#Chapter70
The sounds I made, they fell into the background. Earthbreaking, vision spotting, there was only the pure pleasure that entombed me in its utopia. Warmth splattered against my thighs and my stomach, and my cock twitched and spat against Daddy's hand as he milked me dry.
/"Daddy didn't say you could have your release, Oz. We hadn't even started./" Playful. Sinful. Infused with a sardonic undertone. /"Now how should Daddy punish his naughty boy?/"
His naughty boy didn't care.
The coming down from the almighty high, the way my body trembled and quaked with the after-tremors, it was hard to care about anything in that moment.
/"Should I make you taste yourself?/" A finger ran along the cooling mess that created a sticky feel to my stomach.
The thought should have repulsed me, but when Daddy's finger brushed against my lips, they parted, accepting.
