She was in a hurry. She wanted some cum and quickly. I grabbed her shiny black hair and fucked her face deep and slow. She racked her teeth over my prick and I started shooting strings of cum down her throat. She drained me and all the time looked up into my eyes with her fairy twinkle. Then she released my dick, laughed, and she rose for a kiss. I tasted my own cum on her lips. We spent the rest of the evening playing Master and sub. It was a game we were developing. I was Daddy/Master and she was Daughter/sub. It was fun and made us both extremely horny. She introduced me to all the toys in her cabinet of joy and pain. I practiced all of them on her, or as much as I could. Sometimes I wimped out and would not hurt her as much as she expected. But that was me, the untrained Master. Our lives continued in this manner. She spent all the time she could with Cynthia her real love. I was the adored one but Cynthia was the loved one. I accepted that gracefully. I was lucky to have someone. His fingertips trail over the fabric of her clothing, tugging, unbuttoning, untucking, unzipping, each new sound an emphatic revelation to her ears. He undresses her with exaggerated slowness, pullingeach item effortlessly from her body and letting it drop, walking her backward a step with each piece he removes until the backs of her knees hit the bed. His hands on her hips playfully toss her back, spilling her onto the bed. He takes a moment to gaze at his handiwork, her beautiful body is splayed out before him, creamy skin radiant in the flickering illumination, a sharp contrast against the dark heather of the cashmere blanket. He wants to taste every inch of her sacred flesh, but his body restricts him at the moment, his broken ribs protesting any strenuous movement. Lips twitching, he reaches down and grasps her ankles in his strong hands and drags her closer to the edge. A squeal of surprise escapes her, delighting him as he drops her legs to dangle against the side of the bed..
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