Before he can protest, I crash my lips against his.

My left hand wraps tightly around his neck, anchoring him to me while my right hand firmly strokes his cock through his pants.

For a second, he freezes. 

“Mrs. Stockholm.” His voice falters.

“Yes, Father?” I fake a moan.

He closes his eyes for a moment, visibly wrestling with himself.

“You’re sure your husband and kids won’t come back anytime soon?” He asks quietly.

Hmm. He’s giving in faster than I thought he would.

“Yes, Father. I wouldn’t be running around naked if they were.”

Then, with a low, animalistic grunt, his restraint shatters.

His large hands grip both my...