Breakfast time with Angie

The morning sun filters through the kitchen windows. You sit at the breakfast table, fork scraping against your plate as you chew on your food. The house is quiet, too quiet, save for the distant hum of the coffee maker.

Angie shuffles in first, her eyes downcast, avoiding your gaze. She's wearing an oversized sweater that swallows her frame, paired with leggings that cling to her thighs. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, strands escaping like she's been tossing all night—which she has.

She pours herself cereal, hands trembling slightly as milk splashes over the bowl's edge. You watch her, smirking inwardly, your cock stirring under the table at the memory of her gagging around you hours ago. Carol hasn't appeared yet, probably still curled up in bed, but Angie... Angie's yours to break further.

'Sit,' you say, voice casual, nodding to the chair beside you. She hesitates, spoon midway to her mouth, then obeys, sliding into the seat. Her shoulder brushes yours, and she flinches, but doesn't pull away. Good girl.

You lean in, whispering so low only she hears. 'Miss me already?' Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't respond, just stares at her cereal. You reach under the table, hand landing on her knee, squeezing. She freezes, spoon clattering into the bowl.

'Look at me,' you command. Slowly, her eyes lift, wide and fearful, but there's a glint of resignation there. The fight from last night has dulled; threats work wonders. 'You remember what I said. Keep quiet, or Carol pays.' She nods, barely perceptible. Your hand slides up her thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the leggings. She parts her legs slightly, an instinctive submission, and you reward her by tracing higher, brushing the seam over her pussy. A soft whimper escapes her, but she bites her lip to stifle it. 'Good girl! Time for your breakfast.'

'On your knees,' you murmur, pushing your chair back just enough. Angie's breath hitches, but she glances around the empty kitchen, then slips from her chair. She kneels between your legs, the tile hard against her knees, her face level with your crotch.

You pull down your pants slowly, the sound loud in the silence. Your cock springs free, already thickening, veins pulsing as it hardens. Angie's eyes lock on it, a mix of dread and something darker flickering across her face.

'Open up,' you order roughly, grabbing her ponytail and yanking her forward. She parts her lips, tongue darting out hesitantly, and you guide the head past her teeth. Her mouth is warm, wet, taking you in as she takes the first few inches. No resistance this time—just a tentative suck, her cheeks hollowing.

You thrust deeper, feeling her throat constrict around your shaft. She gags softly, saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth, but she doesn't pull back. Her hands rest on your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants, steadying herself as you start to fuck her face in shallow pumps. The table above hides the motion, but you can hear the wet slurps, the occasional **** as you hit the back of her throat.

'That's it, take it like you mean it,' you growl, tightening your grip on her hair. You **** her down further, nose pressing against your pubic bone, your balls resting heavy on her chin. She retches, tears welling, but swallows around you, muscles rippling in a way that sends jolts up your spine. Her submission fuels you—last night's brutality has tamed her, turned **** into compliance.

You pull out halfway, letting her gasp for air, strings of spit connecting her lips to your glistening cock. 'Lick my balls,' you instruct, and she does, tongue lapping at the wrinkled skin, sucking one into her mouth gently before moving to the other. Her breath fans hot over you, and you groan, pushing back in to claim her throat again.

The rhythm builds, your hips bucking up as you use her mouth like a pussy—tight, slick, unrelenting. Angie's eyes water but she meets your gaze when you demand it, holding the stare while you ram deeper. Drool drips down her chin, soaking her sweater, but she doesn't stop, bobbing her head now, taking the initiative to please.

Footsteps echo from the hallway—Carol. Angie stiffens, but you don't let her retreat, hand firm on her head. 'Keep going,' you whisper harshly. Carol enters, pouring coffee with a mumbled good morning, her voice hoarse. She doesn't look your way, sitting across the table, focused on her mug. The tension thickens the air, making your cock throb harder in Angie's throat.

You fuck faster, the situation heightening everything. Angie's gags are muffled, controlled, her throat bulging with each plunge. Carol shifts, but says nothing, the silence screaming. Your balls tighten, release coiling low. 'Swallow every drop,' you hiss, and Angie nods around your shaft.

You erupt, cum flooding her mouth in thick spurts. She gulps it down her throat, some leaking past her lips despite her efforts. You hold her there until you're spent, then pull out, wiping the tip on her tongue. She licks it clean, eyes down, submissive to the core.

'Rise and shine,' you say aloud, casual as ever, as Angie climbs back into her chair, face flushed, lips shiny. Carol glances up briefly, then away, the unspoken weight hanging between you all. Breakfast continues, but the power dynamic has shifted irreversibly. They're yours—body and silence—and the day stretches ahead with endless possibilities.