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“Ooh, Daddy,” she moaned. She then jolted upward, looked at me with a confused look, and said, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you Daddy. I ...ope you're not mad?” I laughed a little, pecked her on the forehead and said, “Baby, you can call me Daddy. Call me Daddy, sweet little girl.” She smiled, “Thank you, Daddy! Your little girl has a special gift for you.” Now, it's important to note that during this whole exchange her hand continued to squeeze my cock, which was hard and more than a. She leaned back on the tiles, letting the water stream down her long red hair, over her shoulders, full breasts, stomach, hips. She wasn't a supermodel but she knew she was pretty in a classic way. Her hands traveled down her breasts, cupping them. They were full and aching. One hand slid down to her sex and she cupped herself, palming that sweet spot that pulsed against her. He came to mind as she rubbed herself faster. It didn't take long to climax and sagged against the tile as her release. His body was amazing I loved it. During the warmer months he would wear a shorter shirt that should his amazing strong arms and he had a beautiful torso (well from what I could see by his shirt) he didn’t have a huge hanging belly but a nice solid build. His shirt was always tucked in perfectly (today he had a blue one on with a nice bold red tie). I would mostly stare at his belt – it was a simple black leather belt, he would always take it in to the 3rd of five notches. I used to pretend. I sit back my right thigh brushing against your hip as I look down at you whispering "I love you" one right finger lightly tracing the edge of your jaw as my left reaches for the silk blindfold on the small table at the side of the bed. My right hand curls under your head supporting you as I pull the blindfold down over your eyes. I let you settle back comfortably against the pillows as I stand walking to the foot of the bed taking first one ankle and then the other and cuffing them loosely to.
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