Mara Kneels

"Get on your knees," Dre said.

Mara's knees didn't move. Her brain was still trying to construct some exit ramp, some version of this where she maintained a shred of dignity. "Dre, I've never—"

"Yeah you have," he said. "On your knees. Now."

Her legs folded. She sank down between his spread thighs, the hardwood floor cold and unforgiving against her bare kneecaps. From down here Dre looked enormous — his thick thighs on either side of her like walls, and his cock standing rigid and swollen inches from her face. She could smell him — musky, masculine, warm skin and something almost sweet at the tip where his precum had beaded into a fat, clear droplet that caught the light.

"Pretty little white girl on her knees where she belongs. Open your mouth." Dre said, looking down at her.

Mara parted her lips — just barely.

"Wider."

She opened wider. Dre gripped the base of his shaft and angled the heavy head toward her mouth. He didn't push in. He rubbed the slick, swollen tip across her lower lip — slow, painting her pink lip gloss with his precum until it mixed into a glossy, obscene shine. Mara's tongue darted out on instinct and tasted him — salty, thick, warm.

"That's it," Dre murmured. "Taste it. You been thinking about this cock all night. Now you got it right here. Take it."

Mara wrapped her lips around the head and Dre let out a low groan that rumbled through his whole chest. The head alone stretched her mouth wide — her jaw aching immediately as she tried to accommodate the girth. Her tongue swirled around the ridge of his crown, feeling every vein, every throb of his pulse against her lips. He was so hard it was like sucking warm steel wrapped in velvet skin.

"Fuck," Dre breathed. "More. Take more."

Mara slid forward, feeling inch after inch push past her lips and over her tongue. Two inches. Three. Four. Her mouth was flooding with saliva already, her body's natural response to being so completely filled. She could feel spit pooling around the shaft and leaking from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down onto her bare tits in warm threads.

She pulled back with a wet pop and gasped for air, a thick rope of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his cockhead. She looked up at him with watery eyes.

"I can't fit—"

"You can." Dre's hand came to the back of her head. Not forcing. Just resting there with his fingers laced through her hair. A reminder of who was in charge. "Relax your throat. Breathe through your nose. You got this."

Mara took a shaky breath and opened her mouth again. This time she didn't hesitate — she swallowed him back in, pushing further than before, feeling his fat head nudge the back of her throat. Her eyes watered instantly, tears blurring her vision as her gag reflex kicked.

Glk.

She pulled back, coughing, a mess of thick saliva spilling down her chin and dripping onto her chest. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice already wrecked.

"There you go," Dre said. "Again. Deeper this time."

Something shifted in Mara. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the sheer filthiness of it — her on her knees, naked and dripping, choking on a stranger's cock while Hugh's missed call still sat on her phone. Maybe it was the way Dre looked at her like she was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. But the reluctance drained out of her like water and something hungry took its place.

She grabbed his shaft with both hands — her fingers barely meeting around his girth — and spat on it. A thick, nasty glob that slid down his dark skin. She smeared it with her fist and then dove back in, this time with purpose.

Glk. Glk. Glk.

Mara bobbed her head in fast, sloppy strokes, taking him deeper each time, drool pouring freely from her stuffed mouth. The sound was obscene — wet, rhythmic, schlick schlick schlick — her spit frothing white around the base of his shaft as she worked him with her lips and tongue and both fists twisting in opposite directions.

"Oh shit," Dre groaned, his head falling back against the couch. "Fuck. You a nasty little bitch, ain't you? Look at you. Going crazy on this black dick."

Mara moaned around his cock in response, the vibration making Dre's thighs tense on either side of her head. She was soaking — she could feel herself dripping down her inner thighs onto the hardwood floor, untouched, just from this. From having her mouth fucked full. From being used.

She pulled off long enough to gasp, "I want it all," before plunging back down. This time she relaxed her throat the way he'd told her — breathed through her nose — and pushed past the resistance. His cockhead breached her throat and she felt her neck bulge around him.

GLKK—

Her eyes rolled back. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She held there — nose pressed into his pelvis, his wiry hair against her face, every inch of his massive cock buried in her throat — and swallowed around him.

"FUCK!" Dre barked. His hand tightened in her hair — gripping now, not just resting. "Holy shit. You swallowing the whole thing. Goddamn."

Mara pulled off with a ragged gasp, a waterfall of thick spit cascading from her mouth onto her tits, her stomach, the floor between her knees. Her face was a wreck — mascara streaking down her cheeks, lip gloss smeared beyond recognition, chin coated in her own drool. She looked up at Dre with ruined, hungry eyes and opened her mouth wide, tongue out, begging.

"Put it back," she slurred. "Please."

"Beg louder."

"Please fuck my throat, Dre. Please. I need it."

Dre grabbed a fist of her hair with one hand and his cock with the other and fed it back into her open mouth. This time he didn't let her set the pace. He held her head still and thrust upward from the couch — his hips snapping up, driving his cock into her throat in deep, brutal strokes.

GLK. GLK. GLK. GLK. GLK.

Mara gagged and choked and drooled and took it. Her hands fell to his thighs and gripped for stability as he fucked her face, her spit flying with every backstroke, thick strings connecting her lips to his shaft every time he pulled out far enough for her to suck in a ragged breath before slamming back in.

"This what you needed, huh?" Dre growled, watching her ruined face bounce on his cock. "Not your little white boy who fucks you gentle. You needed a real nigga to use this throat. Say it."

He pulled out and held her by the hair, his cock resting heavy and throbbing against her cheek, coated in her saliva.

"Say it," he repeated.

"I needed this," Mara gasped, her voice hoarse and broken. "I needed you. I needed your cock." She turned her head and kissed the side of his shaft — open-mouthed, sloppy, reverent — tonguing the thick vein that ran its length. "I'm yours tonight."

Dre smiled down at her. That smile that said he'd known this would happen the moment he sent that first picture.

"Yeah you are," he said. He stood up from the couch — his cock bobbing heavy in front of her face, slick and shining with her spit — and looked down at the mess kneeling at his feet. "Now get on that couch. On your hands and knees. I'm about to ruin that little white pussy."