Daddy pumped his hips slowly back and forth there, remaining only a few inches in. I could see sweat beading on his forehead. He looked flushed, and c...ncerned."Did that hurt, honey?" Daddy asked me. I shook my head, not trusting my ability to string together a full sentence. What he was doing felt delightful, and I wanted more. Some instinct (or porn memory?) had me raise my legs to give him easier access. My knees were bent and pressed against his toned chest, my ass hanging off the edge of. Did she masturbate? She must, but she never talked about it. Never? He tried to think. His lawyer brain wanted to settle for 'hardly ever', but he couldn't remember a time when she'd extolled the virtues of do-it-yourself orgasms.Being taken there, being made to work for it — she'd sure as hell talked about that. So why did the idea of a cell turn her on? That didn't make sense? — or did it? Was denial another side of being out of control? Perhaps it was.Barry looked at the notes that he had. More

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