Page 26 of Sugar Daddies

It takes me a second to feel the slide of two thick fingers into my wet pussy, too slick to be normal under such a short amount of time after being woken up and touched.

My legs quiver and my body shake as Daddy spreads my walls with a thumb smoothing over the juices into the folds where my clit throbs softly. It’s a small thrilling hum that pulsates with the flushed heat that strikes the color of my already pink skin.

The logical part of me should stop Daddy’s hand because his friend is watching our intimate moment, and the illogical part wants to take Mr. Stephan’s hand and let him join in on the fun.

I settle for the middle ground.

Taking a supportive hold on Mr. Stephan’s hand, I shakily squeeze it, and he hungrily kisses my lips at the same time as Daddy puts enormous pressure on my clit. It brings a squeal of shock and neediness that sparks outrage in my other neglected nipple.

Mr. Stephan doesn’t help me feel good. He only kisses me gently as he watches me fall apart piece by piece at the capable hands of Daddy.

I muffle my moans by biting down on my lip. It stops some as most comes out a little too desperate for the freedom to trigger a strong jerk of Daddy’s cock on the curve of my butt.

Mr. Stephan’s eyes curve, and it’s the same deviously handsome devil from last night. I have no time to open my mouth when it’s busy with panting and moaning. I beg to stop the torture on my body. Daddy senses my urgency, and it’s why he is thrumming my sodden clit with vigor.

I lay there like a docile, little girl as a show of submission. The hum of approval resonates in the back of my head as Daddy fucks my pussy in front of another man.

A course of excitement crackles through my blood as I roll my hips to help him bring me to an orgasm. The length of his cock is fully hard. I remember the shape from anywhere, and I know the twitching means that he needs to pull my tiny cunt taut with his big cock.

Their impeccable self-restraint from touching their cocks amazes me, but I know better than that. They’re waiting for the right moment, and something at the back of my mind tells me that I won’t be getting either of them today for reasons still unknown to me.

Maybe it’s the fact that we haven’t discussed anything yet, we’re still in open waters and interpretation is at an all-time high for me to make up reasoning that will fan the doubt in me. Insecurity would have taken me if Daddy didn’t instill in my head that he wants me even if I turned into a zombie.

He had to use terms that I will understand since he uses big words when he works, and he doesn’t want to mix business with pleasure. Daddy keeps whatever is going on with the company to himself, and he doesn’t want me to worry about how he brings in revenue.

I’m just a bit more curious as to how his sweets company can be so successful for someone who doesn’t like sweet things.

It’s an ironic thing to muse about, but when I become an investigator about why he chooses this occupation, I’m left with more questions than answers.

The tell-tale signs of my orgasm are starting to display, and Mr. Stephan doesn’t waste time to focus on the depth of my pleasure. Shaking thighs, high-pitched moans, and teary eyes are good indicators, but when I say Daddy in the sweetest voice, I’m two seconds from coming.

Daddy cups the curve of my breast as he drags his thumb over the puffy nub. It draws more blood and stiffens under his ministration.

He fucks my pussy harder and faster, turning my voice into a broken recorder of wanton cries. My attention is split between the brutal thrust of his finger scraping on my pussy and the constant attention to my clit through forceful rubbing to the soothing and silken caresses against the smooth column of my throat.

I’m going to come, and it’s going to be open for Mr. Stephan to see, but Daddy withdraws his hand with sticky fluids breaking and snapping coldly back to my heated cunt that’s throbbing and drooling for the thickness of his fingers to shove back inside.

It’s waiting and waiting, but it doesn’t come back.

I mewl pathetically, “Daddy, please.”

He hums offhandedly from behind me, and his body leaves mine. The chilliness from the room blows the kiss of thousands of ice particles on my back.

Mr. Stephan takes over with one hand between my thighs and sinking two thick fingers inside my soaked wall. The heel of his palm grinds down on my clit, and black dots form in my vision, stealing the beauty of his rugged appearance.

He pushes me on the back and hovers over me with an elbow on the pillow; he only needs one hand to make me a gasping mess with my juices smeared on his fingers.

It’s different. Being fucked by a pair of fingers titters my hazy mind to the musk of his scent. It’s different in a good way because Daddy’s fingers make me feel good and Mr. Stephan does the same to my body, but it’s the fact that it’s his that makes it better with the reassurance of his calm heartbeats over the roaring of my own in my ears.

My watery eyes blink, and I sniff wetly at him.

He didn’t waste any time exploring my body like I assumed he would do since it’s the first time he’s touching my body so intimately. Granted, I didn’t know he was going to touch me at all in the sensual ways of making me succumb to his domineering efforts.

A flare of heat rushes through my body, and every inch of me reflectively helps my hips grind down on his wicked fingers.

I turn my head as I hear ruffling sound of Daddy getting dressed. My mind whispers his company’s name and work comes to my thoughts.

“W-where are you going?” I shudder, nudging the back of my head to the smooth curve of Mr. Stephan’s neck.

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