By Yxonomei Ayauhteotl
It is because you love him that you're on your knees between his long legs sucking his thick, long length in your mouth. Just like a lollipop, he told you the first time. So you sucked and licked, but never got to the sweet cherry flavor. All it did was stretch and stretch and stretch your bruised lips and then suffocate you before it broke and spilled salty, slimy fluid down your convulsing throat.
But he liked that very much. He told you how good you were, even as you cried and sniffled and tried to throw up. The taste lasted for a week. You felt ill for much longer.
But you love him, so you're back in his study, where you're not supposed to go normally, letting him pet and stroke your head while you struggle not to choke. His hips are moving, forcing his hardness dso far down your throat that you can't breathe. Tears, hot and sticky, leak down your cheeks as your small mouth stretches around his girth.
He still tastes nothing like a sucker. He tastes of salt and something earthy and bitter.
'So good...Oh!" he moans and his hands grip your head harder. No longer are you controllling the pace. He's ramming into you and you scream in pan and confusion. He shudders as your cry vibrates around him. He's never been like this before! He's usually more gentle!
"Oh! Yes, God...Harry!" Suddenly he shoves you off. Crying and gagging, you fall on your bottom. You stare up at him, wide-eyed and shaking. With a final groan--you wonder if he's dying--his hips arch up from the chair.
His salty, slimy fluid spatters your face. Thick and hot, it slides into your eyes, nose and mouth. It mixes with your tears and runs down your neck.
You sit and cry while his bitter essence drips down your face.
You do this because you love him.
He does this because he loves you.
