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CHAPTER FIVE
Daisy
He hesitates for just a moment, and I’m doing my utmost to convince myself I’m here in a casual way like everything else I do in my life. As he closes the distance between us and his hands slide around my waist as his mouth reaches mine, I feel my body respond with a great deal of physical enthusiasm, and the somewhat troubling ideas about setting down roots disappear at the moment. I don’t believe in my entire life I’ve seen any man as attractive as this one.
There is so much damned strength in him!
I mean, just the feel of his hands on my back seems to me like evidence of a great deal of restraint, like he’s being very gentle and it’s on purpose because he has so much power in his muscles that he could snap me in two. These aren’t morbid thoughts at all. On the contrary, it’s more like he’s—aw hell, I don’t know. He seems like he’s very strong and powerful in body, soul, and spirit. He seems like he keeps all of that power under control, and I find it very sexy.
Something completely new for me.
I mean, ordinarily, my taste in men is eclectic and anyone might attract me at any given time, but I almost never go for businessmen, at least not older businessmen like Maxwell. I don’t know why. I mean, give me a twenty-five-year-old guy in a suit and it almost feels like he’s playing dress-up. I find that cute. An actual businessman almost never catches my eye. I think it has a hell of a lot to do with me being so atypical in nature. I mean, money and power are sexy to a lot of women. I’m content to live in my camper shell and really don’t care about money beyond what I need.
So why are my thoughts moving past sex?
Why are my thoughts on sex in the first place?
I know it seems crazy for all of this to go through my mind while I’m in his hotel room. He’s moved us to the bed and I’m already down to just my panties. His hand moves over my panties, driving me crazy through the thin fabric. His mouth is on one of my breasts and I think my nipples are somehow supercharged at the moment, far more receptive to physical sensations of pleasure than ever before. All the while I’m moaning like exactly what I want to be at the moment, a sexual plaything.
But I’m thinking about things that go beyond playing.
“Oh, God, Daddy, yes!” I say in half a moan and half a whisper. I don’t understand why using that word makes things so damned good for me. I mean, the whole DDlg thing sounds like kinky fun, sure, but this goes beyond the almost curious excitement I feel about it. No, it’s far more than that. It’s weird because I almost think of Maxwell not as Maxwell but as Daddy.
What the hell is happening?
Well, one thing that’s happening in my legs is now resting on Max’s shoulders while his mouth is turning my pussy into a radiating ball of pleasure. I’ve been eaten out before but saying that while I’m gasping and writhing over his mouth is kind of like stepping onto a racing motorcycle and saying I’ve ridden a bicycle before.
It’s just crazy how good he is! I’ve had some guys who could make me cum with their mouths but it already feels better with Max and he hasn’t even made me cum yet!
Is it the sex that attracts me to him so much? A lot of girls are attracted to older men and I always wondered if it was the fact that older men usually have more money or if it was because older men were more experienced in bed.
Well, I can’t speak for other girls but Max is definitely the best I’ve ever had. It takes him less than five minutes to bring me to a screaming, shuddering orgasm and when he’s done, I can only gasp and breathe, "Oh God, Daddy,” before he slams his cock into me, and the breath is once again driven from my lungs.
He adjusts his angle so he’s directly above me and pushes my legs behind my head, then buries his cock inside me once more. The angle allows him to go even deeper and the feeling of having my whole pussy filled is breathtaking.
I look into his eyes and the aggression in those eyes intensifies the sensation. I feel my toes begin to tingle and know that another orgasm is approaching.
Maybe that aggression is what attracts me to him. Maybe it’s because I’m a more upbeat person and live a very modest lifestyle but the men I usually sleep with are very gentle. They might show some aggression in bed but it’s only because they’re temporarily overwhelmed by how good I feel and it never comes across as very natural.
With Max, all of that aggression seems perfectly natural, as does the precise control he has over his movements, even when he is also absorbed with the way my pussy feels squeezing and spasming around his cock.
The orgasm that hits me now is so strong it feels like my whole body is cumming at once. My hands grip the sheets and I alternate between screaming and gasping as each pulse of the orgasm short-circuits my senses and sends me into convulsions of pleasure.
I’m about two minutes into this orgasm and it still rages at full strength when Max says, “I’m going to cum inside you, little girl,” and the orgasm somehow intensifies.
That’s it. That’s what turns me on. He tells me what to do.
No one’s ever told me what to do, not since I was a child. I’ve lived my own life since I graduated high school and no one has ever managed to change that in any way before Max. Max hasn’t tried to tell me what to do outside of sex and I have no plans to let him but during sex, the thought that he is completely in charge intoxicates me.
When he cums, I squeeze and grind on his hips like I always do, and he stays inside me a while like he always does. This time, when he tries to pull out, I grip his hips and say, “Please stay inside me, Daddy.”
He relaxes and the last thing I feel as I fall asleep is his cock, still twitching inside me.
