pegging out

Despite her protests, she was much more amenable this time. A bit of hesitancy at first, but once she got used to the difference in taste she dove right back in to eating me again. I could have easily just let myself float on the enjoyment of what she was doing to me, but I made a special effort to be vocal for her, to moan and gasp, making sure she knew she was doing a good job. I knew how much Daddy liked that sort of thing when he was fucking me, and I figured it was probably even more important for Mom. I got there quicker this time, I think because it just felt so naughty to be feeding Mommy Brucie's cum instead of Daddy's. I totally rubbed my pussy all over her face when I came, too—not because I was trying to this time, just because it felt so good I couldn't stop myself from bucking my hips! Daddy gave me one last kiss on my lips, then got out of my way so I could slide myself down and lay on top of her.

“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.”

She heard her dad rummage around the kitchen, cutlery clanked together, and the microwave hummed for a minute or so before he collapsed onto the couch with the bowl of leftover lasagne steaming in his hands. Like muscle memory, he quickly switched on the TV and started wolfing down the food like a starving man. Only after demolishing half the bowl of pasta, barely paying attention to the random game show playing softly in the background did he turn to his daughter and notice the look on her face.