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I'd bet $100 here cunt was already wet, but she'd never in a million years admit that. Instead, as per usual, she shimmied off her tight jeans (no panties), and then made a show of parting her thighs and immediately squirting baby oil on her slit. Laying on her back, on top of the covers, she spread her legs wide, feet arched erotically with toes pointing. Then she placed her arms above her head on the pillows, palms up, a position of total surrender."Fuck me, Steve," she urged, her voice emotionless.I wasted no time doffing my robe, exposing my rock-hard erection. I mounted my daughter and rammed my stiff cock all the way into her. "Unh!" she grunted as I penetrated her. It was almost a sound of protest, intentional on her part: she never moaned at the start of a session.As I commenced thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out of her well-lubed seam, I asked her how things were at home with her husband Neil and their two daughters, Vicky and Hanna."None of your business, you. We talked without stopping, leaving the table only to eat and pee. She told me more than any child has the right to know about her relationship with Dad and Mr. Johnson and how the three of them fitted together. She told me of her subjugation by Mr. Johnson and the joy-and the pain-it brought her, and how Dad was becoming more demanding since he now saw what she held deep in her heart.When Dad arrived home that night, we were still there. Mother was still collared and the leash was still attached. He looked at the two of us with raw lust in his eyes."Cassie knows everything," she said."Good. We won't need to hide it," he replied. He took Mom's leash and led her upstairs.Over the twelve short days before the fateful Thursday when Mr. Johnson would come for me, Mom and I spent a great deal of time together. We talked and cried, and sometimes just sat in the quiet, holding each other.We shopped, both at stores and over the Internet. I had plenty of clothes, including a couple of outfits.
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