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And like a hungry dog, I leaned forward, eating the nut from his palm. Oh god, a burst of flavor splashed over my senses. The almond itself was the same as always, slightly bitter and nutty. But there was a new salty-sweet flavor, viscous and milky, making me swoon.
I crunched down slowly, eyes fluttering closed, savoring the cum-coated almond.
“Mmmm,” was my breathless moan. “Mmmm.”
And Mr. Dawson’s low chuckle startled me from my reverie.
“You’re gonna work out real good,” he rumbled, eyeing my curvy form lasciviously. “You’re gonna be one of our best hires for sure.”
I stared at him, still chewing a bit before swallowing with an audible gulp. Oh god, the almond had been delicious and suddenly, I wanted more. I wanted more of whatever he had planned, of whatever he wanted to do. So I nodded my head, our eyes connected by a trail of intense fire.
“Yes, Mr. Dawson,” came my dulcet murmur. “Yes, whatever you like.”
And oh god, but the rest of the trip was amazing. No, the billionaire didn’t do that much more. As much as I wanted to feel that huge dong inside my mouth, savoring the source of heavenly semen, he didn’t take action. Instead, the man flipped his newspaper back up and returned to reading, occasionally fingering an almond like nothing had happened.
Nothing of course, except that I was bare to the waist, big boobies out.
Nothing except the fact that he had a panting, aroused female next to him, creaming desperately within.
But Mr. Dawson was training me to be his servant. His slave. His plaything. Because the man pretty much ignored me, immersed in his paper.
Well, as immersed as you can be with a giant cock out, stiff and straight, ready for action.
Because he didn’t hide it. He didn’t tuck it back into his pants. And so for the remainder of the flight, I held still, letting him use my body as I stared longingly at that massive pole, the tip oozing pre-cum like a never-ending faucet.
It was only when the seatbelt light flashed on that that newspaper came down once more.
“Good,” the billionaire said, eyes sweeping over my kneeling form. “Very good.”
And then he looked down at his cock.
“I’ve really made a mess of things haven’t I?” he rumbled deep in his throat. “Go ahead, Miss Evans. Clean it up.”
I gasped, eyes flying up to clash with the blue.
“You-you mean the mess in your lap?” I whispered. Because it was true. At this point, so much semen had leaked out that his pole was glossy and shiny, drenched with the good stuff. Even his trousers were a little stained, there was so much fluid.
One black eyebrow quirked.
“That’s your job, isn’t it?” he rumbled again. “To clean? Isn’t that what we hired you to do?”
And I nodded, small pink tongue sweeping over my lips tentatively.
The gleam in his eyes deepened then, seeing that gesture.
“Now,” he rasped. “Now.”
And immediately, I obeyed. Leaning forwards, my tongue gently brushed over the head of his cock. It jerked under my soft caress, immediately spurting a little on my chin, warm and wet.
“Unnh,” grunted the man, fisting his base now. “Here, I’ll hold it for you so that it’s still. Now clean.”
And pussy creaming so hot, I dove onto his pole. I’ve actually never given head to a man. Oh sure, there have been boys who were interested, who begged me to touch their willies. But it wasn’t appealing. First, because they were pimple-faced adolescents, nothing like the gorgeous billionaire here. And second, the boys’ private parts were tiny, only half this size, limp and rubbery. Nothing like the magnificent monster beckoning to me now.
So with a hungry moan, I did it. I lowered my head and began slurping on his manshaft, taking as much as possible into my mouth until my cheeks bulged.
“Mmmm,” was my low moan. “Mmmm.”
One big hand came to rest on my head.
