The Fellator
Jan 14th, 2025 by Holiday
The meeting with the Ivy League type in a three hundred dollar suit turns me off. I listen with polite disinterest because the conversation is fit for a one-way whorehouse mirror.
Instead, I stare out the window and dwell on submitting to your shaved cock:
You enter my motel room …. we’re alone and you smile …. I can never resist you …I don’t know if I should kiss you …. this may violate your masculine code …. you can seduce me so easily ….. but I won’t betray my attraction in a feminine way …. instead, I offer small talk while you unbutton your shirt …. pretending not to notice your captivating physique …. but I want to touch you immediately …. rub my hands across your splendid smooth, hard chest …. caress you and kiss your nipples …. I’m so hot …. I must have you …. instead, you touch my face, at first with gentle strokes …. and then you insert your middle finger in my mouth, feeling all around …. you direct me to my knees and press my face into your crotch …. I smell your scent through your expensive clothes …. I hope you’ll unzip; all men liked being sucked …. and you do tease me by unzipping your pants - slowly …. you’re wearing white briefs …. your erect cock pops out and stands to attention like a pillar …. shaved, just as I love it …. I let out a discernible moan of approval …. “stroke it for me,” you order …… I offer total compliance, my hands fondle your immaculate cock …. when I see a clear bead form at the tip, pumped out by my eager hand, my mouth waters …. I feel the need to taste that drop of liquid …. I feel compelled to put your thick, hot meat in my mouth ….. you instruct me to slide further down on my knees …. is this how you treat your wife? …. and all the others before me? …. I don’t really care …. I have no other sense of purpose and don’t understand my own desires …. I’m willing to be your cocotte, your slut, your whore ….
Continued
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