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“Slow,” that low voice ground out. “Appreciate your eagerness sweetheart, but no sense in choking yourself. Slow.”
So I pulled off for a moment to stare at him, brown eyes wide. By now, my boobies were free, giant gazongas pressed against his knees. It must have been such a slutty sight. My mouth and chin dripping with semen, hot cunt smell musky in the air.
“But Mr. Dawson,” came my small mewl again. “I love it so much.”
And the dark man smiled lasciviously.
“I know you do sweetheart,” he ground out. “I know you do. But no worries, we’ll be taking a lot of flights together in the future. So no need to get ahead of yourself. Just enjoy the ride.”
And nodding, I bent my head again. Because this is what I want. It was so wrong. I’m a flight attendant, not a hooker for hire. But the situation had permeated my mind and body, and suddenly I wanted to take everything he had to offer. The cum. The hot semen in my mouth, my pussy, spurting anywhere he wanted.
But he’d promised more, so I obeyed. No need to rush. And slowly, lovingly, I ran my tongue up and down that hard shaft, drinking in the male musk, savoring each inch of that iron rod.
“Mmmm,” came my throaty purr. “Oh mmmm.”
My pussy felt like it was gonna burst, clit throbbing and hard. And Mr. Dawson knew. As I lapped at that giant manshaft, he leaned over, one massive palm stroking my back and lifting my skirt until the white cheeks showed.
“Fuck,” he rasped. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”
And then it happened. The man stroked over my butt cheeks, pulling my thong out from my crevice. And then he pushed two fingers into that tight warmth, sampling the hot female dew.
“Ohhhhh!” I screamed. “Oh god!”
Because that’s all it took. I was so aroused by the steamy play of the last half hour that my body was already cranked to a ten out of ten. And the massive male fingers pushing insistently into my warmth forced me over the edge, the heat and insistence so delectable.
“Unnnnh!” I screamed once more, mouth stuffed with manmeat. “Unnnh!”
And that was it. I exploded around his fingers, screaming with ecstasy as my pussy clenched and pulsed on his fingers.
“Mmmm!” was my muffled shriek. “Mmmm!”
And my mouth must have done something at that instant as well. Because suddenly hot jets of sperm spurted wildly into my oral chamber, hitting the back of my throat as I swallowed furiously, trying to capture it all.
“FUCK!” swore the big billionaire, stuffing his fingers even further in. “Fuck fuck!”
And we were caught in a loop. The more semen into my mouth, the harder I swallowed. The harder I swallowed, the harder the alpha pushed his fingers into my cunt, making me cream even more. And then my mouth sucked even more ferociously, milking the man of every last drop of cum.
It was the best feedback loop ever, the most enticing, arousing situation I’ve ever been in. Because the truth is, I’ve never really touched a man. Nor have I ever let any man touch me, even though they tried. It’s just something that’s never appealed, with the boys gangly and nervous, their breath stinking of garbage.
But this was a different situation. A different circumstance, pressed into service by a gorgeous, magnetic billionaire. We were on a private charter flight high in the clouds, our privacy guaranteed by his money and power. No one would interrupt us. If the man wanted to throw me into the back room and shove that massive cock into my steaming pussy, there wouldn’t be a peep of protest.
And the thing is, I would have said yes. If he told the pilot to fly over the Atlantic, extending this flight by another ten hours, I would have said yes. I would have watched as Mr. Dawson locked the door on the private cabin and took me ten ways until Sunday.
But the seatbelt light had already come on. Damien’s cock, though still firm, was merely dribbling into my mouth now, instead of spurting hot lashes of juice. And my cunt, though still horny and wet, was merely quivering on his fingers instead of clamping hard with every scream.
The billionaire leaned back in his chair, pulling his hand from my secret space with a obscene wet squelch. Oh god oh god. Even the sounds were so disgusting, yet erotic all the same. Oh god.
And slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, lips slightly parted.
“There’s a gob of cum on your tongue,” he rasped, eyeing my flushed face. “I’d swallow that before we land.”
Cheeks going bright red, my mouth snapped shut and I swallowed hard, the gooey liquid disappearing, before scrambling back into my dress. How did I look? With flying hands, I patted my curls into place, straightening the canvas fabric of my apron while stepping back into those high heels. What kind of stewardess wore four inch stilettos, the arch so high that my bust was thrown forwards, hips pulled back? Well, now I knew why.
And never dropping my gaze, Mr. Dawson tucked himself back in, pulling his blazer forwards to hide the slight wet spot at his crotch.
“You were great,” he said casually, eyes looking over my heaving form. “Just perfect. I’ll tell them to make a note in your file.”
And dumbly, my chin nodded.
“Thank you sir,” came my trembling voice. “Thank you.”
Turning on my heel, I walked unsteadily back to the front of the plane, disappearing behind the partition where the stewardess’s jump seat was hidden. And only after I was buckled safely, did I let myself breathe deep for the first time in hours. Because had that really happened? Had I just sucked a handsome man’s cock hungrily, letting him stroke my pussy until it creamed deliciously? Had I really gulped every last drop of sperm like an adoring slut, letting Mr. Dawson use my body any way he saw fit?
And in the dimly lit corner, my pussy pulsed its answer. Because yes, it’d happened. The alpha had taken over my senses with his filthy ways, his unerring air of command. And it’d been so good and so amazing … that I only wanted to do it again.
