Rob continued to thrust himself into me—I could feel his cock throbbing inside of me. He had such a huge cock as it was, and I swear it had gotten bigger over the course of the summer. Every time he thrust into me, I felt my insides stretch, and every time he hit my G-spot, it felt like he’d found a new G-spot with more G in it than ever before. With me standing up all squished against the sink, he was hitting a brand new angle. I couldn’t control myself. My legs couldn’t stop shaking. Rob had to hold me in place so he could keep his cock snug in my pussy. My body was a rollercoaster and his chiseled arms were my seat belt, holding me in place, making sure I wouldn’t stop cumming and his cock could continue to throb to the point of explosion.

I was dripping wet, the towel having long ago fallen to the floor. He moved his arm so he was holding my neck in place in a headlock, like we were engaging in some kind of wrestling match. I couldn’t take it anymore—my pussy was a super saturated solution of orgasms. Wait . . . could I have one more? Okay. One more. Yes. I felt an incredible release of tension inside of me, a wave of tingling pleasure rippling up my spine, and then the muscles inside of my vagina physically pushed his cock out of me. I did say before that we were in some kind of figurative wrestling match, and my pussy was now fighting back, going for a TKO. I mean, pushing a cock out of you that just gave you a zillion orgasms isn’t exactly a polite thing to do, but I justified it to myself that my pussy was not just my pussy anymore, it was an asset, and it didn’t need to have manners. It had its own hoard of admirers, who paid to stare at it in the afternoon, in place of eating lunch.

I turned around and got down on my knees. While my pussy had been fucked to the point of no return, I had other holes and limbs to milk the semen out of Rob. I opened my mouth, stroked his cock. I could taste my creamy juices all over him, and I was turned on by my own scent. I stroked his cock deeper into my mouth.

“I want to swallow your cum. Give it to me,” I said. I wanted to swallow it, and I also wanted to know that I could always make him cum. I’d become such an expert in arousing other men this summer, I felt like the empress of all boners in NYC. But when Rob glanced in my direction, even in the very apartment I paid for him to live in, I was just a puddle of helpless, horny goo.

So it made me feel slightly (and I stress slightly) empowered to get on my knees and beg to swallow his load. My hands and my mouth controlled the load, and I had the ability to release it however I liked. I stroked his throbbing cock, and felt the dirty cold tiles under my knees. I could see his face, so vulnerable and desperate. I stroked and sucked, my tongue running rings around the head of his cock, my hand clutching at the base.

“Give me your cum, Rob!” I said. He went from moaning to gasping, his long, sweaty dark hair moving from side to side as he jerked his head. Finally, he produced a giant delicacy of warm, delicious sperm into my mouth. Like my orgasms, it kept going. First a big stream, then a little stream, then little left-over trickling cum came as an aftershock. I swallowed every drop, and felt it run down my throat. As he swayed in post-orgasmic glory, I got up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Now I really have to get ready for work,” I said.

“Yeah, I gotta get ready too.” He chuckled. He was always chuckling. It was both adorable and infuriating.

I had a giant load of cum for breakfast, and now it was time serve my pussy to the public for lunch. So long Naomi, hello LeClaire. It was time to get to work.

To go back and see Rob cum inside of Naomi, turn to page 198.

To continue with Naomi in this fantasy, turn to page 203.