I’m fucking sick of you. You’re just standing over there pretending not to look at me. You have frustrated me with your distance and reservations for too long. Time is up, you fucking sicko. The Queen wants your head and she is going to take it.
I approach you quickly. I grab your hand with mine and walk us out the front door to the back of some neighboring garage.
“What are you doing. This is a bad…”
“Shut up.” I tell you my hands undoing your belt and pulling down the waist band of your boxer briefs.
“I’m tired of waiting for you. This happens now.” I get on my knees.
“Someone is going to see,” you twitter.
“I told you to be quiet. Unbutton your shirt.” I watch you from the ground.
You quickly unbutton your shirt. I have your dick in my hand and I’m licking my lips imagining how good youre going to taste in my mouth.
I part my lips and open my jaw. And as I pull you in my mouth, I gently graze the head of your cock with my teeth. Sliding softly down the shaft, while twisting the base with my hand.