Jan. Week 3: Game of Thrones: Money shot--Facial (Suspicion:+20, Silence: +25)

“Cum on my face!” She nearly shouted. She knew Mr. Baker loved his disgusting porn style ending and if he loved it he would keep his silence.

He pulled out suddenly and manhandled Leah onto her knees making sure that the the camera was held firmly to catch her face.

“Stroke me and open up wide Aughggh!” he said as he fiddled with his camera. Leah took his cock in her right hand and looked up and him as she stroked his cock wildly her tongue open wide like a castle’s portcullis, ready to welcome his load.

“Fuckkkkk I’m gonna cum! MGHmmmmghgAggghUgh!” His first volley went in made blob flying seeming every direction like a barrel of wildfire landing all over the cheap wig.

As leah continued to stroke him his cum landed on her lip and cheek and chin like a bad Drink Milk commercial. Leah began to slow her stroking but Mr. Baker knew he wasn’t finished. He steadied the camera with his right hand and took his cock in his left and pumped away. A final unexpected salvo flying across Leah’s forehead and wig.

“Fuckkkk that was hot…” he groaned at last, panting as he looked down at Leah’s mess of a face and wig.

“I hope the kids don’t have to use this outfit any time soon… Leah said hoping that none of Mr. Baker’s cum would slither into her eyes.

More than satisfied, he nodded—then, to her astonishment, actually offered a hand to help her up. Leah eyed it warily, then took it, using his grip to lever herself upright.

A silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hiss of the central AC and the hum of the computer’s boot-up process. Mr. Baker busied himself with a package of baby wipes he had handy on his desk, giving a handful.

"Just remember--you know nothing Jon Snow." she said eying him as she cleaned herself up with considerable difficulty. He had cum so much. Even though this wasn’t her work outfit the mess seemed to have gotten everywhere.

He nodded, knowing that he would certainly be keeping his silence. Why wouldn't he? He was having too much fun with Leah as his personal little pornstart.

"Don't worry about me Leah." he said putting his belt back on between the awkward post sex logistical clean-up.

When everything was stowed and the last evidence of their little shoot erased as best they could, Leah grabbed her bag and made for the exit. The halls were silent. She glanced at the old analog clock on the wall and cursed—it was later than she’d hoped, and Jonathan would absolutely notice if she rolled in after dark. Leah’s panic simmered as she crossed the parking lot. She imagined Jonathan at home, already suspicious of her unexplained overtime.

By the time she reached her driveway, Leah was halfway convinced she could bluff her way through anything—so long as she didn’t look Jonathan directly in the eyes. She took a deep breath, braced herself, and went inside.