He’s not interested in me.
Not really.
I’m sure earlier was just…confusion.
Typical eat or be eaten jungle shit.
“What I want…” Salay salaciously begins at the same time she peels her arm off my stomach, “is for you to come stand next to Zero and let him suck your cock while I watch.”
Any ability I had to breathe completely disappears.
“Time to even the score, boys.”Sitting completely upward precedes her adding.“A suck for a suck.”
My head and mouth move in tandem Garcia’s direction, ready to insist otherwise, reassure him I know he was just faking shit earlier, that he really wasn’t into me or it, that the cum on his pants was just an involuntary reaction, when I catch him executing a less than subtle dick adjustment that effortlessly overwrites my planned statement with a filthier one, “Please, Master.”
An animalistic growl reverberates around the small guestroom.
“Please, let your little fuck toy return the favor.”
The soft moaning from the female near me gets immediately overpowered by the groaning and stomping towards me.
“Please, fuck my face the way I fucked yours.”
There’s almost no hesitation to dig his fingers into my cheeks.
To tug at his belt.
To pop open the button.
To rip down his zipper.
To drop his pants to his knees.
And there’s even less reluctance when he uses his free hand to guide his cock over to the corners of my mouth so that it can mop up the drool that’s thoughtlessly dribbling towards my chin.
“Such a hungry little toy,” Garcia wolfishly grumbles at the same time he spreads the spit, precum mixture across my lips.“You need Master to feed you?”
I dreamily nod and desperately attempt to lower my jaw even more.
“Good boy,” praises the older male as he slowly skates his dick the length of my tongue, forcing me to cradle it during its descent down my throat.“My.Good boy.”
Could be the timbre…the label…the fuckingownership…that has me eager to swallow him…but…then again, it could just be the simple fact that I’ve jerked off to this very scene in my computer chair back at my penthouse apartment numerous times.
Whatever the reason seems floppy disk level unimportant.
Though nothing here is floppy.
Not me.
And damn sure not him.
Rock hard thickness invades the wet, tight, slender space, instantly causing the muscles to clench.
Clamp.
Cry for room they’re not gonna find.
Yeah, I may be packing a longer cord; however, in comparison?
