The Guy Who Fucks My Throat

Don’t get me wrong: all of my partners fuck my throat.

(I’ll beg them to if I have to. I like begging for cock.)

What makes the guy who fucks my throat stand out is that he doesn’t do anything else. He drops by my flat on his way home from work, fucks my face hard, lets me swallow his cum, and leaves.

It’s the perfect arrangement.

Yesterday afternoon, about four-fifty, my phone pinged. I was working from home, just finishing up my last online meeting. I glanced at the phone screen.

You free? I want your mouth

Heat pulsed between my legs.

Yes please, I typed back, while my boss talked about deadlines. How do you want me?

Naked and on your knees in the living room

My heart rate increased. I shifted in my seat, drawing a frown from my boss. I pretended to concentrate and made a show of taking notes, barely able to think of anything except choking on cock. My pussy started soaking my panties. I thumbed out a surprising message: I’m wet already

On my way

I had twenty minutes. My mouth watered, thinking of the weight of his cock on my tongue. I’m not sure how I got to the end of the meeting. In my distraction I agreed to take on a new project, making my boss’s day. It didn’t matter: all I cared about was the face-fucking I’d been promised.

I shut down my work laptop, closed the living room curtains, and stripped fast. My wet panties clung to my pussy, the lace drenched. I peeled them off. The cent of my arousal filled the room. I throw my other clothes onto the sofa, but took my panties through to the hallway and left them on the floor for him to find.

I checked the time. I had maybe three minutes, max. I switched on a couple of lamps in the living room and kneeed in the middle of the room, facing the door, the carpet soft under my shins. I put my hands on my thighs, straightened my back, and breathed deeply. I wondered how he’d fuckme: would he grab my hair and pull me onto his cock, would he hold the back of my head and push himself down my throat, would he tell me to choke myself on his cock, would he–

The main door downstairs slammed shut. I froze, listening to footsteps coming up the shared stairs. They stopped at my front door. Keys jingled, then a key slide into the lock. Excitement shot up my spine. I’d given him my flat keys so he could do exactly this: let himself in and take what he wanted.

He closed the door quietly. I heard him drop his bag. He chuckled and I guessed he’d found my panties. My nipples tightened at the thought — I’d showed him exactly how turned on I was, exactly how excited the thought of him fucking my throat made me, in the filter possible way.

He reached the living room and stopped in the doorway, looking me up and down. My panties dangled from his right hand.

“You look good waiting for my cock,” he said. “Hands behind your back.”

I obeyed. He prowled towards me, keeping eye contact. Moving my hands behind my back had pulled back my shoulders, putting my tits on show. My breathing grow heavier, uneven. He circled behind me, bent to grab my wrists, and tied them together using my wet panties. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

“Now you’re going to have to take whatever I give you.”

I shivered, stifling a moan. I love being bound, helpless to do anything except take cock. “Will you choke me?”

“Oh, yes.” He unzipped his trousers. “You’re going to feel this for days. Mouth open, tongue out.”

He laughed at how eagerly I followed his order, strolling to stand in front of me and slowly, so slowly, pulling his half-hard cock out. I leaned forwards, unable to stop myself while, stretching my tongue out for the first taste. He let me have one lick, his cockhead silky-smooth, before backing away, leaving me off balance. I teetered and barely caught myself, my focus on his cock.

“Please,” I said, finding my balance and gazing up at him. “I want it so much.”

“I know you do.” He stroked himself. “Now do as you’re told: mouth open, tongue out.”

He stepped closer as I obeyed, crowding me, and slide his cock onto my tongue. I covered my teeth with my lips, wrapped my lips around his cock and sucked. The heat of his cock made me giddy. I sucked again, hollowing my cheeks and stroke my tongue along the underside of his cock. He was heavy on my tongue, and getting heavier and longer. The tip of his cock nudged against the back of my throat. I moaned, the sound muffled by his cock, and looked into his eyes, wordlessly begging for more.

He pulled back then thrust his hips forward. His cock, now fully hard, hit the back of my throat again. I fight my gag reflex. My eyes watered as I swallowed and swallowed, his cock sliding deeper. He pulled back, thrust again. And again. I wasn’t taking his full length, but I was close, and I was desperate for it. I tried to tell him, his cockgagging me and breaking up my words. He grabbed my head and pulled me in. His cock pushed deeper, seeming to hit a barrier as my lips touched his body. He tilted my head to adjust the angle then shoved his hips forward, sliding all the way past the curve of my throat. I half-gagged and swallowed around his cock, loving the burn. He held me there, my face mashed against his body, his balls on my chin, and my throat gradually relaxing to allow his cock to slide another few millionmetres deeper. The fabric of his trousers pressed into my cheeks, the metal zip cold.

I rubbed my tongue against his cock, loving being stuffed full, and swallowed again, moaning. My senses were overwhelmed: the taste of his cock, its hardness forcing my throat open, the smell of his sweat, the glimpses of his skin and hair under his clothes, his rough breathing. I feel dizzy.

He pulled out. I lean forward, chasing his cock even as I gasped for air. My drool covered his cock and a curved strand connected us. He let me suck his cockhead as my breathing even out.

“Good,” he said. “You take me so well.”

The praise sent a thrill straight to my clip. I’d do anything to please him. He bent down to whisper again: “You’re dripping on the carpet.”

Heat rushed through me, making my cheeses flame. I knew he wasn’t talking about the drool. My pussy was soaking. He swiped his fingers through my drenched folds and I arched into his touch, whimpering, opening my mouth wider and tonguing his frenulum.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want to come on my fingers or do you want my cock down your throat?”

“Your cock. Please give me your cock.”

He smiled in satisfaction as he straightened. I sat back on my heels, knowing my throat was about to get properly railed. The lace of my panties scratched against my wrists. He rested his cock on my bottom lip, buried both his hands in my hair, and held my head in place as he thrust in, hard, fast and deep, exactly howI wanted it. He set up a punishment, delightful rhythm, plunging his cock down my throat with each snap of his hips. I gagged. He fucked me through it as I will my throat to relax, knowing that each spasm tightened my throat around his cock, turning him on even more. When I had myself under control he clenched his hands, yanking on my hair, and shoved in deeper. The sound of him fucking my throat, a wet gluck-glurk-glirk-grurk, sent shivers through me.

With my hands bound and my mouth crammed full I had no choice but to take everything he gave me. I breathed through my nose as he pounded my throat. Tears ran down my cheeks and drool splashed across my tits. My pussy throbbed every time his cock hit the back of my throat. His balls slapped against my chin. I rubbed my tongueue Along his cock and swallowed when I could, wanting him to feel as good as I did. I couldn’t help moaning, getting louder and louder.

He pulled out.

I cried out, high-pitched and bereft. He gripped my hair tightly, keeping me where he wanted me, as I took great gulps of air.

“More,” I begged, my voice rough, my jaw aching and my throat burning. “Please give me more, please, please fuck me hard.”

He shoved back in. The heat of his cock on my tongue felt so good my whole body shuddered. I didn’t gag; my throat had become a perfect cocksleeve, ready to take the brutal fucking I so wanted. My world narrowed to the cock in my throat, the gluck-glurk sounds filling my ears, and the slap of his balls against my drool-covered chin. He fucked into me over and over again, each thrust pushing deep. I took it, moaning my pleasure, loving every moment of being used.

His balls tightened. His rhythm stuttered. He ground into me, forcing his cock as deep as he could, and pulled my hair as he came. His cum filled my throat, so deep I couldn’t even taste it. I swallowed and swallowed, determined to take every drop he’d given me. He shuddered, breathing heavyas he finished. I swallowed again, blissed out.

He leant over me, hands on my shoulders, his cock still in my mouth as his breathing returned to normal. I sucked gently. I’d have been happy to warm his cock for hours, but after a few minutes he pulled out, tucked himself back into his underwear and zipped up his trousers. My heart was still racing, my inner thighs were slippery with my own slick, and I could feel the pulse in my pussy. My face and tits were soaked with drool. Each breath I took rasped across my sore throat and reminded me of how well I’d been fucked. I was fully turned on, needing only a little attention to reach my own orgasm.

The guy who fucks my throat untied my wrists, tossed my wet panties onto the floor, and left.