dreamhawk

I retrieved my bag that had some clean running clothes in it and returned to the master shower. I turned on the water, steaming hot, stripped, opened the glass door and stepped in. I thought at the time it was a nice shower, but I know now it was a typical tract house cubical. I was thankful for the opportunity to jack off, as my cock had been rock hard since Mrs. B’s dress rode up, exposing her lovely thighs when she got in the car. I was just soaping up my dick to get some relief when I was startled by the opening of the shower door. Mrs. B. stepped into the shower, naked, holding a plastic cup. She handed me the cup.

I left her there, naked and bleeding, and the next time I saw her, she was at the base of the west tower, having jumped to her death. Galvin told me not to concern myself with her, that she was simply a broken toy, and that I would find another. But I knew different. She wasn’t a broken toy, and though she made her choice, it wasn’t suicide; it was murder. I killed her. I hurt her, I violated her, and made her life so painful that I might as well have pushed her off that tower myself. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it.

She worked her head like a machine, inhaling as much of his dick and then slowly rising up, enjoying every inch she could. Knowing how heavy a sleeper he was now, she started to bounce with each movement, using the momentum to cram her father’s cock further down her throat each time. After a minute or so of his fervent blowjob, her father’s cock jumped in her mouth and started filling it with his seed. Sarah didn’t wait like last time and swallowed each emission as they came, greedily sucking the tip each time and hoping for more.