Mr. Daniels Makes Me Serve Him

Desmond pulled down his jeans, and his sweat-slick black cock flopped out. His powerful, sweaty musk filled my nostrils. Instinctively, I scrambled to my knees and opened my mouth, eager to serve.

A pang of shame ran through me:. I was submitting to him so quickly, so easily.

“Suck my balls, bitch.”

I forgot my objections as I bathed his crotch with my tongue. The bitter, salty taste of his skin lit up my brain with arousal. He was ten times, a hundred times, the man I’d been. The rocky earth stung my knees. That bit of pain was no match for the euphoria of servicing him.

I held onto his sinewy thighs for support while I licked, suckled, and lapped as much of him as I could. He grunted approvingly, and a sliver of pride wormed itself up to sit beside the roaring heat in my stomach.

My entire face was pressed into his balls, worshiping him with my mouth, when he palmed my head in his hand and **** me off. A bead of my own spit fell on my shirt. In a single, casually dominant motion, he **** me down the length of his shaft. The tip tickled the back of my throat; my eyelashes fluttered. The training at his house had paid off.

“That’s a good little white whore,” he said and spat on my face. My needy pussy ached for more of his ****.

He drove my mouth, his pleasure-hole, down the length of his black cock again and again. Drool spilled freely onto my shirt, soaking it. I wasn’t thinking of Quentin anymore, only of how right it felt to let him use me like the worthless slut I was.

Desmond let go of me, but I continued fucking my own face with his dick. Each time I **** it down my throat, my lust soared to new heights. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I ignored them. If satisfying him meant pushing my body to its limit, I would do it.

“Mm, you catch on quick, bitch.”

I basked in his encouragement, but didn’t let it slow me down. I deepthroated his cock, smeared it with my saliva.

“So eager, slut. Maybe you don’t want this to end when your son goes to college.”

The idea of returning to Mr. Daniel, of choosing for this humiliation to go on, provided me with a twin thrill of excitement and dread. A few weeks ago, he’d provided me with the most powerful orgasm of my life, and I could feel another approaching just from the pure adrenaline of sucking him off a few hundred feet from my son’s school, but…

But I wasn’t some bimbo, was I? Some slut that leapt onto his cock whenever he asked? The question gave me a kick. Did that seem so bad? To be at his beck and call? What else was I doing with my life?

“Uh oh, the dumb blonde’s trying to use her brain.”

I looked up at him and realized, while lost in my train of thought, I’d popped his dick out of my mouth and been swirling my tongue on the end of it.

“Bitch gets distracted. Bitch loses cocksucking privileges.”

He took his dick out of reach of my lips, and I was dismayed to find myself disappointed by its absence.

“Take your clothes off, slut.”

I followed his command as quickly as I could. My heart thudded in anticipation of what came next.