You try to wiggle away, but it's useless. Before you can reach the padded portion of your dads palm you're package is rolled over with the tip of your fathers fingertip. He laughs. Sips his coffee. Molests you as if the activity is boring. And with orgasm after orgasm he rolls you around and around, until your voice is hoarse from begging him to stop.
"No.... no! Please! We can talk! We can talk about this! NO! NOT AGAIN!!! Please.... please motnagain..."
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