He gets off the couch and walks around to the side of it, looking down at me with my head hanging off of it.
His hard cock is jutting out above me, making my mouth water.
"You want more?" he asks again. He wraps a hand around the base of himself, pumping himself.
"I want everything," I say.
"Tap three times if you need me to stop," he says.
I don't process his words at first.
"Olivia, look at me," he says seriously.
I do.
"Did you hear me?"
I nod.
"Repeat my words."
"Umm." I'm breathing hard, but I manage to get them out. "Tap three times if I need you to stop."
"Good girl," he says.
Understanding dawns on me. He's going to take what he wants.
I'm so wet, I can't stop squirming and rubbing my thighs together.
He touches the tip of his cock to my lips.
"Open."
I do.Eagerly.
He slides himself into my mouth, and he is the one who sets the pace. He doesn't thrust, not at first, letting me adjust to the new angle, to the new depth.
My hands go to the sofa cushions, gripping the fabric so hard my knuckles are white.
"Relax," he murmurs, stroking my throat gently.
I take a deep breath, trying to obey. To trust him.
He pushes in a little deeper, and I have to fight the urge to gag. He stops, giving me a moment to adjust.
"You okay?" he asks.
I can't speak. Not with him in my throat. But I can answer. I relax my jaw, a silent signal that I'm okay.
He seems to understand. He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, a little deeper this time.
He continues this slow, steady invasion, pushing my limits, testing my boundaries. I can feel the tension in him, the control he's exerting to keep from losing himself completely.
He's watching me, his eyes dark and intense. He's looking for any sign of distress, any sign that I want him to stop.
He won't find one.
I'm more than okay. I'm soaring. There's a freedom in this surrender, a pleasure in giving up control.
