Hot Sugar

“You like whiskey?” is my seductive murmur, one finger tracing around the edge of my areola. “You like boobies? Well, how about both then?”

And leaning forwards, I dip my massive tit into the glass. It’s hard for sure. The creamy flesh is so huge and luscious that I have to aim carefully, squeezing my flesh so that it can fit.

But finally, it’s done, and I pull back, nipple glistening under the light, coated with alcohol.

“How about both, big boy?” I coo, smiling lasciviously, grinding a little in his lap. “Twice as nice, right?”

Mason can’t be stopped now. In one fell swoop, his head’s on my breast, mouth suckling like a ravenous man. Oh shit, it feels good! My head falls back as cream rushes between my legs, pussy gushing freely now. Jolts run from my tip to my cunt, making me mewl and cry out.

“Oh god!” is my helpless coo. “Oh god, oh god!”

But Mason’s not giving up. Mouth against my breast, he growls.

“You asked for it, you dirty slut. You asked for this.” Because in the next second, he bites down hard on my breast, making me scream.

“Ahhh!” is my delighted cry. “Oh oh oh!”

Because the alpha’s working me over now. Taking my other tit in his hand, he squeezes and massages, then splashes whisky onto that breast as well. My entire dress is soaked now, but who cares? My billionaire’s got money, he’ll buy me another outfit. Another ten outfits, even if it’s to rip them off my bod.

Because Mr. Channing’s an animal now. The teasing’s got his cock hard, stiff as a hammer underneath my pussy, and with two big hands, he rips my dress straight down the middle.

“Oh!” I gasp, eyes wide and shocked. “Oh!”

But the billionaire’s look is grim.

“Like I said, pretty baby, you asked for it. Now dunk,” he commands, holding his glass out. There are still dregs of amber liquid left in the tumbler and I stare, dumbfounded.

“What …?” is my confused pant. “What?”

He growls.

“You heard me. Dunk your pussy in this. You wanted to mix alcohol in with our play, so do it.”

I can’t answer for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently. But then a protesting mewl comes out.

“But there’s not enough!” is my breathy pant. “There’s just a little bit of whiskey in there, and I can’t fit this into that,” I say as one small hand gestures to my steaming cunt.

Mr. Channing stares at the tumbler, contemplating. And then his head jerks.

“That’s true,” comes his harsh rasp. “So let’s do it another way, baby.”

Taking two fingers, he dips theg into the glass, scooping up the remains of the whiskey. Then he inverts his hand, holding the two digits straight up like a mini-flagpole.

“Fuck my hand,” is his harsh command, blue eyes flaring. “Get up and fuck this.”

A gasp escapes my throat at his crude words. What? Excuse me?

But Mr. Channing’s relentless.

“You heard me,” are his ruthless words. “You wanted to play with fire, and now here it is. Ride my hand like a fucking joystick. I want this Jim Beam in that sloppy cunt before I fuck it.”

I want to protest. I want to scream and negotiate.

But it’s too late.

I started this, and now the game’s got out of hand.

So the only thing I can do is obey.

Levering myself up, I kneel on my knees, still straddling his lap. And never dropping eye contact, my hand reaches down to slip between my legs.

“Like this Mr. Channing?” are my breathless words. “Like this?”

Because slowly, small fingers reach between my thighs to part my nether lips. And oh shit, but the scent of cream hits my nostrils then. If before, I’d been gushing bad, then now it’s even worse. Literally, a thin strand of juice leaks out of my pussy then, dropping slowly to land on his cock.

Mason stares for a moment, transfixed. But then he jerks his fist again.

“Fuck it, baby. I want to see you work it.”

And putting both my hands on his broad shoulders, I raise up and position myself right above his fingers. Oh god, oh god. Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to lower myself down on his whiskey-covered digits, letting him stir my sweet cunt?

But the thing is that I want it. Bad. Desperately. I want to feel this aroused male in me, whether fingers, dick, or mouth. I need it, and like a whore, I lower myself, pussy opening and then swallowing that heavenly hand.

“Unnnh!” is my helpless cry, head tilting backwards, hips jerking slightly. “Oh unnnh!”

And oh shit, but as my cunt lips spread, everything goes black for a moment. Because it feels so good. He feels so good. And evidently, Mason agrees because that cock jerks beneath me, a wet spot appearing on the fabric.

“That’s it,” he grinds out. “That’s it, sweet girl. Now work it.”