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"Well, rest assured," she said in a fake British accent," you will be making it up to me."
I took off my white cotton underwear, letting her get a feel for how wet I was. "As you wish, my queen." I proceeded to slide onto my side of the sex toy. My pussy was in need of a good fuck. The harder I pounded her, the deeper our handmade dick penetrated me.
Soon we were kissing, our bodies wrapped in a loop of endless pleasure.
She placed her lips to my ear. "Tell me, what did you let him do to you? No, wait, first tell me something embarrassing about him."
Since the whole prison knew about his (allegedly) nonfunctional, cancer-riddled dick, I went with a different secret, something I only noticed once Danny's clothes came off. "He has self-harm scars on his legs.
Joy giggled. "Sixty-year-old man, who self-harms? That's pretty pathetic.
"I think he's closer to fifty."
"Any kids?"
"No, I don't think so." Technically I lied, but that was a story for another time.
"Still, he's as sick as any other man."
"Of course." We kissed once and then twice. The sex toy was soaked with both our juices, as I rode her hard.
Joy sat up, her lips locking onto my dark pink areola. My nipples were erect, just begging to be licked, sucked, and squeezed. I arched my back, taking in the deeply intense pleasure. I closed my eyes, picturing Danny's cock inside me. Except in my dream, he was big, strong, powerful.
"Danny."
"Did you say 'daddy'?"
"Yeah, of course."
My voice trailed off. That was when I knew I was in trouble.
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