My 3 Rockstar Bosses

And oh god, but the rest of the trip was amazing. No, the billionaire didn’t do that much more. As much as I wanted to feel that huge dong inside my mouth, savoring the source of heavenly semen, he didn’t take action. Instead, the man flipped his newspaper back up and returned to reading, occasionally fingering an almond like nothing had happened.

Nothing of course, except that I was bare to the waist, big boobies out.

Nothing except the fact that he had a panting, aroused female next to him, creaming desperately within.

But Mr. Dawson was training me to be his servant. His slave. His plaything. Because the man pretty much ignored me, immersed in his paper.

Well, as immersed as you can be with a giant cock out, stiff and straight, ready for action.

Because he didn’t hide it. He didn’t tuck it back into his pants. And so for the remainder of the flight, I held still, letting him use my body as I stared longingly at that massive pole, the tip oozing pre-cum like a never-ending faucet.

It was only when the seatbelt light flashed on that that newspaper came down once more.

“Good,” the billionaire said, eyes sweeping over my kneeling form. “Very good.”

And then he looked down at his cock.

“I’ve really made a mess of things haven’t I?” he rumbled deep in his throat. “Go ahead, Miss Evans. Clean it up.”

I gasped, eyes flying up to clash with the blue.

“You-you mean the mess in your lap?” I whispered. Because it was true. At this point, so much semen had leaked out that his pole was glossy and shiny, drenched with the good stuff. Even his trousers were a little stained, there was so much fluid.

One black eyebrow quirked.

“That’s your job, isn’t it?” he rumbled again. “To clean? Isn’t that what we hired you to do?”

And I nodded, small pink tongue sweeping over my lips tentatively.

The gleam in his eyes deepened then, seeing that gesture.

“Now,” he rasped. “Now.”

And immediately, I obeyed. Leaning forwards, my tongue gently brushed over the head of his cock. It jerked under my soft caress, immediately spurting a little on my chin, warm and wet.

“Unnh,” grunted the man, fisting his base now. “Here, I’ll hold it for you so that it’s still. Now clean.”

And pussy creaming so hot, I dove onto his pole. I’ve actually never given head to a man. Oh sure, there have been boys who were interested, who begged me to touch their willies. But it wasn’t appealing. First, because they were pimple-faced adolescents, nothing like the gorgeous billionaire here. And second, the boys’ private parts were tiny, only half this size, limp and rubbery. Nothing like the magnificent monster beckoning to me now.

So with a hungry moan, I did it. I lowered my head and began slurping on his manshaft, taking as much as possible into my mouth until my cheeks bulged.

“Mmmm,” was my low moan. “Mmmm.”

One big hand came to rest on my head.

“Slow,” that low voice ground out. “Appreciate your eagerness sweetheart, but no sense in choking yourself. Slow.”

So I pulled off for a moment to stare at him, brown eyes wide. By now, my boobies were free, giant gazongas pressed against his knees. It must have been such a slutty sight. My mouth and chin dripping with semen, hot cunt smell musky in the air.

“But Mr. Dawson,” came my small mewl again. “I love it so much.”

And the dark man smiled lasciviously.

“I know you do sweetheart,” he ground out. “I know you do. But no worries, we’ll be taking a lot of flights together in the future. So no need to get ahead of yourself. Just enjoy the ride.”

And nodding, I bent my head again. Because this is what I want. It was so wrong. I’m a flight attendant, not a hooker for hire. But the situation had permeated my mind and body, and suddenly I wanted to take everything he had to offer. The cum. The hot semen in my mouth, my pussy, spurting anywhere he wanted.

But he’d promised more, so I obeyed. No need to rush. And slowly, lovingly, I ran my tongue up and down that hard shaft, drinking in the male musk, savoring each inch of that iron rod.