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You're sitting in the dry tub, anxiously awaiting my entry. You're dressed in my favorite maid outfit, perfect for serving me after a long day of work. Your eyes brighten as you watch me undress. A sparkle in your eyes replaces the anxiety as you see the last piece of my clothing hit the bathroom floor, revealing that your favorite pacifier is hard and erect.

Your mouth waters as I adjust the faucet and the tub begins to fill. Your pussy is already wet by the time the level of water reaches it.

Stepping into the tub, you silently ask permission with your eyes before taking my cock. I give a nod and you eagerly take me into your mouth. Your tongue circles the tip then licks it up and down. Your drool from your anticipation drips down the length of it as you noisily fuck it with your mouth.

One of your hands reaches between your thighs, pushing the thin fabric of the costume aside and frantically attempts to relieve the tingling of your clit. You gag, draw back, and wait for me to settle in the tub, then obediently straddle me, settling your hips into position. You reach down between us, seize me, and guide me into you.

We ignore that your thrashing against me sends waves of bathwater to the floor as we both surrender to the burning needs igniting our loins.

Yes, Baby Girl always knows what Daddy needs after a long day at work.

#macmystery's writing

Hot :3 hehe

"No, no, Baby Girl, open your eyes. You don't want to miss seeing how my friends can't stop stroking their cocks. They love watching you on my lap, legs spread, cunnie dripping from the way I caress your clit. The way you hump my hand, seeking my fingers to fill your sweet pussy is driving them wild. Seeing how turned on you are, your head lolled back on my shoulder, mouth agape, drool slipping from the corner of your luscious lips makes them so eager to fill your mouth as well as your tight, warm cunt. Yes, enjoying watching them before I unleash them on you. "

"Enjoy!"

TORTURE

If what you do to me is torture

Then, lock me in the dungeon of your thoughts

Bind me to the bed of your imagination

Ride me until I'm drained of cum and will

For if this is torture - then torture is paradise

Riding High

Jake had spoken incessantly about his family's ranch and how I should visit. The trip there was insane. We were driving for an ungodly amount of time over verdant, rolling terrain. When I asked when we would arrive at the ranch, he replied with a chuckle, “We've been on it for twenty minutes.” For a lifelong city dweller whose experience was that if you had a backyard big enough for a pool, it doubled the price of the house. This much acreage was incomprehensible.

We pulled up to a paddock with a square footage equal to my city block. We exited the truck and leaned on the fence railing. “Here comes little sis now. Watch this,” he said directing my attention in the direction of the barn at the west end. Suddenly, a calf sprang from an enclosure. In hot pursuit was “little sis.” That was certainly a misnomer.

I had anticipated a physique similar to Jake's, whose medium build was hardly outstanding. Instead, little sis could only be described as … voluptuous! Sitting astride a massive stallion in hot pursuit of the calf, she dwarfed anyone that I would consider little. She had lain the reigns on the horn of the saddle and both hands were occupied with a long rope, the loop of which she twirled above her head. Long curly light brown, waist-length hair flowed like a banner from beneath a Western hat. At first, it seemed that the horse was simply trained to follow the fleeing calf. Upon closer examination, I noted that subtle shifts in her weight and prodding of her knees on the horse's side were actually directing its course. She let loose the lasso and the calf collapsed in a cloud of dust, dutifully bound within seconds.

“Come on,” Jake said. “Let me show you to the guest accommodations. It's a loft apartment above one of the barns, but don't worry, it is decked out to your tastes. You won't notice it's location at all.” He was not mistaken. Furnished in a typical Western style, it looked like an ad from a magazine. “I'll have Sarah bring you up fresh linens. Everyone showers after a hard day of ranching before dinner, so you might as well do the same.”

I threw my backpack on the bed and settled into a plush chair of speckled cowhide, which was extremely comfortable. The door opened and in strode Sarah. Without even an introduction, she laid a stack of towels on an end table. She flashed what seemed to be a smile which shone only in her brilliant green eyes and said, “All the showers at the main house are occupied, so I'll use yours if you don't mind.” It was not a request despite the curtesy, as she began to shed her dusty clothes before reaching the bathroom door. She didn't bother to close the bathroom door as double D breasts appeared when the unnecessary bra hit the floor and she stepped into the shower.

I picked my jaw up off the floor, shook my head, and thought, “Open spaces aren't the only thing different out here.” My mind was awash with contrary thoughts. What would Jake say if he knew what she had just done? Is this normal in the country? What if. My thoughts trailed off into an abyss. I can't think of such things. Moving to the bed, I lay with my eyes closed. OK, I'm not even going to look anymore. I'll keep them closed until she leaves.

The water stopped and I waited what seemed an appropriate amount of time for her to gather her things and leave. I heard a subtle shuffle across the carpet and chanced a glance to see if she was leaving. Instead, she stood next to the bed, wrapped in a very insufficient towel.

“Jake has spoken a lot about you. You know, boy's bar talk. Some of the things he's said have me curious, having never experienced them myself, so I thought you being so close with him, you could help me out.”

Once more, it was less of a question than a command as the towel dropped to the floor she, lifted one knee to the bed and was above me before I could utter a protest. Would I have ordered a protest? I'll never know. Without a further word, she made her inquiry known by straddling my shoulders. My eyes flashed to her center. She was wet, but not from the shower. I watched as her hand slid through a neatly trimmed patch of hair and settled at the top of her slit. A single fingertip caressed her clit and the flow of moisture on her pussy lips increased substantially. Her beautiful green eyes were locked on mine, gauging my reactions, but not caring what they were if they contradicted what she wanted.

Slowly she lowered herself toward my mouth. Reflexively, my lips parted in acceptance. The first touch of the silk-lined lips felt like a tender mother's kiss, but what followed was far less paternal. She took care to brush her labia against my mouth, guiding them sensually up and down my mouth. The aroma of her juices was intoxicating. With a euphoric relinquishment to the situation, my tongue shot out, splitting the nether lips. Immediately, my lips were coated with her nectar. I ran my tongue over my lips, savoring the taste of the clear liquid ambrosia.

I reached my arms over her thighs to pull her close. Her thighs rippled with the conditioning earned from labor and horse riding. She used both hands to spread her pussy lips and was inundated with her juices flowing over her soft lips. I searched out her clit, danced my tongue over it, sucked her labia into my mouth, and sucked the juices from them. She reacted by pressing her clit against my tongue, at first not moving, but then her hips took up a well-rehearsed rhythm, learned from years of braking stallions, but now she was breaking me, grinding, sliding her clit over the tip of my tongue.

I reached back to grasp the cheeks of her ass. They were taunt with power, yet plush with sensuality as my fingers pressed in, pulling her firmly against my mouth. I was hypnotized by the undulations of her hips, swirling, grinding, thrusting against my tongue. What began as minor murmurs from her lips swelled into a symphony of moans and gasps as she could only be described as fucking my mouth. She fell forward, grasped the top of the headboard, and continued her frantic race to orgasm at the expense of my mouth.

First came the shudders, coursing through those powerful thighs. Her breath hitched in her throat, her back locked in a curl, and my mouth was sprayed with her squirt of orgasm. When she could breathe again, it came in fractured gasps, groping for air to fill her lungs as her juices filled my mouth. She fell off my chest at a ninety-degree angle to me, her massive breasts heaving in release.

“Well, what those women reported to my brother about your skills were no exaggerations! I just had to know for myself.”

I don't know if I was more disturbed that Jake had discussed my sex life with his sister, or her boldness at not asking if I was up for the experience.

She rolled off me and the bed and sprang to her clothes with the same speed with which she had secured the stray calf. Turning back to me she said nonchalantly, “Dinner is in 30. You should probably get that shower now.”

And with that, she was gone.

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