Page 86 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Shit! I hate to do this.” I give her a quick, apologetic kiss. “Please get under the desk.”

“Can’t you just lock the door?”

“We don’t have locks on the doors here. Please, just do it.”

I’m not sure if she’s amused or indignant, but she lets out a sigh, then quickly slides under the desk. I look down at myself. My zipper’s still undone, I may have put my T-shirt on backward, and I still have a boner, but there’s no time to fix any of that because my door is already opening. I drop down into the chair and roll it in to hide all evidence.

“Hi, sweetie,” my mother greets, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey, mom.” I feel Bella’s hands run up my thighs and lightly shove them off. “How was your day?”

“Good. My feet are killing me, though. We were so busy I didn’t even get a chance to sit down. You want to come downstairs and help me with dinner?”

These small hands are persistent and I’m trying to get them off me without making any sudden movements. I’m unsuccessful because one sneaks inside my open zipper, and she starts jerking me off.

“No,” I reply with a shaky exhale. I keep trying to push her away, but that only makes her more determined. Her body moves between my thighs, so now I have to talk to my mom and pretend like I don’t feel her tongue swirling seductively over my tip. “I’m...I’m busy...with this ass-aah-assignment. I’ll come down, um, later-later...I-I-I’ll come down.”

“I’m just going to make something quick, then. Grilled fish and sweet potato sound good?”

“Yes!” Bella sucks me hard right before I’m about to answer, so it comes out louder and more enthusiastic than I expected. “That’s good...sogood.”

“Are you alright, sweetie? You’re so flushed.” Her eyes widen as if she just realized something. “Oh, you have a girl in here, don’t you? You only get all red and sweaty like that when there’s a girl around.”

I nod, shutting my eyes to the sight of my mother. It’s not really the visual I want while I’m getting my dick sucked. “Mm-hmm...She’s...she’s in the bathroom.”

“You look stressed. Is she the one you like?” She gives me a dorky wink. “The one younailed?”

“Fuck,” I rasp through gritted teeth. My hand slams down hard on the desk, crumpling a piece of paper because I just need something to squeeze. I’m desperately trying not to groan, trying not to thrust deeper into her wet, warm mouth. I’m so close, and it’s getting harder to control my breathing. I just want the conversation to end. “I didn’t nail her, mom.”

“Okay, don’t get snappy with me. I was just kidding. You teenagers are so moody.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” That’s the truth, but I’m still hissing it out through clenched teeth.

She smiles. “It’s fine. I know you’re nervous. When the two of you are done with your assignment, bring her down to meet us.”

“Sure.”

She closes the door, and I throw my head back, covering my face with both hands.

“Your mouth is amazing,” I groan. “What are you doin’ to me?”

I thread my hand into her curls, thrusting upwards to meet her mouth as her head continues to bob up and down. It’s intensely erotic to watch those thick, sexy lips take me in so deep. Even when my movements get rougher and harder, and my fist tightens in her hair, all I get is a louder moan around my cock, and I’m pushed closer to the edge. My breaths become shallow. My eyes roll back. And then my cum spills into the heat of her mouth. She takes every last drop, then licks me clean. I’m speechless, motionless, just numb to the world for a few minutes.

But eventually, my brain starts working again, and I grab her wrist to pull her onto my lap. “Now, was that necessary? To do that in front of mymom?”

She shrugs, not the slightest bit remorseful. “I’m a queen, De Lorenzo. You don’t shove me under adesk, you understand?”

I smile and tighten my arms around her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, let me get cleaned up to meet your parents.” She walks into the bathroom and closes the door. “No locks in here either?”

“Nope.”

She returns ten minutes later looking like a more wholesome, less...sexy version of herself. Her hair, that was wild and messy not so long ago, now has three French braids along her scalp, which she then twisted into a neat bun. She’s removed most of her jewelry and I’m not sure if she’s wearing makeup because it looks completely natural.

We walk out of my room, and as we go down the stairs, I decide to give a warning, so she doesn’t go in blind. “My parents are very strange. As a general rule, anything that comes out of their mouths is a joke, even though it may not show on their faces.”

“I think you’re adequate preparation for that kind of behavior,” she replies bluntly.

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