Blowjob

As he watched her, he considered her clammy palms laying fingers around his shaft; her hunched body nearing him, devoided of her prior haughty teasing. He tried telling himself this was another part of her twisted game, though he could not help but feel sorry. Not because of regret or sympathy for her, but for who she reminded him.

He remembered the suffering watering Joselyn's eyes as she begged him to open up about his hurt. About his fears. He remembered the pain she conveyed at feeling she was not worthy of his partnership. His love and care, just because he lacked sureness with her. Alasdair's breathing incommoded him, his throat tightening upon remembering that night in their apartment. He exchanged glances with Martina, observing his raging hard-on slackened in her grip, shrinking in her hands.

No! Martina was not Joselyn. Joselyn Barnes was a woman of class, compassion and intellect while Martina Washington was a bitch who needed to control his every decision despite his outstanding occupational achievements. While he cannot deny her capabilities, he knew the truth. Martina was only his superior because she got there first, but getting there first meant nothing in terms of ability. If he had the chance, he would work her like a dog.

His aggression returned, no longer caring if having the woman suck his cock would leave him restrained for the rest of the simulation.

"Continue," he spoke coolly. "You at least owe me that given your bullshit."

Her narrowed eyes pierced him, still she conceded with a curt nod before pulling upwards Alasdair's nub between her index and thumb. She brushed her soft lips between the large man's thighs, though her slight chuckles made him wince. In parallel, her tongue licked his tautening sac, contrasting the minor discomfort with moans under hushed breaths. Martina's tender touches elongated his minuscule piece into a thickening shaft, her pecks trailing up to the underside of his glans. He gasped from the stimulation, his testicles rising high as he regained his erection, allowing her to stroke his length proper.

She considered his hard cock for a moment, before chuckling once more.

"I suppose you are a grower, even if you don't grow by much."

More belittling words. But while Alasdair readied a response, he took pause, soon finding himself thrown in pleasure when Martina encircled her tongue around his glans before accepting him into her mouth. He sunk into the bed while the woman stroked the base of his shaft. The ripples of her bobs up and down his pole made his surroundings whirl, the sounds alone hastening his breath as he neared orgasm. He let out a gasp, her lips leaving his erection before reaching his balls. The woman's saliva coated the heavy orbs, her smooth tongue massaging them.

His arms stressed against the restraints, yearning to grasp her head and push his rod down her throat. But despite his limited capacity, he conceived he could do one better. A smug grin creeped across his face as he thrusted his hips, shuddering as his shaft glided her oral cavity. Martina grunted, granting him eye contact, albeit via an ominous glare, for the first time since managing his prick, though to the top dog this meant nothing. He luxuriated in the heightened sexual delights, developing undiminished warmth behind his balls. His upper and lower limbs spasmed without his instruction while his gyrations grew more aggressive, his erection twitching inside Martina's mouth. As all parts of Alasdair's body fell into the abyss of ecstasy and relish, he knew he couldn't hold it any longer.

He was going to cum.

He was going to cum now.

With that, Alasdair surpassed the point of no return, the heedless pressure at his groin and thighs pushing forward. Martina felt the pugnacious pulse tense beneath his erection, but unfortunately lacked enough evading speed. The first rope shot forth Alasdair's shaft, striking her throat with such **** she choked, falling off the mattress. The top dog would have laughed if not for the next volley shooting high in the air and landing on his face. The third and fourth ropes, while not as powerful as the prior, fired with grand energy, getting on the bed linen and Martina's hair. Several more contractions unloaded from his wilting cock, settling on his chest and abdomen, before dribbling down his privates.

Alasdair took slow breaths for recovering off his blissful high, only to flinch from the stinging pain of Martina's palm against his face. Her eyes, red and watering, pierced his own while her raised fist contemplated further ****. She ultimately cried aloud, flinging her arms downwards, before collecting her panties, stockings and heels scattered on the ground.

"You're happy?!" she exclaimed, only to be met with his smirk.

She rolled her eyes, heading towards an opened door on the wall side of the primary entrance, which he presumed was the bathroom given the sound of running water. The look on her face was priceless. While he rather this came about another way, he was wholly satisfied. He chuckled upon hearing her ****, soon barking aloud with hilarity as she exited. Her grimace worsened, his unfiltered and cruel laughter angering her even more. She granted the top dog an obscene hand gesture before leaving him restrained inside the room, slamming the hotel door. Sure, he was trapped, but at least he got his cumuppance. He looked down at his softened acorn, unabashedly proud of its superb work.

If only he could do that for real…