“It will,” I assure her.
“Can I touch it?”
God, this girl is going to be the death of me. “Yes.”
When her fingers grip around my shaft, I nearly cum right there and then. The feel of her touch on the sensitive skin, so soft and gentle and tentative, makes my balls pull up tight. A moment later, without any prompting, she leans forward and wraps her mouth around the head, kissing away the pre-cum beading at the tip with her full, plump lips, and I let out a long groan.
“Does that feel good?” she asks.
“Fuck, yes,” I tell her. “You’re a natural.”
She smiles with pride, her fingertips tracing along the underside. “Show me.”
I don’t need any more prompting than that. I grab a fistful of her chocolate-brown hair and guide her head forward, pushing my cock between her lips. She takes me greedily, wrapping her mouth around my shaft and grabbing the base with one hand, the other cupping my balls, squeezing, making me growl out her name: “Amara… Fuck, Amara, that feels so good.”
She sucks on my cock like it’s what she was born for, her tongue circling the head before I guide her forward until I feel her tonsils against the sensitive tip. She chokes a little, spit dribbling from her mouth, but she takes it like a trooper, even swallowing against me, and I know I can’t take much of this before I’m going to fill her mouth with my seed.
***
Amara
What will it feel like?
What will it taste like?
The thoughts run through my head, not accompanied by fear or nerves, but excitement. I can’t wait to find out what Saint’s cum is like on my tongue, in my mouth, in my throat. I know how sex works, but I’d never imagined it could be anything like this. I always thought it just happened in a bed, with a penis and vagina, a few minutes of rubbing together and then all over. I never thought it could be two people sharing fluids the way Saint and I are sharing right now.
He brushes my hair aside from my face, so loving, so caring. “You’re so beautiful, Amara.”
Beautiful. Even with my mouth spread by his impossibly large cock, spit escaping to run down my chin. He still thinks I’m beautiful.
I try to answer him, but it only comes out as a mumble. But the vibrations of my voice do something to him because he grunts loud and his cock spasms inside my mouth. I squeeze his balls with my hand as I pull his cock forward, back, forward, back inside my mouth, waiting for the inevitable.
What will it feel like?
When he finally cums, it feels sticky, warm, thick and rich.
What will it taste like?
Sweet. Salty. Delicious. It tastes like I would have imagined it would taste if I’d stopped to think how Saint looks. Decadent, sexy, humbling.
“Fuck…” I hear him curse as his body trembles and I know that I’m the one with the power to do this to him, to make him cum, to give him an orgasm. “Fuck, baby, that’s perfect. You’re perfect. Way too good for a steel worker like me.”
Steel worker.
The words take me back to a day when I was sixteen. I remember it clearly. School finished early and I walked home in the summer sun, taking a long route, when I spotted my father’s polished silver Mercedes parked up on a building site. I laughed to see it there, so out of place amongst the flatbeds and machinery.
I thought I’d surprise him.
But he surprised me.
I’d never seen that side of my father before, as he laughed while the man in the hard hat begged for a little more time to pay. I guess I knew what he did for a living, but while it happened elsewhere I could convince myself that it was just business. That everyone has to earn a living. But seeing it like that was different. It made it real.
The steel pipe in my father’s hand looked heavy as he lifted it up and down. The man tried to get away, but he was held in place by two of my father’s associates. People I’d spoken to, spent time with. One of them had helped me with my math homework once.
I cried out when the steel hit the side of the man’s head and he crumpled to the floor. That’s when my father saw me there and the look of surprise crossed his face. He didn’t want his daughter to know what his work entailed, but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag.
“Sorry,” I tell Saint as I pull back, already missing the feel of his cock inside my mouth. “Sorry, I can’t do this.”
“Amara, wait. What’s—”
I shake my head. He doesn’t understand. Knowing me is enough to raise my father’s wrath against him. Having sex with me, when my father has promised me to someone else, promised that I’m pure, promised that I’m a gift worth receiving, he’ll kill Saint. I know he will. I can’t let that happen.