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It works, and after only a few minutes, he cries out and his second orgasm fills my mouth and he shudders and spasms inside my moaning, swallowing lips.
When I pull my mouth off of his, I let my tongue flick the tip of his cock and he gasps. I giggle and say, “Too much for you, Daddy?”
He smiles at me and growls, “Be careful what you wish for, little girl.”
I giggle and say, “Oh, I’m really really scared, Daddy.”
And then I’m on my stomach and his cock plows into me with absolute ferocity! I have no idea how in the world he can even manage to be hard after two big orgasms. I’m prone on the bed and each of his thrusts is paralyzing. It’s overpowering in the most astounding way, and I can’t even twist my fingers in the blankets. Hell, I can barely think. It’s more like a thousand half-thoughts just assaulting my mind. It’s like every thrust brings with it an image and a few pieces of thought. Each image and partial thought disappears with the next thrust, replaced by new images and thrusts.
My mind is so jumbled up that some of the images and thoughts make no sense at all!
Like, how in the world does a grading plan for my real estate project jump through my head while his cock drives deeply inside of me? How do I get an image of the first time I rode a pony? I mean, it’s like that cliché about a person’s life flashing before her eyes except this isn’t some kind of fear of death coming on. On the contrary, it’s the most astoundingly beautiful thing in my experience.
I guess I won’t win any feminist of the year awards but what makes this so amazing is the certain knowledge that Daddy will always win in a contest of wills between the two of us.
That’s the one clear thought that doesn’t disappear with the thrusts and another orgasm explodes over me with a great deal of force and I realize I’ll have to endure all of the oversensitivity that will result from however long it takes for Daddy to cum a third time.
It’s terrifying.
It’s wonderful.
