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Of course I know that I should twist the base with my small, soft hands. And that I should suck on his knobby head. I should wet him as much as I can and lick that vein on the underside of his cock with gusto.
And with everything that I’m doing, he groans.
He tightens up. He jerks.
His thighs are flexing rhythmically. His abs are flexing rhythmically too.
His hands are fisted by his sides but I somehow know that he wants to open them and put them on me.
And then it happens.
When I take him deep inside, not really deep though since I’m a novice still but I try to get him at least to the back of my mouth, those fists of his unfurl and his hands fly to my head. His fingers curl themselves around my braid and then it’s his turn.
To fuck my mouth like I’m his personal whore.
His personal toy.
And aren’t I?
He had to share me before but now I’m his. He can play with me all he likes.
He can tug my mouth up and down his rod, making me gag sometimes, making me tear up sometimes too. And I happily let him.
I happily cry for him and drown him in my spit.
I happily moan for him.
Which is what I’m doing, moaning for him, when he jerks.
His thick cock becomes even thicker and tastier and all throbby, and I know this is it.
This is when I get my reward.
And he doesn’t disappoint.
He whips his dick out and in time too, to come all over my chin and my throat.
Making me all pretty and decorating me with his hot, musky cum.
And then along with giving me a pearl necklace, he gives me one made of his fingers as well.
He bends down and grabs my throat. He makes me look him in his eyes, all dark and dilated reddish-brown eyes, as he squeezes my neck while rubbing that cum into my skin.
As if marking me.
Rewarding me even more. Giving me extra credit for being such a good whore.
Panting and with my mouth swollen, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“My good girl,” he mutters, squeezing my throat again. “My gorgeous fucking whore.”
Before I can say anything to that, he’s pulling me up and kissing me. He’s thrusting his tongue inside of me. And I bet he can taste himself but I don’t think that he cares. He just wants to kiss me.
But that’s not all.
He wants to do more. He wants to play more.
So he spins me around, pushes me against the door, dropping down on his knees. And since I’m so dazed and drunk on his cum, I can’t comprehend what he’s doing. Why he’s on the floor behind me and his hands are up on my hips, pushing my panties down. Why he’s flipping my dress up and putting his mouth there.
