Sunday Snog

Sunday Snog

 

Another Sunday another Snog, here you go, let’s not waste time this is an action-packed moment…

Grand Slam

 

Travis’ meaty cock was inches from my mouth. Thick and hard, lined with several dark, bulging veins and topped with a shiny head that invited licks. And lots of them.

I was stunned by his daring action, yes. It was way beyond what I thought would happen today. But equally at war with my shocked state was a glut of longing that had pooled inside me, dampening my panties and spiking my nipples. If this was wrong, how come it felt so right?

I stared at the way he held the shaft in his palm, stroking his thumb over the length and then into the rim. Caressing, fondling himself, as if showing me what he liked.

I swallowed and could almost taste him. The scent of his body was swimming around me, hot and vital, testosterone-soaked male, lacing my nostrils and tongue, winding its way into my lungs and down my throat.

“Now suck it,” he said, the words seemingly being dragged out of his throat on a crest of lust.

Suck it!

Saliva pooled in my cheeks, my heart thudded. Had I imagined the words?

I glanced up at his face and adjusted the position of my knees on the floor. I felt so small down here. He was looming over me, casting his big shadow over me.

“Suck me off, Marie, now.”

Okay, I heard that all right. And there was something in his voice, his tone, that expected to be obeyed. No, make that demanded to be obeyed.

I swallowed again, leaning closer and parting my lips. A shiver of excitement rattled up my spine and I felt a rise of goose bumps on my nape.

He clenched his fists at his sides. I noticed his knees lock and then I took him into my mouth.

He sucked in a breath.

I didn’t hear it release as I reached for his hips, gripped and sank him deep, taking him swiftly to the back of my throat. I adored how he filled my mouth, slotting onto the base of my tongue, the head of his erection as smooth as silk yet as hard as granite.

I paused with him as far down as I could take him, created a suction then rippled my tongue against his hardness.

“Ah yes, that’s it, perfect,” he said, resting his hands gently on my hair. “Just like that, Marie. Oh, yes, such a good girl, such a good psychologist.”

Psychologist.

Fuck, that word was like a steam train tearing through my conscience. What the bloody hell was I doing sucking off a client? Not just any old client either, but Travis fucking Connolly, world-famous tennis star.

I pulled back, let him pop from my mouth and scooted away, right until I felt the wooden side of my table against my shoulders. My breaths were hard to catch, my vision blurred. I’d always prided myself on my professionalism, but this, Jesus, this really took the biscuit. Oral sex in my office. Oh my God.

 

One Response to "Sunday Snog"

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  1. annesherriff

    December 29, 2013 at 2:08 pm

    Great excerpt. Anyone for tennis?