I grew addicted to the feeling of desperately wanting to finish, but not letting myself, and just as much to exploding multiple times in a row without barely taking a breather. I had never called him “daddy” ever since I was a little girl, but I couldn’t stop whispering, shouting, screaming that one word. Black porn – Becs, he said, come here for a bit. This went on for two full weeks, until I found another pastime, one that proved to be all around me all along. I was the first to find them, and they were more true than anything I had ever said before, or have since. I shuffled closer to his face, burying the tip of his dick under my top. It was warm, sturdy, almost unbreakable, but soft and smooth nonetheless. And yet we both knew there was only one step up after this – and neither one of us seemed too hesitant to go there. Three weeks in, and with another line crossed, the need to hide our sexuality diminished even more.
