It’s been months now since we began our arrangement, and now my discomfort no longer stems from regularly sleeping with others man, but I miss to dad.
I’ve stopped dating full. I tell myself I’m just not interested, but I know deep down it’s because I thought about him with the last man I slept. The shame and confusion after that is just too much to risk again…
Every month, after hours on end being used like a whore with his cum still warm deep inside me, I leave his apartment feeling right. The last few times I was even horrified to find myself reluctant to go work. So I don’t even stop to think about it before I’m nodding vigorously when he says I should stay until Monday instead, his cock still twitching inside me.
Which is how I find myself on my knees, womb strangely warm and heavy from days of repeated breedings, grinding against his leg and lovingly worshiping his cock while he watches the Sunday game. He’s given me "studying material" since my first attempt at a blowjob, and the fact that I’ve apparently gotten better gives me a weird, warm pride that I prefer not to think about.
He doesn’t acknowledge me while the game is on, just sips his beer and occasionally pets my head, and I’ve never felt more like a pet. Being ignored only makes me work harder to get his attention. I think he’s doing it on purpose, and I hate how much that makes me drip.
It feels like I’ve been nuzzling and licking and suckling his cock for hours - I don’t even know how long a football game normally lasts - when he finally looks down at me. He’s turned the TV off, and I was too busy to notice. The only sounds in the room are the wet noises of my mouth on his crotch.
I never stop my work, reveling in his full attention as he finally smirks down at me. His rough fingers comb my hair back from my face, and I lean into it with a sigh without a thought. It all feels so natural now.
"You’ve been such a good girl," he says in that sickeningly sweet tone that always makes me blush and squirm in the worst way. "So patient, I can feel how wet you are," he nudges the shin I’m still humping against me, inducing a squeak. "I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?"
A few days ago, I might have been embarrassed by how enthusiastically I nod. His broadening sneer only makes my heart race harder. He guides me up to straddle his lap, pulling me close until my dripping pussy is pressed intimately against his cock, still wet with my spit. He chuckles when I instinctively thrust against him with a whimper.
He urges me higher with strong hands on my hips, guides his head to press lightly against my entrance, and then… settles back in his chair and watches me expectantly. I’m too desperate to wait any longer.
I let myself sink down onto his hot, throbbing dick with a humiliating groan. He’d fucked me only this morning, and yet it feels like forever since he’s stretched me. I fall forward until my breasts press to his broad chest, no longer strange, and bury my face in his neck.
I cling to him while I grind on his cock in an almost drunken haze, slowly swiveling my hips, clenching around him with every thrust, feeling his big, strong body against me. I find myself working for his orgasm instead of mine, but I don’t question it. That only seems natural.
It’s when I beg softly into his ear that he cums with a shuddering moan, his arms wrapping around me and crushing me into his body while he bucks impossibly deeper into me. As it almost always does, the frantic throbbing of his cock inside me and blissful warmth of his seed spreading through my belly send me over the edge too, moaning weakly as my whole body spasms.
I realize ten minutes later, still twitching in his possessive hold, that this had been a first. A big one.
Of all the times he had filled my pussy, it had always been by his choice and his actions. Bending me over the couch, or pinning me to the bed, or pressed into the wall of the shower. But this time, he hadn’t done a thing. I had milked him with my cunt like I’d die without his cum. I think there should be disgust or shame, but I just feel… full.
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