My daughter usually hated it when people assumed we were sisters.“Oh, we get that all the time, Sir. Do I look more mature, or does she look like a ...eenager?” Buttercup’s words were playful but hardly submissive. She was still learning. Mike was clearly observing and taking notes on how she handled herself.“I think a little bit of both,” Don smiled. He politely apologized for interrupting our meals and offered to sit back down at his table. He addressed the others who were seated.“Oh, where are. “Please.” You smirk; it’s what you were waiting for. You kiss your way down my stomach, licking my belly button, even through you know it makes me squirm, you hold me down. Finally you reach the finale, I look at you, and the anticipation is electric through my body. You drag your lips over the fabric of the barley there underwear, hovering over my clit in power over my pleasure. You take one thigh in each hand and spread my legs, your face the picture of self-control; you descend, pushing. More

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