I could not go back to who I'd been just five minutes before. Not after feeling this, knowing it was possible to feel this.This amazing feeling just built and built. I could feel that sensation that had always felt like a wave cresting. But this time it didn't break, it just built.Sometimes it would feel like it was finally going to break and my orgasm would be upon me. Then the crest would soften and it would continue to build getting stronger, hotter, and deeper. More enjoyable than I might have otherwise dreamed, but no longer feeling like I was about to burst.I looked down at her deep burgundy head lowering to my fuzzy blonde vee. I could see her lips reaching for my soft hairless and now slightly gaping slit. In an instant I wanted to kiss her. I wanted it badly. I had to kiss her. No matter what it meant for my already shaky heterosexuality, or her and Sam's relationship, I just had to.Then, suddenly, the hot sticky delicious glow switched gears and I felt the bottom drop out. The next morning began my fifth week of me "living" in my sugar-daddy's very nice western Las Vegas five-bedroom, four bathroom house on a golf course. He had good privacy, with a walled long front drive and and nicely groomed front area. He also had a three-car garage, a pool, and a bungalow, as well as a basement bonus room, a rarity in the Vegas I was told. My sugar daddy was a divorced family-law lawyer who was very discreet about his flexible sexually, as was I. In reality I was far more like a concubine. I earned my room and the amenities of the household through a very willing exchange of sexual perversions. I loved it, and he loved that I loved it. At times I was a secret gurlfriend, other times like a versatile twink-boy, but most often I was exactly like a slutty sex-addicted whore. In return, he was landlord, head chef, head of household affairs, event planner, vacation provider, masseur, occasionally my butler, sometimes my bottom, often my cuckold, but always my Master..
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