The astringent smell of bathroom cleaner was a distant distracter from the hard cock I was riding. It was getting harder and harder to arrange secret trysts with Brad Renier, my husband's father. Right now, Brad was sitting on a toilet in the third-floor bathroom of the library at the university where he worked. I was sitting on top of him, pressing his head against my breasts as he sucked the flesh in and out of his mouth. I bucked my hips against him, craving the release he could give me. We didn't have long until he would be missed in his office.

His teeth clamped down on my nipple, bringing a sharp gasp from me and driving any thoughts of inconveniences from my head. He grinned. "Should have known you'd like teeth," he remarked. "My little girl is such a dirty whore." He grabbed the nipple he had just bit and began twisting.