In the dim light of the Normandie meeting room, door locked, heart hammering. Olivier hands me my spiral notebook, eyes locked on mine. He knows my secrets—coded Sicilian in Lontara script. My oral cravings, spelled out. Skin prickles. Heat rises fast.
His hands grip my waist. Pulls me close. I feel it—his cock hardening against my thigh. Thick. Urgent. Pulse races. Breath short. ‘You like oral too,’ he whispers. Producer and consumer. Me swallowing his load, him devouring my pussy. Sixty-nine heaven. No fucking. Just mouths. My core throbs.
The Fever
He kisses me. Hard. Tongue invades. I melt. Push back, grinding on his bulge. Sweat beads on my neck. Heart pounds like a drum. Danger electrifies—office walls thin, colleagues nearby. But fuck it. Desire devours reason. His hands roam. Squeeze my ass. I whimper.
‘Feel my production tool?’ he growls. I nod. Curiosity burns. He steps back. Unzips. Out springs his cock—average shaft, curved, veiny. But those balls… oversized. Heavy. Swollen reservoirs. Promising floods. My mouth waters. Knees weaken.
I drop. Hands on his thighs. Skin hot, feverish. Inhale his musk. Palpitate veins. Squeeze those massive nuts. Full. Ripe. He groans. I stroke the shaft. Pre-cum beads. Salty tang on my tongue.
The room spins. Urgency claws. No more talk. Suck him deep. Lips stretch. Throat relaxes. He thrusts. Gentle at first. Then feral. My fingers dive into my soaked panties. Rub clit. Fast circles. Synced rhythms. Body ignites.
The Blaze
His balls tighten. Pulse surges in my mouth. I massage them. Urge him on. He bucks. First rope blasts—thick, endless. Gulp it down. Heat explodes in me. Orgasm rips through. Waves crash. But I don’t stop. Suck harder.
Second load. More cum. Overflows. I choke, gasp. Fingers frenzy. Another climax hits. Brutal. Limbs shake. Third surge builds. Can’t hold. Pull back. Ropes splatter lips, cheeks, chin. Eyes roll. Third orgasm. White-hot. Float away. Body convulses. World dissolves.
Skin burns. Heart thunders. Collapse to knees. Bliss cocoons. He kneels. Wipes my face tender. Eyes worried. ‘You okay?’ Voice soft. I nod. Breathe ragged. ‘Holy fuck… that was insane.’ Smile creeps. He grins. Kisses me deep. Cum-taste lingers.
Probe ends. Probation? Accepted. Door opens to more. Nights of chocolate-smeared cocks. Sixty-nines synced. Floods of cream. No penetration. Pure oral fire. Moved in together. GĂ©raldine dumped. Life remade in his mouth, my throat. Skin still tingles. Addiction sealed.