Game On

Emilia Clarke

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked when I saw Lo on the bed, a book in her left hand, her right hand under the covers, between her legs.

Her right hand quickly withdrew and her legs snapped together as she looked up, blushing, and said, “Nothing!”

“Looks like you’re reading a book and masturbating.”

“Yeah, so?” she replied belligerently.

“So, I like that.”

“Well, it wasn’t meant for you.”

“Why so defensive?” I inquired as I sat on the bed next to her and looked at what she was reading. It was Game of Thrones.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, her tone completely changed. “I was just reading this and. . . you startled me. That’s all.”

“What was it you were reading?”

“Pull down your pants, get on your back, and I’ll tell you.”

I followed her instructions immediately. She climbed on me, lowered herself on my erect rod, and let out a soft moan. She was very wet and I glided in with ease. When she was comfortable, she said, “I was just reading a passage in the book where one of the women learns to ride a horse. She mounts it slowly because she’s afraid,” she said as she slowly slid down on my cock, and then back up again. “But she gradually gains confidence in the saddle. The horse moves faster and she finds it exciting. Eventually the horse breaks into a trot as all the men watch her ride it. She rides with her husband and then the two of them are together and. . .” She trailed off as she began to undulate on me.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Pull my nipples and twist. Hard.”

I did as she commanded.

“Harder!” she said.

I was practically pulling them down to her navel as I twisted.

“She and her husband find a place to lie down and he pinches her nipples and pulls on them, just like you’re doing.” She came.

She lifted her gushing puss up off my soaked spear and lay on her back. “Have me again and I’ll tell you more.”