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I swallow in anticipation.
Roosevelt’s eyes darken with desire, as he fists his dick again. “Fuck that. You can suck this dick. But that’s not what I want. I want pussy.”
He closes the space between us. And before I can step away and resist him, he is up on me, his hands everywhere. His fingers cleverly sliding up my skirt, easing over the lace of my panties.
I’m wet.
I’m always wet.
Roosevelt knows this.
He knows it doesn’t take much for my pussy to moisten.
But, today, I’m not sure if my cunt is wet because I’m sneaking off to an island by myself, with the possibility of scandalous fucking going on while I’m there. Or if it’s because seeing Roosevelt standing here, balls hanging low, dickhead glistening with precum, his hands roaming my body that has my pussy ready to explode.
“You always playing games,” he says hoarsely, his voice thick with lust. “Pussy all wet for daddy.”
“I’m not playing games,” I say, feeling my cunt coiling in heat. I smirk. “Maybe I want you to beg for it.”
“Oh, that’s what you want? Me to beg for what’s already mine?”
He reaches under my panties with his thumbs. Pulls at my lips. Goads a moan from me. “Yes. Beg for it.”
He pinches my clit over the silk fabric, and my body shakes, almost sending me into an orgasmic fit.
“Fuck that. I ain’t begging for shit,” he rasps. “Not today. Turn around and let me get up in this shit from the back.”
“No,” I say low and soft, almost pleading as I reach for his heavy dick. He doesn’t stop me. “Let me taste this.” I drop to my knees, looking up at him. “I want this big, juicy dick in my throat.” I stick my tongue out. Flick it over his dickhead. Heat swells in his eyes as my tongue swipes over his slit, gathering the strand of precum from its tip.
A part of me wants to speed-suck him so that he’ll spill his seeds and slump over real quick. Then there’s the dick-sucking whore in me who wants to savor his dick slow and sweet. But since time is of the essence, I settle on sucking him into my mouth, swift and furiously. I cup his balls and give his dick a good washing.
He grunts in pleasure, placing his hands up on his hips. I suck him deep, pulling back every so often to run my gloss-painted lips up and down the side of his shaft, streaking it wi
th lipstick. I lick up and down it, then suck it back into my mouth, suctioning out more precum.
“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth, huh, baby?”
I grunt in answer.
His dick slides in and out, stretching my lips open, its head hitting the back of my throat, plugging my airway. Spit splashes out of my mouth.
“Nice wet mouth. Yeah, shit.”
Roosevelt rocks his hips in a sensuous rhythm. “Aaah, shiiiit!” he groans, rolling his hips sharply, filling my mouth and throat with dick.
I’m trembling with arousal, my lust-drenched cunt, soaking my panties. My mind reels back and forth from fantasies of being fucked by some hunky island dick to the big, thick dick already in my mouth.
God, I love this man. I swear I do. But my pussy is still so goddamn angry with him. He always does this shit to me. Gets me all worked up, stirs my pussy up real good, teases me with rippling strokes, takes me right to the edge, then leaves me goddamn hanging.
He does this to me. Forces me to sneak off and let other men do dirty things to my pussy. I know I wouldn’t creep if he dicked me longer, gave me longer strokes, if he had more control of his nut.
I blame him for this.
My cheating.
Having me love this big, beautiful dick, but hating it at the same time.
Goddamn him!
