Sexy Daddy had lots of books, and I skimmed a few, looking for the naughty bits. You can learn a lot of dirty stuff from so-called literature. My problem was I only read the parts I liked.

My other problem was that I don't think I was supposed to get turned on by the naughty bits I liked. Because when there was sex in a novel, it usually wasn't sex between a man and his wife. Usually it was something like a teacher touching a student... or a Sexy Daddy touching the babysitter.

Something that wasn't supposed to happen in real life. Something that would make most people squirm and feel icky.

So why did stuff like that always make me wish a naked man would appear out of nowhere and bend me over and just stick it inside me?

There were so many things I wanted to try.

By ten that night, I'd read so many naughty bits in so many different books that I was pounding down there and I couldn't ignore it. My underwear was all slick and glossy. When I put my hand inside my panties, my fingers got totally wet. Not just that, but my clit zapped like somebody had hit me with a live wire.

It made me crazy that I didn't have a guy to fuck. In that moment, I'd have taken anybody! Everybody! A pizza delivery boy! Anyone!