Fulfilling Her Fantasy

She made the call, voice low and shaking. Two days later, he showed up at her door exactly like she’d ordered: tall, heavy beard, wrists already bound behind his back. Circumcised cock half-hard against his thigh, waiting for her word. She stripped him fast, shoved him to his knees on the living-room floor. Her mouth took him like she owned him—wet, greedy, no hesitation. He tasted like every filthy thought she’d buried for years. When he tried to thrust, she pressed a heel between his legs and held him still. Didn’t matter. He was hard, throbbing, leaking against her tongue. She bobbed harder, throat working, spit dripping down his balls. He groaned into the beard. She pulled off just long enough to say, “Don’t come until I tell you.” Then she swallowed him again, deeper, hungrier. He shook. She felt it. Her thighs were already slick. This was the part she’d paid for—him helpless, her in control, nothing left between her mouth and what she wanted most.