The shop called at noon.
Dean put it on speaker in the kitchen while I stood there in a T-shirt and nothing else because he’d texted no panties today before he left for work. The estimate was ugly. Mirror, paint, labor. He listened, said he’d drop it off tomorrow, and hung up. Then he looked at me.
“Upstairs. Now. You’re paying the first half on your knees before I even touch your cunt.”
Mom was at the store. The house was empty. I went. He locked my door, sat on the edge of the desk, and freed his c**k. It was already hard.
“Knees. Hands behind your back. You don’t touch me unless I put it in your mouth. And you don’t swallow until I say. I want to see it.”
I knelt. He gripped my hair and fed me his c**k in one slow push, the head hitting the back of my throat. I gagged. Spit flooded
