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Instead, she lowered herself down, her naked body embracing his as her breasts pressed into his pecs and her legs squeezed against his thighs. Her crotch grinded against his bush and she enjoyed the rough feeling of it scratching along her shaved pussy but stopped when she felt a prod against her cheek. Slowly and steadily her father was also becoming aroused, as much as clockwork now as Sarah’s visits. His firm head pressed harder against Sarah’s cheek, so she shifted to the side without thinking to give it room. With a spring like motion, it bounced up against his belly and back out, the head of his cock grazing her pussy lips hanging above.

“Okay, sweetie,” she agreed, leaning down to kiss me softly in my hair. “We won't tell him, not until and unless you're absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want him to know. And if you decide you never do, that's okay too. Whatever you want.”

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.