'Aways has?' Adam wonders as he tears open his shirt, sacrificing the buttons for the instant gratification of naked skin on skin. To his amazement, he feels Amber's hand withdraw from her thong and begin unbuckling his belt. Another quick peek through half closed lids reveals Amber's eyes are still tightly closed as she drifts in a twilight realm somewhere between sleep and consciousness.
Adam lifts his hips as Amber adroitly slides his pants and briefs to his ankles. Adam hooks his fingers under her thong and Amber reciprocates, lifting her hips and ass off the bed so the thong slithers past her hips and along her legs. When it stops at her ankles, she pulls her knees to her chest and plucks it free.
"What do you think?" she murmurs, holding the very wet crotch panel over Adam's nose.
"I think I've died and gone to heaven," he replies with a deep inhale.
"But we're only getting started," Amber whispers, leaving the thong over Adam's face and taking his cock into her fingers. He feels her lips nuzzling against his ear, gently nipping his ear lobe at the same time she fondles his cock. Her fingers are like feathers, her strokes are long, slow and practiced.
Lazare's phrase comes back. "But she runs cold." The truth seems contrary. When she wants, Amber knows how to run hot. And not like some innocent, fumbling ingenue. That thought fades with as spasms of pleasure reverberate up and down his spine. It takes all his concentration to reach between her legs, drag his fingers gently over her slippery labia, and bury one finger in her vagina while the other hand search out her clit.
Amber moans in his her ear and her hips begin to undulate in time with his finger as it plunges in and out of the liquid velvet glove of womb. Her tongue swirls in his ear, then traces a path downhill across his stomach and abs until he feel her hot breath on the tip of his cock. Her grip tightens ever so slightly as her pace accelerates and her lips wrap around his cock head.
Adam's tongue follows a similar route, with a short detour to suckle on each nipple. As he nears the hot mess of her pussy, he begins lapping the pungent liquid from her naked pubis, where her fingers left a slippery wet trail. Then his mouth moves between her legs, where juice has formed tiny rivers flowing down her inner thighs. With his head buried between her thighs, he almost missed her next comment. "Your prick is so big tonite," she whispers as she withdraws her lips for an instant.
Adam's fingers press harder into her trembling erogenous zones at the compliment and when it returns to his cock, her mouth glides faster and further down the shaft. The sensation is so exquisite that Adam almost ignores the one strange word. "So big tonight." But why "tonight?" Amber has never seen or touched his cock before, except for a couple desultory brushes against the outside of his pants. But that thought, too, fades into oblivion as Adam's cock twitches with the first signal of an onrushing orgasm.
With his last bit of conscious willpower, Adam slows his pace. Amber immediately matches, working carefully but less insistently with lips and fingers. "Lazare, old buddy, she can run hot if she wants. Way hot," Adam thinks.
Even before the thought fades, Adam recognizes there's a problem with the logic. If he were writing code, there would have to be an extra line. "If Love Potion X, then result Y." Was Y an uncomplicated hot new lover? Or as Rowena hinted, something infinitely more complicated? A rabbit hole where he didn't want to go?"
Amber senses her partner slowing. Was it just a moment's reprieve to savor the pleasure? Or was she losing him? Sometimes her love daddy could be like that, fickle and coy at just the worst time. Interest waning just when it should be gaining. Nothing new, and she knows the answer. "Tongue," she whispers loudly. Then goes to work with her own tongue, swirling and leaping against the delicate skin under his cockhead.
A fresh rush of erotic energy jolts Adam from his reverie. His body yearns for release. All these months of frustration coming to fulfillment. His hips thrust on their own accord. His cock glides in and out of Amber's waiting lips.
Now she has him, Amber thinks, bobbing her head to match his thrusts and stroking his ass cheeks with her fingers moving inexorably toward the crack between them.
Coming from Amber, the single word "tongue" carries all the weight of a hypnotic suggestion. At first, he licks the outer labia as his fingers glide between them with increased urgency. Even in the darkness, he can see the glistening folds of her inner labia spilling out, and he eases the tip of his tongue into their furrows. Amber responds with a series of mewls and gasps. Soon her hips are moving also, grinding against his tongue and fingers.
Adam nears that place of no return. His body on fire. Spasms of heat rushing up and down his spine. Stomach aflame with desire. He replaces his fingers with his tongue, probing gently at first between the muscled walls of Amber's slippery vagina. Her hips grind against his mouth. Her scent and taste are overwhelming, urging him to completion.
Amber, too, is dancing on the edge. There's just on thing she needs to take her over. She knows Daddy can do it. His tongue on her cervix. It never fails. She presses from her diagram, compressing her womb. "Deeper, Daddy! Deeper," she pleads.
Even before he hears hear words, Adam knows what Amber wants. His lips compress her swollen labia, pushing the to the side. His tongue snakes between the walls of her steaming chamber. In and out. Deeper and deeper. Her hips flail and grind against his mouth. Her hands and fingers urge him on. And then the tip of his tongue finds the spongy wall at the end of his quest.
Amber explodes in series of contractions that begin in her torso and end with the muscles of her womb squeezing Adam's tongue, his proxy swollen cock, deeper and deeper. His real cock throbs and pulses and even in mid-contraction, Amber somehow sucks him deeper, and traps his cockhead against the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
His first ejaculation sprays against the back of her throat and Adam feels her gag reflex kicking in. It's much too late to withdraw. Amber chokes on the second rope of cum too. She never expected so much. But by the third, she is swallowing like she usually does. Her chest heaves and torso still shudders with little aftershocks. It's been a long time since Daddy was so inspired. So passionate. "Oh, Daddy," she sighs when Adam's cock finally does with from deep in her throat. "You know you are the only one!'
The last thing Adam actually remembers is the tip of Amber's finger pressing gently into his ass hole, her vagina contracting violently on his tongue, and the most powerful orgasm of his young life overtaking him with pent up ferocity.
Amber is asleep. Her breathing constant as a clock. So much for afterglow. His shrinking cock is nestled against her cheek, puddling cum.
Something gnaws at the back of Adam's mind. When it breaks through to his consciousness, it's a tidal wave of confusing facts and words, as dark and fetid as bayou water, sweeping him into to the rabbit hole.
Amber is no blushing virgin. Probably closer to pro. Disquieting, but also kinda neat. How many times as she done this? Dozens and dozens. Maybe hundreds. And what about "Daddy?" A generic term of endearment? Like "Babe."
Adam isn't so sure. What about the $5-grand shopping trips? A "Sugar Daddy, maybe?" Adam isn't so sure about that either. Not given the way every third sentence glorifies her real daddy.
A power wave of nausea washes over Adam. He barely makes it to the toilet, where after a thorough purge, the remains of his seafood dinner swirls down the drain. Rowena was so right. This is more than he can handle.
Adam washes his face with one end of his only towel. He soaks the other in warm water with one intention — removing ever possible trace of their fervid lovemaking. He starts with the little puddle on Amber's cheek, then moves carefully down her torso until her reaches her naked pussy. Wiping away the last traces of spittle and girl-cum is easier than he expects.
Dressing her is not so difficult either. The thong is soggy, but not soaked. Amber obediently lifts her hips and Adam takes one last, longing look at her pink pussy lips and the dark gap between them before sliding the thong in place. The bra is tricker, but again, Amber lifts her torso compliantly and Adam maneuvers it over her tits and manages the snap. Thank god it's strapless. Not so with the black cocktail dress, but somehow he succeeds with that to, examining it carefully for tell-take cum stains.
For Adam, the rest of the night is a dark funk. When Amber awakens about 9 and gets her bearings, she's angrier than a injured hornet. "Adam," she yells. "You didn't take me back to the sorority house! I can't go back like this now. What will people think?"
Adam rummages in his closet for a pair of cargo shorts and a clean blue polo shirt. "You'll be invisible in these."
"My heels won't," she frowns.
"I'll drive you. Nobody will notice bare feet."
"I suppose not," she says, grabbing his clothes and rushing to the bathroom. Amber takes a long pee and notices the sticky wetness in her thong. "Did we make out last night?"
"The usual," Adam says to the bathroom door. "Then you passed out. The Hurricane's, I suppose. Anyway, I didn't want to take you back in that condition. Unconscious."
"Oh. Good move. You are forgiven," she says over the flush.
"But I'm never forgiving your daddy," Adam says to himself. "Not ever. Not for you. Not for me."
###
"It's an old Southern tradition, I'm afraid. Poor daddies do it. Some of the rich ones too," Rowena says. "A Cajun psychic is half seer, half pseudo psychiatrist. I've seen it too many times."
