Her eyes close and her head falls back, and I take the opportunity to sink to my knees in front of her chair. The audience goes a little crazy, the energy in the studio thrumming through me, just like the blood that’s now pulsing through my own body making my cock hard and throbbing.
Fuck, at times like this I really want to just wrap my hand around my thick shaft and make myself feel as good as the women I pleasure. But I don’t. I never do. This is about them, and I’m not a selfish bastard when it comes to sex. I’m a giver. I give and give and give. And then I give some more.
The heat from Mia’s pussy is practically radiating out like a blazing fire, and I haven’t even touched her yet, despite the fact that she’s now pushing her hips forward, already lost in the moment, trying to make contact. I love that Mia agreed to have everything shown tonight. She’s not ashamed of sex, not like some of the women I’ve coached. She’s just bored. Well, I’m about to take her on the ride of her life.
“Do you like it when someone sucks your clit?” I ask, since she’s already forgotten I asked her a question.
All I get is a moan.
“You know what I think, Mia?” I ask, ready to dive in. There’s nothing I love more than a soaking wet pussy, and I know Mia’s going to taste great. I push her skirt up and hook my thumbs in her thong, yanking it down in one quick motion. “I think your partners just aren’t taking the time to pay attention to you. They’re thinking about themselves and what your body does to them, not about how they can make you feel. They aren’t paying attention to your cues and reactions, so they aren’t hitting the right buttons.”
Mia spreads her legs wide, and the audience is practically vibrating with anticipation. “Show me, Jake. Please,” she begs. “Prove to me that I can still have good orgasms.”
Good? Fuck that. She’s about to have an orgasm that blows her fucking mind. I’m going to show the entire world that I’m one hundred percent the real deal.
With the audience cheering me on, I sink my lips into Mia’s hot, pink pussy, and her hips jerk up at the contact. I don’t hold back. I’m pulling out all my tricks this time. I don’t have my reputation for nothing. I’m not the host of A Cunning Linguist because I give satisfactory head. Nope. I’m without a doubt the best in the world.
I lick and suck and flick and plunge my tongue into Mia’s dripping pussy, gripping her hips to hold her still because she’s bucking and writhing like a madwoman. Her cries get louder and louder until she’s screaming my name.
And the cameras capture all of it. My head buried between her legs, her quaking body, her pussy that’s starting to pour rivers of cum all over my face.
The audience is going fucking wild like I’ve never heard them before. Glancing up at Mia’s face, I see her eyes roll back in her head.
See? What did I tell you?
Then she gives one final scream—my name of course—and her body lifts up off the chair, then collapses.
I lean back on my heels and wipe my mouth on the jacket of my ten-thousand-dollar suit.
Mia just fucking passed out.
I look at the camera and flash my cockiest grin. That will show all the doubters and haters.
Next thing I know, Toby is running over to help revive Mia. When she looks up at me with awe in her eyes, and says, “You’ve restored my faith in the existence of orgasms,” I think for a second she’s about to declare me the fucking messiah of cunnilingus.
The audience reaches a fever pitch, and I wink for the camera. Once again I’ve over delivered on the promise of a mind-blowing orgasm. I am, in fact, the Cunning Linguist.
Jake
“Dude,” Toby says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was fucking insane.”
I laugh as I settle down in my desk chair, unknotting my tie and throwing it across my office to land on top of the pussy-juice stained jacket that’s hanging over the arm of my buttery leather couch. This office is a total man cave. I spend a shit ton of time here, so I made sure my interior designer made it comfortable. It’s all dark woods and leather, dark gray walls. I even have a huge, heavy wooden bar imported from Germany off to the side with the most expensive distillations of scotch available.
Kicking back in my chair, I prop my feet on the desk, crossing my feet at the ankles, and clasp my hands behind my head.
“Fuck yeah, it was. Best episode to date. I dare those fuckers to question my skills now.”
Toby pulls out a tablet and starts tapping away on the glass, no doubt ready to give me a breakdown of the show stats. We do this every night.
“Man, the viewers loved it,” Toby says. “Fucking amazing. More people tuned in for this than any episode ever according to our analysts.”
I arch an eyebrow at him and flash a smug grin. “Obviously. Did you have any doubt?”
“Obviously not since it was my fucking idea in the first place, asshole,” Toby laughs.
“You wish you were genius enough to think of showing me actually going down on the guest.” I love giving Toby a hard time. He reminds me a lot of a younger version of myself. He certainly doesn’t have any problem getting pussy on his own. He’s got enough of an ego to attempt giving me a run for my money with this show if we weren’t actually friends.
He just rolls his eyes. “Whatever, old man. Without me you’d still be fighting off the trolls on Twitter.”