Cum Dumpster
You told her you had a late meeting tonight, didn’t you? There’s no meeting. There’s me on my knees in a hotel room with your cum dripping down my face; that’s what’s actually happening. I will check in first — black-and-blue lace, eager lips. You walked in, locked the deadbolt, and I will already be on the floor with my mouth open and my tongue out. You don’t even need to say hello. You just unzip, grab the back of my head, and feed me your cock like you’ve been starving for days.
Throat Fuck
I take you down to the base on the first thrust — gagging, drooling, looking up at you with watery eyes because I know that’s the image you will jack off to later. I sucked you sloppy and wet, spit running down my chin onto my tits, making those filthy gagging sounds she’d be too prissy to ever make. You whispered, “She never does this for me.” I fucking know she doesn’t. That’s why you keep crawling back to my mouth like it’s a drug you can’t kick. I lick your balls, drag my tongue up the full length of your shaft, then swallow you again — deeper this time, letting you feel my throat squeeze the head of your cock every time I swallow.
Leaking cum
When you get close, I pull off just enough to gasp, “Cum in my fucking mouth. I need it.” You grab two fistfuls of my hair, fucking my face in short, brutal strokes, and unload upon my tongue — so much cum it overflowed, flowing down my chin, dripping onto my lace. I ate what I caught, scooped the rest off my chin with my fingers, and licked them clean while you watched. Then you kissed me — full tongue, no hesitation. Something she’d never do. That’s the difference, baby. I take every filthy thing you give me and beg for more.
Memphis
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