Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Oh, yes you do, Cindy Lou,” he corrects as his free hand comes to the top of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging so that I’m forced to sit up straight, the pantyhose leash still tight around my throat. “You do, and you’re good at it. There isn’t a Who in Whoville who’d suck Daddy’s dick better than his good little Cindy Lou just did. And you love your Christmas decorations, don’t you? Be honest, this place isn’t nearly pretty enough, is it?”
I shake my head. “No, but—”
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head as he starts to pump faster, moving the head closer to my face, so that the eye seems to wink at me every time he jerks his shaft. “At least, not yet. Butt stuff can wait. Right now, I just want to turn you into my own little winter wonderland. Dashing through the snow...” His hand moves faster, a fwap, fwap, fwapping sound filling the space between us, the thick veins on the back of his hand moving under the flesh, fingers squeezing tight as he jacks off pointing the weeping slit at my nose. “Come on, you know this one. Sing with me. Dashing through the snow, in a…”
The low timbre of his voice is oddly melodic, and honestly, he’s pretty solid at carrying a tune, the Grinch mask stretching and distorting as he sings. But this… God, what the fuck is actually happening here?
“One horse open sleigh,” I join in my voice cracking and stuttering as his grows stronger, louder. His dick getting thicker, coming closer, so I flinch each time he pumps in case this is the one. “O’er the fields…we go.”
“Laughing all the way! Ha ha ha!” He shouts the laugh, then it all devolves into a roar as he pumps and squeezes, his hand moving desperately. Then, with a hard tug on my hair, I yelp as white cream spurts from the swollen tip with such force that I don’t even have time to flinch before the first thick jet lands just under my left eye.
I try to pull away as warm cum coats my lips, my cheek, sticking to my eyelashes as I blink, blink, blink, but he has me held tight.
And he told me I was a good producer?
He already unloaded what felt like a mug full of his crème brûlée inside me not more than twenty minutes ago, and now the seemingly endless spurts jet from the tiny slice in the tip until my face is a bukkake of man cream.
My vision is impaired by the sticky covering, but I watch as he squeezes the last low spurts from the tip, then releases his hand, scooping the warm, thick release onto the tips of two fingers and stuffing it into my mouth. I don’t question what’s happening or my instinctual reaction to close my lips around his fingers and suck, moaning as the salty flavor spreads over my tongue, my nipples drawing so tight a spurt of hot milk squeezes out to drip down my body as I squirm against the building urge in my core.
“I’m going to make sure to give you a good, warm protein prize every day, Cindy. You’re eating for two, as they say, and I want to make sure you’re getting all the nutrients you and your baby need. After all, I’m not a monster.”
I bite down on his finger, hard enough to make him growl, but when I release him, his chuckle is more entertained than angry.
“Little Cindy Lou, so fucking naughty. You’re angry. But not with me, I think. Angry with yourself for liking this. Well, Daddy’s ready to play some more, so it’s your fucking lucky day.”
My scalp is on fire, but my body is alight with need as he wraps one thick, strong arm beneath my shoulders and lifts me up in one smooth motion, depositing me on the table, the nylon stocking still wrapped around one palm.
I squirm and put up a small, futile fight, knocking the blue mug to shatter against the floor.
“Stop,” I beg. “Please, no more. Not again.”
The words come out broken, a sob clawing up my throat.
“Shhh, my Christmas angel,” he growls, his voice all gravel and malice as he drags one hand down my leg. “You’re gonna take every last inch of me again soon. But I want to give you some very special kisses first. You will need to thank me for letting you come on my face, too.”
His palm flattens on my stomach, and when his tongue darts out to lick the seam where my legs meet—
“Pleeeeeease, no, it’s too much. Anything but that.” I thrash against the lapping of his tongue. It feels too intimate, too good. I hate it. I hate the way I can’t stop the lust and desire from swimming through me.