My parents could have been standing in the kitchen doorway for all I cared. I didn't give a shit and still James fucked me hard and still I came and c...me and came. My legs went first swiftly followed by my arms. I was virtually a useless marionette supported only by the fuck-master pulling my strings. If James's hands hadn't be holding my hips tight I'd have slid to the floor. And still he pounded my cunt and I didn't tell him to stop. I was still cumming. I felt myself squirt, a long. I put his coffee at his usual place and set my orange juice down at my own. I looked over just as he scooped the eggs onto two plates, and sat down to be served. Thoughts of how I'd like to be served (or is it serviced?) flooded my head and brought a now familiar warmth to my center. He carried my plate over and stood by my left side as he slid it in front of me. His hand didn't retreat without a trip to the lush breast he couldn't seem to get enough of; a quick squeeze as he leaned down and. More

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