I guess she really got nailed. The thought excited me so I started to stroke myself again, but stopped as I heard my sisters open the front door.A few...weeks later I found a copy of my dad’s Playboy and got hard just looking at the cover of a woman with 44 D breasts and legs that went on forever. I knew what I needed to do for release and went to my room, sat down and rubbed like mad until I shot into the air.As time went on masturbation became an experiment for me. I switched from using my. Like most men, his ignorance of the female cycle was eclipsed only by his fear of understanding it.He took each of my nipples between thumb and forefinger, and even a gentle rolling brought blazing pain. But also a masochistic warmth.Suddenly he pinched down hard and twisted. I screeched and my knees almost buckled. It wasn't as cruel as it sounds; he knows I have a kink toward nipple pain. But at that moment I was so ultra-sensitive that he stopped my breath. He released and stared at me,. If he could feed an angel, could an angel feed him. Could an angel return his love? Could and angel devote herself to him. Daddy studied Little One’s sleeping face for a clue, for an answer. He wanted to wake he up and beg her to love him the way he loved her and swear to her by all that was precious that he would care for her and protect her, that she would never be cold, hungry or unloved. Little One shifted in her sleep and made a small contented sigh. Daddy smiled. His angel had answered. My shirt was black silk with huge lapels and unbuttoned to show off my chest. My white vest and blazer matched my slacks and my zip-up heeled ankle boots were made of shiny black leather. I used the blow dryer to perfectly shape my coiffure and to fluff the big patch of chest hair sticking out of my open shirt. I combed my mustache and put on a big medallion on a gold chain. I knew the outfit alone was going to make the ladies weak in the knees. And my moves on the dance floor would melt.