He’s old enough to be my dad.
In fact, I even call him Daddy.
I do almost everything he asks of me.
Even dirty, sexual, private things.
Every day he asks for more, and I’m getting addicted to fulfilling all his demanding directives.
My pussy clenches in anticipation when my phone buzzes with a text from him, but that’s the only way we ever communicate.
We’ve never actually met.
I’ve never felt his strong, protective arms around my tiny waist.
Never inhaled his masculine scent.
Never felt the warmth of his rich, raspy voice in my ear.
I don’t even know what he looks like.
What if he’s not the fit, stylish, successful businessman he pretends to be?
What if he’s a stalker or a creep?
What if he’s…
Someone from my past?