“I want to fuck your mouth,” he murmurs. “I want you to take my cock all the way into your throat. I want to throat-fuck you, Paulina.”

I moan softly at the thought, and he does too, as my lips vibrate around his balls. “As long as you promise to come in my mouth,” I reply, peering up at him. “I want to taste your cum.”

“Anything my thirsty little naughty girl wants.” He smirks.

I take him into my mouth again, and this time he leads. He pulls me along his length until he fills my mouth.

“Relax,” he says, and I try my best to obey. To let my jaw go slack and my mouth open wider. His cock hits the back of my throat, and my body tenses, but I try to concentrate on him, his taste, the feel of his hands in my hair, guiding my head, pulling at my hair as they tighten.

“That’s it, Pau, right there,” he murmurs. “Deeper.”


His cock inches into my throat, a centimeter at a time, and my breath catches as I finally take all of him, every inch, inside, until my lips touch the base of his cock. Then my throat tightens, but he’s way ahead of me. He pulls me back by my hair, draws me off him again, and I inhale sharply, fresh air flooding my lungs.

“Have you done that before, naughty girl?” He smirks.

When his cock slides out of my mouth fully again, I lick his tip and return the smirk. “Never.”

“So you’re a natural cock-lover then.” He winks.

Then he’s pulling me back onto him, and I let him guide me once more, loving the feel of him in control, taking his pleasure from me as he wants.

We start to move in earnest now, and he drives into my mouth, over my tongue, into my throat, faster every time he thrusts. Before long, he’s fucking my face, his hips driving right up to my lips each time.

“You like that?” he hisses between gritted teeth, eyes half-shut with concentration. “You like having your face fucked?”

I moan in response, and he groans, a low, growling sound at the back of his throat.

“Take it, take my cock, take it all the way,” he says, voice getting louder as he continues to fuck me. I wrap my hands around him, let my fingers dig into his ass to pull him closer. He’s pulling my hair hard enough to make my eyes water, and my breath comes hard and fast—I have to gasp for air between every thrust. I let him take control completely now, arch my tongue up into his cock to add to the friction between us, and clamp my lips hard around his length.

“Fuck, Pau, I’m gonna come,” he murmurs, a few moments later, as the pressure begins to build. I feel him tense against my tongue, the tip of his cock twitching against the back of my throat. He’s right on the brink when we hear the voices.

Somewhere nearby, getting slowly louder.

I don’t stop. I can’t, not now, not when we’re so close. I keep sucking at him, even when his hands still in my hair.

“Fuck, Pau…” I don’t know if he hears them yet, if he notices. I don’t care. I tighten my lips and yank him against me, one last thrust, burying him deep in my throat. That does it. He loses control and comes, growling with the force of it, his hands pressing my face flat against his body. I swallow every drop of his cum, the delicious, white-hot liquid tasting better than I could have imagined.

I forget about the voices, forget about everything, because I finally made him come for me. I lean back, start to lick his cock clean, when we hear them again, accompanied by the crack of twigs and the crunch of leaves now.

Someone is here.

We freeze, me still on my knees, his ass still bared to the world, and lock eyes, as the voices round the bend near…

Before I have time to react or come up with a plan, Josh grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He bends down to yank his jeans up, clasps them hastily, and we spin around trying to figure out which direction the voices are coming from.

“… Really great idea, getting everyone together,” someone is saying.

I don’t recognize the voice, an older woman. At least it’s not our parents, I have time to think. Then someone else replies.

“I just can’t believe how long it’s been.”

Shit. Mr. Johnson.

He can’t see us. Him and whoever he’s with. If they spot us here, the state we’re in, my hair a mess, and Josh still red-faced, breathing hard, they’ll know. They’ll mention it to someone, probably our parents…

“Come on,” Josh hisses, pulling me away, in the opposite direction.

We run silently, dodging any leaves that look particularly crunchy, until we reach the trunk of a pine tree. I glance at Josh with a furrowed brow, questioning. But he’s already pulling himself onto the lowest branch.

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