Daddy Issues

"Seems I have them, according to my therapist," she said. He looked up, across the bit of space between their lips and puckered lightly. She leaned in, all naked breasts on arms and sheets, and licked his mouth teasingly before settling in for a kiss of the yummy variety... all softness and just the edge of firm beneath lips sliding, whiskers tantalizing soft skin. "Really, baby? How's that?" he asked, grinning widely at his mistress. "Wellll," Therese smiled, trailing a finger over her lover's bare chest, "there is our age difference." "Nonsense," Paul laughed. "I'm only fifteen years older than you are, you adorable thing, hardly old enough to be your father." He reached out a hand and pinched her bottom, lazily drawing the sheet down to get a better look. "Need a spanking, love?" Her hair, edging toward long and all unruly curls, auburn, drifted over his shoulder as she rose up on one arm to look him squarely in the eye. "Offering to give me one, Daddy?" "I am so not your daddy." "You're mean and hateful. Hmmmph." Therese sat up in the hotel bed, naked sheets disheveled around her thighs, arms crossed beneath rather nice 38-D tits, and spun to face him. "I am very, very nice to you, brat," he smiled indulgently. "See?" Therese flashed him a triumphant grin. "You do encourage me, calling me diminutive nicknames and showing me off the way you do. You do treat me like a little girl sometimes, like your little dollhouse whore, like an incestuous parent."

Let her have her fantasies, Paul thought. Weird friggin' fantasies, but if she wanted to pretend he was her dad, that was fine with him just so she didn't talk about it when all he wanted was a good fucking. So far as he knew her father was overseas somewhere, and Therese never saw him anyway.

"You like me, and you know it," she murmured, running her hand down under covers to find him half-hard already inside brightly patterned boxer shorts. "So?" Paul grinned insolently. "I like you, so sue me." Therese began to lick little fluttery kisses under his waistband, eliciting moans and a half-hearted attempt at shorts removal. She took over the task, pulling them low on his thighs, then off. "You wear underwear to bed, you hateful beast." "You should see me at home, baby. I sleep in full armor." "Do not, you devil." she began flitting her tongue up the sensitive underbelly of his cock. "You've liked your wife just fine for several years now." "Can you not discuss her and blow me at the same time, please, baby?" Paul groaned. Good God.

Having a mistress was one thing, but having such an openminded one was sometimes not what he had bargained for. That he and Therese were both married, even happily so, bothered Therese not in the least. Paul, who found guilt a minor annoyance that crept up rarely if at all, did not feel that permission was necessary or even desirable to a good affair. And this one was a very, very good affair. Still....

Therese slid his cockhead between her lips, sucking him in deeply. "Mmmm, god, baby..." he moaned, his eyes rolling back. "Such a good little slut, such a hot little whore.. godddd....." Her hand grasped the shaft of him, moving up and down with her lips, flattening onto his belly as she slid his cock into the back of her throat.

Paul couldn't take it any more, and wanted to cum in her, or on her, but not into her mouth just yet. He'd waited nearly a year to fuck Therese this time, and he didn't want to miss anything. Pulling her up from his hard-on, he flipped her over onto her back and played Moses-parting-the-waters with her silky, voluptuous thighs. "Got something for ya, baby," he smiled, entering her heated wet velvet cunt in one stroke. Therese looked up into his deep green eyes with her lighter ones, and gasped, going glassy and lips-open, oh-so-innocent features registering surprised pleasure and heated desire all at once. She was right - he did like her, he thought, hot little bitch, and fucked her hard.

"Fuck me hard, lover, please," she gasped. "Like this?" he muttered, her ankles over his shoulders, pounding her into the mattress. "Mmmm hmmmm, uh huh," Therese gasped, tightening around him like a velvet-gloved fist. Paul changed angles again, rolling Therese to her hands and knees, entering her from behind. One hand grasped Therese's curvy hip, the other found its way into her hair. He reached up the back of her head, fingers outstretched, and grabbed a handful of auburn tresses, turning her head back as he leaned over her.

"Whose are you?" Paul growled into his mistress' ear. "Yours," Therese whimpered. Whimpered as she melted, hot glass around his cock, sucking him in deeper and tighter and hotter and harder and mmmmm.... "What do I do with you, my darling slut?" he snarled, pounding her cervix, running his hip-hand over her back, hard, not quite scratching but nearly, feeling the pressure build almost to explosion in his cock. "W-whatever you want, love," she sighed, little moans and whimpers escaping as she imploded around him.

He came, then, erupting inside her, releasing her hair, using both hands on her hips to pull her to him faster, harder, droplets of sweat rolling off him onto her back. Therese, beneath him, sank flat out on her belly on the bed, the hotel sheets long since fallen to the floor. They fell into a heap, together, all flesh and sweat and cum and skin, kissing until the room spun around them and their breath caught in each other's airspace.

"Ummm.... where does Mom think you are, anyway, darlin'?" Therese asked. "Oh, I told her I was in Memphis, working on a project for work," Paul said. "Where did you tell her you were?" "Oh, I didn't," Therese said. "Last I talked to her she still thinks I'm mad at her for marrying you in the first place."