Oh he's fun.
It's been since Jan 2014 since he's stopped by. I had an ad up this morning and he emailed me directly. As we went up the stairs to the playroom he asked if I was ready to suck some cock. This was a good sign. No further miscellaneous chit chat. He's got a nice thick cock. Has to be 7in.
"On your knees whore."
Damn I love that. I went to work on his cock. He liked me gagging on it and insisted I worship his cock. Exactly the kind of hot talk I like. He fucked my face and cock slapped me. Lots of forcing his cock in my mouth. Then he had me put a condom on him and ride his cock for a bit. All the while telling him how good his cock felt, etc.
He flipped me over and took me from behind. Held my head down and talked shit to me while he fucked me. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. After he came I removed the condom, cleaned his cock and thanked him.
I press my face between his cheeks and inhale. His odour is neutrally masculine, somewhat reminiscent of Irish Springs soap, and it elicits from my body an immediate response. My breasts swell and my nipples harden; my clit swells, emerging from its hood, and pussy lips engorge, blossoming outwards to glisten wetly against the silken fabric of my panties. I dart my tongue out, tasting the sweat of a hard day spent at the office, and slip a hand into my panties. As he lowers his weight upon my face, I masturbate myself frantically, exploring the smooth skin between his ass and his balls as I do so. Above me, impossibly far away, he groans in satisfaction, and I feel a rush of pride. He is a great man—powerful and influential—and I am lucky to be allowed the privilege of eating his ass.
Our sessions don’t last long, never more than half an hour, and they usually occur at a downtown hotel close to our respective offices. Of course, the management would freak out if they knew what went on behind the closed doors of the corporate suite, but we’re always careful not to be seen together (I leave ten minutes after him). Not that it affect my career, but I would rather die than embarrass him or negatively impact his life in any way, shape or form. He is my Master, my White God, and pleasing him gives my life meaning and purpose like nothing else ever could.
When I need to take a breath—I try to do so as infrequently as possible—I rub the inside of his thighs and he lifts himself briefly off my face. Such moments are bittersweet: I need to breathe to survive, that’s a given, but my survival instinct clashes with my will, my desire to serve, which demands I somehow learn to do without or get what I need from his body alone. However, as it stands, I suck in as quick a breath as possible, then return my nose between his cheeks and resume licking and sucking as though my life depends on it.
If I’m supremely lucky, or if I’ve done a good job, or sometimes if he’s feeling magnanimous (or a combination of all the above), he’ll let me suck his cock as a reward. But it is a rare treat, and I can count the number of times it’s happened on one hand, and today is not one of those occasions. Instead, while I eagerly lap his puckered asshole, he jerks himself off and cums on my chest. I feel it splatter, hot and sticky, across my tits, and that alone is enough to make me cum. I convulse beneath him, bucking my hips wildly as pleasure replaces all rational thought, and I bury my tongue as deeply into his ass as I can.
By the time I come back to my senses, he’s already dressed and is getting ready to leave. I’m still on the bed, still naked, his cum now dried to my dark skin. I thank him for his gift of precious seed, he smiles, and is gone. I get up, get dressed, and leave, wondering how long it will be before I get the chance to worship his ass again.