Kneeling for a Stranger: My Raw, Submissive Blowjob Craving

I step into his apartment after days of filthy chats on that hookup app. My phone buzzes in my purse—Claire texting about tomorrow’s lunch, oblivious. Ignore it. Heart races. This older guy, twenty years my senior, smells like expensive cologne finally up close, sharp and musky. No chit-chat. “Drink?” he asks. “No. Your cock. Now.”

He leads me down the hallway. Doors whisper secrets—kids’ rooms? Wife’s photos on the wall stare blankly. Bedroom at the end. Half-shutters filter streetlight into weird shadows. Cool air chills my thighs under the short dress. I dressed for this: black lace bra, matching panties, garter belt hugging my hips. Effort to tease.

The Approach: No Games, Straight to His Cock

He strips fast. Sits on the bed edge, leans back on elbows. Cock hangs semi-hard, fresh-shaved, soapy clean. “It’s yours, little slut,” he smirks. I drop to my knees between his spread thighs. Hands on his hips, no touching with fingers. Lips part, slide over the head. Warm, velvety. It twitches, swells in my mouth. Fuck, I love this—the hardening pulse against my tongue.

Suction starts slow. Tongue swirls the underside. He groans low. “Pump it right, you dirty bitch.” Obey. Head bobs faster, cheeks hollow. Slurping sounds fill the quiet room. Only distant car hum outside. His thighs tense under my palms.

His hands grip my head. Fingers tangle hair. Thrusts now—fucking my face. Gagging reflex kicks, but I take it deep. Drool spills down his shaft, soaks his balls. Wet strings drip to the carpet. I gasp for air, stroke him slick with spit. “Good girl,” he growls. Hand dives into my bra, pinches nipple hard. Twist sends shocks to my pussy. Soaked already, but rules are rules—no fucking, just this.

The Explosion: Gagging on His Load in the Dark

Tobacco on his fingers mixes with laundry fresh sheets, his clean cock musk. Chest heaves faster. Moans build. “Gonna cum in your whore mouth?” Mouth full, I nod, hum yes. Eyes water, mascara smears. Urgency hits—after all those texts calling me his cumdump.

He shoves deep. First hot spurt hits throat. Gulp, but hold it. Rope after rope floods my mouth—thick, salty, endless. I savor the throb, milk every drop. Pull off slow, spit it into tissue. His cock softens, shiny with my saliva. Light kisses on the tip, tender now.

We snap back. No slut, no dom. “Thanks for the fun,” I murmur. Wipe lips, fix lipstick. He nods, polite. “Anytime.” Dress straightens. Phone buzzes again—Thibaud’s grill pics from Claire. Smile. Slip out into night air. Back to my double life, craving the next kneel.