He was deep in me now and starting to thrust slowly in and out, making me sigh with pleasure.“Nah.” He said. “Hate the things and haven’t used...them since I was diagnosed. Here, take some poppers.”He offered me the bottle even as my mind took in what he’d said and I realised I was being fucked raw by a poz cock.I took a sniff and felt myself relax into it. He was sliding rhythmically in and out, all the time talking to me as if we were waiting for a bus or something. It was bizarre, and yet it. Feather light, rapid. Torture. Every nerve in my body was focused on my impending orgasm. I was floating nearly out of my body. I was entirely my pussy and her mouth and at her mercy.I'm sure the neighbors could hear my wails of pleasure just as they had heard hers. The perfomative aspect of that enhanced my pleasure as I'm sure it did her own. Anyone in the apartments of either side of her place could hear us fucking.Her fingers and tongue found that magic point of no return combination and I. It had been years since it had been safe for me to wear high heels. Now I made up for lost time: black patent pumps, lime green stilettos, and several strappy sandals with 3, 4 or 5 inch heels. Dad was enjoying this a lot more that looking at shop vacs.I think he was a little nervous when we walked into a Victoria's Secret. Just to raise the ante I took his arm. I know we looked like Sugar Daddy buying toys for his latest trophy, but if people wanted to think I was a trophy, that was alright. His body wasdressed in cured leathers over his robes that afforded him someprotection against slashing weapons. "Now prepare to die." As headvanced upon me, I took a step back, glanced round the interior of mytent and, seeing one of the two oil lamps close by, kicked it up towardsthe desert raider. It was a poor kick. Perhaps I had thought I mightkick it up into his face and while he was beating at the flames,Hollywood style, I would rush in and drive the stiletto knife deep intohis.