[MF] Face fucked by Daddy

TW: Pocketknife
Also features a BDSM dynamic.

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Feeling your cock stiffen in your pants as I grind in your lap. Feeling the heat and wetness grow between my thighs, knowing that your warm, hard cock is only inches away. The cure for my craving. The only thing that can satisfy me. Inches away from my waiting pussy. Hiking my dress up as you grab and rip my soaked panties, giving you easy access to my needy pussy. Feeling your cock pressing through, between my pussy lips, coating it in my wetness and juices as you grab and pull ravenously at my breasts and clothing.

Moaning in my ear you say “what a pathetic whore for Daddy. Always so needy and wet for me”, before tilting my head toward you, my neck elongated, and meeting your lips to mine. As our mouths meet, you gently circle my clit, listening to me moan and whine against your mouth in pleasure, your hard cock still resting between my soaking pussy lips, unmoving. My pussy begging me to move so I can slip you inside, I try to grind on your cock and you deliver a hard smack across my face. You break our kiss and breathily say, “Oh no princess, you don’t get to play with that yet”. I whine and whimper in response, begging for you to allow me to move. My hips instinctively bucking under the constant pleasure and pressure on my clit.

[M/F] [Non-Con] [Breeding] Charity Event

This is a story I wrote a few months back. It does have themes of non-consent, humiliation, some bondage, and other similar themes. It also has a fictions device my mind created to make choking in this story easier. This device doesn’t exist. Similar existing devices should
NOT be used for safe choking practices.

With that being said, sorry for any typos, hope you enjoy.

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At work you’ve heard about a private party going on, something that you hear only in whispers. It catches your attention because the whispers imply something risqué. You don’t know who is throwing the party, but it sounds like it may be run by one of the bank’s executives.

You can’t get the thought out of your head and you try your hardest to catch a whisper about who is throwing the event, or maybe where you can get a ticket.

After dinner, you mindlessly wash dishes, still not able to get the idea out of your mind. Your phone rings, it’s Tim. “Hey man, I had a thing I was going to go to tonight, something strange. Thing is, I’m with Jeanine now, so I’m gonna cancel. You interested in going?”