Anna, the protagonist of the book, was currently getting bum fucked by the milkman—his thick fingers twisting her tiny nipples while his other hand spread her arse cheeks wide—when Sarah heard the familiar creak of her father’s boots on the hardwood floor. She didn’t stop rubbing herself.
“It’s a good one, isn’t it?” Charles’ voice was low, and amused. Sarah didn’t look up, just bit her lip and pressed her thighs together tighter, the damp cotton of her white knickers catching on her sensitive skin.
“The milkman’s got her bent over the kitchen table,” Sarah murmured, “he’s up her bum and the little slut’s loving it.” Her fingers worked harder beneath the pages, breath hitching as she traced the swollen nub barely hidden beneath her childish folds. The couch groaned as Charles sat beside her, his heavy arm draping over her shoulder.
“Do you fancy a bit of role play with dad?”
Sarah didn’t hesitate—she never did—just snapped the book shut with one hand while the other kept working between her thighs, her thumb circling faster now. “What like,” she breathed, eyes flicking up to meet his. Charles chuckled, rough fingers already tugging at the waistband of her knickers. The elastic snapped against her skin, leaving a pink mark.
“You’re dripping through these, you filthy little thing,” he muttered, hooking a finger under the damp fabric and peeling it down her legs. Sarah lifted her hips to help, knees falling open shamelessly. The air hit her wet cunt, and she shivered—not from cold.
Charles didn’t waste time. His fingers traced the smooth seam of Sarah’s pubescent teenage lips, slick with her excitement, before pushing his middle finger knuckle deep inside with a wet, obscene sound. Sarah gasped—not from pain—but from the sheer thrill of being stretched so suddenly. Her hips jerked forward, chasing his touch like a reflex.
“Do you want to make a movie for those pervs on the darkweb?” Charles growled, his breath hot against Sarah’s ear as his finger crooked inside her, pressing against that sweet spot that made her toes curl. “Something really filthy?”
Sarah nodded eagerly, biting down on her lower lip as her hips bucked against his hand. “Yeah—yeah, I want to,” she whined, her voice already breathless.
“If you shave that peach fuzz off, we can pretend you’re even younger,” Charles murmured, his thumb brushing over the soft downy curls on Sarah’s mons. The suggestion made her stomach tighten— with a rush of naughty excitement. She knew daddy had preferred her before she’d started puberty—when she was still hairless, her body even tinier—but she liked pleasing him, liked making him happy. Liked making him hard.
“Okay, I’ll go shower first,” Sarah breathed, her thighs squeezing around Charles’ wrist as he slowly withdrew his fingers—slick and glistening. “What should I wear after?”
Charles smirked, wiping his wet hand on her bare thigh before leaning back into the couch. “The fairy trick or treat outfit,” he said, watching her pupils dilate at the mention of the costume—the one she’d worn last Halloween. “But no knickers under the tutu this time.”
Sarah giggled, already imagining the way the tulle would brush against her bare skin, the way daddy would film her spreading her legs to show off her freshly shaved slit—pink and smooth as a little girl’s again. She wriggled off the couch, her bare feet padding against the hardwood as she headed toward the bathroom. The shower hissed to life, steam curling in the air before she even stepped in.
She showered and shaved quickly, eager to get back to daddy. The razor slid smoothly over her mons, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin—just like when she was a little girl. Sarah stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, and stood in front of the full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door.
She really did look like a ten year old—smooth between her legs, the soft swell of her barely-there mound glistening with droplets of shower water. The mirror reflected the narrow frame of her hips, the faint pink buds of her nipples on the slight swell of her chest, barely more than suggestions. Sarah tilted her head, examining herself like a doll posed for inspection—her skin flushed from the hot water, her brunette curls damp and clinging to her shoulders.
Her folds were plump and pouting—still pressed together like a child’s, despite the slickness that coated them. Even when she spread her thighs wider, her outer labia only just parted to display the glistening pink within. It was one of the things daddy loved most—how she still looked innocent, untouched, even though she’d been his little slut for years. Sarah traced a finger along the seam, feeling the heat radiating from it, and sighed when the tip caught on the very edge, just barely slipping past to brush against her swollen clit.
The costume was laid out on the bed, waiting—the white tutu frilled with lace, the matching crop top that barely covered anything. She pulled the elastic bands from the vanity drawer first—pink, shiny, the kind little girls wore to school. Sarah gathered her damp curls into two high bunches, securing them tight enough to tug at her scalp. The twin tails bounced when she shook her head, brushing against her bare shoulders. It was ridiculous—ridiculous and perfect. She could already hear daddy’s approving groan, the way his cock would twitch in his jeans when he saw her like this—tiny, dressed up like a primary school girl playing fairy, smooth and dripping for him.
She slid into the costume, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. The tutu barely grazed her upper thighs, the ruffles fluttering whenever she moved. Sarah twirled once in front of the mirror, watching the way the tulle flared—her bare slit peeking beneath when she spun too fast. She grinned. Daddy would love that.
Daddy had set iPhone up on a tripod in the stone back yard—the ancient wall behind them crumbling prettily, ivy twisting through the gaps in the mortar. The afternoon light filtered through the leaves, dappling Sarah’s bare legs as she knelt on the weathered picnic blanket.
“Say hello to our friends,” Charles murmured, adjusting the phone’s angle so the lens caught Sarah’s flushed face, her pigtails bouncing as she rocked back onto her heels. She waved, fingers splayed like a child performing in a school play.
“Hello pervs,” Sarah chirped, her voice deliberately pitched higher—sugary and innocent—as she rocked forward onto her knees. “I’m Sarah and I’m ten!” She giggled, the sound tinny and rehearsed, practiced from years of these performances.
“My dad says I’m special because I’m still a little girl but I like grown-up things.” She spread her thighs slowly, the tulle of her tutu rustling as it lifted—revealing the smooth, hairless slit beneath. The iPhone’s lens caught the glisten of her arousal, the way her folds clung together until she hooked two fingers into herself and pulled them apart with a wet, sticky sound.
“Do you want to watch me play with my toy?” Sarah asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence as she reached behind her to pull out a rubber dildo—almost as big as her forearm—from the picnic basket. The contrast was obscene: her tiny fingers wrapped around the thick, veined shaft, the pink silicone glistening under the dappled sunlight.
Sarah brought the toy to her lips and licked along its length, her pink tongue darting out like a kitten lapping cream. The camera caught the way her nose wrinkled playfully, the exaggerated slurping sounds she made as she took the tip between her teeth—pretending to struggle with its size. Charles adjusted the phone’s focus with a rough exhale, zooming in until the screen filled with the stretch of her lips around the silicone.
She pushed the dildo into her mouth slowly, hollowing her cheeks dramatically, eyes fluttering in mock rapture. Drool dripped down her chin, slicking the silicone as she pulled back with a wet pop. “Do you want to see how deep I can take it?” she lisped. She place the tip back in her mouth, and with exaggerated little swallows, she slid it deeper, inch by inch, she gagged as the thick bulbous head hit the back of her throat, and she pulled back with a wet cough, saliva dripping down her chin. Sarah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the spit across her cheek like a messy child. Then tried again, forcing herself to relax her throat, she pushed the fat toy down her throat, her throat bulged and her eyes watered, and she gagged hard, but kept pushing until her lips touched her fingers gripping the base. She held it there, nose pressed against her fingers, cheeks hollowed, throat spasming around the intrusion. Her nostrils flared as she fought to breathe. Tears streaked down her flushed cheeks. Then she pulled back with a wet gasp, gulping air.
Sarah grinned and bowed theatrically, her pigtails flopping forward as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. The dildo glistened in her grip, slick with spit. She winked at the camera, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nipples stiff against the thin fabric of her crop top.
“I’m afraid it’s to big to fit in my little girl pussy,” Sarah sighed, bouncing the heavy toy in her palm with exaggerated disappointment. Then—her eyes lighting up—she twisted toward the camera, knees sinking deeper into the blanket. “But my bum’s much stretchier!”
Charles groaned low in his throat, adjusting his erection through his jeans as he kept filming. Sarah grinned at his reaction, knowing exactly how much daddy loved this part—how much it made his cock throb when she pretended to struggle. She turned away from the lens, presenting her bare backside with a deliberate wiggle—the tutu flipping up to reveal the smooth globes of her cheeks, the tight pink pucker nestled between them—above the glistening folds of her smooth childish slit.
Sarah pressed the tip of the dildo against her tiny hole, making a show of straining against it, her breath hitching in exaggerated distress. “Ohhh, it’s sooo big,” she whined, rocking her hips back slightly—just enough for the silicone to catch against her rim. “Will it even fit, daddy?” Her voice cracked with faux innocence, her fingers trembling around the shaft as she glanced over her shoulder, doe-eyed and pleading. “Maybe I should use my fingers first?”
Sarah put the dildo down and raised her fingers to her lips, sucking them with slow, deliberate drags of her tongue—each digit disappearing into her mouth with wet, obscene noises. Her eyes fluttered shut as she hollowed her cheeks, swirling her tongue around her own fingers like they were someone else’s, When she pulled them free with a soft pop, they glistened with saliva, slick enough to press against her tight little bum hole without resistance.
‘Do you want to watch me finger my little bum?’ Sarah murmured, her voice syrup-sweet as she twisted toward the camera, her spit-slick fingers already tracing circles around her tight pink pucker. She pressed the tip of her middle finger against it, her muscle fluttered in protest before yielding—and her fingers slide smoothly inside her up to her knuckles with a wet squelch. Sarah gasped, her pigtails bouncing as she giggled. “Oops, a little girl’s bum shouldn’t be that loose, should it? I blame Daddy—it’s always been his favorite hole.”
Her breath hitched as she worked the first finger in and out, the tight ring of muscle clamping down instinctively before relaxing—trained from years of use. She added a second finger, scissoring them slowly inside herself, the obscene squelch amplified by the phone’s microphone. “Daddy likes it when I stretch myself open for him,” she confessed, her thighs trembling as she crooked her fingers, rubbing against that secret spot inside that made her toes curl. “He says my bum is perfect—tight enough to make him groan, but greedy enough to take whatever he gives me.”
A third finger pressed in alongside the others, her rim fluttering around the intrusion. Sarah whimpered—not from pain, but from the delicious stretch. Sarah began to fuck her arse with her fingers, her digits disappearing knuckle-deep with every thrust, her bumhole gaping slightly when she pulled them out. The iPhone captured every wet squelch, every twitch of her tight little hole as she abused it. “Daddy’s not the only one who loves my bum,” she gasped, spreading her cheeks wider with her free hand. “I love how it feels—so full, so dirty.” She crooked her fingers inside herself, pressing against that spongy spot that made her thighs shake.
‘I think it’s ready for the big toy now,’ Sarah cooed, pulling her fingers free with a wet pop. Her hole twitched, gaping slightly before clenching back into its tight little furl—but not before the camera caught the glistening pink inside. She reached for the dildo again, her fingers trembling with anticipation as she pressed the slick tip against her abused entrance.
Her sphincter slowly stretched around the thick silicone tip, her pucker fluttering as she exhaled sharply through her nose. Charles adjusted the phone’s angle, zooming in until the screen was filled with nothing but the obscene stretch of her rosebud around the invading toy—her rim white-knuckled, resisting before yielding inch by trembling inch.
Sarah whined—high-pitched, theatrical—but didn’t stop. She rocked back onto the dildo with deliberate little thrusts, her pigtails bouncing as she worked it deeper. “It’s—nngh—too big,” she gasped, her voice cracking with faux distress even as her fingers tightened around the base, forcing it further inside. The veins of the toy caught on her rim, dragging against the sensitive flesh until her hole swallowed another thick inch with a wet squelch.
The iPhone’s lens captured every twitch of her face—the way her brows knit together, her lips parting around silent moans—as her body adjusted. A thin string of spit dripped from her chin onto the blanket beneath her knees. She glanced over her shoulder at the camera, blinking through tears that weren’t entirely faked. “Daddy, does it look pretty?” she lisped, shifting her hips to make the dildo shift inside her, the stretch visible even from this angle.
Her smooth little pussy dribbled a thin trail of arousal down her thighs as she twisted the dildo deeper, the swollen head finally popping past her tight inner ring with a gasp. Sarah arched her back like a cat in heat, the tutu flouncing around her waist as she began to ride the toy with jerky movements—exaggerating the struggle for the camera.
Sarah looked back over her shoulder at the camera, her pigtails sticking to her flushed cheeks with sweat. She flashed a grin—all teeth, like a kid caught stealing sweets—and wiggled her hips and pulled the dildo out with a wet slurp. Her hole gaped for a second, twitching, before clenching shut again.
“Sarah giggled—high and bright—and pressed the slick tip against her stretched rim again. She pushed slowly, biting her lip as the fat head popped past her resistance with a sticky sound. Her fingers gripped the base firmly—as she began to really fuck herself—her tiny hips jerking forward with every thrust.
“I’m such a naughty little girl,” Sarah gasped between thrusts, her voice breaking into a squeak as the dildo’s ridged underside dragged against her sensitive inner walls. Her knees wobbled on the blanket, toes curling into the fabric as she angled herself wider for the camera—shameless in her display.
Sarah pressed her forehead into the rough weave of the picnic blanket, the fibers scratching her flushed cheek as she arched her back higher—presenting her gaping hole like a proper little slut. The dildo plunged deeper with each jerk of her wrist, her rim stretched shiny and pink around the thick silicone. Between her thighs, her smooth little cunt glistened, untouched except for the occasional brush of her knuckles when she shifted her grip. Then her other hand had found its way between her legs now, fingers rubbing frantic circles over her swollen little clit, her hips twitching with every pass.
Sarah arsehole made a wet, sucking sound as she fucked herself with the dildo—her fingers working furiously between her legs—when suddenly, her entire body stiffened. A strangled squeak escaped her throat, her back arching violently as her orgasm ripped through her tiny frame.
The iPhone captured every detail: the way her toes curled against the blanket, her pigtails sticking to her flushed neck, the flutter of her abused little hole around the toy still buried deep inside her. A thin stream of piss spurted from her slit, splattering against the blanket beneath her. Sarah gasped, her chest heaving as the aftershocks shook her, her fingers slowing but not stopping.
Daddy chuckled low and dark—as he strippped off his shirt in one swift motion, his stomach taut beneath the graying trail of hair that led down to his belt. The buckle clicked open—and his jeans pooled around his ankles, kicked aside with a rough shuffle of his boots. Sarah watched, still panting from her orgasm, as he peeled off his boxers—his cock springing free, thick and flushed, curving up against his stomach. It twitched in the humid air, already glistening at the tip. Last of all he pulled out the clown mask—the glossy red nose, the exaggerated grin painted permanently across its rubber face—and slid it over his head. The elastic snapped tight behind his ears, his breath fogging the plastic eyeholes as he adjusted it.
Sarah whimpered—a real one this time—her thighs pressing together instinctively. Daddy always played rougher when he wore the mask.
The clown’s grin loomed over her, grotesquely cheerful as Charles knelt behind her. His hands—rough and familiar—gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. The dildo was still lodged in her arse, the silicone warm from her body heat, when he twisted it sharply. Sarah yelped, her fingers scrambling against the blanket as he worked it deeper with slow, sadistic rotations.
“Such a greedy little hole,” Charles muttered through the mask, his voice muffled and distorted. He tugged the toy out suddenly—her rim fluttering wetly—then smacked it against her bare thigh with a sharp *thwap*. “Time for the real thing, little fairy.”
Sarah whimpered as daddy flipped her onto her back with one rough tug, the tutu flipping up around her waist like a frothy cloud. Then pinned her knees up to her shoulders—her smooth, dripping slit and twitching little arsehole on full display.
The clown mask’s grin loomed closer, distorted through the steam-fogged plastic. His thick fingers dragged through the mess between her thighs, slicking his cock with her juices—and the sticky remnants of her own piss still cooling on her inner thighs.
“You’re such a dirty little fairy,” Charles growled, the mask muffling his voice into something guttural and unfamiliar. Sarah grabbed her own bum cheeks, spreading them apart with eager fingers—her arsehole red and gaping from the toy, her cunt glistening above it. Daddy pressed the thick head of his cock against her well fucked little bum hole, the tip catching on her quivering rim before pushing past with a slick pop. Sarah gasped—sharp and high—her nails digging into her own buttocks as daddy let his body weight sink forward. His cock slid into her arse with slow, deliberate force, until Sarah could feel his pubes pressing against her smooth little pussy lips.
Charles groaned—deep and ragged—his hands gripping Sarah’s thighs tight enough to bruise as he bottomed out inside her. The clown mask’s painted grin was inches from her face, fogged with his panting breath. “Tell me what you are,” he growled, voice thick with arousal.
Sarah’s lips trembled, her pigtails mussed from thrashing against the blanket. “I’m—I’m daddy’s filthy little fairy slut,” she gasped, her voice breaking as he pulled back and slammed into her again, the force of it jolting her tiny body forward. The iPhone caught everything—her teary eyes, her swollen nipples pebbled against the crop top, the obscene bulge in her lower belly where his cock stretched her from the inside.
Charles grabbed her ankle suddenly—roughly—yanking her leg up higher until her knee pressed against her chest. The angle made Sarah’s breath hitch, her arsehole clenching around him as he fucked deeper than before. She could feel the coarse hair of his balls slapping against her smooth slit with every thrust, the wet sound of skin on skin swallowed by the rustling leaves overhead.
“Fuck my cunt, daddy—please—” Sarah begged, her fingers scrabbling at the blanket beneath her, her voice cracking with desperation. The clown mask tilted—mockingly curious—as Charles slowed his thrusts, letting her feel every inch of his cock dragging against her abused rim.
“You want my cock in your tight little pussy after its been in your filthy arse?” Charles’ voice was muffled through the clown mask, his breath hot and humid against Sarah’s cheek. His hips snapped forward again, burying himself to the hilt inside her spasming back passage. “You dirty fucking fairy.”
Sarah nodded frantically, her pigtails tangling in the damp grass beneath them. “Yes—yes, please—” Her fingers scrambled against his bare stomach, nails leaving faint pink trails as she tried to pull him closer. The iPhone captured every detail—her swollen clit peeking from between smooth folds, the way her untouched slit dripped onto the picnic blanket with every jerk of Daddy’s hips.
Charles pulled out of her arse with a wet slurp, his cock glistening in the afternoon light. Sarah whined at the sudden emptiness, her hole twitching pathetically before he flipped her onto her stomach like a ragdoll. The tutu crumpled beneath her, scratchy against her bare skin as Daddy’s rough hands spread her cheeks wide again—exposing her freshly gaped rim, still pulsing from being stretched open.
“Look at the camera, fairy,” he growled, pressing two fingers against her spit-slick entrance. The iPhone lens caught the way her pink muscle fluttered around his intrusion before yielding with a wet squelch. Sarah twisted her head, cheek pressed into the blanket, and grinned at the phone—her lips shiny with spit, her pigtails frayed at the ends. Daddy’s fingers scissored inside her, spreading her wider, and she giggled—high and breathless—when a thin trickle of fluid leaked down her perineum.
The clown mask’s grin loomed over her shoulder as Charles positioned himself, his cockhead nudging against her swollen folds. Sarah arched her back, presenting her cunt like an offering—small and hairless, glistening with arousal. Daddy held his cock and rubbed the head against her slit, smearing precum across her tender flesh before slowly forcing his way inside.
Sarah gasped—her body tensing—as he stretched her tiny pussy wide. Her walls clung to him, resisting the intrusion before yielding inch by inch. The head of his cock popped past her tight entrance with a wet squelch, and her breath hitched—sharp and ragged—as daddy began to fuck her with slow, grinding thrusts. The clown mask’s grin loomed over her shoulder.
“Look at the camera,” Charles growled, his voice muffled through the rubber. Sarah twisted her head, her cheek pressed against the damp blanket, and stared directly into the iPhone’s lens. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in quick little pants as daddy’s cock dragged against her walls. “Tell them what you are.”
Sarah’s throat tightened—not from fear, but from the thrill of being exposed like this, her tiny body spread open for anyone to see. “I’m—” she started, then gasped as daddy suddenly pulled out, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing. Before she could protest, his fingers were back, spreading her wet folds wide for the camera.
“Say it properly,” Charles growled, his thumb circling her gaping hole—still slick from his cock—before pressing two fingers back inside her with a wet squelch. “Tell them what you really are.”
Sarah’s breath hitched as his fingers crooked inside her, pressing against that spongy spot that made her toes curl. The iPhone’s lens caught the way her pupils dilated, her mouth falling open around a silent moan before she found her voice again.
“I’m Daddy’s filthy little fairy slut,” she gasped, her hips jerking forward to meet his thrusting fingers. The words spilled out between panting breaths, sticky with arousal. “I’m—nngh—his tight little holes, his perfect toy, his—” Her voice cracked as Charles twisted his fingers deeper, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit. “His little girl who loves taking it up her arse.”
The clown mask’s painted grin distorted as Charles leaned over her, his free hand tangling in her pigtails to yank her head back. The iPhone captured the way her neck arched, the way her lips parted around a silent scream when he suddenly replaced his fingers with the thick head of his cock again—pressing into her slick cunt with one brutal thrust.
Sarah’s vision whited out for a second, her tiny body bowing off the blanket as he bottomed out inside her. The stretch burned—her pussy wasn’t as loose as her arse, and Daddy never went easy—but the pain melted into liquid heat when he dragged his hips back slowly, letting her feel every ridge before slamming home again. His cockhead hitting her cervix made her gasp, the sharp pleasure-pain radiating up her spine like lightning.
The iPhone caught the exact moment her orgasm hit—her mouth falling open in a silent scream, her pigtails thrashing against the blanket as her cunt clenched around him in rhythmic pulses. A thin spray of urine spurted from he slit, splattering against Daddy’s stomach as he pinned her down, fucking her through it. Sarah sobbed, her fingers clawing at the grass beneath her, her toes curling against the rough weave of the picnic blanket. The clown mask’s grin fogged with Daddy’s panting breath as he leaned over her, his teeth closing around the delicate tendon of her neck—not hard enough to mark, but enough to make her whimper.
Her thighs trembled against his hips, still twitching with aftershocks, when Daddy suddenly pulled out—his cock glistening with her slick—only to flip her onto her back again. The tutu was crumpled beneath her now, scratchy against her bare skin as he yanked her knees up to her shoulders, exposing her gaping little holes to the humid afternoon air. Sarah mewled—half-protest, half-invitation—as Daddy’s thumb circled her swollen clit, the rough pad catching on the sensitive bud with deliberate cruelty.
Daddy pushed two thick fingers into Sarah’s gaping arsehole without warning, the sudden stretch making her squeal—not from pain, but from the filthy thrill of being stuffed open so casually. Her rim fluttered around his knuckles, still loose from the dildo but tightening instinctively around the intrusion. Then he twisted them, scissoring her wider, and Sarah arched off the picnic blanket with a gasp—her tutu rucked up around her waist, her smooth little pussy glistening above the obscene stretch of her back passage.
Charles leaned over her, the clown mask’s grin fogged with his panting breath as he pulled his fingers free with a wet pop. Before Sarah could whine at the emptiness, his thick cockhead was pressing against her gaping hole again—slick with her own juices and spit, her arsehole loose and pliant from the toy, from years of this. Still, she gasped when he pushed in without warning, her body jolting forward as the fat head popped past her rim with a sticky squelch.
Sarah’s fingers scrabbled at the blanket beneath her, her pigtails tangled in the grass as Daddy began to fuck her arse in earnest—his thrusts rough and uneven, the kind that made her toes curl and her cunt drip onto the picnic blanket beneath them. She knew he’d come soon—could tell by the way his breathing had gone ragged behind the clown mask, the way his fingers dug into her thighs.
“Daddy—” she whined, her voice breaking as his cockhead dragged against that spot inside her that made her vision go blurry. She reached between her legs with trembling fingers, rubbing frantic circles over her swollen clit—chasing a second orgasm before he could finish.
The clown mask tilted—mockingly curious—”Good girl,” he muttered, the rubber grin pressing against her spit-slick cheek.
Sarah bucked beneath him, her smooth little pussy dripping onto the blanket as he fucked her arse with slow, grinding thrusts—each one making the bulge in her lower belly twitch visibly beneath her childlike skin. The iPhone caught the way her mouth fell open, her pigtails stuck to her flushed neck with sweat, when Daddy suddenly stilled—buried to the hilt inside her—and growled, “Come for Daddy again.”
Her thighs trembled—as his fingers found her clit again, rubbing rough circles that made her back arch off the blanket. Sarah gasped—high and broken—as the orgasm ripped through her, her arsehole spasming around his cock in wet, rhythmic clenches.
The iPhone captured the exact moment Charles lost control: his thrusts turned erratic, his grip on her hips bruising as he slammed into her one last time—his cock pulsing deep inside her tight little hole. The clown mask muffled his groan, but Sarah felt it vibrate against her cheek, his breath hot through the rubber as he emptied himself inside her.
Sarah giggled—breathless and sticky—when Daddy finally pulled out, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound. Her arsehole fluttered, gaping slightly before clenching shut again, but not before a thin trickle of cum leaked out onto the picnic blanket beneath them.
She didn’t wait for instructions. Rolling onto her knees, Sarah crawled forward—her tutu crumpled, her crop top riding up—and nuzzled against his thigh. The clown mask’s grin loomed above her, fogged with Daddy’s panting breath, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the glistening mess between his legs. His cock was still slick with her spit, her ass juices, and the thick strands of his own release clinging to the flushed skin.
Sarah wrapped her fingers around the base, feeling the heat of him pulse against her palm. She dragged her tongue along the underside first—slow, deliberate—cleaning the sticky remnants from his veins with little kitten licks. The taste was familiar—salt and sweat and something distinctly Daddy—but she made a show of wrinkling her nose anyway. “You’re all messy,” she lisped, batting her eyelashes up at the masked face before swirling her tongue around the swollen head. The iPhone caught the way her lips stretched around him, her spit mixing with the remnants of his cum as she sucked him clean with exaggerated slurps.
The clown mask’s grin loomed closer, fogging with Charles’ sharp inhale when Sarah suddenly pulled off with a wet pop. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand—smearing spit and leftover slick across her cheek—before turning to face the camera again. Her tutu was crushed beneath her knees, her crop top twisted sideways to reveal one pert nipple, but she grinned like none of it mattered. “That’s all for today, kiddos!” she chirped, waving at the lens with sticky fingers. Her voice pitched higher—a perfect mimicry of some saccharine children’s show host—as she rocked back on her heels. “Remember to like, subscribe, and—” she giggled, high and bright, “—tell your daddies to fuck your little holes just like mine does!”
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