"Mane, fuck all this bullshit. Is you gonna suck this dick or what?"
Glancing up, I felt a flicker of offense at his bluntness. He continued to rant, his tone playful but demanding.
"You got a big ass dick in front of you and you're doin' all this chitter-chatter. Rule of thumb: when my dick is out, you either gon' suck it or open ya legs so I can put it in you. It's goin' somewhere, but one thing it ain't goin' to is waste."
My breathing hitched as Romelo grabbed his meaty, thick dick and stroked it—just like I had been doing moments ago. Pleasure was written all over his face as he stroked his member with ease, his eyes locked on mine.
"Open ya mouth, Juicy, and let me teach you sum'."
Just a tad, I opened my mouth and leaned forward, meeting the tip of his dick—his mushroom head, pink and glistening with precum.
"Open a lil' more wider for daddy. Don't be scared to put those pretty ass lips around this dick. Suck it like you know what you doin', baby. Don't try to prove shit to me. Just don't use your teeth, Juicy. You should know that."
I closed my eyes, blocking out everything except the feel of him. My hands gripped the edge of the shower bench for leverage so I wouldn't fall. Though my weight was balanced, I needed something to hold onto until I was comfortable enough to grip him.
Obeying his command, I opened my mouth wider, facing darkness because my eyes were shut. His mushroom tip sat heavy on my tongue, under the roof of my mouth, between my teeth. My head bobbed back and forth slowly, taking in just the tip at first.
I knew I had a lot more to go, so I opened my mouth wider, trying to take more of him. I felt competitive—like I had something to prove—even though he'd told me not to.
Then it happened.
I gagged.
His dick hit the back of my throat, and I nearly threw up. My eyes flew open, watering instantly, and I pulled back, coughing.
"Uh-uh," he spoke to me like I was a child, his tone gentle but firm. "Don't take no more than you can handle. You ain't got shit to prove to me, Juicy. You'll be labeled in my phone as a certified dick sucker as time goes on, but don't humiliate yourself trying to prove a point, baby."
I pulled back completely, not wanting to suck dick anymore. My mouth ached from holding it open, and embarrassment flooded through me.
I can't even do this right.
Pleading guilty, I've watched porn videos—way too many of them in the last few days. So many that if Romelo could see my search history, he'd probably call me an addict. He was way more experienced than me, and the more we took it to these heights sexually, the more I wanted to appear like an experienced rookie.
But that was impossible.
Honestly, I don't know how women in porn suck on these gigantic Mandingo dicks with deep satisfaction. I haven't come across a woman who enjoys sucking a big dick—it hurts, and it's way more complicated than it looks.
"Now I'm embarrassed," I admitted, pulling back and speaking through my closed mouth. My shoulders dropped in defeat. "I'm just gonna?—"
I stood up on semi-wet feet, unable to face him after that. I wanted to leave—to hide—rather than hear him loathe over my mistakes later.
But Romelo released his dick and grabbed my arm before I could take another step. I heard his dick slap against his thigh behind me.
"Where you goin'?"
"I shouldn't have come in here and bothered you in the first place. You seemed stressed, and I wanted to relax you. That's all." I pleaded my case, my voice small.
"You think I'm trippin' 'bout that shit? That wasn't shit but a hiccup, Juicy. I don't expect you to be bussin' out the gate sucking dick like a porn star. Truth be told, sucking dick ain't even all that. I don't enjoy that shit because I don't cum from head, so you'd be doin' yourself a disservice." He admitted, still gripping my arm gently. "Turn around and look at me, Synthia."
His tone turned soft—softer than I'd ever heard it—so I turned around and faced him, still riddled with shame.
"I'll get my nut off from other shit," he continued. "Like eating your pussy, or tongue-fucking you in the ass, or being deep inside of you. Don't do this shit to yourself no more."
We stared at each other for what felt like forever. Then he walked away and turned the shower water back on, the sound filling the silence between us.
Part of me wanted to leave—still struck by the depth of my humiliation—but I stayed. My feet were planted on the shower floor as soap suds tickled under my feet and between my toes.
My eyes followed his body as he moved. Romelo was all man. There was nothing little boy about him. He was sculpted like a Greek god—chiseled, strong, powerful.
