Chapter 12: The Debt Collectors
Her body gave that sudden, violent shiver, a full tremor that racked her from her slumped shoulders down to her knees still planted in the cool wetness. The last vestige of her careful control shattered behind her glazed eyes.
She lunged.
There was no warning, no slow descent. One second I was watching her delirious smile, the next the head of my cock was hitting the back of her throat with a muffled, wet thump. She took me deep, so deep I felt the tight, impossible resistance of her gag reflex convulse around the tip.
The sound was harsh, a raw, grating GACK that seemed to tear out of her chest. It vibrated through my entire length, a shocking, tight pulse. Her eyes flew wide for a split second, pure animal surprise, before they rolled back, the whites showing prettily beneath her smudged glasses. Tears, fresh and hot, welled and spilled over instantly, tracing clean paths through the mess on her cheeks.
She held me there, buried in that tight, convulsing heat. Her throat worked desperately around me, a series of wet, choking flutters. Her nostrils flared, sucking in air in ragged, desperate snorts. Her hands flew to my thighs, her nails—short but sharp—digging in immediately, biting crescent moons into my skin. A sharp, bright pain that only fed the fire in my gut.
Her hips jerked. Not away, but down, grinding her slick, open cunt against the wooden floor with a loud, sloppy squelch. The sound was obscene, a vulgar counterpoint to her choked gags. She was fucking the floor, humping the puddle she’d made, while her throat tried to fuck me.
The dual sensation was unbelievable. The tight, choking heat of her mouth, the visual of her lost, tear-streaked face, the rhythmic, wet shlup-squelch-shlup from beneath her. My back arched off the chair, a strangled cry caught in my own throat.
Just as suddenly, she pulled back. My cock slid from her mouth with a slick, popping plorrt.
A thick, ropy string of saliva and pre-cum stretched from her glistening lower lip to my tip, shining like a spider’s thread in the lamplight. She gasped, a huge, shuddering inhalation that made her whole petite frame shake. Drool dripped from her chin in a steady stream.
“Fuck,” she rasped, her voice utterly destroyed, a hoarse scrape of sound. “Fuck, you’re so deep.” She wasn’t complaining. Her eyes, blinking away tears, were blazing with a kind of holy madness. She grinned, a messy, wet, glorious thing. “You hit the back. I felt it in my nose.”
She dove again.
This time, she set a frantic, clumsy rhythm. She’d take me as far as she could, which was just past halfway, until her lips met that same firm, unyielding barrier of her own limit. A gag would shudder through her, her throat milking me, her eyes fluttering back. Then she’d retreat, gasping, spitting a cascade of silvery drool that splattered onto my stomach and thighs, before surging forward once more.
Gckh! Schlrp. Hahhh… Gckh! Schlrp.
The sounds were relentless. Her nails carved deeper tracks into my thighs. I could feel the burn, the slight catch of skin. I loved it. It was proof. Her hips never stopped their frantic circling against the floor, the squish-squelch a constant, dirty bass note.
She pulled off again, her mouth hovering just over my tip. Spit and pre-cum frothed between her lips, forming tiny bubbles. She panted, her tongue lolling out slightly. Her eyes were unfocused, looking at nothing and everything. Her brows were drawn up in overwhelmed pleasure, her mouth a perfect, wet ‘O’. A thin line of drool connected her tongue to my shaft.
“You like that?” she mumbled, the words bubbling through the foam. “My pretty face all stupid for you?” She pressed her hot forehead against my thigh, nuzzling there for a second, a bizarrely tender gesture amidst the chaos. “Makes you feel big, doesn’t it? Makes you feel like a king.” She turned her head and took me back into her mouth with a soft, sucking whimper.
She was losing all technique, all thought. It was just hunger and worship. She’d suck hard, her cheeks hollowing dramatically, then release with a wet pop and just lick me, broad, sloppy strokes from base to tip like I was a melting ice cream cone she needed to save. She’d gather spit in her mouth and let it overflow, watching it drip onto me, giggling around my flesh when I jumped at the sudden cool splash.
“You’re so jumpy,” she cooed, her voice wrecked and sweet. She ran her tongue over the prominent vein underneath. “Your dick is so… talkative. It twitches and tells me everything.” She looked up, her glasses completely fogged now, her face a canvas of spit, pre-cum, and tears. “You’re close, huh? I can taste it. It’s getting saltier.”
I was. A tight, coiling pressure was building at the base of my spine, insistent and urgent. My breaths were coming in short, sharp pants. “Pritha… I’m gonna—”
“Shhh,” she whispered, placing a wet, cool finger over my lips. She smiled, a knowing, gentle curve. “Not yet. I’m not done playing.”
She shifted her knees in the puddle, the sound a sticky peel. She let go of my thighs, leaving behind burning crescents. Instead, she placed both her hands on her own stomach, sliding them down through the mess there, until her fingers slid between her own legs. She moaned, a deep, guttural sound, as she touched herself, still looking at me.
“See?” she breathed, her hips stuttering against her own hand. “You make me so messy everywhere. I’m all… sloshy.” She pushed two fingers inside herself with a wet, sucking sound, her eyes rolling back for a second before snapping to mine. “And you’re all hard and desperate in my mouth. It’s so cute. My big, strong Hardik, all flushed and trying not to beg.”
She removed her fingers, shiny and slick, and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean with a loud, obscene pop. “Mmm. That’s the flavor. That’s the want.” She leaned forward, her breath hot. “Now give me yours.”
Her mouth closed over me again, but this time she was slow, torturous. She took just the head, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge, teasing the slit. She’d suck lightly, then pull off and blow a cool stream of air over the wetness. My hips bucked uncontrollably. I was teetering on the very edge, each gentle swipe of her tongue a bolt of lightning to my overwhelmed nerves.
“Please,” I gasped, the word torn from me.
She released me with a final, soft kiss to the tip. “Please what?” she asked, her voice innocent. She sat back on her heels, her hand moving between her legs again, stroking her clit in fast, tight circles. The squelching sounds from the puddle grew louder, more frantic. “Use your words, baby.”
“I need to come,” I pleaded, my voice rough. “Let me come.”
"No. Not at all." She says with a sadistic smile on her face.