Ride my big cock like a good slut,” he encouraged as he grabbed my hips.“It’s so good, baby,” I cooed, trying to catch my breath, “your cock...��s so good.”It didn’t dawn on me that my son called me a slut and I couldn’t recall a time when another guy had called me that. I didn’t care though. I was a slut. I was his slut. And I wanted to be his slut.I bounced on him harder and faster, thrusting my hips forwards and backward and around in circles over him. The squishy sound of his cock repeatedly. " I suggested."Is that why he treats you like a girlfriend, rather than his daughter?" she asked."Yes, but he doesn't cross the line. He just plays to the crowd," I suggested hoping that she would believe me."And you let him french kiss you and massage you?" she asked."Yes, it mean nothing to me and it gives him status. I know it sounds nuts honey, but all that stuff is important in there. Prison has completely different rules from real life." What if he wanted to kiss me like that would you. More

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