22

“Jesus … yes.”

I got on my knees, the skirt lifting so high that it showed my ass as I unclasped his belt and unbuttoned his pants and lowered his zipper, freeing that delicious, long, wide cock. “Something like this …”

The tip had a small bead of pre-cum, glistening from the overhead light. When I’d done this in the club, the restroom stall had been slightly dark, and I’d had quite the buzz, so I couldn’t take my time or appreciate the view.

But now, I was sober.

I could see every inch of him—the veins that ran through his shaft, the bulge of his crown, the small slit with my gift at the end, the little translucent dot of cum. I stuck my tongue out, using just the tip to lick it up and swallow.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes glued to me. “You are fucking naughty.” His hand went into my hair, gripping my long locks, trying to guide my mouth lower.

But I stayed at the top, teasing around it. “Is that what you want?” I looked up at him naively. “My mouth on your cock?”

The look in his eyes