Memory

You come down and open the door in your slippers and a thick red bathrobe. Yes, you've been crying, your eyes are red and puffy, you turn up your mouth an apologetic smile. But there's nothing to apologise for, I told you sadness turns me on. In the kitchen I hold you for the first time as you sob on my shoulder. We sit in the chair and I slip my hand inside the red robe and feel on your small tits, your hard nipples. My other hand runs down to the mound of your pussy. Your legs open. I take you to the bed, then you start sobbing again. You reach for me to hold you, making noises like a child, an engine. I kiss your eyes, rub your head, press you into me. My cock is so hard pressed against your thigh. I open your robe and put my hand between your thighs. You mumble something - "No", I think. I kiss your eyes, your cheeks again, your hair. I get up and take off my jeans and put on a condom. You're lying on the bed curled up crying and rocking, your eyes tight shut, leaking. I open your legs and feel for your slit. It's dry, but I line up my cock and push it in. With my other hand I grab on your tit and squeeze your nipple hard so you exhale. You don't stop sobbing. I bite on your mouth, cover it. That's it, that's my nice little cunt, nice and tight. Poor baby - I stroke your head, kiss your mouth, lick your eyes, push your hand away, out the way. Oh that feels good, I like it when you wriggle like that, wriggling on the bed. I give you a slap - keep those legs open for me, there's a good cunt.