iammegadaddyissues:
The Mercedes smells of fine leather and expensive cologne. His suit is expensive, His clothes freshly cleaned and pressed. It’s quite inside except for the sound of His breathing. He’s picked me up here before. i’ve spent many lunches waiting for Him since, hoping to see His car cruising through. He’s handsome and assertive – confident. And married. i have no hopes of being anything to Him other than a release, a casual distraction. I’ve always been attracted to Men of power and wealth, Men of entitlement. It heightens my feelings of inferiority.
I look to Him meekly, wanting desperately to kiss His full lips, knowing that He won’t allow it. He has all the power and He knows it. He strokes the back of my neck as He pulls His swollen cock from His trousers. His cock is hard but not as hard as it will get. He’s waiting for me to take care of it. A glistening drop of precum begins to leak from the swollen tip. His large hand stays on the back of my neck as He slowly lowers my head to His lap. He holds me down as i take Him into my mouth. His crotch smells fresh, clean.
i suck hungrily, shamelessly, like a whore. He exhales deeply and leans back further into His seat. His cock swells and extends to the point where i struggle to take it in. My jaw quickly begins to ache. i will myself to take it, impaling my throat on His throbbing shaft. His grip tightens, His lust peaks. He enjoys the sounds of my struggle – the belabored breathing, the guttural groans, the gagging. He will eventually fill my mouth with cum and i will swallow quickly to keep His trousers spotless. And then i will gently and gratefully suck His softening cock to clean it and drain it of ever last drop so His briefs stay as equally clean as His trousers. His smile will be my reward. And then He disposes of me, leaving me standing alone in the parking where He found me.
It suddenly occurs to me that the one thing I’m dreading the most is not swallowing His massive load while struggling to breathe, but it’s being left there on the parking lot where He found me. I don’t think I can take it anymore, watching his beautiful Mercedes drive off and leave me behind while he goes onward in the distance to his Great Job, his Rich Life, his no doubt Amazing Home. I bet even his wife is beautiful, but part of me wants to vilify her because otherwise He just becomes a douchebag cheating on an undeserving wife.
Clarity suddenly strikes me. I assume if He’s getting blowjobs from me it’s because His wife can’t accommodate His erect size. If that was true, then it means she can’t take him between her legs either. I get that, I mean, if I were a chick, I wouldn’t want that throbbing, veiny cock anywhere near my ladybits. But I am not a lady. I am a whore, and if I have one talent, it’s taking dick. I will always be inferior to this successful man – hell, that’s part of what turns me on and makes me wait for him on my lunch breaks – but that doesn’t mean I can’t leave Him thinking of me. Fuck, the idea of him lying in bed in high-count sheets, in his huge bedroom, masturbating in his silk shorts while his wife breathes slowly next to him…it makes me uncomfortably hard.
“Boy?” he growls, feeling me still.
I pull my mouth off His twitching cock and cough, working my jaw. This is a bad time; His penis is close to spurting. The fingers dig into the back of my neck. “I didn’t say you could stop,” He rumbles.
I pet his thigh. “I have a better idea…”
“I didn’t say I was open to ideas.”
When I hear the tone of his voice, part of me wants to just beg for an apology and stuff his prick back between my lips. But then I think of being left on the curb and disposed of and I just can’t, not when I know this Man deserves more.
“I want to give you a present. You’ve used my services so many times, you know, you get a freebie on the house.”
Now that gets His attention. He raises a well-manicured eyebrow and studies me.
“Punch your seat back,” I instruct.
He reaches down behind him and the seat slides backwards with a whir. His eyes never stop boring holes into me, reminding me that I am never not under his scrutiny.
With a quick, practiced motion, I lift my ass and slide off my shorts. I’m wearing something underneath that can barely even be called underwear, this tight white elastic thing that cups in the front and leaves the ass cheeks bare except for two straps crossing the globes.
He opens his mouth to say something, because he’s figuring out what I’m doing, but before He can growl at me to stop I swing my leg over and mount his lap. Being so close to him is terrifying, and his cologne is making me dizzy and horny. His pale eyes are ice cold, even though his brow is slick and his scent is warm.
“Boy,” he warns. I try not to cum myself.
When I wrap my fingers around His cock, He moans low and hard. His vulnerability gives me a moment to impale myself with cock. It stretches me fuller than any cock I’ve taken before and tears spring to my eyes, but I work past it, and force myself to relax. I make myself keep going until I’m sitting in his lap. He hisses and grabs my arm. His mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and his Adam’s apple bobs in His throat.
“Holy fuck,” He yells, overwhelmed by the vice around his prick.
“I – I-” I stammer.
“Holy fuck,” He says again. I’m trembling on his lap. It feels like I’m sitting on the stove, this solid hot thing under my bottom. His dick feels monstrous in me, and my cock is leaking wet spots through my jockstrap. “…Good?” I manage, my voice tight.
“Ride me,” He commands.
My eyebrows go up. Yes, I will ride you! Yes, it is my duty to service you, Sir.
I begin to rock and he begins to fuck me with intense, impatient hunger. I watch the arousal and need flash across his face. I know then that my assumption was correct. He hasn’t fucked in a long time. It angers me a little, that no one else is servicing this superior man regularly. He deserves a lovely, horny houseboy to keep his life in order and tend all his needs.
When he finally, finally comes, after fucking my ass numb, I fear for a moment he’s going to lose consciousness. His head hits the back of the seat cushion and his eyes roll back into his head. He doesn’t move.
“Sir!” I cry, alarmed.
He jerks forward and grabs my arm. “Wha – what?”
“You passed out, Sir, are you alright?”
He takes a deep breath then feels with his soft manicured fingers for where we’ll still connected. I can feel Him softening in side of me. “I love that you call me Sir. And goddamn, I feel like I’ve wasted so much time just using your mouth when I could be getting this.”
Pride flourishes in my heart and my cheeks turn pink. “Anything to please you, Sir.”
He smirks. He then hands me a tissue to press to my ass when He pulls out. My hole is so tight that almost nothing has leaked out. A little does drip on his slacks and I sigh. “Oh dear…”
”Don’t worry about it,” he mutters. “My building has a dry cleaner.” He opens the driver-side car door and I slide out. He stuffs money into my shorts and tosses them to me. “Be here tomorrow, same time. Go buy condoms.”
Before I can manage a reply. He drives off in His Mercedes, leaving me standing there in my underwear, tissue pressed to my ass, shorts in one hand. There’s a cluster of other boys standing on the corner, watching me, gossiping. I am not looking at them though. I am watching the Mercedes drive off. I smirk. I feel triumphant. I feel high. I was born to service that man.
I throw away the tissue and put on the shorts. I hum to myself as I count the money, all the while imagining what it’d be like to be His live-in slut and houseboy.
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Text is fictional. Hope the original writer doesn’t mind me story-jacking their hot prompt.
