Pulp Novels & Stories

My heart was racing so fast, and I stood transfixed. "Amorino, it's you," he faintly said as he lowered the gun. I heard him turn on the safety switch and drop it beside him. His groan brought me back, and I ran into the bathroom, not minding the broken pieces of the urn scattered on the floor or the gun beside him. I was a bit confused about what happened and how the deep cut came about. The floor was littered with bloody paper towels and spills of blood. Mace was sitting down, backing the mirror, to get a good look at the wound. With his shirts off, he was baring his muscled body for whoever cared to look. The bleeding wouldn't stop as blood trickled down his body. I took the paper towel f

, I chuckled nervously. Please open up and swallow me now, I begged the earth. "Do you know why you're here, Miss Carmichael?" Mr. Drebeille finally spoke. I shook my head rapidly in response, "Did I tell you, you have such lovely skin today Mr. Drebeille" "New soap?" "Yes", the burly man indulged me as he leaned back into his chair, the old stud creaking in the process. "It's called the soap of retaining my job".

He held my head in both hands now, using my mouth like a toy, pounding into my throat with rough, punishing strokes. "Fuck— gonna cum down your throat," he snarled. His rhythm turned erratic. His thighs trembled. With a deep, animalistic groan he slammed all the way in and held me there, nose buried against him as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded my throat. I choked hard, swallowing convulsively around his pulsing cock, milking every drop while tears ran down my cheeks. Even after he finished, he kept his cock in my mouth for a few more seconds, shallowly fucking my cum-slick lips and tongue, making sure I tasted every last bit.