Lion's den

Tsuki did say she likes dick better if it's clean shaven. Something about not having to pluck hairs out of her mouth.

But getting hard to make the actual act of shaving easier is tricky when there's five razor-sharp knives inches away from your nutsack.

This is going nowhere.

You need to get hard, and quick. If you can't shave, any hopes and dreams for getting Tsuki to kiss every inch of your cock gets flushed down the drain.

So, you do what any guy with a roommate as hot as yours would do—especially given the history between you two. You cover anything below the waist with a towel and open the bathroom door, belting out in a loud voice.

“Sheon!”

“Yeah?” she floats back with the annoyed intonation of a babe unwilling to get up from her cozy spot on the couch.

“I need your help. Can you stop creating new stains on our couch for two seconds and get your ass over here, please?”

You can barely hear her approaching before she's in sight, moving as stealthily as a cat. She looks at you, barely covered, giving you this casual look, asking you what you want while leaning against the inside of the doorframe.

“Can you blow me real quick?” you ask, like asking her to pass you the salt. “I need to shave and it’s hard when I'm, y’know… not hard.”

“Oh, so that's what this is about, huh?” she says, but her eyes look at you inquisitively, one eyebrow raised like she’s searching for you to say more than you already have.

“Are you going to suck my dick or not?”

She shrugs, pushes off the wall and closes the door behind her as she steps in. Kneels, tucks her hair behind her ears and pulls your towel loose.

Your cock hangs soft in front of her, slightly harder already from the sight of Sheon on her knees. Soft or hard doesn’t matter to her though. She parts her lips and swallows all of you without the slightest sign of struggle no matter what state you're in. Her eyes dart up at you, looking back at her like you’re admiring a professional at work, and she just raises her eyebrow again with a slight smirk around your throbbing member. The message is clear. See? Easy.

Her head doesn't move, not at first. Just holds you there, fully sheathed in her mouth, lips sealed, throat snug, her tongue doing all the work of flicking against your head and teasing the length out of you as you swell bigger inside her.

Every throb of your heartbeat against her palate makes her hum like a slut, the vibrations flowing through your veins and into your core. Her eyes close, slowly, transitioning from staring you down to a sultry gaze to fully shut like she’s savoring the feeling of you stretching her throat gradually.

The sight of her alone did half the work, the feeling of it all did the rest. Rock hard, like a lump of coal pressurized into a diamond.

“Okay, fuck,” you pant and gasp, fighting the urge to just let her continue. “I'm hard, you can stop now.”

She doesn’t.

You tap her shoulder, and she looks up, eyes sparkling with feign innocence, as if asking what's wrong.

Sheon pulls back, slow enough to make your knees weak and just far enough for the first gasp of air that escapes her to be wet and muffled by the spit still connecting you two.

“Tha—” you barely manage to stumble out, before she slams herself back down in one flawless, gagless motion. The sound you make is fucked, the sound her mouth makes as it gets impaled on your cock even more so. Obscene, wet, degrading but never choking. And to top it all off, her eyes are wide open the entire time, staring at you as if daring you to look away and cum already like the loser you are.

And that was just the appetizer. The main course is about to be served.

See, this was easily the best part of being fuck buddies with Sheon. No gag reflex meant no pause, no hesitation, no flinch—no limits. Unlimited amounts of being buried to the hilt in her fuckhole of a mouth, plump lips sealed around your base like she was trying to kiss your body as they get cruelly dragged away all over your length, coated in the juices of her slick throat. And within a heartbeat, she plunges back down again, somehow harder and faster, never missing a cue your body betrays you for.

And that's not mentioning the way her tongue knows literally every soft spot your cock has, slithering on and against them all, flicking all your inhibitions away. She's totally fucked. The type that moans around your cock when you flex and throb, like she fucking loves it.

You start to wonder if Tsuki is worth quitting this little arrangement for. Physically shaking from both the carnal and moral dilemma, gripping the handle of the door like it might prevent you from falling into depravity.

“Sheon—fuck—please,” you gasp—or moan, who can tell the difference at this point. It's all desperate.

She pulls back enough so that all remains in her is the head of your cock, and her eyes narrow ever so slightly. You think she might play fair, but instead, she hums a ‘no’ that vibrates your flesh accompanied with a little headshake.

You try to find the strength to pull away, but she swallows you like you’re her favorite snack, burying her nose against your stomach. Her throat stays clenched around you tightly, tongue battering you from below in a punishment only a lustfilled vixen like her could come up with.

And that's when it finally works.

You can’t keep asking her to stop. You can't just keep standing there, taking it like a good little boy. That’s not how this works.

You do the opposite of pulling away this time. You seize her head in both hands, and close what little distance she has left between her and the door behind her. Her shoulders and skull smack against the wood, and she looks up like she means to say: “took you long enough.”

You don't let her say the actual words. Instead, you surge your hips forward, gasps dripping out of her mouth together with copious amounts of spit. She doesn’t resist, never knew how to. No, Sheon leans into it, eyes glinting like she won, and fuck, maybe she has.

You hold her there, hand in her hair, pulling on it to force her to keep her eyes locked on yours. If she was going to win. You were at least going to make sure she knew what kind of slut she had to be for it.

The ragged, obsessed thrusts into her make you no better than her. Wet and messy slaps echo with every drive of your hips, spit sullying her clothes as proof of your weakness.

Her eyes are tearing from the force, but they're no less filled with smug satisfaction.

“Mmhhh—dghh… fuuhhkk mhhh,” Sheon garbles around your cock, trying to talk even as you bury her throat full.

It’s insane. She’s begging you through a full mouthfuck, asking you for more even while you’re choking her with your length.

It's borderline pornographic, and you’re sure she could become rich looking like this.

But right now you’re granted the privilege of fucking the million-dollar mouth. Groaning and driving harder, hands fisting in her short hair like those are merely strands for you to guide her like a toy made for pleasuring cock.

Every thrust makes her throat flex tight, swallowing around you. Every time you slam to the base, she moans like she loves the abuse, tears streaking down her cheeks, spit flooding out onto her chest.

Her eyes glisten, but they never look away. A gaze pins you in place, impossibly smug and sultry, in short, victorious. Like she’s saying: I knew you’d give in. I knew you’d use me like this.

You rut into her with growing desperation, hips slamming, balls smacking wetly against her chin. Sheon lets you. Encourages you. Her muffled whines and moans turn to eager, broken sounds that egg you on, and when she hums again—“Mmmhhh, yhhsss, mhhr fhhck mhh”—your whole body jerks.

The orgasm rips through you like a dam bursting. You groan low, animalistic, as you spill down her throat, thrusting through it like you never want to stop. Sheon swallows around you greedily, milking every rope, her throat clenching tight in waves that drag more out of you than you thought you had.

Only when you’re drained, twitching against her lips, does she let you slip free. She gasps air wetly, spit and cum painting her mouth and chin, then opens wide to show you what she’s kept. A souvenir, at least half of your load heavy on her tongue.

She curls it, swirls it, makes a show of it. And when she finally does swallow, she makes sure you see the flex of her throat.

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she grins up at you, hair mussed, eyes sparkling with devious intent as she gives your highly sensitive cock another tug for good measure.

You twitch uselessly, and her smirk sharpens.

“I fucking knew it,” Sheon drags her tongue slowly over her lower lip. “You couldn’t go a week without me. Wonder how your new girlfriend feels about what you just did.”