Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
The beautiful brunette doesn’t hesitate. She lifts the mug to her lips again and slowly swallows again and again, draining the cup to its very last drop. Then, she puts the mug down before meeting my eyes and smiling coquettishly while licking her lips once more.
“That was so good,” she mewls. “It was filled with vitamins that I have a hard time getting on a regular basis, and I loved the texture too, Dane. Will you put cream in my coffee every morning? I would appreciate it so much.”
My blue eyes flare at her dirty suggestion.
“I’ll do more than that, honey. I’ll let you have it straight from the source next time,” I rasp, gently fisting cock again as it drips with the last of my lust. “Would you like that, Jamie? Would you like to taste Daddy’s seed while it’s warm from the source? Would you like to catch my cream on your tongue before swallowing? I’ll even put some in your tender pussy if you like, honey. What do you think of that?”
Her brown eyes glow with pleasure and excitement.
“I would love that, Daddy,” she murmurs. “Could you do it right now, even? Or do you need a few minutes?”
Holy fuck, is she saying what I think she’s saying? But my shaft is already hardening as I take in the nubile teen girl. There’s a bit of cream dripping off her chin, and as I watch, she lifts her hand to wipe at it before looking up at me with a coquettish smile.
“I’m ready if you are, Dane,” Jamie mewls. Then, it’s on. I’ve just done something incredibly nasty with my best friend’s daughter … but now, we’re going all the way.
5
Dane
This is so fucking wrong. I was only supposed to be on the East Coast for a couple days as part of this listening tour, or a week at most. Instead, I’ve been in Brooklyn for two weeks now, enjoying Jamie’s luscious teen body at every turn.
“Please,” she murmured just this morning, spreading her legs in invitation. “Put it in, Dane,” she begged. “My classes this morning are so boring, and I need a load of cream to get me through them.”
I obliged, of course. Soon enough, Jamie was panting and screaming on my dick as her boobies bounced and her pussy got fucked. Not only that, but I ejaculated deep into her fertile fields without using contraception. I don’t know what I’m doing, to be honest. With the other women I’ve dated, I was rigorous about using rubbers, almost to the point where I was a maniac. But with Jamie, something’s different. I’ve been going unprotected inside the sweet girl, and then using the morning-after pill.
“Are you sure?” Jamie murmured, fingering the box.
“Absolutely,” I rasped. “You’re a fertile young woman, and I’m a very virile man, sweetheart, so we have to do something. But trust me, Plan B is the good shit. We’ll be fine, and this is a thousand times better than condoms. That latex crap is disgusting, and you know how much I like it raw. In your pussy, in your ass, and in your mouth, sweet girl.”
And that was that. I’ve taken Jamie so many times now that her holes must be sore, red, and ravaged. Yet she always thanks me sweetly afterwards as together, we watch my cream trail from her orifices. Then, she jumps up and gets showered for class that day, before returning to my hotel room in the evenings. It’s so fucked up, and yet so right too.
But tonight, Jamie has an evening seminar, so I’m meeting up with a buddy of mine in the city. Brad Thornton is a college friend of mine who moved out to New York shortly after graduation to work at a start-up of some sort. Then, he left to form his own company, and his business, Temu, does grocery delivery. I have no idea whether it’s successful, but likely so given that Brad continues to live and work in New York to this day.
“Yo,” I say after Brad enters the bar, making his way to where I sit on a stool. “How goes?” McNealy’s is an ancient Irish pub in Manhattan, famous because it only began allowing women to drink on its premises in the 1980’s. Pretty fucked up, right? Even forty years ago, women weren’t allowed to come inside. Not that they’d want to, seeing that McNealy’s is a dive with its sticky floors, dark interior, and peanut shells scattered on the bar. Whatever. The vibe is relaxed, and this is where Brad wanted to meet.
“I’m good,” Brad growls, gesturing to the bartender for a pint. Then he turns to me and claps me on the shoulder, his giant bear paw practically knocking me over. “So how goes? What brings you to my part of the world?”