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Sometimes she'd wear a baseball cap. I'd never know where she was hiding. Sometimes she'd be right behind the front door. Other times she'd be behind some corner or behind another door. Desiree would grab me from behind and hold me in a tight grip, or wrestle me to the ground and pin me. I didn't resist much. A couple of times she rushed me and punched me in the stomach then kneed me in the chin (not too hard, but firm) before putting me down. Then she say something like "Okay asshole, you're gonna worship me and make me feel good...if you don't make me happy, I'm gonna beat the shit outta you." Usually she'd be on top of me in a classic pin and she'd rub her big knee and thigh against my face telling me to kiss and lick them while threatening me that she was going to beat me up very badly if I didn't follow her orders and do everything right. Desiree would stand and have me stroke, kiss and lick her legs all over. She'd also trample me a little and show me how easy it would be for. "How do you mean?" I asked. "I thought you were a bit rough and ready." "Oh thanks, stereotyped again," I said. "No, sorry, it's just that, well, you know.” "It's okay, I get it all the time, people think that because I work on cars for a living that I'm your typical bloke, but I like all sorts, you could say I'm a bit eclectic, like my record collection." "What sort of music do you like then?" "Well everything from AC/DC to ZZ Top, that includes old soul, Motown, reggae, but at heart, I'm a rocker, the heavier the better." "We should get on well then," she said, "I'm a bit of rock chick myself." "You don't fit the profile," I said, "I had you down for an R & B lover." "Now who's stereotyping," she said jokingly. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that." We both had a bit of a laugh about it. "Another drink?" I asked. "Dry white wine, a large one if that's okay?" When I came back to the table, we just sat talking, getting to know each other, filling each other in on our.
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Yet.” I almost sigh. I catch myself and stop. He stands. “Pull them down.” I pull his pants down. He steps out of them and kicks them aside. He sits back down, his manhood standing proudly from his groin. “Suck it.” I lean forward, opening my mouth and claiming my prize. Instinct has me raise my hand and grab the base as I wrap my lips around the head. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as the salty taste of his skin touches my tongue. Before I get half his cock in my mouth, he’s tugging my hair hard, pulling me back. I let go instantly, tears stinging my eyes as I look up at him. He’s angry. “I did not tell you to use your hands, did I?” His voice is low and rough. I bite my lip briefly before whispering, “No Master.” He lets go of my head and leans back. “SUCK IT!” His whispered demand spurs me into action. I put my hands on my knees and grip them tightly as I lean forward. Once again, my mouth is on him. I feel him watching as my head bobs up and down his length. He’s trained me in.

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