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By *rgeo OP Man
2 weeks ago
WOLVERHAMPTON |
This time he spat out the spunk onto my belly, wiping his mouth with the damp towel. He reached behind him and picked up a bottle, taking a swig of water. I was expecting him to offer it to me but he didn’t. I coughed politely, hoping he’d take the hint. He ignored me. He stood up, walked away to the back of the shop and disappeared for about five minutes, leaving me on my own in the dark. Silence. I strained and listened carefully. Nothing was happening. No-one was there. Was he alright? Had he left? What the hell was going on? Suddenly I felt something brush the top of my head. He must have crept up behind me. The position of the chair meant I was lying almost horizontally. Slowly it began to rise until my face was level with his waist. He turned my head towards him and made me take the end of his cock in my mouth. It tasted of fresh piss and stale sweat. I gagged resistively at the taste of it but he wouldn’t back off. He squeezed my jaw to open my mouth further. The hardness of it pushed into me and the bitter taste filled my mouth.
“No-one gets to touch me without paying for it,” he said. “Now suck me clean, George,” he ordered.
It was very uncomfortable for me, having to turn my head into him, but I managed to do as I was told, cleaning off his dirty toilet cock with my tongue and saliva. There were tears welling up in my eyes, half from humiliation and half from excitement. He pulled back and bent down, kneeling close up to me. He leaned over and kissed me. Then he climbed upon the chair, straddling me, so that he could lie above me and kiss me properly. His breath was sweet and hot. His eyes were looking into mine, though in the darkness it was hard to tell the thoughts and feelings behind them. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of them illuminated dimly by the street lighting. I wanted to speak so badly but still I remained silent. I knew that anything I said now would break the spell. In my head I was trying to think back to the start of it. Had I instigated this or had he? Which had come first, pushing my arm into the bulge of his shorts or his bulge awaiting the pressure of my arm? Surely we were both responsible for all that was happening. By now it must have been half-past seven. I had been there since five thirty. My stomach rumbled.
“You’re hungry, George,” he said.
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