the Quean (M/f)

i can smell her on you even before i have taken your cock out. when you came home 3 hours later than usual, having not texted or called, i knew better than to say a word. The bruised ribs and black eye from the last time i did are enough to help me keep my mouth shut this time. Despite not knowing when you’ll be home, the sound of you fumbling with the lock is my cue to take my place, kneeling in the entry. As you enter and walk to me, i am a mixture of fear, hate, and servitude. This is yet another time i have to clean the dry cum and pussy taste from your cock. And it never matters who she happens to be: the stripper, the hooker, the teen, the sugarbaby. you’ve used my money to pay all of them in some way, and i simply suck it off you. As usual, i do well enough to get you hard, but not well enough to stop you from pulling your cock out of my mouth and full on slapping my face 4 or 5 times, and turning around and forcing my head into your ass. pushing me to the floor, stepping on my face, kicking my ribs (still sore), and squatting over me while i push my tongue in your ass and you finish by jacking off. On to the floor. i know what i do, which is lick it up, then go finish dinner, silent and naked. I know you probably will pass out before i finish. So I package it up, put it in the fridge, and go to bed, waiting for the beating that I know will come around 2 am when you wake up, hung over, and come to bed and beat me for just being a stupid, blonde, old, feminist cunt.

Published
Categorized as Erotica