, and when she tried uni, she soon left, more interested in night clubs and men. I met her when I was working nights as a bouncer, and in twenty-four hours had her in hand. We've never looked back.
I'm twenty years older, and when we met she was nineteen, deliciously young, and young enough to be my daughter, a fact that made me wish I had fucked her mum as a young buck, and bred her myself.
Maybe I did.
Everything about her enamoured me, and still does. Her innocence, verve and nubile body. Neophyte vibe. Curiosity. Eagerness to please. Dark sullied carnality. Un-jaded eroticism. She soon wormed her way under my foreskin, and now you're smitten too. I'm delighted you've joined us!
Our lover's body was always a cock raiser. You've experienced it yourself. Her fecund torso, fertile, smooth belly ready to swell, the inviting unblemished expanse of girl flesh from small tits to tight cunt, a pelvis bred for breeding, and tempting short legs shorter than most.
Have you seen her in heels? She looks like a full-size daughter. Lovely! Then she kicks them off, loses a few years, hardens your cock, and comes even lovelier, blue eyes rolling back in her tiny head.
I always tingle at the thought of me in a nice pony saddle, my belly pressed into and paunch weighing on the slight form, sliding eagerly beneath me, receiving my shafting, with a pair of short legs, splayed wide, not long enough to encircle my waist.
I took her home that first night. I pulled her close, gripped her arse, soft belly to my paunch, tiny tits barely up to my gut, soft cheek on my rib cage, forehead against my chest, tightly restrained. I cradled the back of her pixieish head in my palm, turned her face gently up, and bent to kiss her. When my tongue entered her, my shaft hardened instantly. I'm stiff now, just remembering it.
When I stripped her and put her on her back, obedient, her legs parted slightly, yielding her delightful leg crevice, a warm fleshy fold with small muscles and bony knees. My inquiring hand slid, slowly, possessively, between those little legs, along and up, owning all, from ankles to thigh gap, that neat niche where her downy mound, pussy and lips nestled, waiting my pleasure.
There I palmed her, moist and warm, fingered her shy, wet slot, ate her, tasted her creaming on my tongue, felt her spurting on my beard, then cocked her. She came with me, squeezing her pussy muscles as I spurted inside, blue eyes locked on mine until they rolled back.
Kevin, her dad, tutored me how to best fuck her. He had trained her during her eighteenth year, her thigh-gap year, as she dead-panned. In that year, between high school innocence and university ennui, he taught her to love domination, submission, thick cock, and her addiction to big men in command.
He took a shine to me from the start, seeing that I had the cock, balls and bastardy she needed. He showed me her finer points of need and pleasure. What got her hot and wet, her fantasies and fetishes, buttons to push, and corners to poke. She needs domination, novelty, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and likes to procure other women for her daddies to casually dip their wicks in.
