Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“Open your mouth, Holly,” he says. “Daddy’s going to clean Scott’s filthy spit away. He kissed you, didn’t he? He got his nasty spit in your mouth?”
“Yes, he did, Daddy.”
There is something especially filthy in Daddy’s stare as I obey his command this time. Something unspoken. I open my mouth up wide and poke my tongue out, just as I would do if he was giving me cum from his cock, but that’s not what he wants from me.
He positions the jet of water so it’s aimed right at my mouth, filling me up and spilling free. I have to gargle, fighting the retch.
“Swallow,” he says, and it feels weird to be swallowing warm water, with it overflowing and spilling all over me.
“Good girl,” he tells me. “Swallow as much as you can.”
I drink the warm water from the shower head as quickly as I can as it gushes, and he palms his cock through his wet trousers, and I wonder what he’s thinking when he’s staring down at me.
I keep swallowing, and the water keeps overflowing, and there is something extreme beyond words in it. I wonder if he’s going to get his cock out… I wonder… I wonder if he’s going to replace the warm water with some dirty warm water of his own…
But no. It’s not in the proposal. That proposal would be so fucking hardcore.
And so fucking horny.
I slip my fingers between my legs and strum my clit, only interrupting the jet of water in my mouth to say the words.
“You can do it, if you want to, Daddy. You can make me a dirty girl as well as a clean one.”
I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe I’m wanting it.
But I can believe that the urge to pee comes over me so bad that I can’t hold back. With my fingers still on my clit and my one exposed nipple standing proud, the hot stream comes gushing out of me. I strum my clit and moan at him. His eyes are on my pissing pussy as his hand moves to his crotch and I know I’m tempting him.
“I love being dirty for my daddy,” I say as my flow comes to a stop and I run my fingers through my slit.
Here it comes… make or break…
But he shakes his head and switches the shower off.
“No, Holly, that’s enough for now.”
Damn it. A deep, filthy part of me is so disappointed.
Daddy helps me to my feet, then strips me out of my soaking wet uniform, wrapping me up in a towel from the rack. I watch him as he wrings out my clothes and positions them on the radiator, ready to dry off for tomorrow morning, and then he wipes me down, taking extra special care of my pussy – rubbing just right.
Thanks, Daddy. Thank you.
I’m dry and warm when he strips off his own clothes and tosses them on the floor beside us. His cock is beautifully hard, and the veins I remember so well are there, so ready to give my pussy a thrill. I want it so bad as he takes my hand and leads me into his bedroom.
But no. He takes a pale blue shirt from his wardrobe and hands it to me.
“Put this on, Holly.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I say and let the towel fall.
His eyes go straight to my tits and I know he wants to throw me on the bed but it seems he’s a master at restraint.
“Shirt on, Holly,” he says and I could cry when he grabs a fresh pair of boxers and pulls them on, tucking his beautiful cock away.
I shrug his oversized shirt on and do up the buttons as he pulls on a pair of grey suit trousers and chooses a white shirt for himself.
“There now,” he says, with a smile. “Where were we? Ah yes, time to feed my girl. I have your favourite for you,” he tells me, looking so proud as he gestures me downstairs. Mood back to sweetness and light.
I remember how good my favourite is and my stomach rumbles. Daddy makes an amazing casserole.
I make up some stories about my day’s lessons while he cooks for us. He laughs along with some of my student whinging as he gets me a glass of juice, and I wonder yet again what kind of guy he is when he’s not playacting.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” he says when he serves up, and my eyes are on his as we eat our dinner.
There’s so much I’d like to ask him, but it isn’t my place, and it’s none of my business. I’m just an entertainer, and he’s just a client. That divide needs to stay there, no matter what.
He most likely has a full life outside of this fantasy, just as I do.
I have a boyfriend waiting back home for me, and a pending apartment in Belgravia. The thought gives me a pang, because I wonder what Josh is doing right now – how much he’s enjoying the daddy of his own.