Page 38 of Small Town Daddy

"Don't worry," I said, my voice rough with need. "I'm gonna plug that leak with my tongue in a minute."

"Fuck!" She squealed, her surprise genuine, her reaction electric. The word hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of her emotion.

"Did my baby girl just cuss?" I asked, eyebrow arching in mock reprimand, though the thrill of her boldness thrummed through me.

"Sorry, Daddy," she murmured, looking up at me with those wide green eyes that seemed to hold the world. But there had to be consequences, a lesson learned.

"There's going to have to be a punishment for that, sweetheart," I said, gently but firmly. With practiced ease, I guided her over my knee, feeling the anticipation radiate from her as I tugged down her panties, exposing her bare skin.

Her perfect ass was a canvas under my hand, and I let my palm rest there, savoring the warmth of her flesh. She squirmed against me, pressing into the hard line of my cock beneath her, her wetness seeping onto me, heightening the raw tension between us.

"Be still," I instructed, every word deliberate, each touch an unspoken promise. This was a dance we both knew well, one that took us to the edges of our restraint and held us there, teetering on the precipice. And as I felt her tremble beneath my hand, I knew we were both exactly where we wanted to be—caught in the gravity of our shared hunger, poised to dive deeper into the darkness.

With her over my knee, I felt the anticipation coil within me. Each breath she took was a promise of what was to come. My hand rose and fell in a deliberate rhythm, the first smack resonating through the room like a crack of thunder.

"One," I whispered, feeling her body tense beneath my palm.

"Please, Daddy," she whimpered, her voice thick with need. But I shook my head, savoring the power of the moment.

"Two," I counted, my hand connecting again with her skin, the impact sharper, more insistent.

"Touch me," she begged, writhing against my lap, but I denied her with silence, my resolve unwavering. Her pleas only spurred me on.

"Three." The third strike left a rosy imprint, her flesh yielding under my firm touch. She moaned, a mix of pain and pleasure in her voice.

"Four." Her body bucked, and I could feel the heat radiating from her, an incendiary force that threatened to consume us both.

"Last one, baby girl." The fifth stroke was the hardest, a crescendo of sensation that echoed through her shivering form.

"Marcus," she gasped, reaching back, fingers fumbling until they found my cock, hard and throbbing beneath her. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of desire racing through me.

"You're a naughty girl," I murmured, unable to hide the edge of admiration in my voice. Her hand moved slowly, experimentally, wrapping around me and beginning a tentative pump.

"Yes, Daddy," she acknowledged, voice laced with mischief as she increased her pace.

I landed another swat, this time pinching the tender skin of her butt, eliciting a delicious squeal. I couldn't resist any longer; my own hand snaked its way between her legs, finding her soaked and ready.

"God, you're so wet," I muttered, my fingers exploring her warmth, slickness coating my hand. Her grip tightened on me, mirroring the intensity of my touch.

"Feels good," she breathed.

Together we moved, our hands a synchronized symphony of pleasure and need. Her juices mingled with my own arousal, a testament to the fire we'd ignited together.

My fingers moved with a rhythm of their own, sliding inside Lucy's wet heat. Every whimper that escaped her lips sent a shiver through me. Her hand on my cock was relentless, pumping with an urgency that matched the racing of our hearts.

"God, Marcus," she moaned, her voice dipping into that sweet spot between pleasure and desperation. I felt her body tense, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. She was close, so damn close.

"That's it, baby girl," I encouraged, feeling the tension build in my own core as I watched her come undone. Her walls fluttered around my fingers, drawing me deeper into the intoxicating mix of sensations we shared. With a final cry, she shattered, coating my hand with her release.

I didn't give her time to recover. Flipping her over, I spread her thighs wide, hungry for her taste. My tongue traced her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch. She writhed beneath me, her hands tangling in my hair, urging me on.

"Marcus," she gasped, her voice a symphony of need. I focused on her clit, teasing it with expert flicks of my tongue until she bucked against my face. The taste of her orgasm filled my mouth, rich and heady.

"Fuck," she breathed, her body trembling as she came again, this time into my eager mouth. But she wasn't done; she wriggled, managing to position herself just right, taking my throbbing length into her mouth.

"Jesus, Lucy," I groaned, the sensation of her warm, wet mouth almost too much to bear. Her skillful tongue worked wonders, and I knew I was in trouble. The room seemed to shrink around us, our connection the only thing anchoring me to reality.

Lucy’s mouth was a revelation, a perfect storm of heat and pressure. I watched her, entranced by the sight of my cock disappearing between her lips, feeling the pull of her suction as if it were a tether to sanity itself.

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