Drinking milk

The warmth in your chest intensified as you returned from the kitchen, and you found yourself looking at Mike with new eyes—god, he was handsome, wasn't he, the way he sat there, so confident, so sure of himself.

"Mike," you said, your voice softer than you intended, "what do you want? I mean... what would make you happy right now?"

Mike's eyes darkened with something hungry, and when he spoke, his voice carried a command you felt in your bones: "When it's just us—just you and me—I want you naked. No clothes. Understand?"

You blinked, perplexed, a small voice in the back of your mind screaming that this was wrong, but the thought of displeasing him made your stomach twist painfully, so you nodded slowly, reaching for the hem of your crop top and pulling it over your head, your breasts spilling free, nipples hardening in the cool air.

"Good," Mike said, watching you shimmy out of the skirt, your pussy already growing wet under his hungry gaze, his cock hardening as he took in every curve of your body.

"Now tell me—what do you think would please me the most?"

You hesitated, a flush spreading across your skin, but the need to satisfy him overwhelmed everything else, and the words spilled out before you could stop them: "I think... I think you'd like me on my knees, your cock in my mouth, looking up at you while you tell me I'm a good girl."

Mike's smile widened, his cock straining against his jeans as he thought, God, she's perfect—so eager, so desperate, and she doesn't even know why.

"Then get on your knees," he said, and you dropped to the floor immediately, crawling toward him, desperate to please.

You reached him and looked up through your lashes, your hands trembling as they found the button of his jeans, fumbling with the zipper while your mouth watered with an eagerness that horrified some distant part of you.

"I've never done this before," you whispered, almost apologetic, and Mike carded his fingers through your hair, gripping just tight enough to make your scalp tingle.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice low and rough, "your body knows what to do—let me guide you."

He pulled himself free, his cock thick and hard, the head flushed and glistening with precum, and your breath caught at the sight of it, a pulse of heat going straight between your legs.

"Open," he commanded, and your lips parted without hesitation, your tongue darting out to wet them as he guided the tip to your mouth. The first taste of him—salt and skin and something unmistakably male—made you moan softly, the sound vibrating against his shaft as he pushed deeper, filling your mouth inch by inch.

"That's it," Mike groaned, his hips shifting forward, "take it slow—let me feel that pretty little mouth work."

You swirled your tongue around the head, tracing the ridge, then bobbed forward, taking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked, your hands bracing against his thighs. God, why does this feel so right, you thought, your pussy aching and slick as you worked him, slurping softly, drool escaping the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

"You're a natural," Mike panted, watching you with hooded eyes, his grip tightening in your hair as he started to thrust gently, fucking your mouth with shallow strokes.

"Look at me," he demanded, and your eyes lifted to meet his, wide and wet and desperate for approval, and he felt a surge of dark satisfaction—she's mine, completely mine, and she doesn't even know I made her this way.

"Faster," he growled, and you obeyed instantly, your head bobbing quicker, your tongue flicking and swirling, taking him to the back of your throat until you gagged, tears pricking your eyes, but you didn't stop—couldn't stop—the need to please him drowning out every other instinct.

"Fuck, you're so good," Mike groaned, his hips snapping forward, hitting the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him, your throat contracting, milking him.

"I'm close," he warned, his breath ragged, and you redoubled your efforts, sucking harder, your tongue working the underside of his shaft, one hand reaching up to cup his balls, massaging them gently.

"Swallow it all," he commanded, and then he came—hot, thick ropes spurting against the back of your throat, flooding your mouth, and you swallowed desperately, gulp after gulp, milking every last drop from him as he shuddered above you, his fingers tangled in your hair. When he finally pulled free, you gasped for breath, a thin strand of saliva and cum connecting your swollen lips to his softening cock, your chin wet, your eyes glazed with need.

"Did I... did I do good?" you asked, your voice hoarse, and Mike smiled down at you, thumbing a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth and pressing it to your lips.

"You did perfectly," he said, and the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his praise was better than anything you'd ever felt—but somewhere, you think something is not right.