Freckles, How I Love Thee

It’s sunny in the kitchen, bright white light through the open window right in front of you, morning sun cast in straight, piercing beams off the edge of the table and onto the sparkling clean floor. A floor you could eat off.

You were having a bowl of cereal, the newspaper open behind your food as you scanned it absently. The place setting was neat, tidy. Everything was tidy and bright. A white ceramic bowl filled nearly to the brim with Cheerios, a sliced banana on top, a glass of orange juice, a silver spoon. Saturday was leisure and you were still in your white tee shirt, soft from being slept in.

You turned the page and began again at the top left, a smile tickling the corner of your mouth, your free hand turning the spoon over and over and then plunging it into the cereal bowl. You took a bite, your eyes sliding down the page to the advertisements and then on toward the business, inching closer to sports and entertainment.

“Is that it, cunt?” you said, distractedly, shoveling another spoonful into your mouth, then, “OWCH! OW! Fuck.”

You growled, looking up from the paper, body tensing as your thighs closed hard around my ears. I squealed, my hands curling into your knees, clawing at your skin with a grunt.

“You know better than that. Don’t get an attitude,” you said, rubbing the bite marks on the inside of your thigh and peering under the table at me.

I was on my knees and glaring at you, my face trapped between your legs, your hard cock just out of reach of my wet mouth. You smirked at me, “Your face is so adorable when it’s all squished up like that, baby. I just want to keep it there forever.”

I scowled, tugging harder on your knees, but you dropped your spoon into the bowl and reached under the table, twisted your fingers into my hair. Your other hand moved down to your dick, stroking along the top of your shaft with your thumb. You were looking from your handful to my face; you said, “You like my cock in your mouth, slut?”

I raised my eyebrow, but now was not the time to be coy. My scalp tightened with your fingers and you pulled my cheek to your thigh. I could feel the hair above your knee, your cotton tee pressed against my face, leaving wrinkled lines in my smooth skin. You stroked your cock harder; it was glistening wet from my mouth and you dragged my saliva up from your balls as you handled yourself.

I was jealous. My mouth watered.

“Open up,” you said, tapping your cock against my lips. I did, easily. Eagerly, my fingers releasing your flesh and falling back to the floor. The linoleum beneath my naked legs was cold and I shifted uncomfortably, but I was locked in your grip, your cock teasing me.

“I know you want to taste me, cunt,” you whispered, watching my face, my eyes focused on your meat just out of reach, “Stick out your tongue so I can see your whore throat. You’re hoping that I let you swallow, aren’t you? I was thinking about it.”

I groaned, as you continued to pump your cock in front of me. I could feel the frustration in my belly, tiptoeing up my chest. I twitched, growling softly. You let go of your dick and slapped my face lightly, shaking my head with your other hand, “No. You think you’re going to get it just because you want it? Are you stupid?”

I narrowed my eyes, blushing hard with my mouth open and my tongue out. You waited to see how I would react, but I swallowed my disappointment, my irritation, and returned my eyes to your cock, thick, swollen. I could tell that it wanted me as badly as I wanted it. I’ll be a good girl, meat, I thought, then you’re all mine.

“Tell me, cunt,” you said, your voice choking slightly, raspier. I licked my lips and looked up at you, my pupils huge with lust, my chin and neck wet, on my hands and knees because you wanted me to service you while you ate.

“I’m not stupid, Sir. I just wanted it,” I said, simply, focused. My pussy was throbbing and I clamped my legs closed around it, pressing in on my clit and groaning slightly. You noticed but said nothing.

“Why do you want it, baby?” you asked, softening a little, thumbing your foreskin and rubbing the pearly head along my lower lip. I purred; I couldn’t help it. I closed my eyes, breathing in hard, wanting more than a little taste.

“Fuck, Johnny—” you flicked your wrist and my head was yanked back a bit; I gasped, “Owch. I want it because I love the way you taste, Sir. I love the way my throat closes around your cock. I want to eat you. I want to keep you. I want your cum on my tongue. I want you to let me worship you with my cunt mouth. Please, Sir?”

I loved the color of your cock; I bounced anxiously, anticipating the feel of it sliding back into my mouth. Your hand untangled my hair and wrapped around the back of my head. You pulled my face toward your lap and dragged your cock across my cheek, tapped it on my lips, watched my mouth drop back open, thighs squeeze shut harder, “Please, Sir. Pleeease.”

You grinned and filled my throat violently, your cock crammed into my mouth before I knew it, and everything I tasted, smelled and touched was you. My throat opened for you, my cheeks bulged full with cock, my lips wet, my cunt hot. I choked on my gratitude, mumbling thankyous as I sucked hard.

You used my throat entirely, pumping into my mouth like my cunt. I shut my eyes and swallowed, swallowed then caught the head of your cock in my teeth, closed my lips around it and suckled, built the suction around the rim of your dick. I could taste you on my tongue, opened up and wrapped it around your shaft, then long, slow lollipop licks. Your hand was on my shoulder then my tit, palming and pulling it up, your fingers catching my nipple and pinching it hard.

My hands were on your thigh, my eyes open. I watched while I serviced you; you sat back and let go of my hair, dropped both arms behind you and slid down in your chair, your cock sunk deep in my throat again. You sneered and told me that you wanted me to suck until my cunt was dripping on the sparkling tile. I nodded, sucking air loudly while I slurped, long strands of spit leaking from my lips, gluing my hair to my cheeks and chin. You closed you eyes and pressed your lap to my lips, warmer as my mouth enveloped and devoured.

“Is your pussy throbbing, little one? Are you wet for me like I want?” you asked, not looking at me. My legs slid apart and my cunt swelled, hot above the tile and slick. I nodded, not stopping with my mouth for even a second. I was gasping and swallowing fast. I wanted to be fucked. I held my hands up on either side of my head, knowing that they would stray to my pussy if I left them too close.

“What do you say to me, cunt? I let you suck my cock, what do you say?” you demanded, thrusting into my throat while I tried to speak. I clutched my hands into fists and spoke around your dick, my tongue slapping against the underside of your cock and trying not to giggle.

“I thay I luth your cock, Thir. I want to thuck you all athternoon. Thankyou, thankyou thor letting me, Thir. This cunt doeth not deserth you,” I lisped, my hands opening and closing, as my lips slid back down your dick.

“Oh,” you grinned, “That’s so sweet. I want you to leave me a message on my phone later with my cock in your mouth.”

I winked at you and sealed my mouth around the head of your cock and ran the tip of my tongue around the inside of your foreskin. I heard your breath catch and relaxed my jaw, my throat, let your hips do all the work. I watched you; your eyes never left mine, intense gaze pleased to be fucking my devoted mouth. My cunt was jealous, my pulse broken, erratic. I loved being used this way; I loved your shamelessness, your complete right to each of my openings.

“You want me to cum in your throat, baby?” you pant, your hand back on my head, rough, pragmatic, shoving deep into me. I grunt my answer, shaking my head and looking up at you.

“Oh. You really do, don’t you? Such a good girl,” you really are touched a little by how impatient I am to have you in my belly, “I had considered cumming all over the floor and making you clean it up with your slut tongue, but this is sort of sweet.”

I shook my head, squeaking quietly. You smiled at me and then nodded, pushing my mouth all the way down your cock and cumming hard, crushing my face to your lap. I choked, blinking tears down my cheeks and concentrating on swallowing, breathing. You wouldn’t let me go and I curled my hands around your thighs; I loved the immediacy, the intimacy. I loved you.

My hands climbed up your hips and belly, settled on your chest, and you let my head go. I slid my mouth down your cock, my tongue circling the tip twice and rested my head on your thigh, slowed my breath. Your hand found my face, your thumb flitting across my wet cheek before you rested your palm on my neck lightly.

Your thumb brushed over my lips and I caught it in my teeth, sucking gently and feeling your body tremble; you said, “Good girl.”

I looked at you, leaning up on my spread knees. You sat forward slowly, slid your hand down my side and between my legs, traced the outside of my cunt, then the inside. My body shook when you shoved three fingers in my tight slit. You smiled when you held your hand up for me, slippery silk webbing your fingers; you said, “Good girl.”

Then you shoved those same three fingers past my lips and I sucked at my spicy sweet flavors, was very sincere when I said, “Thank you, Sir.”