Page 3 of Dirty Tricks

The touch is intoxicating. It makes my brain buzz with soft energy, a matching hum sounding low in my throat.

I’m an ugly monster, a boy whose scarred face repels every glance. This kind of magic doesn’t happen tome.

But the thing that shouldn’t be happening continues. When I’m already blessed more than I know what to do with, the little angel leans forward, opening that wide mouth to its fullest before her lips close over the head of my needy cock.

“Christ,” I groan, moving the hand not supporting me to rest on her head, touching against the softness of her long black hair, guiding her a little, my fingertips spreading wide.

I bite down on the inside of my injured cheek, a warning not to speak again. I don’t want to do anything to risk waking this entranced sleeping beauty before she finishes her work and swallows my prize.

Her tongue runs around the head of my cock, gentle and wet and warm, so much better than in my imagination. When she closes over the tip and slides her mouth farther along my shaft, I fight the urge to thrust inside her. My hips tilt but she adjusts to the change in angle, keeping her tongue pressed against my swelling head as she withdraws, slurping a little as she sucks against me, her hand working harder to pump the base while she gulps in air before taking me in her mouth again.

Urgency forms as the long slow suction and the friction of her wet tongue teach me a hundred new favourite-things. My eyelids flutter as she works me with her hands and her lips, saliva pooling in my mouth.

I’m so new, so green, my orgasm approaches at the speed of light. She shifts position, grabs my arse in both hands and takes me further inside. Takes me all the way into her silky, slippery throat. So deep, I feel the clench of her muscles, the vibration as she gags and swallows.

The sensations are so bright, so welcome, so pleasurable, it quickly becomes too much.

My fingers tighten on her head, holding her in place as my hips disobey my strict instructions. They get caught in a thoughtless haze of pleasure and thrust forward, jamming deeper into her throat while I watch the tears pour down her face.

Our eyes meet. Her pupils focus.

A zap of electricity jolts me, sends my cum surging into her throat, the twitch and pulse of my cock against the seal of her lips adding another layer of exultation to the experience.

For the first time, an orgasm doesn’t bring sadness, loneliness, and the dank scent of failure wafting from my drained cock.

It’s glorious. Ball clenching, bone shaking, muscle trembling joy.

My hand cups her face, thumb stroking against her soft skin, wanting to pat her and caress her and have her experience all the pleasurable sensations she unleashed in me.

When I break away to hitch up my sweats, tuck myself away, she gets to her feet, head bowed, thumb in her mouth sucking before she jerks it behind her back like she’s been scolded for a bad habit.

“Was that good, daddy?”

I freeze solid.

All the muscles in my gut clench tight at the words. The horrible realisation of what’s going on inside her head strikes me, short-circuiting my joy as quickly as it had begun.

A painful knot forms in my chest as I reach for her. My hand gently strokes her hair as I struggle with the horror that must be playing out behind those wide, unseeing eyes.

I know what abuse sounds like. I’ve seen it far too often inside my splintered home.

Now there’s nothing else to distract me, I see bruises spotted along her wrists, a large discolouration above her elbow, blemishes marring the smooth skin of her thighs.

Fury boils through my bloodstream.

The enormous fucktard of a man who dropped her off today is abusing this sweet, perfect, obliging girl. There can’t be any other explanation.

Anger chokes me. My chest muscles seize, becoming so rigid I have to fight for every breath.

“It was so good,” I whisper to her, moving close enough that my broad chest offers shelter. My hand moves lower to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking away the stray hairs clinging to the sticky mess that dribbles from her exquisite mouth.

At the praise, her features stop pinching together. A shiver of relief allows her jaw to stop clenching.

“But I’m not your daddy.”

A slight frown creases her brow. Her teeth worry at her bottom lip.

I lean closer to her, so close our lips almost brush before I travel further to rest by her ear. Close enough to whisper, “I’m the man from your dreams, angel, here to keep you safe.”

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