Dirty Daddy

“My nipples are so hard, sir. And my pussy is so wet… Can I please touch myself, sir? Please…” She asks me, genuinely begging for my permission. Christ, she could just lie, go ahead and do it, but no, she really wants me to say it, to allow her to do it.

“Yes, you can touch yourself,” I tell her, taking a deep breath before I do it. I don’t want to sound like a fucking breathless guy that’s stroking himself into oblivion, although that’s exactly what I am right now. “I want you to slide two fingers inside of yourself as you rub your clit, Kitten.”

She doesn’t even say anything; her moan is all that I need to hear to know that she’s doing it. Here we are, miles apart and still pleasuring ourselves, even though she has no idea that "King Henry" is the guy who actually fucked her last night.

“I… want…” she starts, trying to push the words out of her mouth between her hard breaths. “I want that big cock of yours… So damn much,” she moans, her honeyed voice climbing all the way up to my brain and stabbing it right in the middle. “I want to make you cum, and I want you to do it all over me, sir. I want you to cover me with it while I’m on my knees, my mouth open wide as you fill me up.”

That does it for me. I don’t even tell her I’m about to come, I just explode before I have the time to think about it. I groan into the phone, but I don’t think she hears me; she’s moaning loudly, almost screaming as if I was actually there, my cock buried inside of her pussy. I sit there, grabbing my cock while thick ropes of cum gush out of it, the sound of her orgasm numbing my mind. This might be fucking insane, but it doesn’t make it any less good, let me tell you that. Sure, the real thing is way better… But this beats just using my imagination, there’s no question about that. And, of course, I’m pretty sure of who she’s going to turn to after King Henry has left her in a wet mess: good ol’ Arsen Hawke.

“I… I just couldn’t help myself, sir,” she says, her voice a quivering mess. “I had to come. I just had to.”

“I know, Kitten. It’s alright, but next time, remember: you’ll only come when I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir. I promise.”

“Good,” I continue, leaning back against my couch as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, endorphins still raging through me like a fucking hurricane. “Are you this obedient with everyone?”

“No… Not at all, sir,” she says, sounding genuine but still breathing hard.

“Not with anyone?” I hear some slight hesitation, so I press harder. “Tell me.”

“Just… Just one man,” she finally confesses, her voice wavering almost as if she’s afraid her response will earn her a scolding.

“That… friend of yours you told me about?” I ask her, suddenly feeling morbidly curious about what she’s going to tell this Henry character of my relationship with her. Is she going to lie?

“Yes… Yes, he’s the one.”

“And does he make you come, Kitten? Does he fuck you like you want me to fuck you?” I ask, feeling slightly anxious as I wait for her response. Christ, what the fuck am I doing?

“Yes, sir… He does. He does fuck me like that.”

“Good… A girl like you needs a good fucking. Tell me, when was the last time he fucked you? Tell me about it.”

“Last night,” she replies, her voice now more steady. “We fucked outside, in a tiny alley near Freedom Tower. I came three times,” she continues, and I can almost hear the anxiety in her words as she waits for my response.

“Now, a nice girl like you fucking in a public place? I like that wild side of yours, Kitten, I really do. And what better place to unleash that wild side but there? The place has gotten a lot nicer without so much construction.”

There’s a long silence on the other side of the line, almost as if I had said something indecent. I almost ask her if she’s still there when she starts to speak again.

“I’m glad, sir. I don’t want to displease you,” she tells me, and I can feel her honesty. She really wants to please Henry. Holy fuck, is this situation getting out of control?

“And what about your friend? Do you want to please him as well?” I continue, unable to stop.

“I… I’m sorry, sir, I really got to go,” she says, cutting the conversation short.

“We’ll talk again. Soon,” I promise her, and I can almost see the smile on her face.

“I hope so, sir,” she tells me before hanging up. When I take the phone out of my ear, there’s already a text message from Ashley flashing on the screen.

“I’m coming over,” it says.

Of course.

51

Ashley

Here I am again, riding the elevator to Arsen’s apartment once more. Why do all my phone calls with King Henry end up like this? I can’t help but text Arsen, anxious to have someone quench my thirst for a real man. Arsen and Henry… These two really are tying my mind into knots.