Chapter 16: The Homecoming Blowjob
The suitcase thudded against the doorframe, a punctuation mark to her return. Lacy let her coat slide from her shoulders to the floor. The room was dim, the blinds cutting the afternoon sun into dusty bars across the carpet. Mark lay on the bed, propped on an elbow, watching her. The air between them was thick with everything left unsaid, every pixel of the video he’d consumed.
She didn’t speak. She just walked to the bed and collapsed face-down beside him, a sigh leaking from her like air from a punctured tire. The scent of travel clung to her—jet fuel, recycled cabin air, the generic cleanness of hotel soap. Underneath it, if he breathed deeply enough, was something muskier, a phantom of male sweat and spent sex.
He rolled toward her. His hand found the back of her thigh, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there. His touch was tentative, then possessive. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Lacy,” he whispered, the word hot and damp. “I… I want to try it. What they did.”
Her body tensed. She turned her head, her cheek pressed into the comforter that smelled of their old life. Her wide blue eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. “Mark, no. I can’t. It’s… it’s too sore. You have no idea.” She winced, a genuine spasm of discomfort crossing her features. “They used me so good. It’s raw.”
The disappointment in his eyes wasn’t just sexual; it was a childlike resentment, a jealousy that they had possessed a part of her he felt entitled to but had been denied. She saw it flash, that petulant shadow, and her internal machinery clicked into gear. Cue the redemption.
“Baby,” she cooed, her voice softening into a syrup of apology. She rolled onto her side, facing him. Her fingers went to his belt, the metal buckle cold against her knuckles. “Let me make it up to you.”
The buckle came loose with a metallic rasp. The button of his jeans popped. The zipper’s teeth parted. She didn’t fumble. Her movements were economic, practiced. She slid her hand into the opening, her cool fingers wrapping around the warm, hardening length of him. She pulled him free.
He was already half-hard, thickening in her grip, a vein pulsing along the underside. A pearl of pre-cum beaded at the slit. She smeared it with her thumb, watching his abdomen clench.
“Just let me taste you,” she murmured, her voice a low, hungry thing. “Let me clean you.”
Without further preamble, she lowered her head. Her lips parted, her tongue flicking out to catch the drop from his tip before she engulfed him. The heat of her mouth was a shock. She took him deep, immediately, her nose burying in the coarse hair at his base, her throat opening in a practiced, fluid surrender. He groaned, his hips bucking off the mattress.
She held him there, at the root, for a long second, letting him feel the tight, convulsive flutter of her gag reflex fighting and losing. Then she pulled back, her lips a tight seal around his shaft, until only the swollen head remained between her lips. Her tongue swirled around the corona, lapping at the frenulum with deliberate, wet circles.
“Fuck, Lacy,” he gasped.
She sank down again, establishing a rhythm that was both relentless and soothing. Bobbing her head in steady, deep plunges. One hand worked his shaft in tandem with her mouth, the other cupped his balls, rolling the weight of them in her palm, applying a gentle, pressure that made his toes curl. The sounds were obscenely intimate in the quiet room: the wet suck of her mouth, the soft slap of her lips against his flesh, his ragged breathing.
She pulled off completely, a strand of saliva connecting her bottom lip to his glistening cock. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glazed with fake devotion. “I swallowed all of them, you know,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from use. “Every single drop. Carl. Tom. Derek came three times. The last one was so thick I almost choked.” She leaned forward, running her tongue from his base back to the tip. “But I saved your load for last. It’s the only one that matters.”
The declaration, filthy and loyal, shattered the last of his restraint. A possessive growl rumbled in his chest. He tangled his hands in her long blonde hair, not gently, fisting the strands near her scalp. He guided her head back onto him, not asking, taking.
“Yeah,” he grunted, fucking up into the wet, willing heat of her throat. “Take it. My turn.”
He thrust in earnest now, his hips pistoning off the bed, using her mouth with a brute force he’d never dared before. The video had given him permission. The image of Derek, of Tom, of Carl—it fueled him, erased his tenderness. She was his. This proved it.
She relaxed her throat, letting him hammer into it, her eyes watering. Gags vibrated through his cock, each one making him harder. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, slicking his balls and her own chin. She made a low, humming sound, the vibration traveling the length of his shaft.
He swore, his thighs tightening, the brutal pace faltering as sensation overwhelmed him. She felt his impending climax coiling at the base of his spine, the twitch in his balls still cradled in her hand.
She pulled back, letting his slick cock pop from her lips with a wet, messy sound. She kept her hand moving on him, a slow, tight stroke. “Do you want to know what they tasted like?” she breathed, her voice ruined and husky. “Carl’s was bitter, like cheap beer and panic. He came so fast when Tom first pushed into my ass.”
Mark stared, mesmerized, his hips still making shallow thrusts into her fist. “Tom… he made me lick his cock clean after he pulled out of me,” she continued, her thumb swirling over his leaking head. “It tasted like me, and sweat, and something metallic. He slapped it against my tongue and called me a fucking gutter.”
She leaned in, taking him back into her mouth, but only halfway, sucking hard on the sensitive crown. She released him with a gasp. “Derek saved me for last every night. His was the thickest. He’d pinch my nose shut when he came down my throat, so I had to swallow or suffocate.” She demonstrated, taking him deep again, holding him in her throat until her eyes watered, then releasing him with a ragged gasp for air.
“Jesus, Lacy,” Mark groaned, his composure unraveling.
“But the cab,” she whispered, her breath hot on his wet skin. She increased the pace of her hand, twisting on the upstroke. “From the airport. Derek made me kneel on the floor. The driver just watched in the mirror. Derek fucked my face while Carl unzipped and shoved his dick in from the side.”
She described it between wet, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft. “I was pivoting my head between them, my lipstick smearing all over their cocks. The cab hit a pothole and I took Derek so deep I threw up a little. He just laughed and made me clean it up with my tongue.”
Mark’s breathing was a ragged sawing sound. His hand fisted in her hair, forcing her head down. “And you swallowed them both?” he demanded, his voice tight.
“Yes,” she gurgrated around him, then pulled off, looking up with defiant, shining eyes. “Derek on the left side of my mouth, Carl on the right. They came at the same time. I let it pool on my tongue before I swallowed. It was so warm. I could taste their fucking breakfast.”
That was the trigger. With a raw, torn shout, Mark’s hips slammed upward. His control snapped. He didn’t warn her. He didn’t aim for her mouth.
He jerked his cock from her grip and a hot, pearlescent streak lashed across her cheek, catching the corner of her blue eye. The second pulse splattered across her lips and the bridge of her nose. The third, weaker, dribbled onto her chin and down onto the faded floral pattern of the comforter.
She flinched, the initial impact a surprise. Then she held perfectly still, letting him finish, her expression one of rapt, filthy acceptance. Her chest heaved. Cum dripped from her eyelashes.
Mark collapsed back onto the mattress, spent, a hollow exhaustion replacing the frenetic energy. The room was silent except for their breathing.
Lacy slowly raised a hand. She swiped a finger through the mess on her cheek, collecting it. She held his gaze as she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked it clean, her tongue circling the tip. She swallowed.
“Im so glad to be home, baby,” she said softly, the words distorted by the drying streaks on her face.