Heels overhead

Thursday at 06:24 AM

You sit idly in your room, wearing a button-down blouse and your favorite pair of jeans after a long day of work. You’re watching TV to decompress, unbuttoning the top two buttons to relieve some of the pressure on your chest from your tight top, exposing a hint of cleavage.

Suddenly, you hear a light but clearly audible knock at your door. You crack the door open to see who it is, but you see no one. You open it just a touch more, craning your neck to look around the side, when a silhouette appears. Before you can react, the door swings open, knocking you onto your back. You prop yourself up with your arms, your vision blurred from the blow to the head, and feel hands on your blouse. Buttons fly across the room.

You gasp, regaining your senses and trying to focus on the figure before you, until—*crack*—a hand slaps your face to the side. He grabs you by the roots of your hair, pulling you toward his groin as you hear the slow zip of his pants. The smell of sweat and musk intensifies. A firm, soft head meets your lips, and before you can even think of what it is, your eyes go wide. You find yourself with him fully down your throat, your hands scrambling to find something to grab, pull, or push away, but there is nothing.

Suddenly, you realize you can smell nothing but his scent, your nose buried in his bush. You can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline—a rush born not only from ***, but also from lust and anticipation. You had discussed this before, but being in the moment is something else entirely. You knew it was coming; you just didn't know when, where, or how. Your mind tries to comprehend the situation, but all you can do is take him, thrust after deep, girthy thrust. You try to think of how to get away, only to realize you’ve already accepted it. Right there on your knees, you hold his thighs just to keep your balance.

Drool and tears of pure pleasure stream down your face as you accept him in and out, over and over. He reaches down and pinches your nose, giving you a light tap on the cheek so you know to look him in the eye. He grabs you by the hair again, his other hand still pinching your nose, and rams as hard as he can down your throat. He holds you there while you look at him with blurry eyes, looking pathetic yet beautiful.

“Tongue… work your tongue,” he commands. You try, but every move you make only makes you gag and slobber more, spit running down your face like syrup. Suddenly, you are thrown onto your back, gasping for newfound freedom. You find your knees are now level with your eyes; he has folded you to present yourself fully to him. You feel his weight pushing down and his hard, throbbing length rubbing against your soaking wet pussy.

You whimper, “Please—” *crack*. Another slap follows as he grunts, “Quiet. No words.” He inserts his tip, sliding in and out over and over. “Ple—” you start to mutter, but *crack*—a third, heavier slap leaves both of your cheeks cherry red. “Look me in the eyes,” he says sternly. You turn your head until your eyes meet. “I said no talking. Nod your head if you understand.”

As soon as you start to nod, he thrusts deep into you, his full weight bearing down. With the sudden wave of pleasure mixed with the stinging *** of your cheeks, you gasp and moan deeply. At this point, you can’t even find words to say, even if you wanted to. These are the only sounds you can manage as he relentlessly pounds into you, your thighs slapping rhythmically.

The thrusts begin to become softer and slower until he is laying fully on top of you, his arms running behind your back and grabbing your shoulders for leverage. He begins thrusts akin to a rabbit—fast, efficient, and with intent. You notice he has grown larger, his shaft stiffening and pulsing, when he suddenly drives hard and deep into you. You gasp as he fills you with his hot, sticky seed.

You think you have time to breathe, but as you gasp, he pulls out and spins you around, while you feel something close to the size of a dime stuck to your back. With your mouth still open, he tells you one thing: “My cum and yours—taste the flavor we made.” He shoves himself down your throat while you are still on your back, praying for air. You breathe hard through your nose, smelling only his damp, hot sweat, until your nose is plugged by his dripping sack. You smell the musk and the sweat of the encounter, and he releases one more time down your throat. You find yourself climaxing uncontrollably, your mind starting to fade, exhausted from being used.

He carries you to your bed to clean you up and make sure you can rest comfortably. He wipes you down with a moist towel and dries you, finding a stray button stuck to your back. He lays you in bed; you have already fallen asleep with a thin smile of happiness and pleasure set upon your face. He dresses himself and leaves, knowing he played his part well.