Post Work

Reports of my having an oral fixation are grossly exaggerated…

 

Though your sight is limited, there are some things one knows, instinctively. This is what you think as she leans over you, smilingly passes you your glass of wine, and begins to unbutton your flies. You can see that her dress is already unbuttoned, so her breasts are displayed – you know the bolt of pleasure that flashed through her as she played and posed to find the optimum way to expose herself. And of course your eyes are drawn back again and again to the firm, dimpled, caramel sweetness of her nipples. Knowing that one finger briefly brushing them will make her ache and moan.

But you know her pleasure lies with your pleasure, with her position as your toy, to serve you. Your hand stays firm around the stem of the glass. She licks the tip of your cock before sinking her lips around the shaft, her head bobbing up and down smoothly for a minute or two as you sink back in your chair, sipping your wine and relax into her skill. She starts to take more of you deeper into her throat, and though she gags within seconds, she pushes through, until she snorts and kneads the carpet with her knuckles, desperate not to give in as her hands play with the sensitive sac beneath.

With her head bent to worship you, your gaze travels down her body to her arse, sticking proudly up in the air. She has no knickers on but you can’t see. You know she’s exposed though. That her inner thighs are damp. You look forward to seeing for yourself, later. To ravish her inch by inch until she’s trembling and content. Not yet, though.

You place your free hand on the top of her head, a crown of pinkish brown adorning her messily perfect hair. When she pulls away, your gentle but firm pressure keeps her there, breathing unevenly against your erection. She looks up into your eyes and wipes the snot away from her nose. The visual equivalent of gritting her teeth. You let her lean back a little and watch complacently as she spits saliva, precum and Prosecco over the shaft and her fingers curl around it, milking faster than you would have done, so desperate is she to be showered in your cum. She is sat back on her knees now, moaning softly as though she doesn’t realise it; the very act of pleasuring you stirring something deep within her. Oh God the thought of the sweetness gathering in her cunt makes your hips jerk against her mouth and she smiles, pulling harder, desperate, desperate.

No, not yet. You let the pressure on her scalp increase and she looks up expectantly as you push her away, a delicious string of fluid chaining your cock to her ruby red lips. You nod to her own glass on the table.

“A mouthful.” You instruct, and she drains the glass, her cheeks obscenely full of liquid but she knows you well enough not to swallow it. You know you need to work quickly, anyway. For the sake of the bubbles.

“Head back.” She leans away only enough to bare her exquisite throat until her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, her mouth agape and the only sound faint, sweet gargling from her throat as she forgets to breathe through her nose. You lovingly slide your erection back into her mouth, the sight of the wine flowing out when it’s displaced, and coursing down over her throat and chest making you even harder. She gags again, the bubbles going up her nose as they whirr not unpleasantly around your cock. You feel her tongue; she cannot resist. Her lips purse around you and still she doesn’t swallow. The liquid warms slowly, and you know you can’t last much longer. You yank your cock out of her mouth.

“Head up.” She complies.
“Let it drip out of your mouth. Slowly. Then you get your reward.”
So gleeful she looks as she tips her head to face me and I watch the skinny streams of alcohol run from her slightly parted lips. She opens them wider as the first creamy drops of my own begin to mix into her dishevelment, and in the harsh light of the sitting room lamp, she glows.

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