I'll Be A Good Girl, Sir

I push myself against him. I turn my eyes up to him. I stroke him long and slow, moaning as I part my lips and focus on the primary aspect of the blowjob: taking him to my absolute limit.

For the first time I notice that my fingers don't wrap all the way around his shaft when I'm stroking him and so I use both hands to compensate and I twist and turn them, squeezing tight but not too tight as I trace up and find my lips and then push down and follow.

Bit by bit I take more and more of him. And as I do he becomes slick with my spit and when I need to break for air that doesn't mean that I stop.

Instead I turn to my lips and my tongue and I lavish him with kisses and licks. I focus all my attention on getting him as slick as I can until he's glistening and I've touched every inch of him.

"It's like you're worshipping it," he marvels at me, "Darling, you were made for this."

Humming a happy tune I turn back to him. I part around the limits of his head and I hold there, slowly sucking while I shift the rest of my body.

Both hands on his cock but my knees coming up under me until I'm hovering closer to him than to the other side of the car. And my elbows shift out and then in so that when I pop him out and take a breath my breasts are trapped between my upper arms, pushing them together to give him the beautiful view of a bountiful amount of cleavage.

"You disgust me," I smile, teasing him with the truth, "But you have the thickest fucking cock I've ever seen."

Worship it. I worship it. I push back down and I slide down to the bottom and I trace my tongue up the underside of him. I swirl around his head and I press my lips around him and he pops into my mouth, his cock head throbbing and sending a small jet of precum onto my tongue.

Moaning I swallow it, feeling the warmth of his seed coat my mouth and slide down my throat. My eyes involuntarily roll into the back of my head as a pleasurable shudder rolls out from my belly and makes my nerves itchy with delight.

And deep inside of me that squirming need still grows, still twists and turns my belly until it is all I can do not to focus on it.

As I suck him again I push down to take as much as I can. I **** myself on him so that I can **** out the riot of needs running through me and I remember the way he felt.

Pressing up against my asshole. Pressing against the mound of my pussy. And the last time when I ground myself against him one more time and he pushed with finality against my clit and god the way my world sparkled with delight at the feel of that.

I hate him but I know that I would love the way he feels inside of me.

I want to get fucked, but not by this man. No something in me was holding out for someone special, somehow thinking that there was some part of me that was waiting for the right person to push me over the gap.

And this fat fuck is hardly the man of my dreams. More like the man of my nightmares and I think maybe the only reason I'm getting off on this in the first place is that I'm suffering from a Grade A case of self-hatred in the process.

I think maybe he's not good enough for me so I'm giving myself to him, but only parts of me.

The rest...

I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer. I'm not going to be able to resist forever. Just having this asshole against my asshole was enough to tempt me to press down and take him in full. Just having him...

Just having him would be terrible.

But I'm going to need to have someone soon.

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