Mag-log inHe could barely move. I yanked him up, spun him, shoved him to his knees again. His face was wrecked—eyes red, lips swollen, spit everywhere. “Suck the taste of your own ass off me.” He dove in like he was starving. Gagging, choking, drooling all over himself. I fucked his throat till he couldn’t breathe, till snot ran down his lip, till he was clawing at my thighs just to pull off for air. I pulled out, slapped his face with my wet dick—left, right, left—smearing spit and precum all over his cheeks. “Open.” He did. I shoved back in and nutted straight down his throat, hips jerking, groaning loud and filthy. He swallowed what he could, the rest spilled out the sides, running down his neck with the water. He coughed, wheezing, but I wasn’t done. I dragged him up, bent him over the bench again, spread him wide. His hole was gaping, red, twitching. “Still hungry?” I muttered. He nodded frantically. “Please—need more—” I pushed back slowly this time, just to feel him f
Three weeks later Diego’s POV I heard the doorbell and the muffled exchange at the front. “Pizza guy’s here,” I called from the bathroom, voice bouncing off the tiles through the steam. “Code’s 46345.” “Got it, honey,” Jace yelled back. I smiled to myself. I finally had the fine shit I’d been craving. I thought getting him all to myself would be hard, but money really does move mountains. Still… damn, he’s expensive as hell. In Just a few weeks since we met, done dropped billions on dumb shit—bought himself a fleet of sports cars, that ugly-ass Tesla Cybertruck I still ain’t got, diamonds heavy enough to sink a boat… unnecessary but cute. But he worth every penny. That arch, that grip—Lord. I gotta spoil my cupcake. Tonight I’m trying to be good, though. Wanna build something real, not just dick him down every time we in the same room. I actually want forever with him. Marriage, kids one day, all that. I already prayed earnestly on it hard. Can’t wait to take him home. I could
“Oh, hello, sexy. Looks like you’re finding it hard to get on the Smith machine, handsome. Why don’t I help you? Looks like you need a little help,” I muttered, my hands slowly tracing his laps, my fingertips brushing just enough to make him tingle. He flinched hard, yanking one AirPod out. “Are you… talking to me?” he asked, voice low. Crap. “You didn’t get what I said? Well, whatever… I was just trying to flirt with you.” I cleared my throat. “But actually, are you finding it hard to get on the machine? Because uhmm…” I swallowed hard. “You’re not doing it right.” He sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah… I actually do need a little assistance. It’s my first time hitting the gym. I really don’t know how any of this shit works. I was even thinking about getting a personal trainer,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, fair enough…but why pay for a personal trainer when I’m right here, baby?” His whole face lit up, eyes going wide. “Really? You’d train
“Holy shit,” I whispered, my mouth watering. “It’s bigger than I dreamed. Look at those veins… fuck, I want it in my throat.” I wrapped my small hands around the base—barely able to circle it—and leaned in, my tongue flicking out to lap at the slit. Salty pre-cum exploded on my taste buds, making me moan. “Mmm, tastes so good, Daddy. Your big black cock is leaking for me.” Zion angled his fingers in my hair, pulling hard enough to make my scalp sting. “That’s right, white slut. Worship this BBC like the BBC addict you are. Open wide.” He didn’t give me time to adjust; he thrust forward, the fat head popping past my lips, stretching my jaw wide. I gagged instantly, tears pricking my eyes as half his length invaded her mouth, bulging my cheeks. I hollowed them, sucking greedily, my tongue swirling around the underside while my hands stroked what I couldn’t swallow. Gluck-gluck-gluck—the wet, obscene sounds filled the room as he face-fucked me, his hips snapping aggressively. “Take i
This was my first time in Africa. It looked so good—better than I ever expected. I’d pictured it all wrong: muddy tracks, uncivilized chaos. But stepping off the plane, the air hit differently, shattering every stereotype I’d swallowed from bad movies.We’d arrived at the airport—I couldn’t pin the stopover exactly, somewhere in Nairobi. Now we were crammed into the international Nairobi Railway, chugging toward Zanzibar. Dad had taken the wrong route, turning our trip into a dragged-out slog. Two hours, minimum.I really didn’t mind. Not when l get to see the daddy of my dreams.The ride was endless, but we finally pulled in. A quick twenty-minute ride , and Dad killed the engine. “Here we are, darling,” he said, popping the trunk.“Uhmm, Daddy… I don’t see any hotel.” My voice dripped confusion, edged with disappointment as I scanned the jagged rocks spilling out from the dirt path. I crossed my arms, I knew Africa was bullshit. “Dad, we’d have been better off in Hawaii.”“Take
“This is going to be a blast. Really can’t wait!” I chirped, forcing enthusiasm into my voice as the car hummed along the highway. The summer sun filtered through the tinted windows, but I kept my eyes on my phone, scrolling through nothing just to avoid the chaos behind me. “Hurray, hurray, yacht we come! Hurray, hurray, yacht we come!” My siblings belted out from the back seat, their off-key harmony grating like nails on a chalkboard. Karen, the ringleader at fourteen, was leading the charge, her voice cracking with that pre-teen bravado. The twins, Mia and Leo, eight-year-old terrors, clapped along. “Can you… please shut the fuck up?” I snapped, twisting in my seat to glare at them. “This is a fucking car ride. You’ve been making noise since we left the driveway.” Karen’s eyes widened for a split second, but she recovered fast, jutting her chin up stubbornly. “Dad! Yell at Karen! She’s the leader of whatever bullshit song they’re singing.” Mom exhaled slowly, her fingers







