It's funny how the same people who complain about not finding enough fanfiction content are the ones publicly ranting about authors and mocking their kinks or their way of writing.
You wanna know why there's not enough content? Because creators are terrified of putting their free labor out there, only to have people like you critiquing their - entirely free and optional, mind you! - pieces when you could be scrolling instead.
"When the author writes y/n as-" grab a pen and do it yourself.
"It's just my opinion because I find it weird-" then think it, don't post it. Why are you so possessed by the need to publicly insult someone doing hobby work?
I swear, I just stumbled upon a post that had tens of thousands of reblogs and hundreds of comments where everyone just kept piling on fanfic writers. Whether it's a trope, or the use of some words, it doesn't matter: y'all really out there dining for free and then spitting in the chef's face.
If you can vent in several paragraphs, you can also just scroll and mind your business. I can't believe it has to be said that you're an asshole if you nitpick someone's literal fun.
Best Friend’s Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, dilf Leon, older man/younger woman, dirty talk, slight role play, pet names, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise, oral (f receiving), grinding, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie
Follower milestone fic is finally here! 🎉 Thank you to everyone for being here and I hope you enjoy 😉 also a big shoutout to the always lovely @ao3-rex1223 who inspired best friend’s dad and lent an ear when I needed it 💜 💜 Not proofread as usual lol
Your friend Sarah pulls open the door, a grimace that forces itself into a smile once she recognizes you.
“Hey, come on in.” She widens the door and lets you step inside the house before closing and locking it behind you. “Hopefully we can sneak past my dad without hearing another shouting match.”
Your brows pinch together as she turns to lead you down the hall to her room. “Everything okay?”
“Kinda.” You watch her shoulders shrug. “My mom is asking for more money since my little brother is staying with her while going to college.”
“Hasn’t he been doing that for a couple of years now?” You cringe, hoping you didn’t overstep.
She laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, which is why my dad is so pissed off. He was yelling into his phone when I snuck by to answer the door.”
Sarah nods at the open door of her dad’s office. She tiptoes past and you follow her lead. You peek in as you walk by, catching a glimpse of Mr. Kennedy hanging his head into his hands from where he’s propped his elbows up onto his desk. Heart twinging with empathy, you frown to yourself. Not to think rudely of Sarah’s mom, but she’s always been bitchy—from screeching about you two leaving scuff marks from kicking off your shoes at the front door to playing music too loud in Sarah’s room.
You’re not surprised that she’s trying to finagle more money from Mr. Kennedy; he’s always had a decent paying job, enough to take care of his kids and live comfortably while also giving his ex-wife enough to pay for her own place. She’s always off gallivanting with some rich guy, but now it sounds like she’s in between boyfriends so Mr. Kennedy is having to deal with her money issues.
All of these thoughts buzz through your brain by the time you and Sarah walk into her room. She collapses down onto her bed with a groan, then flips over onto her back.
“I was hoping he would go out this weekend, so I could invite Josh over.” She blows out a breath before turning her head to look at you. “He could bring one of his friends over, so you’d have someone to hang out with.”
You wave her off as you collapse down into the bean bag chair she’s had since her eighth birthday. “Eh, last time that didn’t work out so well.”
She raises up and hugs a pillow to her chest while crossing her legs. “Steve was nice. Just kind of boring.”
“Boring? I’m pretty sure he even put Josh to sleep.” You roll your eyes. “Besides what’s to stop you from going out with Josh anyways?”
She flattens her expression before pointing at the door. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe my uptight dad?”
She tosses the pillow at you when you laugh.
“Okay, okay, I get it.” You throw her pillow back to her. “Well, since I’m here, you could sneak out. I’ll cover for you. You know he never bothers us when we do our sleepovers.”
“Maybe.” She purses her lips in thought. “We’re not teenagers anymore, so do you really think he’ll fall for that?”
You shrug. “I think so. I know we haven’t really done a sleepover since going off to college and stuff, but we’ve never done anything like it before. So why would he suspect anything different?”
She smiles brightly. “You’re right! Let me text Josh and tell him to park down the street. I’ll just slip out the window and you can cover for me if dad asks.”
You laugh. “Alright, but you owe me one.”
“I’ll take you to lunch tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
Sarah climbs out of her window and gives a small wave as she sneaks out of the yard onto the sidewalk. You lose sight of her as she rounds the corner, and you close the window softly making sure not to latch it. Glancing at your phone, you see it’s just now seven, leaving you with hours to occupy yourself before your friend makes it back from her date.
Deciding to grab some snacks and just veg out in front of Sarah’s tv, you leave her room and head to the kitchen. Nearing Mr. Kennedy’s office, you hear him arguing with someone. More than likely his ex-wife, you think, but you don’t want to assume. You slow down to eavesdrop, finding it hard to pass up the opportunity to be nosy.
“No, I’m not. I can’t help if you’re behind on your car payment. You traded in the one I gave you in the divorce. The one that was paid for. You brought it on yourself. No, no—STOP.”
Your heart rabbits in your chest with the sudden change in his tone.
“Now, listen here,” he growls out, and you have to bite your bottom lip to stifle your gasp. “I am done with this conversation. You will take what I’ve already given you, and you won’t get one penny more. If our son needs help, HE can reach out, not you. Am I making myself clear? Goodbye.”
Your palms are sweaty. You’ve never heard Mr. Kennedy speak in this way, and it’s way hotter than it has any right to be. Waiting for a few minutes, you slowly step past the doorframe. Crossing your fingers, you hope he doesn’t notice you.
“Oh, hi there, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were visiting.”
You mentally accept defeat when he calls out to you, but you also notice that he has dropped his strict tone for something more warm and inviting.
“Hi, Mr. Kennedy.” You smile at him, stepping into his office. “Yeah, Sarah and I are having a little sleepover tonight.”
He smiles, highlighting the crows feet at the corners of his eyes and the laugh lines surrounding his mouth. “Just like old times, huh?”
“Yep.” You smile back, a little nervous flutter in your stomach.
Standing up, he makes his way to the front of his desk, waving you closer to take a seat. “I haven’t seen you in ages, how’ve you been?”
“Good, I’m doing good,” you clear your throat and take the seat he’s gesturing for you to take.
“Alright then,” he chuckles.
Once you’re sitting down, he braces his hip against the desk’s edge, folding his arms as he looks down at you. You nervously smooth down your skirt.
“Uh, how are you?”
He glances back at the phone lying dark on his desk; his brows pinch together in distaste before smoothing back when he turns to you.
“Things have been better, but can’t complain too much. I have my health at least,” he chuckles, and it pulls a small laugh from you.
“That’s good!” You have to press your thighs together to keep your leg from nervously bouncing.
He hums in agreement, blue eyes roving over your face before flicking down you body and back up. “Well, I guess I should let you get back to Sarah.”
He pushes off his desk as you stand and you catch a whiff of his smoky cologne; it sends a shiver through you—a low warmth pooling in your belly. Mr. Kennedy’s palm rests on your lower back, guiding you to the door of his office. It’s not necessary, but you soak up the warmth from his palm, heart racing with excitement.
“I’m sure I’ll catch you girls later,” he chuckles, leaving you in the hallway while he heads back to his desk.
Your feet take you further into the house, muscle memory leading you into the kitchen while your brain buzzes with the interaction you two just had. Feeling a little out of sorts, you ignore any snacks and just grab a bottle of water. On the walk back to Sarah’s room, you hear the trill of a cellphone followed by Mr. Kennedy’s voice.
“Yello, son.”
You can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, I know. Uh huh. Well, you’re always welcome to stay here. I know it’s a drive—“
The click of a door signals the end of the one side conversation you were listening in on—leaving you even more curious about the Kennedy family dynamics. Quickly shuffling past the now closed office door, you end up back in Sarah’s room. You make the decision to change out of your clothes into your pajamas—it’s not like you were planning on going anywhere later anyways.
Flopping down on her bed, you scroll on your phone for a lot longer than you intend (as usual) before deciding to actually grab a snack, this go around, from the kitchen. You make it further than the first time before being stopped; only now, instead of it being the home office, it’s the living room.
“You two having fun?”
Mr. Kennedy’s voice startles you for a split second, making you pause in the open entranceway. Your head pivots and you take in his relaxed posture, sitting on the couch with a tumbler in his hand. He looks loose, like the stress from earlier has melted away—it probably has, you think to yourself while glancing at the glass in his hands.
“Is that a no?” His sardonic tone snaps your gaze up to his face.
“I’m sorry?” You laugh nervously, stepping further into the room.
“I asked if you girls were having fun?”
“Oh,” you breathe out. “Uh, yeah, just like always.”
His lips quirk up into a grin. “That’s good. Why don’t you have a seat next to me? Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”
You fiddle with the hem of your thin shirt and make your way over to the couch and Mr. Kennedy. When you sit down next to to him, he pats your leg.
“Y’know, you’ve been friends with Sarah so long, it’s almost like you lived here.”
He laughs and you join him with your own nervous giggle.
“Well, what’ve you been up? Besides classes,” he waves off the reply on the tip of your tongue. “I mean, you dating anybody? Going to parties?”
Your brows pinch together in thought. Maybe he’s asking to pry into whether you andSarah hit up any of the sorority invites. You shake your head no.
“Not really. I mean, I don’t really like to party so Sarah and I hang out and watch movies and stuff.” You pick at your nails. “And I haven’t dated anyone since high school.”
He nods. “Oh yeah, that boy who chickened out of taking you to prom.”
You cringe internally, embarrassment welling up. “Uh, yeah. So, my life outside of school is pretty boring.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he pats your leg again. “Sounds like you’re being a good girl.”
The words send a tingle down your spine. “Thanks, Mr. Kennedy.”
He smiles, teeth glinting in the low light. “No problem, sweetheart. I just like knowing you’re being safe.”
A warning bell goes ignored in your brain. “Safe?”
“You can never be too careful these days. I hear all kinds of things about dumb little boys and sweet girls like you.”
“Oh,” you frown, angling your body to face him more. “Well, like I said I pretty much just stick to my classes.”
“And that’s good,” he murmurs, eyes dark as they skim down your body. “You’re much too sweet for some dumbass boy. Such a pretty girl deserves a man who knows what he’s doing.”
Your heartbeat ratchets up, nipples pebbling under your too thin shirt at his smooth baritone. Mr. Kennedy’s eyes drop down to your breasts and he grins.
“I s-should probably g-go,” you stammer out, beginning to rise up from your seat. “Sarah’s waiting.”
The glass tinks when he places his whiskey tumbler onto the surface. He wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you down into his lap, your back pressing against his chest.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he huffs, nuzzling his face into your hair before trailing his lips across your neck.
“Mr. Kennedy,” you gasp out, disbelief widening your eyes even as arousal makes your body feel heavy.
He moans, hands dropping to your hips to hold you down while he grinds up against your ass. “I know you lied for my daughter.”
Your stomach drops, anxiousness flooding your brain. “I-I don’t—“
“Shhh,” he soothes, shifting his hands until his palms are hot against your bare thighs. “The security cameras went off and I have a tracker on her phone. I know she’s out with her boyfriend.”
You slump back against him, thoughts running circles in your head. “She didn’t think you’d let her go out.”
He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your back. “She’s old enough to know better.”
His fingers dig into the dough of your thighs, spreading your legs wider. “Just like you are. I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving me.”
He nips the skin below your ear and you shiver in his lap.
“And since she’s gone for a while, why don’t we play house, sweetheart.”
“House?” You mumble, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when Mr. Kennedy lightly traces his fingertips against the skin of your inner thighs.
“Yeah,” he laughs, low and dark. “I’ll be the daddy and you can be the mommy.”
The fingers of one of his hands glides up the seam of your sleep shorts before cupping your pussy through the fabric. “And daddy wants to play with mommy’s cute pussy all night long.”
You keen loudly, hips bucking up into his hand. His fingers dig into your cunt, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit. The sensitive bud throbs—trapped underneath layers of cotton and aching to be touched. Arousal and trepidation go hand in hand as you writhe in Mr. Kennedy’s lap, letting him touch you in such an intimate way, wanting him to do even more. It feels so wrong, but that only heightens every nerve, making the rush that much more pleasurable.
Mr. Kennedy’s other hand grasps your hip, thumb pressing down on the soft skin. The digit digs into the tender joint and you gasp, rocking your ass down against the bulge underneath you. He grunts, palm grinding against your mound and guiding you into a rhythm that has you both panting.
“You’re already soaking through your panties, aren’t you?” He chuckles, and your chest burns in embarrassment. “C’mon, you can tell daddy.”
“Y-yes,” your breath hitches. “Daddy makes me so wet.”
“Fuck,” he growls. “Is mommy gonna let me play with that cute pussy?”
He moves the hand cupping you through your pajama shorts to slide underneath the elastic band, fingers gliding under your panties until his digits press down onto your clit.
“Ohhh,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the feeling of fingers squeezing together your pussy lips.
“Well?” Mr. Kennedy squeezes your cunt lips in pulses, teasing your clit with hints of pressure that only make your hole drip more slick.
“Yes, please, please play with my pussy,” you mumble, head tipping back to rest against his shoulder.
“Whose pussy?” He kisses the shell of your ear.
“Daddy’s?” Your voice lilts, a little confused at what he’s asking from you.
He hums and swipes a finger across your bundle of nerves. “No, but I do like the sound of that. Tell me whose pussy I’m playing with, sweet girl.”
“My pussy.”
He clicks his tongue, and you whine when he pinches your swollen bud. “Mommy’s pussy!”
“Good girl,” he coos, fingers petting across your cunt lips and the hood of your clit. “Daddy only plays with sweet mommy’s like you.”
Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, brain buzzing with static as his fingers tease your pussy with light strokes of his fingers. It feels like he keeps you there for hours, trapped against him, his hand cupping and squeezing your cunt with only the lightest of touches to your bundle of nerves as he whispers filth into your ear.
“So wet, my fingers are drenched, sweet girl.”
“Mommy likes daddy teasing this soft little pussy, doesn’t she?”
“Imagine what my cock’s going to feel like. Can’t wait to stuff this sweet cunt.”
By the time he pulls his hand free of your clothing, you’re a whining mess, begging him to keep touching you.
“Shh, shh,” he murmurs, helping you up from his lap. “We’re just going to continue this in my room.”
Your head bobbles with a nod, legs shaky as he guides you with a warm palm squeezing your ass. Thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind—you barely take in the change of scenery while he closes his bedroom door. Your eyes lock on Mr. Kennedy, watching as he sheds his clothes until he’s standing there totally nude. A light dusting of hair covers his chest, but what draws your eye is the blonde hair trailing from his belly button down to the thatch of hair above his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight; his dick is thick and long, uncut tip dripping precum that you want to taste on your tongue. His eyes crinkle with a teasing smile.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?”
Your stomach flips with nerves, but you quickly slip your own clothes off until you’re just as bare as him. His eyes darken, taking in your teardrop breasts and hard nipples before dragging his gaze down your body like a caress, locking onto the damp curls at the apex of your thighs.
“Aren’t you a pretty little mommy,” he murmurs, stepping into your personal space.
Mr. Kennedy kisses you. It’s hot and wet and perfect. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before letting go with a soft nip. Whimpering, you cling to him, hands gripping his chest and eagerly kissing him back. His tongue draws yours into his mouth and his groan vibrates your lips. Mewling in your throat, you kiss him sloppily, spit coating your lips and chin, making you feel that much hotter. His hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples in soft circles.
Your mouth drops open in a moan, your own hands reaching out to grab onto his thick biceps. Tugging your nipples with his fingertips, Mr. Kennedy grins down at you, pinching the buds roughly before smoothing his thumbs across your stiff peaks. He pushes you down to sit on the edge of the bed and kneels on the floor in front of you. Ducking his head, he latches onto one of your nipples with a rough suck, leaving the other one free for him to flick with his fingers.
Digging your fingers into his thick hair, he groans at the tug on his scalp. His mouth pulls away with a wet pop and he trails his lips across your chest until he can suckle on the opposite bud. He squeezes and gropes the breast not covered by his face, pinching the wet nipple between his knuckles before tugging it gently.
“God, it feels so good,” you whimper, fingers snagging in his hair and pulling him closer.
He chuckles and pulls away making you whine in protest. “As much as I love sucking on mommy’s tits, think I want to taste something even better.”
You gasp and arch your hips upward, “Oh please, daddy, please lick my pussy.”
“Fuck, how can I say no to that,” he kisses a line from your sternum down to your mound. “Lean back, sweetheart, and let me eat that hot cunt.”
With zero fanfare, Mr. Kennedy shoves his face into your wet pussy, tongue licking into your drippy hole with a rumbling moan. His nose grinds against your clit as his tongue laps at your cunt, slurping against your pussy so loudly it makes you go hot all over.
“Such a messy cunt,” he mutters against your pussy lips. “What a good girl.”
Mewling, your hands cup the back of his neck and you hump his face, smearing your wet cunt against his lips and chin. He groans, hands cupping your ass and holding you against him, letting him lick deeper into your pussy. Grunting like an animal, he eats your cunt like it’s his last meal. You rock your hips against him, dripping slick all over his tongue as he licks and kisses across your pussy lips. Pinning your hips down to the bed, he holds you in place, not allowing you to move at all while he kitten licks the hood of your clit before circling the wet muscle around your swollen bud.
He suckles your bundle of nerves with a hum before pulling back. His face is covered with spit and slick, the sight searing into your brain and kicking up your arousal even higher.
“Mr. Kennedy,” you sigh, tugging him upwards. “Want a kiss.”
“But I am kissing you,” he smothers his laugh into your cunt, kissing across your slick folds. “See?”
You pout, tugging his hair gently. “Please, kiss me.”
Dragging his tongue up your slit, he drops one last kiss to your clit before shifting up your body. Bracing one forearm by your head, he softly grips your neck with his free hand, lightly squeezing your throat. Whimpering, you buck your hips up, grinding your slick cunt against his abdomen before he slots his dick against your wet pussy.
“So sweet,” he murmurs before kissing you.
You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue and it draws a low whine from your chest. Slanting his mouth, Mr. Kennedy kisses you deeply, tongue plunging past your lips and filling your mouth with spit. It makes your clit throb when you’re forced to swallow his saliva. He moans, rubbing his cock along your sopping wet slit. The head of his cock brushes against your slippery clit and you wrap your hands around his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto.
“This little pussy is just aching for daddy’s cock, isn’t she?” He finally leans back enough to murmur down at you. “You on birth control, sweetheart?”
“No,” you shake your head as you answer. “I’m not on anything.”
He groans, rutting his cock forward until the tip presses against your hole. “That’s good, so fucking good. You ready?”
“W-what about protection?” The sentence comes out quieter than you intended.
“We don’t need that,” he reassures you, voice saccharine sweet. “Daddy’s and mommy’s don’t use condoms.”
Another warning bell goes off the back of your mind, but the promise of raw, unprotected sex with Mr. Kennedy overrides all your nervousness.
Nodding, you murmur, “Okay.”
“Good girl,” his praise makes you glad you decided to keep going. “Reach down and guide me in, show daddy how much you want his cock.”
Dropping one hand between your bodies, you grip the base of his cock and slowly press it against your leaking pussy. He hisses under his breath and you glance up into his face. A grin quirks up his lips and he nods.
“Just feels good. Keep going.”
Biting your bottom lip, you turn your attention back to your hand. Giving his cock a gentle squeeze, a thrill goes through you to hear him grunt. You notch the tip of his dick at your hole, feeling your inner walls clenching in anticipation. He rolls his hips forward and his cock begins to sink deeper inside your cunt.
Your hand slips away and your head drops down to the pillow with a choked out whine. “Oh, it feels so big.”
“Shit,” he growls, hips jumping and forcing more of his cock into your slick pussy. “I’ll make it fit, don’t worry.”
When Mr. Kennedy finally bottoms out inside your pussy, you’re both breathing a lot harder than before. Your walls flutter and squeeze his dick until he tightens his grip around your throat.
“You better quit that if you don’t want me blowing my load,” his gravelly tone makes your pussy flutter like crazy which in turns makes him tighten his fingers on your neck. “You just can’t help it can you? Mommy’s just feeling too good.”
His mocking doesn’t help anything, and you whine needily. “Please, it’s just too much.”
“Poor pitiful thing,” he coos.
He pulls his cock halfway out before burying himself inside your squelching cunt— again and again and again. Picking up the tempo, he fucks you at a steady pace, knocking the tip against your cervix and sending lighting bolts of pleasurepain to sit heavy in your core.
“Can’t believe you’re going to let me nut in you without any protection,” he laughs to himself. “Fuck, gonna make me a daddy all over again, aren’t you?”
“N-no,” you stutter brokenly, eyes rolling back when he slips his fingers between your bodies to rub at your clit.
“I’m not mad, sweet girl. I love breeding little pussies like this, all soft and wet.” He groans, fingers circling your sensitive bud. “Can’t wait to see my cum dripping out of you.”
“We can’t.” But you can’t deny the more he talks about it the wetter you get.
“C’mon, don’t you want me to breed this sweet little pussy?” He grunts, cock spreading open your cunt with each thrust. “Just fill you up with load after load.”
You whine, walls clamping down around his thick length. “Mr. Kennedy, I can’t.”
“Aww, yes you can,” he croons, wrapping a calloused hand around your thigh to hike your leg higher, bottoming out in your pussy with each pump of his hips. “You can take it. Take me. Look at how eagerly this soft slippery hole gobbles me up.”
You glance down your body, past your heaving chest and soft belly to see Mr. Kennedy’s cock, glistening in your slick, sliding out from your fluttering pussy. He grips the base and slaps it down on your clit with a wet plap plap plap.
“Ready?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He guides the tip to your drooling hole and slowly pushes inside.
Whimpering, you can’t take your eyes off the way his cock easily sinks inside your cunt—walls greedily clamping down on him as he rocks himself deeper into your clenching heat.
“Yeah, there we go,” he murmurs, head falling back as he luxuriates in the feeling. “Fuck, love this tight pussy. Love stretching you out.”
“Mr. Kennedy,” you gasp and he groans loudly.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Let me hear how much you like this daddy stuffing your tight cunt.”
Moaning, your fingernails dig into his shoulders and he grunts at the slight sting, hips pistoning harder into your wet cunt.
“I’m gonna breed this tight pussy,” he whispers down at you, pupils nearly swallowing the blue of his eyes. “Don’t you want to be a real mommy? Hmm? And who better to help you than a real daddy.”
Your walls flutter around his fat cock, more slick coating his length and making each thrust sound obscene.
“I can’t,” you pant, dizzy with the idea of Mr. Kennedy getting you pregnant. “I-I’m not ready.”
“But this little pussy is just begging for a creampie,” his voice is liquid sin in your ear. “Don’t you feel so empty? Let daddy give you a baby, sweetheart. Let daddy fill you up. I won’t let you out of my bed til it takes.”
The visual of Mr. Kennedy breeding you over and over has your legs twitching, body shuddering as your climax hits you hard. Nails scoring down his back, you babble nonsense as your pussy clenches and milks his cock, your orgasm whiting out your senses.
“Please, please, want it, want you to breed me,” you chant up at him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please daddy make me a mommy.”
“Oh fuck,” he hisses, fucking into your spasming cunt with hard, rough thrusts. “Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking my cum for days.“
He grunts and picks up the pace, hips rabbiting against yours as he fucks his cock deep into your slick walls. Growling out words you don’t catch, he buries himself to the hilt inside your hole, his dick pumping rope after sticky rope of hot cum in your pussy. You can feel his cock throb and pulse, making you keen weakly. Lying together, you both bask in the afterglow and try to catch your breath.
Once his dick softens, he pulls out with a low groan. He shifts to the side to lay back on the bed before pulling you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, and he runs his fingertips up and down your back, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“I’m not as young as I used to be, but it won’t take me long to go again,” the rough burr of his voice burns low in your belly.
“I don’t mind,” you murmur, tilting your head back to look at him.
He dips his head and kisses you, tongue sliding past your lips. You suck on the slick muscle, throwing your leg over his so you can grind your cum filled pussy against his soft cock.
“Naughty girl,” he chuckles against your mouth.
“You said you’d make me a mommy,” you tease back.
Mr. Kennedy manhandles you onto your back, slotting himself between your thighs. His cock kicks against your messy cunt and he kisses you heatedly.
romaincrisis
origamiaround
gummygunk
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
2087
