pretty blood carl x elma

I started gently rolling my hips, proving my words. She was still stubbornly refusing, mouth tightly closed as I painted her face with my cream. But as Daddy snuggled up behind me and started playing with my titties again, staring encouragingly down into her eyes over my shoulder, she finally started playing ball. She was still tentative, just a tiny, testing little lick of her tongue darting out between her lips, but I rewarded her with a happy little moan and stopped grinding myself on her face. The tongue came out again, and again, and the more I responded to her the more confident she became. I still wasn't ready to let her out of her restraints yet, even once she started eating me for real, but I was definitely enjoying myself, clenching my muscles to try to squeeze out as much of Daddy's cum as I could. That was the one and only problem with Daddy having such a big cock; he always deposited it way far up in there, and trying to get it out again was just about impossible before it was ready to leak out on its own! Still I was doing what I could, and Mommy seemed like she had finally gotten out of her own way enough that she was able to enjoy the taste. She wasn't half bad at it, either. Not as good as Daddy was, judging from the few times he'd chosen to use his mouth on me rather than his cock. But still, not bad, and I was gradually drawing closer to the edge. It hit me more gently than the ones Daddy had given me, but it was no less enjoyable, making me gasp and twitch as I relaxed back against his chest.

God why did he have to say that. Now she wasn’t going to be able to help herself.

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.