Falling to my knees, I plant myself in front of him and bury his cock in my mouth, stuffing my face with his meat until it chokes out every sound.
Cass tangles his fingers in my hair, biting back his groans as he flexes. He wants to stay quiet, but I want him moaning. I want him to be my voice. I want him to drown out any thought in my head.
I’ll take it all. From the tip all the way down to the base so that he slides past the back of my mouth, deep into my throat. Once there, I try to breathe, feel the suction that drags him even deeper.
“Yeahhhhh, fuck, Libby! Uggggh,” he whisper-moans, but that’s not enough.
No, I don’t want him in control. I don’t want him cautious and correct. I want control now. I want to climb on top of the situation.
So I suck even harder. Remembering to be gentle, I hold his balls against the palm of my hand and pulse my fingers in the broad space behind them with every thrust, feeling the way his balls load up.
Still not enough. He shakes with every thrust, but he still has a little bit of control left. I want to undo that. Following instinct, I slip a finger past his taint to his asshole, and hook it inside. His breath sucks in, but he doesn’t say anything. A little deeper, and I feel the walnut texture of his prostate under the tip of my finger and tap it lightly each time he hilts in my mouth.
The effect is immediate. He comes like a firehose, an animal growl shuddering through his lips, his fingers twisting out strands of my hair.
His asshole sucks around my fingers like a mouth, daring me to stroke his secret G spot even harder. But I know I need to be gentle. Too much of a good thing can ruin a man.
He comes and comes, milked until he’s dry, until he goes limp in my mouth like a wilted flower stem.
I keep sucking until the very last drop is exhausted. Only then do I feel full. Only then do I feel like I’ve really accomplished something.
He slumps forward, panting dramatically. As he slides down the wall toward the small, vinyl stool, I watch his features melt into absolute submission. He hasn’t shown me that before. He’s always been in control. He’s always kept a little bit back.
But here, I see a part of him only for me. A secret that we can share. A transaction of the most intimate kind.
He breathes deeply, not even bothering to pull his jeans back up for several minutes as I sit on the floor with my back to the door. I love every detail about this. His dick curled against his thigh, now smaller and darker but still impressive. The golden hairs on his legs that lie so neatly. The girdle of muscles in his pelvis, standing out like ropes.
“Jesus,” he pants, disbelieving. “What was… Did you do that?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I smile. “We were both here. Pretty sure I did it. You did it too.”
“No, I mean… The extra. I felt like I was coming for days. That… Did you do that on purpose?”
Wiggling my eyebrows, I try to make sure I don’t smirk too triumphantly. “Oh, you think only women have assholes for fun? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well if that is what I was thinking, I will never say it again,” he chuckles, defeated. His head lolls back and forth.
“I guess you liked it? Is that what you are saying?”
Pride fills me. It was a risk, but I’ve seen it in videos a hundred times. Little did I know the effect it has in real life.
“You blow me away,” he shudders, twitching as another wave of pleasure slams through him. “Fuck! So good!”
Giggling, I walk to him on my knees and press a finger to his lips.
“We have to be quiet, Cass,” I scold him gently. “We don’t want to be corrupting the youth of Target!”
“People get arrested for stuff like this you know,” he warns me, smiling.
“Gotta catch me first,” I quip.
There. I feel better. Sassy. Back to myself. How about that for the magical power of blowjobs?
After we hang out in the dressing room for a few more minutes, Cass finally rises, collects himself, and goes out to make sure the coast is clear. He returns shortly, holding out a hand for me to take.
“Don’t forget your dresses,” he advises me, just before we leave the room.
All of a sudden, everything is normal again. Here we are, a couple of people walking through the women’s section of a department store, a few brand-new outfits under my arm, this big handsome stud holding my hand. Downright wholesome.