 |
By *dhesi OP Man
6 weeks ago
Canning Town |
The making out was filthy and perfect. John’s hands never stopped moving—soft strokes down my sides that made me shiver, rough pinches on my tits through the lace that left little marks, sharp slaps across my bare ass that made my cock jump every single time. The room still smelled faintly of the joint I’d shared earlier, warm and hazy, and the air conditioning hummed quietly in the background while our breathing got louder. I was so hard the lace was strangling me. I finally tugged myself free and my cock sprang out, thick and already leaking onto the sheets. The second John saw it he dropped his head and swallowed me down without a word.
I’d planned on being the one to please him, but the wet heat of his mouth made that impossible. He sucked me deep and greedy, tongue working the underside while his hand stroked what he couldn’t fit. My moans came out broken and high, half-swallowed because I was trying not to be too loud in a hotel. Waves of pure pleasure rolled through me and I didn’t want them to stop. My hips kept twitching up into his mouth on their own.
John crawled up my body and yanked the lace down, freeing my tits. He remembered exactly what I’d told him about my nipples and went straight for them—licking, sucking, then biting just hard enough to make me gasp. They’re so sensitive that every scrape of his teeth sent another jolt straight to my cock. He switched sides, then gave each nipple a soft, teasing kiss before diving back in. I was loving every second of it, but the slut in me needed more. I grabbed the back of his head and _eld him tight against my left nipple, forcing him to keep biting longer while I moaned into his hair and felt my cock leak against his stomach.
When I couldn’t take it anymore I shoved him onto his back and climbed over him, kissing down his chest, his stomach, tasting the light sweat on his skin, all the way to the thick cock standing rigid between his legs. I wrapped both hands around it and licked it like a lollipop—long, slow strokes from base to head, tasting the precum already dripping down the shaft. The joint still had me floaty and relaxed, so every lick felt extra good.
John’s voice got rougher, more dominant, the way it always does once he starts getting really into it.
“Suck it, you bitch.”
“Suck Daddy’s cock.”
Hearing him call me his bitch made my own cock throb hard against the sheets. The idea of having a Daddy was so fucking hot. I gathered a thick mouthful of spit, let it stretch from my tongue, and spat it right onto his cock. Then I took him deep, making it as sloppy as I could—wet, loud, messy. Saliva ran down his shaft and over my fingers while I worked him.
A deep moan tore out of him. When I looked up his eyes were rolling back and one hand was in my hair, not forcing, just holding. For an amateur I was clearly doing something right, and that only made me hungrier. This slut needed to please Daddy.
I sealed my lips tight around the head and sucked hard, tasting the salty-sweet precum that kept leaking onto my tongue. Every time I slid down further I could feel his cock throb against the roof of my mouth—thick, heavy pulses that made my own dick twitch in response. I hollowed my cheeks and worked him with long, wet strokes, tongue swirling under the ridge, then pushed deeper until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base. Spit kept dripping down his balls and onto the sheets. I pulled almost all the way off just to spit on it again, watching the thick strands stretch and coat him, then swallowed him back down with a greedy moan. His cock kept jumping and pulsing on my tongue, getting even harder, and every throb sent another little rush of precum straight down my throat. I was messy and loud and completely lost in it—sucking, gagging softly, tasting every inch of him while I stroked what I couldn’t fit with both hands.
I kept working him, taking him as deep as I could, spit running down my chin and dripping onto his balls. Every time his cock pulsated hard against my tongue I moaned around it, the vibration making him curse under his breath. I could taste him more clearly now—salty, slightly bitter, the kind of taste that only made me hungrier. I pulled off just long enough to catch my breath, strings of spit still connecting my lips to the shiny head of his cock, then I dove back down and sucked him even harder, faster, messier.
John’s hand tightened in my hair. Not painful, just firm enough to show he was done letting me set the pace. He started rolling his hips up to meet my mouth, fucking into the wet heat I was giving him. I relaxed my throat and let him use me, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes every time he pushed a little deeper. The wet, filthy sounds of it filled the quiet hotel room—my gagging, his low groans, the soft slap of his balls against my chin.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Take Daddy’s cock. Look at you, such a good little bitch for me.”
I looked up at him while he fucked my mouth, eyes watery, mascara probably starting to run, and the pure approval in his face made my own cock throb and leak steadily onto the sheets. I was so turned on it almost hurt. My hands stayed wrapped around the base of him, stroking what I couldn’t fit, feeling every thick pulse as he got closer.
He didn’t let me finish him like that though. Suddenly he pulled me off his cock with a wet pop, a thick strand of spit still hanging from my bottom lip. I was breathing hard, lips swollen, face a mess. John sat up, wiped some of the spit from my chin with his thumb, then pushed it into my mouth for me to suck clean.
“On your back,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want to taste that pretty cock of yours while I finger that hole.”
I scrambled to obey, heart hammering, the lace one-piece still half-pulled down around my waist. He climbed between my legs, shoved my thighs apart, and wrapped his mouth around my leaking cock at the same time two thick fingers pressed against my hole, slick with the lube he’d clearly grabbed from the table. The dual sensation made me cry out—hot wet suction on my cock, the slow stretch of his fingers pushing inside me. I was already so worked up that every little movement felt huge.
He sucked me slow and deep while his fingers worked me open, curling just right, and I knew I wasn’t going to last long if he kept this up. The joint still had me floaty and extra sensitive, every nerve ending lit up. I reached down and _eld his head, not pushing, just needing something to hold onto while he turned me into a moaning, leaking mess on the hotel bed. |
