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We stared at each other as I knee-walked up to her head. Her eyes were drawn back to the swaying, bouncing cock in front of her face. She reached out to grab my cock and wrapped her hands needfully around the base, squeezing and stroking it a little.The concubines talked. Sex slaves or not, some topics were off-limits with sponsors, even Dipak. I did have a skill for going unnoticed though, so I heard a few of the detailed concubine conversations about sex. It is why I went for Amita's head: she had a passion for sucking dick.Amita held my dick in position with her small, warm, graceful hands. She stuck her tongue out and flicked the tip under the crown, teasing the glans with a few swipes. She looked up into my eyes and giggled when my cock pulsed in response. My reaction, a groan of pleasure, calmed Amita's nerves instantly; in this, she had a woman's power over me and knew all would be well.Amita met and held my gaze as she teased the underside of my crown again with her tongue.. There was a new one there called, “I LUV MY DADDY”. Terrified, she looked in it and saw picture after picture of her and her father hugging or posing together.“My sweet girl, you must be wondering what the punishment is. I merely thought your time with your father was so sweet and touching. Now you’re task is simple. You’re going to touch yourself while you think about your loving doting daddy. You must look at his picture and imagine him touching you, and you must want it. While you’re doing that, you must whisper dirty things about your father. I’ll be listening intently and if you’re not thinking about him, I’ll know it. When you cum, you can go to sleep.”Her hands trembled. Why? Why would he do this to her? How could she do that? She’d never be able to cum, not while thinking about Daddy. He was her safety net, her home base, he wasn’t like that! Her lip trembled as she wrote back, “Please, I’m sorry for earlier, I promise, I’ll be good.”“Of course you will,” came his reply, “and.
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”She opened the front door and ushered me into the front hallway. I could hear someone in the kitchen.“Mom, I’ve got company,” Wendy called. I was surprised. In the weeks I had known her, we had never come to her house. A few minutes later, I was face to face with an older, plumper version of Wendy. “Mom, this is Paul Taylor. Paul, this is my mother, Linda Stenzel. Mom, Paul’s my boyfriend.”Knock me over with a feather.“Paul, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come into the kitchen. I’m making dinner. Would you like to stay?”I glanced at Wendy who nodded.“Of course, if you have enough,” I said.“Oh, we have plenty. Come in, come in.”We followed her back to the kitchen and sat at the counter as she returned to cutting up vegetables. Mrs. Stenzel insisted that I call my Mom and let her know where I was. I did as I was told as Wendy joined her mother behind the counter to help.“Wendy,” her mother said. “Why is this the first time we’re meeting Paul? I recognize his name. You’ve been.

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