The Return of the Oral Bank Teller
written by:
The dodger

Almost a year had passed since Allison walked out of my life and I was beginning to realize that a vital piece of me was missing. I desperately wanted it back. At 46 I felt old and apathetic, lifeless. Barely able to make love to my own wife, I secretly longed for the erotic intensity of my yearlong affair with the flaming young adulteress.

I saw her everywhere: imagined her cock sucking lips on the faces of pretty girls I passed in the street; I fantasized that she was the anonymous woman in the cyber chat room, the slut on the web cam, the nubile nymph on her knees in every blowjob video hidden in the bowels of my computer. I was hungry for Allison's sweet young body and her perfect mouth, but I could only possess them in my dreams. She was the most sexual woman I had ever known; but losing her had drained me of my sensuality.

My last memory of her is this: wild-eyed and half-naked, the lithe 23 year-old is on her knees, curly red hair matted and sweaty, her white silk blouse unbuttoned to the waist. She is bra-less-- exposing firm, orange-sized breasts to the cool air, the nipples stiff and fire-red. Her skirt is a chaotic mess of black cotton bunched around her tiny waist. She is shamelessly sucking my cock in broad daylight in an empty church parking lot. Somewhere back in my car are her panties. Her auburn pubes, still damp from the sweaty fucking I had just given her, glisten in the bright sunlight as she plays with herself while she blows me.

I am cumming in her mouth now--my body is trembling, knees buckling. I feel her delicate fingertips gently supporting the cum-spewing cock resting on her tongue. Creamy-white spurts of semen fly between her red lips and I hear her noisily swallowing thick sperm as it repeatedly gathers in her throat. Tiny white pearls of cum appear at the corners of her pretty mouth. She is so beautiful on her knees, servicing me in public like this. She is oblivious to where we are and so am I. In her twinkling green eyes I see a deep, satisfied contentment as I finish by milking myself into her open mouth. A few drops gather on her tongue and she tilts her head back, mouth open, displaying her treasure proudly before consuming it. She closes her eyes, and then mews softly as warm cum slides down her gullet. She fingers herself to a quiet orgasm and I watch in amazement as her body trembles while she tastes and swallows.

Suddenly, she grasps the rock-hard shaft firmly with one hand. Smiling devilishly, she pumps the last of my jism into the cupped palm of the other. She retrieves a small coke vial from her handbag nearby and drags it through the small pool of bubbly, pearly liquid, filling it to the brim. She caps the tiny jar and carefully places it on the ground. This will be for future consumption, she tells me --a parting gift, she says, to remember me by.

Looking up into my eyes, she gratefully thanks me for her cum meal. Slowly and deliberately, she licks the remaining sperm from her hand and from the slimy cockhead dangling above her pretty young face. She takes her time, sighing softly, savoring the salty taste of cum and hot man-flesh she knows so well. She laps like a sleepy kitten, soft and sensual, then glides her pouty lips up and down the shaft, kissing and tasting the mixture of cum, sweat and saliva until it is clean. Not quite done, her fleshy pink-white tongue appears and swipes her shiny, sperm covered mouth-- removing all traces of stray jism. Discreetly sucking her teeth and gums clean, she swallows one last time. Finally satisfied, she rises to her bare feet, smiles triumphantly and kisses me tenderly on the cheek. I smell her cum breath and it is intoxicating.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," she says, a cat-like smile on her face. I truly can't answer her. It was at this moment that I fell in love with her.

"Goodbye, Michael. I'll never forget you", she says, as she backs away toward her car. I am standing there, naked from the waist down, speechless and spent like a used condom. I want to talk. I have so much to say to her. But she speeds away, doesn't even wave goodbye and never looks back.

That was ten long months ago.

Too late it seems, I realized that she was much more than the willing mouth and warm cunt of our brief affair. 'Timing is everything', they say. 'Time waits for no man', is another cliché that fits this tale of lost opportunity. Allison, I came to understand, was a precious instrument of joy and love and a source of unparalleled physical pleasure rarely found in the middle-aged world of a jaded, cynical and world-weary man. That was her gift.

Each night for months, this final scene played in my head like a personal porno clip: an endless, erotic loop that I masturbated to obsessively. I imagined her delicate hand around my cock. I felt the gentle coaxing of her warm, wet tongue and the sucking pressure of her silky lips. I squeezed my cock in vain, trying to recapture the tightness of her elegant throat. I came, and it felt good for the moment--my legs trembled in pleasure; the semen erupted--but Allison wasn't there to savor and swallow it. She wasn't there to glide her mouth up and down the wet, hard shaft and suck it dry. She wasn't there to lick the head clean and zip me up. It wasn't the same. I resigned myself to my fate, believing that, for me, sex would never be the same.

And then, of course, as in any good love story, the plot twists. Fast forward to the present:

I'm wallowing in self-pity, at work in my office, when the phone rings. I put the receiver to my ear and hear just one syllable. I know it instantly. I'm in shock. It's her!

"Hi-i stranger. How have you been?" The familiar sing song voice is pure sensual music to my ears and I immediately feel a stirring in my pants. I'm speechless for a moment. I check the caller ID: the Marriott in Brentwood. She's here on Long Island, less than five miles away. Ten months with not a word from her. I need to know if she is still hiding from me, as she has been for all these months, so I test her.

"Allison. Jesus. Where are you?" I ask, already knowing.

"I'm at the Brentwood Marriott. Got in last night. I want to see you. What are you doing today", she asks matter-of-factly, as though I just saw her yesterday. I feel anger rising in my gut. Was she playing a game with me?

I am somewhat reassured that she didn't lie about where she was. My heart skips a quick beat as the prospect of having sex with her quickly two-steps across my mind. I can't escape her mouth, I think to myself. I'm obsessed. But I am pissed about how she left and there are some things I needed to say before I give in.

"What the fuck do you mean 'what am I doing?' Where the hell have you been all this time? Why haven't you called me? Goddammit, you just walked out of my life like nothing ever happened between us, like I was a piece of shit; or was it ....a piece of meat," I scold her. She'd turned my life upside down and disappeared like a ghost and now she was waltzing back in looking for a date? I am not too fucking happy.

"You know better than that, Michael," she purrs.

"I'm not so sure, Allison. How could you just walk away like that?" I want to know, even as the sound of her feline voice begins to calm me.

"I'd rather not talk on the phone." She answers softly. "Would you come here? I do want to talk about it."

"I'm not so sure I should." I offer in pathetic self-defense. I want her again so badly I can taste her, but I can't let her know...not just yet.

She sounds very self-assured. "Well, you sure sound like you have lots to say to me! How about if you do all the talking and I just keep my mouth...mmmm....occupied with...aaah.... other things." She giggles. "Wouldn't you like that?"

She hasn't changed much, the cockslut, except now she is being a seductive little bitch. She is good at it. I am already checking my appointment book, but I keep up the ruse.

"Oh, so it IS the meat rack, eh? Is that all you really want from me?" Little does she know it's more than enough.

"You know that's not true!" she snaps back. "And why, all of a sudden, am I the enemy?

"Your not the enemy," I admit. "But you sure fucked my head up, you know, the way you left."

"I'm sorry for that, Michael, but it had to be."

I am anxious to hear her story but I know that if I am going to allow her back into my life, it has to be on my terms, not hers. I need to know if I am still in control. Do we still have the same relationship? Has anything changed? I thought I'd try a little game we used to play.

"So you want to suck my cock do you, you little cunt?"

There is silence, just quiet breathing on the other end for a moment. Her voice gets lower. "Yes," she confesses. "I do. I AM a cunt, aren't I, Michael. I can't help it," she responds meekly.

"You're a cock sucking little bitch, Allison. You belong on your fucking knees when I'm around you, you know that?" I am being as mean as I can under the circumstances.

"Your right," she responds submissively, comfortably playing the slut role. "I AM a nasty girl, Michael. I love to be on my knees sucking dicks, especially yours. I need you to come over here right now."

"Why?" I ask.

"To feed me some cum," she replies without hesitation.

"And if I do, what are you going to do with it?" I continue the game.

"I'll swallow it. You know I'll swallow every drop of it. I'm just a filthy cum-whore." Her voice is trembling now.

"Maybe it's been so long it'll be such a huge load you wont be able to handle it all, sweetie!" I goad her.

"I'll drink it from a cup, you bastard," she shoots back. "I'll lick it off the floor if you want me to. I don't care. I need it right now. I hear the sound of your voice and I want to suck your dick. I'm begging. Is that what you want? You like it when I beg, don't you, you bastard? Please, Michael, meet me. I'll do whatever you want." I can hear heavy breathing through the phone.

"Where are you?" I demand to know.

"I-I told you, I'm at the Marriott in...."

"No, I mean where are you in the hotel?"

"I'm in the restaurant, at a table having breakfast," she hesitates, caught off guard. "I'm on a house phone."

"Reach under the table and spread your legs!"

"God, your so bad, Michael. Your going to make me do something nasty now, aren't you?"

"Don't question me, you cunt. Do it! Open your legs!"

"Yes.... their open." She reports obediently.

"Slide your panties to the side and play with yourself. Are there people around?"

"Mmmm...yes, the tables on either side of me are occupied. Mmmm. I'm rubbing my clit, Michael. It feels soooo good," she whispers into the phone.

"Good girl. Slide a finger into your pussy." I hear her groan immediately. God, she was unreal.

"I'm doing it... I'm fingering myself. I'm already wet. My finger is sliding in and out easily. I'm pushing it in all the way now..." she whispers into the phone.

I picture her in the noisy restaurant, surrounded by businessmen in suits and ties and chatty waitresses, quietly finger fucking herself under the table. How can I resist being with a woman so depraved? "Do you want me to make myself cum," she asks softly. It is more desire than request.

"No!" I order her. I had made my point. "Stop right now. Lick your fingers clean."

There is silence on the other end while she tastes herself.

"What room are you in?" I ask.

"318," she responds, somewhat out of breath. "Don't take too long. Please. I need sex."

"I'll be there in half an hour; be ready." I tell her.

I don't wait for a reply. I hang up, cancel my day's appointments and head up-island to Brentwood.

The Marriott was a pretty upscale hotel that catered almost exclusively to the executives and businessmen jetting in and out of Long Island's burgeoning hi-tech industry. I'd been here before...with her. As I exit the elevator on the third floor my heart begins to beat a little faster. I know she is here. I know I am only a few steps from my wildest dreams.

Room 318. I barely knock once and the door opens.

She stands there, silent for a moment, welcoming me with her eyes. I am speechless. I step back to take her in and I quickly note that she is more beautiful than ever. Her red hair seems silkier and healthier, beautifully cascading to her shoulders in long curly ringlets which frame her pretty face. She wears little makeup as always--her natural beauty and fine features speak for themselves. Her face is lightly tanned, the skin seamless and smooth, her sexy lips accentuated with a light coating of creamy coral-red lipstick.

She has on gold hoop earrings, which hang precisely at her cheekbones--the glitter contrasting nicely with the bronze glow of her face. Her long slender neck dips into a crisp white silk blouse, unbuttoned at the collar. My eyes are drawn to the opening. Just visible, is a natural colored leather choker, about an inch wide. It is dotted with what look like emeralds and diamonds, each stone at least a karat or more. The green gems compliment her sparkling eyes, and the diamonds, bordering the leather band top and bottom, make her skin shine. If the jewels are real the choker must have cost a small fortune. I am impressed. She sees me staring.

"Well, hello there, handsome," she quips with a smile. "Won't you come in?"

I step into the room and we jump into each other's arms. Barely able to kick the door shut behind me, we clutch like teenagers in heat: groping frantically, revisiting the familiar terrain of each other's body. Her long neck, her bony shoulders and the curve of her spine in turn slide through my hands as I trace her familiar beauty. Her ass is still tight and round; each cheek fits firmly in my strong hands. She never wears a bra, doesn't need to, and as her firm, upturned breasts press into me, I can feel the hard nipples poking me in the chest.

She wears a loose fitting burgundy cotton skirt, which ends fashionably just above her knees, and black patent leather pumps. She can be mistaken for a prep-school student at first glance, the way she dresses so conservatively, except for the womanly glow that emanates from her face, especially her knowing, sexy mouth. It speaks of invitation, experience. And there is an unmistakable smoky sensuality in her deep green eyes that drives men crazy.

Her thighs press tightly around my leg as she runs her hand over my cock, as though to reassure herself it's still there. It is already thick and semi-hard. I hold her pretty face in my hands as she traces the outline of my dick with manicured fingernails. Our mouths connect. My tongue slides between her silky lips and she tongues and sucks on it as though it were a mini cock. This makes me instantly hard, and she coos like a lovebird when she feels it. "Mmmm, baby, is that for me?" she pauses the kiss to say.

"We'll see," I reply, keeping things under control.

She steps back to look at me. "You look great, Michael," she compliments. I am still in great shape and work hard at 46 to keep it that way for as long as I can. At 5'8" I am not a big man, but my 165 is all wiry muscle and packed tightly around my frame. My 8-inch cock is average but very thick. Just perfect to suck and to deep throat, she once told me. It nicely stretches her tight young pussy and creates exquisite friction against her large clitoris that never fails to make her come. My once jet black hair is more salt and pepper now, but my age is what attracted her to me in the beginning, and her appreciation of my mature, virile good looks only increased as our affair progressed. Allison was drawn to older men.

"Jesus. I.. I miss you, Michael," she admits, as we let go of each other finally.

"I miss you too," I admit back. "What have you been doing with your life," I ask, eager to know where she'd been all these months.

"I've been living in Connecticut--I'm still with the bank. I couldn't tell you, but I transferred just before I left. I'm being promoted to branch manager next month, isn't that cool?"

"Good for you," I reply, pissed that she was so close all this time.

"I'm buying a house," she continues proudly.

"Wow, making progress, eh? That's great." I wonder how she could afford a house in Connecticut on her salary, not to mention the jewelry.

"Yes, I am. In more ways than one."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well....uh...I'm in a ..a relationship, Michael." Her voice gets serious.

My heart sinks a little. I don't say anything.

"Michael?" She is confused by my silence, but seems to understand. "Don't be mad at me. It's not what you think. It doesn't affect anything between us", she assures me. "I'm not in love with him...not really. It's a very nice arrangement, actually. I think you'd be proud of me."

"Arrangement? What the hell do you mean?"

She hesitates for a long time, searching for words.

"I...I have a Master now," she finally admits. Her eyes are focused on the floor as she says this.

"A what?" I ask in disbelief.

"A Master. His name is Robert. I'm his... sub...you know, submissive." She spreads open her blouse to expose the jeweled leather choker. She turns it around to show it has a ring on it, like where you would attach a dog's leash. "This is my collar. I wear one all the time now. It signifies that I'm his slave."

"What do you mean, slave?" I want to know. I picture all kinds of S&M shit. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?"

"No, no, never! He would never hurt me. I wouldn't let any man hurt me--you know that. It's not like that at all." She replies with conviction.

"Do you trust him?" I feel protective. I think about what a man could do with a woman tethered to a leash and it makes me uncomfortable.

"I do trust him, Michael. It's hard to explain. Actually, trust is the most important thing we have-it's really the basis of our relationship. It isn't about love, not for me anyway."

"I'm a little confused. How can you be in a relationship without love?" I want to know.

"I've learned a lot about myself since I met you, Michael." She begins to explain.

"I'm listening."

"Well, I've learned that trust is the most important thing I need from a man. I need to be trusted---so I can be free to be who and what I really am," she explains. "You understand that, don't you? There aren't many men around who can accept my, shall I say, intense sexuality, without being jealous and controlling. That's what disgusted me about Tom.

I knew she loathed her ex-husband. His cheating on her is what opened the door to our affair. She used to make a habit of leaving cum stains in his car when we had sex in it, just to get even with him.

She went on. "He couldn't handle me. I fucked and sucked his brains out for 3 years and all he did was obsess about me fucking somebody else. He got no joy out of having a woman like me around. I couldn't be myself without being afraid of what he'd think about me. I wanted him to love me. I loved him in the beginning; I didn't cheat on him until he cheated on me. He was a fool and he lost me. After my shitty marriage, I never expected to find love with a man again. I never did....except... with you."

She never said that to me before. I thought I understood. "Go on," I say.

"I fell in love with you, Michael," she continued. "I trusted you from the first day I met you. You enjoyed me for who I was and taught me how to accept myself. I still love you. But I cant have you. You're married. You have a family, a wife, a business--- a whole world that has nothing to do with me. Don't you see? I knew the truth. I couldn't let myself be in love with you. You could never commit to me. God knows I cherished the sex---you're the best sex I ever had, Michael--- but it hurt not to have your love. That's why I left."

This was sad truth that I had to agree with. It could never have worked out for us: our ages, our marriages. Yes, timing is everything, I understood. Our affair wasn't about love for me-or so I thought back then. It was, first and foremost, about the sex. Incredible sex worth throwing my life away for, and I certainly had thought about it. She was beautiful, and smart, and fun to be around. And who knows, if it had continued, if she had never left, maybe I would have chucked it all for her. Our affair had lasted a year and we never betrayed each other. No one ever knew about us. There was always the element of trust. I began to draw her connection between trust and love and commitment. I grudgingly accepted that she had found someone who could give her at least two out of three-which wasn't such a bad deal.

She continued to explain. "I've been used by men in the past, abused even. You saw that yourself, in my marriage with Tom. You remember that first night we were together, when you sent me home to him holding a mouthful of your cum? As I sat there at the kitchen table, tasting your sperm in front of him, I realized how weak and pathetic he was and I stopped being afraid of him and men like him from that night on. You freed me in a way by helping me to humiliate him. He was a prick, he cheated on me, and he got what he deserved. When you made me do that on our first night, you turned me off to men like him forever. You gave me the confidence to accept of who I was. I know deep down what a slut I am. I live for sex. And I make no apologies for the way I act. What better way to get pleasure out of life? But I only fuck men who can handle me now; and there aren't many of you around, believe me. Robert trusts me like you did. He's not at all intimidated by my nature. He relishes it, just like you did. He loves me and he's committed to my happiness. He can give me almost everything I need. I'll settle for that right now."

"And what is your end of the bargain?" I want to know.

"It's pretty simple. I'm his sexual slave. I surrender my will and my body to him. He makes all my decisions for me. I make myself available to him whenever and wherever he wants it, and in any way he demands. My job is to please him physically, unconditionally. I do it willingly."

"Willingly?"

"Michael, you know what a whore I am", she laughs. "You of all people understand that part of me. It's not like work, you know. Hey, I'm driving a Lexus, getting a mortgage free house and have tons of money in the bank. Not a bad return for the effort, wouldn't you say?" She was smiling. "He's a very rich man. With his influence at the bank, he set me up in my job, gave me my car. He cares for me and protects me. He provides every material comfort I could possibly want. It's a very satisfying relationship. He makes it very easy for me to be happy. I do want you to be happy for me."

I had to chuckle. She was a bitch, yes. But she was certainly no dummy.

I checked in with my feelings. In truth, I guess I was happy for her. She did seem so much more centered and confident. She definitely seemed content with her arrangement and even looked better physically, if that was possible. So...why not? After all, I had a woman in my life to love and who loved me---my wife. Allison deserved no less, even if I wished it was me who owned her. And besides, here she was. She had come back to me of her own free will. In the next 10 minutes she would be on her knees, happily sucking my cock. But I wondered why, if she was so committed to this guy, had she returned.

"OK. You're happy. That's good. I accept that. But why did you come back, Allison? Does he know you're here?"

"Yes, he does. In fact, he sent me," she spoke calmly.

Now I am really confused!

She turns and reaches into her handbag on the chair and hands me a folded note. I open it and read:

"My dear Michael. I assume by now that Allison has explained to you who I am. She is a very obedient young lady, as you know, and I trust she did as she was told. I love her very much. She has explained to me the nature of the relationship she had with you. She is there with you right now because I have instructed her so. I have sent her to you as a gesture of gratitude for the way she was prepared for her life with me by you. You taught her much, and made her very happy; and I am indebted to you."

What the fuck was this all about? I wondered.

The note went on. " Please accept her as the gift I have intended her to be--the gift to all men that she truly is. She is yours to use as you wish, my friend. She has been told that tonight you are her Master. I trust that you will use her well. Enjoy her and return her to me when you are done. Regards. Robert."

"Wow, this is all too much. I can't believe this," I say out loud.

"Believe it, Michael."

"OK, OK...now what? What the fuck do you want me to do?" I am feeling out of my league with her for the first time and hesitant to make a move. This master/slave stuff is new territory for me.

She looks me straight in the eye. "Whatever you wish, Master."

I stand silently for a minute and just look at her: so beautiful, so sexual--so willing. I compose myself by thinking about how much I have wanted her all these months--how much I missed her. My cock instantly begins to stiffen. I look at her standing there; waiting for me to speak; and all I can do is stare. I need to see her naked. "Take off your clothes", I order.

"Yes, Sir."

She slowly disrobes, removes her earrings and stands silently before me in nothing but the choker. I marvel once again at her beauty. Allison is about five-two and she weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds. She is perfectly proportioned in every way. Her breasts, her smooth flat stomach, her tight, round ass are all sculpted in heaven. Her legs, even her hands and feet, are works of art. I take a deep breath and begin to formulate a plan. I want a blowjob from her so bad I can feel her lips on my dick; but I want her to want me of her own accord. I don't want a slave. I want a woman.

"Tell me what you want from me," I ask, leading her.

"I want to surrender my will and my body to you, Michael," she replies.

"No!" I bellow. "Fuck that shit! Listen to me. I don't want you to surrender anything. Do you understand? I want you to own your will. I want you to be yourself. You're nobody's slave and you know it! I want the woman I've always known. You know yourself better than any woman I've ever met, Allison. Tell me what it is YOU want."

She seems puzzled at first, almost disappointed. She closes her gorgeous green eyes for a moment in search of the answer. When they open there is a familiar twinkle in them. It perfectly matches the emeralds around her neck.

"You always know what I want, don't you?" she smiles, as she licks her lips and stares at my crotch. Deep down, she is still a cock-sucking slut. It is truly her nature. She always gets what she wants sexually, no matter who 'owns' her. I am relieved to know she hadn't changed all that much.

"And what would that be, Allison?" I tease.

"I want to suck your cock and make you cum in my mouth, Michael."

There is a slight pause, as I don't respond to her. She looks at me inquisitively for a moment, and then smiles knowingly.

"Can I... please...suck your cock and make you cum in my mouth?"

"I was worried you don't beg any more," is my amused reply. "Get on your knees."

She doesn't say another word. She's heard the words she wanted to hear. Stepping away from me she sinks obediently to the carpet in front of a full-length mirror that hangs on a closet door near the entrance to the room. She motions me to her with a toss of her head.

"Come here handsome, let's watch."

I move in front of her and glance at her reflection. Two of her is almost too much to bear. She is even more stunning in the dim light of the hotel room as I study her, the shadows of her curves accentuating her beauty. From my vantage point above her, the outline of her upper torso forms a subtle V, her wide shoulders angling down to her slim waist, and then flaring out gracefully at her hips to her perfectly curved ass. Her breasts stand out and up, defying gravity still, the pink nipples very stiff. I can tell she is working out; she is toned and lithe as a Siamese cat. Her young skin is evenly tanned all over, except for delicious creamy-white patches around her pale, pert breasts, and a sexy light triangle that begins just below her navel and extends in a bikini line to her crotch. Her neck, encircled by the jeweled collar, seems even more elegant than ever. Her bony shoulders are covered in a bronze patina and her slender arms, every feminine muscle softly defined, curve lazily down to rest on her thighs. With her hands gently folded in her lap she kneels before me and waits. She instinctively rests on her heels; back arched attentively, her face level with my crotch, moistening her lips in anticipation.

I feel like a priest about to give her Holy Communion. I position myself in front of her and reach for my belt buckle.

"Let me do that for you", she says suddenly.

I start to protest.

"Ssshh, Michael. Let me do it. You asked me what I wanted; I'll tell you. I want to service you like a whore. I'm on my knees to give you a blowjob. Let me do it right. Talk dirty to me. Don't be nice to me. Talk to me like I'm a cheap slut because, right now, I am. Make me feel it in my soul. Treat me like the woman I know I am."

She needs to be used, I think to myself. She needs to be controlled. It is no act; this is how she defines her femininity. This is when she feels most like a woman. This Robert guy has really polished her. She is a strong, willful person. But when it comes to sex she needs to be pushed around like a dirty mop.

OK, why not. I trust that she knows what she wants. I certainly want to give it to her.

"Unbutton my pants, you little cock sucker," I say in my best condescending voice.

"Yes, sir", she replies obediently, her eyes cast downward, her voice slightly above a whisper. She reaches up and removes my belt and unbuttons my jeans. As she reaches for the zipper I slap her hand.

"Use your teeth!" I instruct with a devilish smile. "You want cock?"

"Yes, I do. I'll do anything for it." she shamelessly admits.

"Well, then, work for it".

She sucks in a breath and I see a tremor of pleasure run through her body as she grasps my thighs and leans forward to reach me. She pauses for a moment, her face pressed against the bulge in my jeans, and inhales the scent. Using her tongue to flip the zipper out, she clamps it between her teeth. Face tilted up, her eyes lock into mine as she slowly draws it down.

When she gets the zipper all the way down, she pauses---and speaks with her eyes lowered. "Can I take your jeans off?" she asks politely.

"Yes," I say. "But be careful."

"I will, Michael. I'll be very careful."

She removes my shoes one at a time and I lift my feet so she can slide my jeans and jockeys off. As she tosses them across the room I remove my shirt. I stand before her naked and hold my erect cock in my hand. She stares at it, her mouth slightly open.

"You remember this? I ask.

"God, yes." She answers, sighing.

"Do you miss it?" I want to know.

"Michael, the truth is... I see your face and feel your cock when any man fucks me..."

"What about Robert?" I want to know.

"Yes, Robert too. I miss your cock... so much." She confesses.

I am pleasantly shocked. I am beginning to remember why I need her so desperately. It isn't just the sex. It's how she feels about me---how easily she expresses her need for me. No woman, not even my wife has ever made me feel so desired. She does love me very much. I believe that now. I want tell her that I love her too. But not yet. It isn't the right moment. Right now, it's not about love.

I stay on track.

"You want to suck this, don't you?" I tease, stroking my dick slowly.

"Yes... I do." She whispers, her eyes never leaving my crotch.

"Kiss it," I order. I know she will start having orgasms as soon as I let her suck it and I'm not ready for that yet.

I hear a familiar whimper in the back of her throat as she moistens her lips and purses them to form a perfect heart. She brings the moist pink flesh-pillows to the tip of my dick and kisses it once reverently. Her eyes are closed, and she sighs as contact is made. Careful not to open her mouth, she kisses the head several times until I pull it away and hold the shaft upright to my navel. Taking my lead, she pecks at the underside and the tight folds of foreskin. Her lips are wet and I can feel her warm breath as she makes love to my cock, kissing from the top of the cleft slowly down the shaft to the top of my balls and up to the tip again. When she goes back down she starts to slide her wet mouth over my balls. I grab her by the hair and pull her face away.

"Not yet!" I reprimand her. I know she loves to lick my balls, especially when they are wet with saliva from a mouth-watering cock kissing, but I am determined to make her wait. "You're only allowed to kiss it."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Michael. I can't help myself." She apologizes with a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Open your slutty mouth," I command. "Let me see your tongue."

Responding without hesitation, she tilts her face up and opens wide, offering the moist crimson flesh for my inspection. It is twitching slightly, restless-- waiting. She loves the taste of cock skin, the pulsing, smooth texture of man-flesh as it moves along her tongue while she sucks. Her taste buds are aching for sperm---I can tell; but I'm not ready to give it to her.

I rub my fingers over and around her tongue, wetting them; then withdraw and paint her beautiful lips with her saliva. This makes her salivate even more and she closes her eyes and moans softly, encouraging me to continue. I gaze at her glistening mouth and into the shadow of her throat.

"This is where you want me to come, isn't it, Allison?" I ask as I tilt her head back with a thumb in her mouth and forefinger under her chin. I am purposely a little rough.

She nods yes, unable to speak. Her breathing is deep and slow as if in a trance. Her eyes widen in anticipation and perhaps a little fear. She is as aroused as I am but remains still and composed--and patiently kneels there, not moving. She knows she is going to get what she wants.

I let go of her mouth and hold out my dick.

"Lick it now you whore! Lick every fucking inch of it. And do it slowly," I tell her.

She does as she is told. She begins at the tip and licks slowly around the purple head. Her pink tongue laps in short strokes. It feels warm and slightly rough and my cock twitches under her expert technique. She is so fucking good at this because she truly loves it, I think to myself.

I am beginning to think I will give almost anything to have this kind of servicing at my beck and call again. Maybe we can be together somehow. I can leave my wife, my kids---my whole boring life---and run away with her. How bad would it be if I had this woman to come home to every night? Her hot breath on my cock brings me back to reality.

She slides her mouth to the cleft and places her parted lips right where the nerve endings are concentrated, and sucks gently while licking with the tip of her snake-like tongue. Pre-cum begins to ooze down the purple head. She asks me if she can taste it. I nod yes, and she swiftly licks it up. She savors the sweet liquid for a moment before swallowing with a satisfied, "Mmmm," and returns to the task at hand.

The shaft of my cock is tightening now as she moves her mouth along it, stopping to lick and place a kiss every inch or so. Her tongue is silky and smooth and her breath is so fucking hot I am sweating. She places her lips along the side and begins gliding her mouth sensually up and down it, with a slight sucking pressure. The thick cock bobs under her nose and I can tell the musky odor of it is an aphrodisiac for her because she begins to shift her weight nervously and press her thighs tightly together.

"Can I touch myself?" she pauses from her work, breathing heavily.

"Yes. But let me watch."

She spreads her knees apart and reaches down to her crotch. Her index finger zeroes in on her clitoris and she begins pressing and rubbing it in tight little circles. She whimpers helplessly as her wet lips and tongue slobber over my cock while she plays with herself. Distracted, she almost lets it slip away, but composes herself and refocused on her mouth work. After every two or three licks she gathers up the saliva and sweat coating my dick, closes her eyes, and swallows contentedly. Each time she swallows she squeezes her juicy cunt, causing a squishing sound I can hear.

"Can I taste myself, Michael? My pussy is so wet. I know it tastes so good." She begs me breathlessly. She likes to taste her own cunt juices, I know that, but she really wants cum, badly. I am beginning to think it is time---for both of us. But I am hungry, too.

"Give me your hand," I say.

She removes it from her crotch and holds it up to me. I suck her fingers and lick her palm slowly, while looking into her eyes.

"God, I love you, Michael," she whispers softly. "I've never known a man so beautiful. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let me make you cum. God, I want to give you an orgasm so badly. I want the gift of your semen. I want to give you so much pleasure. Let me suck it now."

I want to respond with loving words. I want to tell her how much I need her, how much she means to me; but there will be time for that later. I am determined to make this moment just about sex. Dirty, depraved, low down cock sucking sex.

"Suck it, you little whore. That's what you want, isn't it? Suck my dick like the cocksucker you are. Suck it good and make me cum in your filthy mouth." The words flow easily.

"Yes, that's what I want." she responds. "I want to taste it so bad. Fill my mouth with semen. I'll swallow it all. Let me show you what a cum slut I am."

She stops talking and brings her open mouth to my now throbbing cock and closes her lips over the crown. Her eyelids flutter, as she tastes the heavy man-meat. She begins to suck on the head with a light vacuuming pressure. Her tongue laps at the nerve endings underneath as she holds it in her mouth. After five minutes of this tasting torture she begins to bob her head in a slow up and down motion, relaxing her mouth on the down stroke and sucking and tonguing as she glides back up. I watch my cock disappear in and out of her mouth as her sexy lips roll effortlessly up and down the skin. She works this way for another five minutes, her hands busy between her legs.

The pressure is building in my balls. I can feel my cock pulsing as she sucks steadily. I could let her do this for hours; but I need to move this along.

I hold her head still and slide my cock a little deeper into her mouth. Anticipating a mouth fucking, she relaxes her jaw and yields to me. Three quarters of the shaft disappear between her shiny lips and as I withdraw she applies gentle sucking pressure and tongue action. She is an expert at this. Spit begins to bubble and froth at the line where my cock meets her lips. I begin a rhythmic, slow mouth-fuck, in and out, and she sucks in perfect synchronization to my thrusts. Saliva pours from her hungry mouth as she feasts on me in a shameless, messy display of cock-worship.

As the rock hard shaft slides in and out of her mouth, banging against the back of her throat, it is obvious that she wants more. She moans louder, the deeper I plunge. She loves cum--- the warm salty taste, the pungent odor and thick consistency of it. For that reason, she always asks me to back out and come on her tongue. But I know she also loves to be used this way, to hold my thick cock in her throat until she cant breathe; to relishes the sensation of having her mouth stuffed, followed by the exquisite release of pressure as the full length of steel-hard, silky smooth man flesh slowly withdraws through her lips. I feel the veins at the base of my cock pulsing against her squirming tongue as she licks and sucks as I reach the deep end of my stroke. She frigs her cunt furiously as my pace quickens, and she begins to moan from somewhere deep inside her soul. She shudders as the first of many orgasms courses through her body.

I know what she needs now. I grasp her firmly by the back of her head and under her chin, my fingers entwined in her thick red hair. I tilt her face to change the angle of her mouth and align her throat with my stiff cock. She leans forward to help me. I drive my hips forward, pushing my cock as deep as I can down her throat. That long elegant tunnel opens and her jaw relaxes to allow me complete access. She easily accepts as much cock as I can force into her. Her lips surround the base of the shaft, her nose presses against my belly, and I hold her there for a moment. Amazingly, she doesn't gag, or pull back to breathe---she begins to suckle like a baby on a bottle!

With her hot mouth now surrounding my cock from tip to base I can feel her frantic tongue lapping the shaft as she sucks it all at once. The pressure of her throat alternates between tight and tighter as she swallows in tandem with her sucking. She is an incredible fellatrix, an artist at this... I can't resist much longer...I am getting close.

I begin fucking her mouth with as much force as I would a cunt. She steadies herself with one hand on the floor, offering her mouth to my cock as I stroke deeply in and out, working toward what I feel is going to be a monumental orgasm. She moans loudly around the throbbing shaft but doesn't flinch. She finger fucks herself and sucks steadily as I mercilessly mouth fuck her.

"I'm going to spray this load of cum right down your throat, you little whore. I've been saving this load for ten months---ten long fucking months you made me wait, you bitch. I'm going to make you swallow so much fucking cum your going to drown in it. Lets see what your fucking Robert thinks about his little slave after I send you home drenched in my semen."

I speak without missing a stroke, fucking in and out of her hot little mouth with increasing force, holding her head tightly in my hands. Pre-cum and saliva pours from her mouth, bubbling around the shaft and dribbling down her chin like white-hot lava. But still she sucks. Her thighs are covered in our fluids and the rug below her is becoming saturated.

I am fucking her mouth in earnest now, eyes closed, my head thrown back---lost in the ecstatic pleasure. She sucks and swallows faster and faster, keeping up with each and every thrust. Her mouth is hot, her throat so tight, the cum begins to push at my prostrate like the heathens at the gates of Rome. It won't be long before the floodgates open. But Allison keeps sucking and tonguing frantically no matter how fast or how deep I plunge. Amazed at her oral skills, I pause in my reverie and look down at her.

There is the unmistakable look of fear in her eyes.

What I see stabs me in the heart and brings me to my senses. I must be hurting her. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, baby. Jesus Christ. Oh man, I'm sorry. Are you OK?" I blather as I withdraw from her mouth. I feel so guilty. What the fuck was I thinking?

But Allison, never failing to amaze me, was not the least bit interested in apologies.

"No, don't stop! Don't stop!" she screams. "Fuck! Give it to me. Let me suck it. Let me finish you. Oh my God, you're so close. Don't stop! I can feel you so close. I can fucking taste it. Give it to me."

I am frozen, confused.

"But...but... I don't want to hurt you!" I plead.

"You're not hurting me. What's wrong with you? You can fuck my mouth till I pass out. I love it, you bastard."

"But...but.." I stammer.

"Just don't come in my throat. I'm afraid you might come in my throat. I don't want that. Not now. I want to taste it, Michael. Shoot it in my mouth! Come on my tongue, baby. Pull back and come on my tongue so I can taste it."

Unbelievable! Her fear is that she won't get to taste it. I am dumfounded, but not surprised.

I will give her what she wants now---this is why I came here in the first place. I want to please her as much as she does me. We have a sexual symbiosis, plain and simple. The pleasure she gets from pleasing me is my greatest pleasure as well, and vice versa. We are a sexual tag team.

I can't turn my back on this woman. I can't let her walk away from me again. We have to talk about our future; but not now---now is the time to enjoy what we give each other physically. The emotional stuff can wait.

I let go of her head. I let her take over. She certainly knows what she wants ---and she doesn't waste a moment.

She goes right down on my cock and begins sucking again in earnest. Up and down her head bobs. The slimy prick is like a blur in and out of her lips. Opening her mouth wide she impales her face on it and buries the shaft deep in her throat, and for the first time I notice the jeweled choker tighten around her cock-bloated neck. So much for Roberts collar, I think to myself. This girl is nobody's slave.

Completely swallowing the shaft she moves her mouth up and down in short strokes, fucking her throat with no help from me. She sucks and tongues it as she slowly spits it out. Her lips clutch at the base, and then slither back up to the tip. All the while her cheeks are hollow and she sucks relentlessly. She swallows and licks, bobs and sucks, never losing a beat. Pretty soon my balls begin to tighten and the cum begins to bubble up through my urethra. My legs start to tremble. She knows the signs.

"Oh yes! Cum for me, baby! Cum in my mouth! Give your little whore what she wants. Give it to me, Michael. Shoot it in my mouth. Cover my filthy tongue with sperm. Let me taste it," she screams as she spits out the cock and grasps the shaft with two hands. She strokes it feverishly, mouth open, tongue extended to the cockhead. She looks up at me with fire in her eyes. The emeralds and diamonds around her neck are covered in sweat and saliva and glisten in the lamplight of the hotel room. She is beginning to lose it.

"Cum in my filthy mouth, Michael. I want it. I need it! My mouth belongs to you-use it. Fill it with semen. Spit in it. Piss in it. I don't care. I'm your cock-sucking whore, Michael. I'm your woman. You showed me what I am. I love it. I love being your whore. I love you, Michael. Cum in my mouth. Let me taste it. Do it! Please, do it now!"

Her depraved ranting puts me over the edge. My cock explodes! Spurt after spurt of white-hot cum flies between her lips and ropes onto her tongue. The thick fluid splatters her mouth and drips into it and down her chin. She swallows frantically and pumps my shaft for more. Her mouth begins to overfill as the hot spurts of jism come faster than she can swallow. A river of thick pearly cum accumulates across the length of her tongue and she tilts her head back to allow it to slide back and disappear into the shadow of her throat. She swallows, and swallows again--- insatiable, hungry for the thick white man-juice she loves so much. It seems as if I will never stop cumming as she milks my dick into her cum covered mouth and swallows every drop she can get.

When the spasms stop, she goes down on my cock and sucks hard, drawing semen from deep inside my urethra. To my hypersensitive nerve endings this is almost painful, but I won't stop her. I can feel her hungry throat working as she pulls it out of me. She keeps sucking and swallowing, refusing to give it up, until I finally pull her away.

I lean back against the wall, breathing heavily, drained of all my strength. I need a moment to gather myself. I watch her lick her sperm-covered hands and slide cum from her cheeks and lips into her mouth. "Mmmm," she moans, as she sucks fingers clean until she is satisfied there is no more. Turning her attention back to my cum-covered dick, she asks. "Can I clean it now, Michael?"

I can't speak. She is really in control now. She smiles at my paralysis. "Just hold it out for me, will you? Watch your whore lick your dick clean, no hands," she says.

She does just that. As I watch transfixed, she licks me clean from cockhead to balls. She licks my hand and my cum-covered fingers and then sucks the jism from my pubes. "Oh, my," she says, spying puddles of cum all over her thighs and on the rug. She scoops the slimy fluid off herself and devours it, then gets on all fours to lick cum the puddles off the floor.

"How's that for a good little cum slut?' she smiles and says, as she finishes her sperm feast. "I told you I'd lick it off the floor," she smiles. "Was I a good little whore, Michael?"

"Jesus Christ, Allison, I don't know what to say. Baby, you're fucking amazing! I....I think we have to talk. Yea, we definitely have to talk about some things. I'm not going to let you get away from me again. I want us..."

"Sshh! Don't say anything." She admonishes me with a finger to my lips as she rises to her feet and kisses me on the cheek. "Not right now," she says. "We'll have time to talk. Later."

Later? What exactly did she have planned for my day? After that orgasm, I needed some sleep!

"Why don't you go take a nice hot shower? Go ahead, you'll feel great, all nice and clean. Then we can talk some more. The day is still young. I promise I'll be here when you come out."

I didn't want to let her out of my sight, ever again; but I trusted her. I went into the bathroom and rested against the tile wall of the shower as I turned on the water. The hot soapy shower felt good---rejuvenating and cleansing, two things I definitely needed. I must have been in there for 20 minutes. I could hear her moving around and humming and singing to herself out in the room. When I stepped out, towel around my waste I almost dropped it when I saw her standing there.

She had changed her clothes and put her hair in pigtails. She wore absolutely no makeup, not even lipstick. She was now wearing a red scotch-plaid jumper with a white, button-down long sleeve cotton blouse underneath. At the collar was a wide black schoolgirl bowtie. She had on a red wool beret. On her feet were black patent leather flats and she wore white knee socks. The jumper had a school insignia on it. She was dressed up like a 16 year-old Catholic schoolgirl and she had a devil of a smile on her face.

I was speechless. She is giggling as she speaks to me in a squeaky little girl voice.

"Hi Daddy. It's me-e. Don't you recognize me? It's your little daughter Allison. I know a really, really fun game I learned from Robert. I wanna teach it to you, Daddy. I think you'll like it. Wanna take me out for some ice cream and candy? Huh? Huh? Would-ya? Would-ya come out and play with Allison tonight?"

Oh! My! God!

Uh-OH! I feel another story coming on. It's one about the little teenaged nymph in a schoolgirl outfit who likes to show off her talents to strangers...with Daddy's approval, of course. She's so-o-o obedient--- a good little Daddy's girl...and....well....tune in next chapter. It'll be fun. Bye.