“But first, you know what I want from you,” he told me. No more explanation was needed as I sank to my knees in front of him – and took his cock into my mouth.
“That’s a good girl. Make Daddy’s cock good and hard.”
His cock slid in between my lips – each time I took him deeper and deeper in my throat. I felt his hands grab my hair and force me to take his cock further into my mouth, into my throat. Then he held me there before releasing me to enough so that I could take a breath. Over and over again, he forced me to take more – forced me to concentrate so I could take more as I fought against my body’s natural reflect.
“I knew you could do a better job than that” was his comment as he continued his assault on my mouth.
He stopped when he determined he was ready for what he really wanted. I stood and bent over the bed – awaiting his next round of assaults on my body.
It’s funny the image that can spring forth when a word passes through my world. One word – one word used innocently in one place – can evoke such a dirty memory, dirty image, in my head.
A memory – an image evoking strong emotions – that leave me standing at my desk, breathing a little bit harder – feeling the wetness pool between my legs – and smelling the musk that seems to follow.
And after that – after that, it doesn’t matter what else happens in my day – the memory of that moment overrides it all – and I am lost. Lost in my own mind – letting the crap that has driven me crazy slip away.