Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“What did I tell you, Coco?” he grits out against my ear, his thumb hooking into the back waistband of my panties and pulling them down over the curve of my bottom. “You make men hard. Teenagers all the way up through a grandfather like me—”
“There are no other grandfathers like you—”
He hisses in my ear, sinks his teeth into the lobe. “You do not interrupt me while I’m speaking, young lady.”
“Okay,” I whimper, my sex drawing inward. Squeezing. “Yes, Daddy.”
Walt tries to clamp down on a hoarse sound but doesn’t accomplish it in time. He likes it. Likes being called by that title. That realization is such a relief, I begin trembling. “You strutted into the bar with your tits bobbing up and down, face like a fucking angel. You let that child think he could get his dick inside what is…”
“What is yours?” I supply hopefully in a strangled whisper.
“You can’t be mine, dammit.” His words might have hit me like bullets if he wasn’t molding my breasts in his hands, sliding his hands in through the neckline of my dress and stroking, pinching, teasing my nipples into stiff peaks. Laboring to breathe in the back of my hair. “You can’t.”
I arch my back so I can press my butt back into his lap, wiggling and shifting side to side on his lengthy arousal. “Yes, I can. I want to be yours.” Something vulnerable wells up inside me and collides with the magnetic connection I feel for this man. “I need to be.”
“Angel baby…” His right hand leaves my breasts, fingertips slowly skating down over my belly, hesitating, before sinking inside the front of my panties, delving into my valley of wet flesh, his groan loud in my ear. “This is too fresh for an old man. And yet, if you’d let that horny nephew of mine anywhere near it, he wouldn’t have made it to sunrise.”
“You’re the only one I want to dance with.” I lay my head back against his strong shoulder, watching closely as the view of my breasts makes his jaw turn slack. “Show me what it feels like.”
6
Walt
Any warm-blooded man would say yes. They’d fumble with their zipper in their haste to fuck this gorgeous young doll. I’m not supposed to be a normal man, though. My entire life has been about war. Hard decisions. I’m stronger than this, aren’t I? I know what the repercussions will be if I “dance” with Coco. The family, the son I want to know better, will be disgusted.
Jesus, though, my throbbing prick tells me she’ll be one hundred percent worth it.
Even more dangerous, my heart is pounding louder and more insistently by the second.
Coco makes me feel like I have a purpose again. Makes me feel like I was supposed to retire just so I could find this young girl and care for her, make her happy. It’s my next and most important mission. But a sixty-three-year-old man can’t be with a girl who has just reached the legal drinking age. It’s sick. It will turn my family away from me—and worse, she’ll eventually want to be with a boy who shares her interests. Who is closer to her in age.
I could bring her back to my room and bang her good and rough for the duration of the trip. I could come so deeply inside of her that she daydreams about it for the rest of her life, pines for me when some young buffoon can’t bring her to orgasm. God, I want to. I’m also uncertain whether I could simply walk away when the weekend is over. If I’ve had her. Felt her gush and tremble and moan and call me Daddy, dammit. She’s already becoming an addiction and I haven’t even gotten a single inch of my cock wet in that pussy.
You can do the right thing. You have to.
With the willpower of a thousand men, I quit grinding on her tight ass.
I step back from temptation, breathing hard. But I don’t manage to end the time alone with her completely. She starves me, this girl. And that’s fine, as long as I don’t feast on her.
“We either dance or we go back inside.” I cough to clear the gravel from my throat. “What’s it going to be?”
Slowly, she turns around, face flushed pink, eyes glassy. Hot for my old cock in her sweet, young pussy and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I want to dance, obviously,” she murmurs, sliding her arms around my neck and gradually, torturously, locking the fronts of our bodies together. I grip onto her waist and can’t stop myself from inhaling the light yet sensual scent of her hair, my fingertips digging into her sides out of pure need—and pure self- preservation—because her dress is still bunched up around her hips. I want to get my hands on those supple ass cheeks the way a miser worhips his gold.