After a dozen or so slaps, Suzy lowered her arm and stepped back slightly. Futshime gave a little grunt of triumph and Miyuke asked hesitantly,"Pleas...? That's enough? You let her go now?"Suzy emitted a great peal of laughter. "Enough? You wish. I've barely warmed up let. Now let's get these things out of the way." Futshime felt her leggings being roughly hauled down. Then the hem on her pants were gripped and the garments were pulled down to her knees. She cried out in protest but Suzy. I masturbated while replaying Emmie's video in my mind. Watching my daughter offer her warm, soft, D-cup titties to me in her hands. To me, her father. And I ejaculated explosively, my eyes scrunched so tight that I saw stars.Well, that changed everything. It changed everything between us. I couldn't see Emmie as just an innocent little girl any more. She tended to wear simple dresses in the house, somewhat oversized dresses held up by shoulder straps, or held up by an elastic band that fit. I hadn’t set up my music, so I was stuck with whatever sounds came out of my own mouth as a soundtrack.It wasn’t important to be on key. Just noises, sometimes tonal and sometimes not, but filled with the emotion of my paint on the canvas. It was a counterpoint to color, an aural representation of chiaroscuro. It would never be a symphony, but it was a soundtrack and the more I painted, the livelier my vocal presentation became. Without words, I was letting go of my emotions—putting my night. I'm trying to choose an outfit to wear to meet Dylan in. It's a toss-up between my dark green silk jumpsuit, or my white capri pants and red-and-white striped sweater. Or maybe I should wear a something a little dressier. I have a pair of white linen slacks and a peach cashmere sweater - the outfit is conservative and classy. Dylan might appre-ciate that.Yeah, that outift's a good idea. I'll wear that. With my lace thongs. No matter what I wore, I knew I would wear my white lace thongs.I'm so.