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He may have had to live in Quentin's house, but he never wanted to owe him a dime. While the two men were relatively courteous to one another, they rarely spoke. However, there were times when Kevin wanted to hit him because of the way he talked to his mother. He seemed to always talk down to her, bossing her around like she was his personal slave.While Kevin despised the man personally, he also felt there was something strange about his business relationships. He had seen unsavory characters come to the house for "business," and wondered what kind of business he did. In fact, he did a little investigation and found that Quentin owned some kind of import-export company. They seemed to be shipping and receiving stuff from all over the world.Kevin also wondered about his mother's sex life now. He could hear her moaning at night and wondered if it was in pleasure or pain. They seemed to be happy but he could see subtle changes in his mother. She spoke up less, deferring to him most of. My orgasm intensified. I shuddered, my screams of passion muffled about the dick in my mouth. And then it withdrew and I gasped, “Yes, yes, yes, Daddy. Cum in my cunt. I love it. I love it when you do that. I'm your whore, Daddy. Your naughty, sinful harlot.”“Yes,” he grunted and thrust a final time, his cum spilling into me.I sucked more cocks after that. I satisfied every one. When they were finally all satiated, I had thirty-one dollars. Daddy took half. “Whores have pimps,” he told me as he pocketed the money.I nodded my head and stumbled out of the bathroom.I couldn't believe how much of a mess I was. My face was sweaty and flushed. Cum stained it. It dripped down my lips to my tits, the older jizz already dried. I swiped up globs of it, bringing the salty treat to my hungry mouth before I washed myself off at the sink while Daddy watched.“Do you still want to be a whore, slut?” Daddy asked.“Yes,” I nodded. “Yes, I do, Daddy. I love it.”He stared at me when I said that while I.
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