john doe scopophobia

“I'm glad,” I squeezed her in a hug, smiling happily. “Not that I'm not happy to take care of Brucie myself, whenever Daddy isn't already doing me, and I have the time—but it was so hot, watching him doing you, too, and then getting to eat your pussy after he was done!”

“I'll show you!” I laughed, leaning in for a kiss on her lips. “Then you'll see!” I rolled up out of the bed and hurried out the door, down the hall to my old room. Other than to change clothes and use my computer, I'd barely even set foot inside ever since Daddy had made me his. I opened the door and stuck in my head.

She swallowed in preparation and stuck her tongue out and touched it against his sack. Much like the coffee she had this morning, the taste was as strong as the smell, though she would drink this flavour every morning if she could. Salty, smoky, and musky like her dad. She poked her tongue out again and gave it a slightly longer lick on the left nut, and then a longer one on the right. It didn’t take long until she was fondling her father’s balls with her whole tongue. Bathing them in her saliva. Lifting one ball up and down with tongue, she caressed underneath and pulled it closer to her mouth. With how hot her breath and drool were, the skin had softened even more, and she was able to bring one of his balls into her mouth. Her lips clamped down around it, not willing to let it escape. Her tongue swirled around her captive, and she sucked on his nut like a lollipop.