Page 8 of Filthy Mouth
His balls were a slimy mess—just like my face. My chin dripped like a faucet.
He yanked me off, and I held his thighs again, panting for air.
When he stood up, I eyed him warily.
“Put your back to the couch and rest your head on the cushion,” he said, unbuckling his belt.“It’s time to see if those plump lips can kiss my balls.”
I moved into position, still kneeling with my back touching the cold leather couch, and lay my head back. The old man was living up to his promise so far.
He kicked off his shoes and trousers, and yanked his shorts off. I stared at his well-trimmed pubic hair and couldn’t see any grey. I almost made a crack about it, but then I was faced with the angry, veined cock. My knickers were ruined, and I was so wet from this nasty transaction.
I opened my mouth as wide as I could.
He straddled my body and began to feed me his cock.
“I’m going to fuck this mouth like it’s your cunt,” he whispered.
Fuck.
Why was this so hot?
I barely had time to suck in a breath before his cock was back between my lips. He fed it to me like he owned my throat—inch by inch, deliberate, cruel. I felt the cushion press harder against the back of my head as he leaned in and began to roll his hips.
Slow. Grinding. Testing how deep I’d let him go.
One hand braced beside my face, the other clamped tight around my throat like he was keeping track of how far I’d taken him. My fingers gripped the edge of the couch as my throat tightened and fluttered in protest.
I gagged.
He didn’t stop.
The bastard groaned low and rocked again, sliding his cock in with a wet squelch before pulling back—just enough to let me gasp. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
“You ever been used like this?” he rasped above me.
I tried to shake my head, but he fucked forward, silencing me with the full weight of his cock. His balls slapped my chin. I could feel them. Heavy. Tight. Coated in spit.
He held there. Balls deep. No mercy.
My throat convulsed, trying to adjust, trying to reject him. I couldn’t even cry out—not with him buried that deep. My eyes leaked, my legs twitched, and my pussy clenched like I was the one getting fucked.
And the worst part?
I didn’t like it. I fucking loved it.
He growled something filthy under his breath—something I couldn’t hear through the roaring in my ears—and started to thrust again. Faster. Crueller. Each stroke reduced me from girl…to mouth…to hole.
My cunt pulsed against nothing. My mascara bled. My pride? Gone.
He leaned down and dragged his tongue across my cheek.
“I knew that pretty little mouth was wasted on talk,” he murmured.“Let’s see how long you last.”
He placed his hands on the back of the couch. All I saw was the white of his shirt dangling before it covered my face.
He slowly pulled back before his hips slammed down, driving himself balls deep into my neck with one thrust. But he didn’t stop—he fucked my throat exactly like he said he would. His pelvis smacked my face with his balls slapping against my chin.
Tonight I was just a hole for him to use.
