Debbie Jones - Daddy And Me

"You were thinking of us having sex, too," he grinned excitedly.

"Yes, yes, Daddy, I was. And I want your shaft without that sheath of rubber coming between us. I want to feel your skin in me."

"Oh, baby doll," he said coming over to me. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to mine and kissing me.

I felt his hammer-dong against my gash. Now I was crazy to get him inside me so we could have our fuck. "Oh, Daddy… let's do it quick… I'm so hot." He picked me up, and carried me to the bed. I spread my legs for him, and when he straddled me with his huge pecker aimed at my pussy, I thought I'd go out of my gourd.

"Fuck it," I gasped. He shoved his tool in side me and began giving it to me.

I reached around, gripping his buttocks, pulling him tighter to me as he slammed it home.

"Do it in time to the African drums, Daddy… that's screwing wild. I want it hot, and fast and horny."

"Baby, open your mouth. I'll tongue fuck your face while I stab your pussy."

I opened my lips, his tongue found mine and he flicked his tongue over my quivering tongue at tremendous tempo. I kneaded his firm, round buttocks in my hands as he thrust inside me.

"I love it," I gasped, pulling away from his mouth a moment. "I love the feel of the head of it sliding inside of me… ohhhh, keep doing it… I love it."

I drove one finger up his asshole, and sort of guided his buttocks as he charged up me.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck that cock," I gasped, "let me feel it all up there. I want it all. Shove it… fuck me in time to the drumbeats. That's it… ohhhh, Daddy, fuck it."

As the savage drumbeats pounded out their sensuous beat, I thought I'd go out of my gourd. His cock thrusts were timed to their tempo just like I wanted them to be.

"Those Africans got the beat," I moaned as I felt him ram it up there with feeling in time to the beat.

"Baby, a man can't last long doing it like this," he gasped, driving it up there with the full fury and force of a savage fucker.

"Ohhhh, I dig this," he told me, "twist your ass around. That's it… Grind it. Snap that pussy."

I did a bump and grind, gripping his dick tightly in my twat. This got him hotter.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck," he cried, as he rammed it to the finish line, flooding my pussy with his joy juices.

"Ohhhh, I'm there… baby, I'm coming, keep your ass moving. Ohhhh, like that… don't stop now, let me finish. Ohhhh, I love your cunt, Debbie, I love it."

I was coming, too, now. On target, like real lovers.

The fucking session had reached a shattering climax just like our love. This was it. I knew it had to end. The way we could turn on with each other, and fuck every conceivable way was almost madness. I certainly hoped I'd never meet any man who did so much for me because it was too much. He didn't pull out right away. He lay there, pressing against me, peppering my face with little kisses.

"I love you, Debbie, I love you," he whispered, "you can't go now… now that we know how much we mean."

"I must go… oh, Daddy. I don't want to… but where could this end… It might kill either one of us because we fit too well, we love too well."

That was my last time with Daddy. The next morning he took me to O'Hara Airport and I got on a jet for Los Angeles.

"Goodbye, baby doll," he smiled, through tear-streaked eyes. "Take care, now, please… write to me."

I kissed him goodbye and boarded the plane. I didn't promise him anything. I wanted to close that Chapter of my life for good. If I al-lower myself to carry a torch it might burn out my life.

The flight was fantastic. The plane dipped low over the Grand Canyon and I quickly got out my camera and took a picture of it. By the time we got to the San Bernadino mountains I had managed to pull myself together, vowing to forget Daddy and our sex relationship forever.

By the time, we lowered to land in Los Angeles I was in very good spirits. The sparkling lights of the city down below, spread out for miles in all directions, excited me. It was a remarkably beautiful sight, and now I was anxious to see it closeup.

When I got off the airport bus at a Hollywood hotel, I looked about. What a fabulous city I thought. Tower apartments of steel and glass loomed on all sides. Grauman's Chinese Theater with its strange forecourt with footprints, the circle tower restaurant at Holiday Inn, Max Factor's shimmering black sky scraper, and then an ugly old building with phony elegance attracted my eye. It was early Roman style, but early Hollywood copy. It looked like a movie-set more than an actual building. But as I walked closer to it, I saw the prices. Fifteen dollars a week caught my eye on a gaudy red sign in front of the third staircase leading to its entrance.

I checked in at the apartment building and began to wonder if it was a cat house.

"Hi, sexy," a nice-looking young man smiled as I walked down the hall.

I didn't pay him any mind at all. I certainly wasn't peddling pussy. When I found some well-off man who owned a model agency or a person with power connected with films, I'd certainly be willing to give them a screw of their life-but not for cheap people who'd live in a fire-trap like this dump.

Inside my depressing room, I glanced out to see the mountains rising behind me in the distance. I saw an old house that resembled something out of the 1890's halfway up the mountain and at the crest there was an oriental mansion of enormous size. It fascinated me.

But inside the room, the chipped-paint on the walls depressed me. And there was the distinct odor of garlic from somebody cooking.

I didn't even unpack. I just dropped on the bed and drifted off to sleep. I woke up around eleven and realized how all alone I was. The hurt I felt at the sudden realization I was on my own with a hundred and twenty dollars to my name hit me with a wallop amidst such morbid surroundings. I vowed. I'd check out of there and get in a place that didn't depress me. This was the type of rathole that could make Pollyanna contemplate suicide.

I just picked up my lone bag of luggage, walked down the hall, down the creaking staircase and through the fleabitten lobby to the series of phony steps. As I descended the third terrace, I felt a lift. Free at last. Walking down the street I saw a new hotel it had class, elegance and what I needed-a lot of prestige. Why should I lock myself in failure. If I had faith in myself, I should prove it by risking my money.

"How much is it?" I asked, when I looked at the picture on the suite of the tenth floor.

"Forty dollars is all," the desk man smiled.

"I'll take it," I told him. When I got up to the room and saw the view I flipped. This was living. No wonder people loved Hollywood… it had class.

It was eleven-thirty when I got back on the boulevard to hunt for a restaurant. Suddenly, staggering near me I saw a man who was obviously drunk. He reeled toward the traffic in the street.

"Take it easy," I called, racing to his side to make sure he didn't take the next step into the rushing traffic against the red light.

"Oh, thank you," he grinned, good-naturedly, "you saved my life… but it isn't worth saving," he laughed.

"Don't talk that way… you nearly killed yourself."

"I know," he laughed, "I've tried to for years, but somebody up there won't let me."

"You'd better come in here and get some coffee," I told him, trying to steady him. We went into a small sidewalk cafe and I ordered some strong coffee for both of us.

"Where are you from?" he smiled.

"Does it make any difference?"

"No," he laughed drunkenly, "long as it has two legs and a cunt."

"Watch your language," a waitress bent over and told him angrily.

"Watch your… " he snapped, looking down at her boobs. She pulled up quickly and walked over to the manager, who nodded grimly, but didn't come over to us.