No, not passion. Lust. It had dawned on me that I held the trump card, not him. After a few seconds of rubbing the palm of my hand over my pussy I wen... over to my chest of drawers. Choosing first the whitest pair of panties I possessed, I slipped them on. I went back to the mirror and examined myself, luxuriating in the view of the mound produced by my pubic bone. It was such a turn on and I subconsciously began to rub my puffy nipples which, by the time I reopened my eyes, were hard as rock.. So everyone expected me to become even more deviant with my weight loss, but the opposite was true. The more weight I lost, the more uncomfortable in my skin I became. Even my Daddy noticed the change in me."Baby, I'm worried about you. It's been months since you've played with anyone else," Daddy said as he brushed my hair behind my ear and then pulled my face up by my chin. I was lost in thought, like I always was nowadays right after sex. Instead of enjoying the moment like I used to, I was. More

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