Chapter 6: Claiming His Prize
Tariq looked down at her, his expression one of supreme satisfaction. “Good girl,” he said, his voice rough. “You took that well.”
Marie remained on her knees, trying to catch her breath. The taste of him was thick and alien on her tongue. She could feel the stickiness cooling on her chin, a damp patch spreading on the fabric between her breasts. A part of her, the librarian, the wife, recoiled at the mess. The other part, the one that had trembled at his size and ached at his commands, thrilled at it.
“Now,” he said, his hand stroking her hair, a strangely tender gesture that felt like ownership. “Get me hard again. I’m not finished with you.”
Marie obeyed. Her hands, already familiar with his weight, reached for him. He was semi-soft, still impressive, glistening with a mix of her saliva and his own release. She began to move her hands back and forth around the enormous cock, feeling the soft skin slide over the iron core beneath. She varied the speed, tentative at first, then firmer as he groaned his approval.
She felt it take shape and stiffen under her touch. It seemed even heavier as she stroked it, the blood rushing back, making it grow larger, thicker, reclaiming its full, monstrous proportion. The veins stood out like cords under her fingers.
At one point, Tariq ordered, “Suck it. Clean it off.”
Marie retorted, her voice a shaky whisper, “It’s too big. I can never do it again, not so soon.” Her jaw still ached.
Tariq chuckled, a low, dark sound. “Then start with your tongue. You have a clever tongue, I felt it.”
Marie leaned forward, her eyes on the swollen head. She began to use her tongue around the crown, licking away the faint, bitter traces. She traced the ridge, then ventured down the thick shaft, her tongue flat against the straining skin. She had never experienced such a monster, not in her life, not in her darkest fantasy. But her pussy was now completely soaked, a hot, insistent pulse between her legs that mocked her feeble protests.
She played for a while, her tongue painting slow, wet circles, her hands cradling his heavy balls. The power was intoxicating. She could make this giant tremble.
Then Tariq’s patience thinned. “Enough teasing,” he grunted. “I want you to suck me. Properly.”
He held her head again, his fingers tangling in her brown hair, and brought his cock to her lips. It was fully hard now, a daunting, purple-headed obelisk. Marie opened her mouth slightly, and Tariq pushed the broad tip past her teeth.
“Wider,” he commanded.
Marie opened her mouth wider, spreading her jaw until a sharp pain shot through her temporomandibular joints. It seemed impossible for her to take any more, but Tariq kept pushing, guiding her head with insistent pressure. As he held her head firmly, Marie was forced to take the entire head of his penis into her mouth. The stretch was brutal, filling her, threatening to choke her. She had never swallowed such a large cock, and nothing she had experienced with her husband’s penis had prepared her for this fullness, this invasion.
Tariq congratulated her as he withdrew, his voice thick. “See? You can take it.”
Marie gasped for air, her lips bruised, thinking he wouldn’t go any further. But he placed the head back against her parted lips and pushed, a little deeper this time. The pressure at the back of her throat made her eyes water.
“Relax your throat,” Tariq encouraged, his tone didactic, as if coaching her through a difficult task. “Don’t fight it. Let it in.”
Marie moaned, a guttural, surrendering sound, as she tried to obey. She swallowed around him, the muscles of her throat fluttering involuntarily. The head of his penis soon reached the deeper part of her throat. She gagged, tears springing to her green eyes.
Tariq boasted, pulling back just an inch to let her breathe. “Even if you can’t swallow all of it tonight,” he panted, “soon your married pussy will take it all. Every last inch.”
Then he began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. He fucked her mouth. It wasn’t Marie who was sucking him, but the giant who was using her, kissing her throat with his rigid flesh. The minutes ticked by, measured in her strained breaths and his guttural sounds. With her husband, it would have been over a long time ago. This was different. This was endurance.
Finally, Tariq’s groans grew louder, more urgent. His hips stuttered. “I’m going to come again,” he warned, his grip tightening in her hair.
The first spurt caught her by surprise, hot and bitter at the back of her throat. She swallowed convulsively. The second was stronger, the third a torrent. The flow of semen surprised Marie, who swallowed what she could, but the volume was too much. It spilled from the corners of her stretched lips, overflowed, and ran in thick, white rivulets down her chin. It dripped from her chin onto her already-stained dress, seeping through the neckline to cool on her breasts.
He pulled himself from her mouth with a wet sound, leaving her coughing, her face a mess.
Tariq looked down at her, at the evidence of his possession painted across her skin and clothes. He smiled, a predator admiring his work. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “You’re learning.”