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The four walked to the Knight’s Sheath, where the late afternoon rush was starting to boil. As soon as they arrived, Cyrilo snatched up Sophia. “Sophia, there you are! Be a dear and go up to Room 7. One of our customers had a little accident while trying to perform a Flying Sock Puppet and needs your attention.”

Her heartbeat raced wildly, and her breathing came hard through her nose as she sat there in silence with her lips wrapped around her father’s dick waiting for his orgasm to end. The cum had pooled at the bottom of her mouth, like a lake of magma that jiggled with each ragged breath. She dropped her tongue into it and lifted, letting it drip off the sides of her tongue. Finally, her father began to soften in her mouth, and she felt safe pulling away. She squeezed the head with her lips, making sure not to let a drop escape and with a final jerk his semi-flaccid penis slipped out, bouncing off her chin and back onto his thigh.

“Right here.” Carol knelt on the sofa, elbows on the back of the cushion. She bent lower, pushing her ass towards me. “Keep the oil in reach in case we need more.” If she was worried about oil stains on her leather couch, she didn’t show it. She laid her head on the back of the sofa and spread her ass with both hands. Her asshole, now pink from the stretching, was beautiful. “Fuck me.” I stepped up behind her, cock in hand and laid the head against her anus. I started to push. Her asshole was tight, but began to spread against the pressure.