“Madam, unbutton my shirt” Chris purred as I perched at the foot of the bed. Obediently, I unhooked each button. My fingertips brushed his bare stomach and slowed with the final two. Chris stood before me with a simpering look. “Now remove yours”, he continued, allowing his shirt to fall from his shoulders. His hands run up my sides encouraging me as I lift my shirt over my head. “Very good girl.” I kiss his stomach three times, descending south, and look up at him. His head rolls back with a slow audible exhale. My fingers slowly undo the five buttons of his jeans as I slide from the bed to my knees. The knobby pile of the rug digs into my knees. Chris gathers my loose hair, “Show me what a good girl you can be.” Slower still, my fingers hook his side belt loops and I pull his jeans past his hips. His cock is achingly hard through his cotton boxer briefs. “Yes, Sir,” I answer obediently and pull them down. My tongue slides up the length of his shaft with a gentle suck of the tip as he meets my upward gaze. His grip of my false ponytail tightens and his hips force his cock deeper into my mouth until it hits the back of my throat. While I suck on the head of his cock, my hand strokes him and twists. My head is gently jerked back, “if you keep at that, I’m going to come all over your gorgeous tits, princess.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I smirk while keeping eye contact.
Author: LuxNovacula
First post- Stranger on the Train [M/F]
I press my shoulders to the cool metal and glass doors of the subway. Adjusting the strap of my heavy crossbody work bag absentmindedly across my chest and trying to find where I left off in my e-book. Earbuds firmly in my ears to drown out the rattling screeches of the train or grassroots evangelist prattle. As I regain my reading spot, the train pulls into the next station and the doors open. Fellow homeward bound commuters stream in and fill space in the packed car. I glance up as a man rests against the closed doors across from me.
The man has a softly angled face with a tall, well built frame; maybe early thirties with silvering dark blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. He catches my glance and I immediately return to my book. “I beg to serve, your wish is my law, now close those eyes and me love you to death”, a late Peter Steele croons to me privately. The stranger shifts and pulls out his phone, places his Marshall headphones over his ears and chooses music to distract himself as well. I catch him looking at me again and coyly looking down at his phone.