Chapter 126: Sucking My Father-in-law's Cock 02

I had been folding towels—Mark’s golf towels, that was still smelling faintly of grass and sunscreen—when I heard the soft tread of his loafers on the hallway tile. My stomach did that familiar, guilty flip, I didn’t turn around. I kept folding, pretending the stack needed perfect alignment, pretending my pulse wasn’t already racing.

He didn’t speak at first.

He simply walked up behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of his body before his hands found me. One palm settled low on my belly, his fingers splayed wide, while the other slid up to cup my breast through the thin cotton of my tank top. I had no bra on again, because I’d noticed how easy it made things yesterday.

His mouth brushed the side of my neck.

“You’re still leaking me,” he murmured, voice so low it barely carried over the hum of the dryer. “I can smell it.”

Heat rushed to my face. He was right, I hadn’t showered after he left the kitchen last night. I’d gone to bed with him still inside me, dried on my thighs, and this morning I’d woken up sticky and aching and shamelessly wet all over again.

His hand on my stomach drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my soft cotton shorts. I had no panties on either—just bare, slick skin. His middle finger found my clit immediately, swollen and sensitive from yesterday’s escapade and circled once, slow and deliberate.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands freezing on the half-folded towel.

“Already so wet for me again,” he said against my ear. “Did you touch yourself thinking about it last night? After Mark kissed you goodnight and rolled over?”

I bit my lip, and nodded once.

His chuckle was dark, quiet. “Good girl.”

He turned me then, gentle but firm, until my back was against the washing machine. The metal was cool through my tank top, and he lifted me onto the edge in one easy motion, spreading my thighs wide with his hips.

The shorts came down in a single tug—past my hips, past my knees, and kicked off somewhere behind him.

He looked down at me, exposed and glistening under the harsh fluorescent light.

“Spread yourself,” he ordered softly.

My hands shook as I reached down, hooking two fingers on each side and opening my folds for him. The cool air hit my overheated skin and I shivered. His cum from yesterday had mostly dried, but fresh arousal was already welling up, slick and obvious.

Daniel exhaled roughly. “Look at that messy little cunt,” he said, almost reverent. “Still full of your father-in-law’s load. Still begging for more.”

He dropped to his knees right there on the laundry-room floor, and buried his face between my thighs.

He licked me like a man that was starved.

Long, broad strokes from my entrance to my clit, collecting every trace of what he’d left behind and what I’d made since. His tongue was hot, insistent, curling inside me, fucking me with it while his nose nudged my clit. I moaned, too loud, and he reached up, pressing his palm over my mouth to muffle my scream.

“Quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured against my pussy. “Mark’s upstairs changing. You don’t want him coming down to see his wife getting her cunt eaten on the washing machine, do you?”

The words made me clench. He groaned into me at the flutter, then sucked my clit hard.

My head fell back against the cabinet. My hips rocked forward, grinding against his face. The stubble on his cheeks scraped my inner thighs, his hands gripped my ass, pulling me tighter against his mouth.

He ate me until my thighs shook, until I was whimpering behind his palm, until the coil in my belly was so tight I thought I’d snap.

Then he pulled back, and I whined at the loss.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and glittering with desire.

“Turn around. Bend over.”

I scrambled to obey.

Hands braced on the washing machine, ass presented, and legs spread. The machine was running a spin cycle now—low, steady vibrations traveling up through my palms, my forearms, straight to my core.

Daniel stepped close. I heard the soft clink of his belt, the rasp of his zipper, then the blunt, thick head of his cock was sliding through my folds, coating himself in my wetness and the remnants of yesterday.

He didn’t push in right away.

He rubbed the head over my clit, in slow circles, then back down to tease my entrance, then up again, and again, and again. Until I was shaking, pushing back, and begging under my breath.

“Please… Daniel… please…”

He liked when I used his name instead of “Daddy.” It made it filthier somehow.

“Shhh,” he soothed, even as he notched himself at my opening. “I’ve got you.”

One long, slow thrust and he was inside me again. I bit my own arm to keep from crying out.

He was so thick—thicker than Mark, longer too—and even after yesterday the stretch still burned sweetly. He filled me completely, bottoming out with a low groan that vibrated against my back.

He stayed buried for a long moment, letting me feel him throb, letting me adjust.

Then he started fucking me.

Deep, measured strokes that dragged every inch over my sensitive walls. Each withdrawal left me empty and aching, and each thrust forward filled me so perfectly I saw stars.

The washing machine vibrated beneath my palms, adding a low buzz that traveled straight to my clit. His hand slid around to find it anyway—rubbing firm, steady circles while he fucked me from behind.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against my ear. “Being bent over in your own house, taking your father-in-law’s cock while your husband showers upstairs.”

I whimpered, nodding frantically.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” I gasped. “I love your cock… I love being your dirty little secret…”

He rewarded me with a harder thrust that made the machine rattle.

“That’s right, baby, this pussy belongs to me now. Every time Mark fucks you, you’re going to feel me stretching you first. Every time you cum, you’re going to think of me filling you up.”

The words pushed me over, and I came hard—silent this time, mouth open on a soundless scream, and walls clamping down on him so tightly he cursed under his breath.

He fucked me through it, faster now, deeper, chasing his own release.

When he came it was with a low, guttural groan—hips slamming forward, cock pulsing, flooding me with hot, thick spurts that overflowed almost immediately, dripping down my thighs onto the tile.

He stayed inside me while he softened, kissing the back of my neck, my shoulder, and the shell of my ear.

Finally he pulled out slowly. And I felt the warm rush of his cum leaking out of my cunt in thick strands.

He turned me around, kissed me deeply, then knelt again. This time he cleaned me with his tongue.

Slow, gentle laps through my folds, sucking softly, swallowing everything he’d just put there. I trembled above him, oversensitive, my fingers threaded through his hair.

When he stood he wiped his mouth again, fixed my shorts back into place with careful hands, and smoothed my tank top.

“Mark will be down in a minute,” he said quietly. “Go upstairs, take a shower and I’ll finish the laundry.”

I stared at him, dazed, dripping, and my heart pounding.

He pressed one last kiss to my forehead, softly, almost tenderly.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured. “The guest bedroom, after lunch. Wear that little white sundress again, with no panties.”

Then he turned me toward the door and gave my ass a gentle pat.

I walked out on shaky legs, tasting him on my lips, feeling him leak down my inner thighs with every step.

Mark called my name from upstairs, cheerful, oblivious. And I answered with a voice that didn’t quite sound like

mine.

Already day dreaming of the events of the next day and how perfect I’d look in the white sundress, like always.