“I should—” I clear my throat. “I should go. I’m not really thetype to—”
The hand tangles tighter in my hair, jerking my head, shaking me like a dog with a rat until my teeth clack together.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I murmur, hands trembling. It takes me a couple tries to undo the belt.
I only have the top button of the pants fumbled open when he shoves my face back against his crotch, his cock rock-hard through the fabric. I pant against it, brain spinning, the water from the rain dripping down my face as I try to figure out the best way to give him what he wants.
My mouth and nose are mashed up against him. My fingers scrabble against the hard thighs, pushing back on his hand. The thighs flex as he drags me up higher so he can grab my breasts, hands hard as he pinches the nipples.
“I’m doing it,” I whimper, reaching for the zipper.
It drags down, metallic, then scratches the back of my hand as I reach into his pants.
Shit, that’s big.
I pull my hand away then quickly put it back when his hand tightens on my neck.
“I’m just gonna—” I stroke him, his cock slick with the rain that drips from my nose. “Maybe we can just—”
He grabs my jaw, rough, squeezing until my lips part and my jaw drops. I hear him hiss in a breath, muffled through the mask. His cock juts out—huge, menacing in the light from the storm.
“I can’t, um—” I try to say as he forces me forward. I rock forward on my knees as he angles the cock to my mouth.
In spite of its size, I’m salivating for his cock.
I suck a breath in through my nose as he rams the thick cock into my mouth. It’s fat on my tongue, salty-sweet from the rain.
His hips pump once, twice, the cock gliding in my mouth. The head of his cock jams the back of my throat then deeper.
I grab at his belt, trying to concentrate on breathing, my eyes squeezed shut as his hips snap and that cock is rammed deeper down my throat.
Take it, take it,I tell myself, trying to remember what I’m supposed to do with my hands. No, flailing awkwardly is definitely not it.
I’m not that great at giving head.
But I’m not giving him a blow job.
I’m getting my face fucked.
My tits are still out, hanging over the overstretched neckline of the sweater, bouncing as he fucks my mouth, the gloved hands forcing my head back so he can fuck down deep in my throat.
He doesn’t say anything.
The few other times I’ve given blow jobs, the guys were always like, “Good girl, you want my cum?” That sort of thing, trying to make it like a porno, I guess.
Not him.
Not my stalker.
He doesn’t care about me. I’m just a thing he wants to fuck.
It’s kind of hot.
Probably because I have issues.
The heavy breathing turns into a growl, and the cock pumps then jerks, spilling hot cum in my mouth, down my throat. I swallow and swallow as he spasms in me.
His hand tight on my neck, I see stars. Then he releases me. I fall forward, gasping, grabbing at his legs, coughing and panting.
