I summoned her to my bureau. She came to me wearing nothing but her black, silk negligee. I drew her in with a flex of just two fingers, aloft in the air. My head was lowered, causing my eyes to look across my dipped brow. With a leather strap, i bound her hands behind her back, then placed my hands on her shoulders. Her knees, receiving the message from her quickly racing mind, buckled, beginning her descent to the floor.
I opened the zipper to my trousers, pulling out the heated stiff anatomy that immediately summoned her mouth to open. With my left hand, i gathered her ebony locks that cascaded over her upper body, twisting them into a tight ponytail on the back of her head - my handle. With this grip, i eased her head forward until my erect, veined penis penetrated her curled lips. I held just the head of the staff in her mouth, allowing her tongue to slather it up and down, playing with the tiny, respiring opening on the tip. With each flick, a grumbling grew in my stomach and chest that shook apart the foundation of my intentions when i first called for her.
I dropped the hold i had on her hair, and took a grip of her jaw on both sides of her face, pressing my palms into her cheeks. Holding her head completely stationary, i slid deeper into her mouth, pressing all the way to the back of her throat. Feeling this pressure, her eyes peered up at me with a plea for pity. I pulled back, thrusting in and out with a regular rhythm, as she just knelt there accepting all of it. I sped up my pace, with each end to my forward momentum slamming into the back of her throat.
She choked and coughed, gagging on the intrusion. I continued to hammer into her open orifice. Her hands struggled in their leather stockade, wanting to push away from this onslaught. Saliva foamed at the edges of her mouth, dripping down her chin, falling humiliatingly onto her black, silk negligee.
I pulled out. A long, milky line of saliva hung from the end of my penis, connected to the tender, violated back of her throat. I lifted her to her feet and wrapped my arms around her, tugging her into my chest. We stood there, for a few minutes, just holding eachother, allowing our respiration to coincide, to synchronize.
Later on that evening, she turned to me while we were sitting on the couch, watching a classic, black and white movie as part of us winding down.
"That wasn't a very nice blow job earlier."
She was right. It wasn't. But, she hadn't grasped the point.
"That's because it wasn't a blow job*."
*in reference to lyn's own recent affair