Hello all. Here is a new commission story. I'll start working on the monthly story later tonight. Enjoy!
Preview:
"Looks like it's almost about time, huh?" He thinks. He puts down the knife for a moment, picks up his of and dials the number Emma had scribbled on a sticky note the night before, pressing the phone to his ear as he takes a bite of the sandwich. It rings twice before someone picks up. “Hey, this is Max. From yesterday.”
Andrea chuckles, low and throaty, the sound sending an unexpected ripple down the boy's spine. “Yeah, I remember you Max. I know they say tall girls can be airheads but that’s just a stereotype, you know?”
Max snickers at the jab, nearly choking on his bite. “Sorry. Anyway, I’m about to cross the street to come check your pipes… I mean sink… your problem.” He corrects himself, facepalming internally at his choice of words.
“That’s cool, thanks for letting me know. See you soon, then.” She says before hanging up, the line going dead with a soft click that leaves him staring at the phone for a beat longer than necessary. He finishes the sandwich in a few quick bites, grabs his toolbox from the counter, and heads out the door. The short walk across the street feels heavier than it should, his work boots scuffing the pavement as he approaches her house. The place looks neat and inviting from the outside, fresh paint and trimmed hedges, but he can’t shake the way her voice curled around that teasing laugh.
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"Oh... Hey, Andrea..." Max says, the words coming out nervous and a little hoarse. The two hadn't had any contact in the last three days. Max had thrown himself into every extra shift he could find, crawling through crawlspaces and fixing leaks until exhaustion numbed the memory of her kitchen, her body, her impossible slab of girl-meat. Andrea, on the other hand, had relished the effect she knew she had on him, letting the silence stretch on purpose, savoring the way he had stumbled out of her house like a man who'd seen something he couldn't unsee.
"Kept me waiting long enough, don't you think?" She teases, leaning against the doorframe with an effortless confidence that makes her tower over him even more.
"Wh-what do you mean?" The boy stutters, deflecting the obvious even as heat crawls up the back of his neck.
"What do I mean? What I mean is that you took a deep, long look at what I'm hiding under these clothes, and you didn't even bother to invite me for a dinner afterwards." She playfully teases, leaning down to whisper in his ear, her breath warm against the shell. "That's kind of rude, don't you think, Max?"
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Andrea’s breathing grows heavier, her hips moving faster, the wet sounds of his mouth and her cock filling the quiet living room. “Gonna cum down your throat if you keep that up.” She warns, voice strained. “Gonna flood that pretty mouth with so much ball-broth you’ll be tasting me for days. You want that, Max? Want me to use your throat like a fucktoy?”
He moans around her cock, the sound desperate and eager, and nods as best he can with his mouth stuffed full. Yes. He wants it. Wants to taste her. Wants to be used.
She laughs, low and breathless. “Then take it. Take every fucking inch.” She holds his head steady and starts to fuck his throat in earnest, not rough, but deep and deliberate. GUCKGLUCKGUCKGLLUCK~ The fat head continuously punches past his gag reflex again and again. Max’s eyes roll back, tears streaming down his cheeks, spit and pre-cum pouring down his chin and soaking the front of his shirt. His hands clutch at her ass, pulling her closer, encouraging her, and she gives him exactly what he’s silently begging for.