Clean Up

555 Days

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You tried not to worry about Amanda, but you couldn't always help yourself. It'd been one thing when she was in Milan, parading about in lingerie by day, and in some tiny apartment with Mustafa by night wearing a hijab and little else.

But now she was in Algeria, and the veiling seemed to be heavier and heavier each time, and the updates less and less. And when you needed a fix, you went to Trevor. And when you went to Trevor, you needed to make things right with Carlos.

"C'mon, cockpuppet, you know you need it," Carlos said, wagging his big Cuban cock back and forth. You sniffed it. Carlos grinned lewdly.

"That's right, Papi was getting some pussy earlier," he crowed. You pursed your lips, frowning slightly. "Get over here, bitch." He looked fierce, commanding you, and you reluctantly parted your lips, taking his large shaft into your throat.

You reached up with your small, delicate hand, gripping his balls and tugging them. God, the man reeked of pussy. And not well-maintained sweet pussy like Amanda always had. This was raunchy pussy.

You tried to zone it all out, bobbing up and down for all you were worth, until he finally washed out the taste of pussy in your mouth with a heavy mouthful of cum.

"Don't forget ... sentencing is in two weeks." Your fake, blue-hued eyes went wide. You had forgotten. And despite the sweltering Miami heat, a chill raced through you.