You fucked me with a psycho?..”
I thought my dad must have handcuffed him to the kitchen table before he came back to me. As he drove hard with twisting my soft lips in and out, he was mumbling heavy curses to me to stroke his sacks. He stank of cheap booze, smoke and sweat, while I smelt of strawberry. So that’s why he wanted me in this yoga pose. “That maniac used his cock like a butcher’s meat mallet to beat your pussy into softness…” said, as face lit up with lust in the moonlight. He dove into my hot donuts, which looked like the lips of someone who had turned into a freak after a faulty silicone filling operation, with great glee. With one hand I weighed one of his bulging sacks. My dad told him that I practice yoga every morning and he could use my flexible body in every acrobatic pose he wanted. I approved of his method with a quiet sigh, but not with a cheeky giggle. He hooked his fingers in the string of my thong and pulled hard, ripping it off. No one had ever taken me in this pose until tonight. When he touched my ankle lightly, I continued my fake sleep. I pulled my hands back, my ankles pushing my head forward as we
