me. I can’t resist.”
She drank him in. He was approaching fifty but as groomed, virile and athletic as his son. He wore a crisp Lacoste polo shirt and cream-coloured chinos, belted sigh tan leather. His eyes were hidden behind Aviator sunglasses.
And, she realised suddenly, he was hard. Supremely hard. She could see the long thick shape of his erection stretching down the leg of his smart trousers. It was obscene: longer and fatter than any she had seen before. It seemed to grow twitchingly larger as she watched, and her eyes were fixated on it. Hypnotised, her right hand went back to her cleft; her left hand tweaked her right nipple. She bit her lip and tried to look away, back to his face.
He was smiling a dirty smile. “Ah,” he said, “you noticed.” He threw a glance back toward the house, then returned his attention fully to her. “Well,” he said, “what shall we do about it?”
To be continued...
She struck up conversation by the water cooler. It was easily done. She knew she was good looking, and here she was in spandex, directing all her energy at him. She didn’t look eager: this was a serious business. But she wanted him to fuck her into the middle of next week. And although the conversation was all about the heat of the showers, he interpreted her correctly from the start.
Things had to be done right, though.
He took her out for dinner. He looked even bigger and stronger in a Savile Row suit. He had one of those haircuts that are the province of.young men: like a pomaded Mohican. He was serious about treating her like a lady. He ordered steak and demolished it like a machine. He said all the right things about business. They were both, after all, in the money making business. They were both serious and successful.
His big hand brushed hers as they shared a dessert. He bent low, bringing his mouth to the spoon, lapping salty caramel with precision and delicacy. He was showing her what he could do. When he was done, the spoon gleamed and her panties were wet.
He wanted her.
He invited her to his house on the Sussex Downs, and she demurred - it was one of those months when there was too much to do, her diary was packed, stuffed full. She would be exhausted. He would have to wait.
This he seemed happy to do. He told her he would welcome her in a month’s time, after all the hard work. He would help her relax. Unwind. Become herself again.
And when the time came, the weather was blazing hot. The Downs were drying out in the sun, trees glistening, the air thin and yielding. He had told her - not asked her - to bring swimwear. Now he showed her the pool, surface glittering in the sunlight. She arrived on the poolside in a black bikini top. He was in a bathrobe, but he dropped it. He was tall, hairless, sculpted. He looked hard but she could not be sure. She longed for contact.
Their mouths, first. Their tongues intermingling in the heat of the day as they stood on the brink of the pool. She could smell his lust for her. She could feel him raging to invade. Now his mouth worked down her throat, stubbles chin lightly brushing the tops of her breasts. Kissing slowly downward until he was pulling at her bikini top with his lower lip. Then the top had slipped and his firm teeth were ever so gently on the sensitive tit.
She purred.
“Sit,” he told her.
There was a wooden bench piled with cushions. She sat, looking at him. He knelt, kissed her again, travelling from mouth to nipple to belly to grin. He began to attend to her. In a serious fashion. Slowly, deliberately, listening to her and responding or teasing as appropriate.
Now he stood, and rugged down his swimming trunks. She couldn’t help a slight feeling of disappointment at his size. Everything about him was the ultimate in sexuality and she had been imagining something of seven or eight inches to match. Still, it made it slightly easier to blow him, and she worked with some of the same attentiveness he had shown her.
She had just undone her bikini top and thrown away her bottoms when the phone rang.
“Jesus,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Leave it,” she told him, precum on her lips, a longing to be touched in every limb.
“We both know there are some calls one can’t ignore,” he said, smiling and pulling up his swimwear. “But I won’t take long over it.”
And he was gone.
She was slightly pissed off. She tried to enjoy simply sunbathing on the poolside. But her body was pulsing. Her pussy had been primed by his supple tongue. Her fingers drifted down to it, just to keep the fire burning.
She could hear him, very remotely, talking on the phone. So, what was that footstep on the patio?
A man stepped out into the sunlight. “Oh,” he said.
She gasped, and withdrew her fingers from her wet hole to cover up her large tits. She could smell her juices as well as her sweat and felt certain he could scent them too. He was silhouetted against the sun. He made no move to withdraw, as though it were his right to look her up and down in this (or any) state.
“Do pardon me for interrupting,” he purred. “My son did ask that i avoid him today but as I heard him on the phone, I naturally assumed you were not here yet. A gentleman ought not to leave his lady for something so tawdry as business.”
“I have to agree,” she said. “Perhaps you were a poor role model.”
He laughed urbanely and sat in a chair close by. He couldn’t take his eyes off her body. She took him in. Somewhere in his forties with the same genetic disposition to height, handsomeness and strength as his son. She found she didn’t mind his gaze.
“Maybe,” he said. “But if anything, I have always been too attentive to the fairer sex. They have always had a hold over me. I can’t resist.”
She drank him in. He was approaching fifty but as groomed, virile and athletic as his son. He wore a crisp Lacoste polo shirt and cream-coloured chinos, belted sigh tan leather. His eyes were hidden behind Aviator sunglasses.
And, she realised suddenly, he was hard. Supremely hard. She could see the long thick shape of his erection stretching down the leg of his smart trousers. It was obscene: longer and fatter than any she had seen before. It seemed to grow twitchingly larger as she watched, and her eyes were fixated on it. Hypnotised, her right hand went back to her cleft; her left hand tweaked her right nipple. She bit her lip and tried to look away, back to his face.
He was smiling a dirty smile. “Ah,” he said, “you noticed.” He threw a glance back toward the house, then returned his attention fully to her. “Well,” he said, “what shall we do about it?”
To be continued...
Nadine
- 26.05.2021
- 17
- 0
