All Chapters of 69 Positions; Make Me Cum Daddy: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Molly. God, he fucked me harder. So much harder that my cries bounced off every wall in the office, raw and broken, like I was losing my mind with every brutal thrust. Dante’s hips slammed against my reddened ass with wet, punishing slaps, driving his monstrous cock so deep I swore I could feel it in my stomach. His eyes had changed—dark, feral, almost possessive in a way I’d never seen before, like the polite professor had vanished and only this hungry, ruthless man remained. He poured into me without mercy, thick veins dragging along my stretched walls, the fat head kissing my cervix with every savage stroke.“Fuck yes…! Right there! Please don’t stop—fuck!” I was crying, begging shamelessly, drool slipping from my lips as my tits scraped against the desk with every jolt. My fingers clawed at the wood, knuckles white, but nothing could anchor me. The stretch burned so perfectly, pleasure twisting sharp and deep inside my core.Even as I shattered, my orgasm crashing over me

Sloan. I folded my hands in my lap. “I’ve just been… off. Tired. Tense. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” He turned then. Leaned back slightly against the counter and looked at me with that careful, clinical attention that somehow still managed to feel personal. “How long?” “Few weeks.” “Sleeping okay?” “Not really.” He nodded slowly, writing something down. “Appetite?” “Fine.” “Stress at home?” The question landed quietly. I met his eyes. “The usual.” Something moved through his expression again — that same flicker, controlled and quickly gone. He straightened. “I want to do a full check. Go ahead and change into the gown. I’ll step out and be right back.” The gown was thin and ridiculous and did nothing for my dignity. I folded my clothes onto the small chair in the corner and climbed back onto the table, the paper crackling loudly in the silence. I stared at the ceiling tiles and took a slow breath and tried — genuinely, earnestly tried — to be a nor

Sloan. I was counting down the hours as I put the last swipe of lip gloss on and smacked my lips in front of the mirror. In less than forty minutes I would walk out of this house and drive straight to my husband’s best friend so he could finish what he started between my thighs.No, scratch that. I was going to see my doctor. The same man who had discovered exactly how starved my pussy was, how pathetically wet and needy it had become because my own husband hadn’t touched it in years. Norman now knew the truth: my cunt was aching for something real, something thick and deliberate and attached to a man who actually looked at me like he wanted to ruin me. And the solution to that desperate, dripping problem rested in his fingers… and, God willing, in his cock.I didn’t dress too slutty, I told myself. It was just a normal follow-up. Maybe he would write me a prescription. Maybe he would slide those long fingers back inside me again. Maybe this time he wouldn’t stop. I wanted

Sloan. I cried out sharply as his tongue flicked relentlessly over my swollen clit. “I want… fuck!”What was I even begging for? His cock? His fingers? His mouth devouring me until I forgot my own name? I was a married woman, for crying out loud — Derek’s wife — and here I was, legs spread wide on my husband’s best friend’s examination table, shamelessly grinding my soaked pussy against his face like a desperate, starved slut. My body had been neglected for so long that every lick felt like fire licking up my spine. I was dripping, clenching, ruined… and I didn’t want him to stop.“Answer me, Sloan,” Norman growled against my slick folds, his voice rough and commanding. “Do you want this? Do you want me to keep eating this married pussy like it belongs to me? Do you want my fingers filling up this tight cunt so you never have to beg your husband to fuck you again?”“Fuck, yes… please don’t stop,” I moaned, trembling so hard I nearly slid off the table. He clamped his strong ha

Sloan. I sucked his cock like I wasn’t a patient who had come for a diagnosis. I sucked him like a filthy, starved married whore who had been denied real dick for years. My lips stretched obscenely around his thick shaft, saliva pouring down my chin in messy rivers as I bobbed faster, taking him deeper with every desperate stroke. I hollowed my cheeks, swirled my tongue along every throbbing vein, and moaned around his length like it was the only thing that could save me. My hands pumped the base I couldn’t swallow while my throat relaxed to let him slide even further, gagging wetly but never pulling away.“Oh my fuck… fuck! Sloan… how are you so perfect with this?” Norman groaned, fisting my hair tightly and yanking my head back so I was forced to look up at him. Strings of saliva connected my swollen lips to his glistening cock. I gasped heavily, chest heaving, mascara running down my cheeks.“Look at how needy you look,” he rasped, eyes dark with lust. “How long have you b