She Fucked His Throat

Remy did not knock. She had a key and a cock and a look that said the talking had already happened.

Ellis was on the sofa in his shorts, thirty-six, pretending to watch a film. Remy was thirty-eight, trans, still in the work blouse, skirt hitched because she had been hard since the bus. They had a rule written on the fridge in his handwriting. Ask. Hear yes. Then be filthy.

"Throat," she said. "I've wanted your mouth since lunch. Yes or no."

"Yes."

"Then on your knees. Hands on your thighs. I set the pace."

Ellis knelt. Remy pulled her skirt up and her cock out, flushed, a bead at the tip. She tapped it on his lip.

"Open."

He opened. She fed him the first half and held there, watching his eyes water, then gave him more. Ellis breathed through his nose and took it. Spit ran down his chin onto his chest. Remy swore softly and started to fuck his mouth in short strokes.

"That's it. Look at me. This is my cock. You're going to swallow when I come."

He blinked once, yes. She held his head and used his throat until the sound was obscene, then pulled out to let him gasp and pushed back in. Ellis's cock was hard in his shorts. He did not touch it. She had not said he could.

"Good boy."

The words went through him. Remy felt it in the groan around her cock. She fucked his mouth faster, the blouse still buttoned, the filth of that making her meaner. When she came she held him there and spilled down his throat, and he swallowed, messy, proud, eyes wet.

She pulled out. A string of spit broke.

"Shorts off. On the sofa. I want to sit on your cock while I'm still hard enough to slap your stomach with mine."

Ellis scrambled. Remy stroked herself, still thick, and sank onto him facing him. The stretch made her curse. She rode him with one hand on his throat, not squeezing, and the other on her own cock, stroking in time. Ellis held her hips and stared.

"You like this," she said.

"I like you using me."

"Then take it."

She fucked him until the sofa knocked the wall. Ellis came first, apologising, filling her. Remy laughed and kept riding, stroking herself, and came across his chest in thick pulses, hole gripping him through it.

They stayed joined. The film had ended. Neither of them knew when.

"Fridge rule holds," Ellis said.

"Fridge rule holds," Remy said. "Tomorrow you can fuck my arse. Tonight I wanted your throat and I got it."

She gave him a minute and then wanted his mouth again. Ellis was still on his knees, chin wet, when Remy stroked herself hard and tapped his lip.

"Once more. Slower. I want to feel your throat try."

"Yes."

She pushed in and held. He gagged, breathed, took her. Remy talked him through it in a low voice, telling him he was good, telling him he looked better with a cock in his mouth than he did on that sofa. When she pulled out she did not come yet. She wanted to be in him for that.

On the sofa she rode him facing away so he could watch her cock slap her stomach. His hands stayed on her hips because she put them there. She stroked herself and clenched around him and came across his thigh, then kept going until he spilled, swearing, filling her.

He licked a stripe of her come off his own thumb.

Morning made them worse. Remy woke hard and did not pretend otherwise. She rolled Ellis onto his back, straddled his chest, and fed him her cock before he had his eyes open properly.

"Yes or no."

"Yes," he said, around her.

She fucked his mouth slow, then faster, and came on his tongue while the kettle clicked off in the kitchen. He swallowed. She kissed the mess at the corner of his mouth and then turned and sank onto his cock, still soft from sleep and then not. They finished like that, her stroking herself, him holding her hips, the fridge rule neither of them needed to read.

"Work," Ellis said, later.

"Work," Remy said. "Text me at lunch if you want your throat used in the car. I'll say yes if I can park."

"You did," he said.

Lunch did not get a car park. It got a stairwell at his office, empty for four minutes that Remy used like a professional. Ellis went to his knees on the concrete. She fucked his mouth and came on his tongue and zipped up before the door above them opened. He went back to his desk with the taste of her and a message that said tonight, your cock, my arse, no talking until you're in. He typed yes with hands that were not steady.

That night Ellis was already naked when she came in. Remy did not waste the text. She bent him over the arm of the sofa, opened him with two fingers, and fucked his arse while she stroked her own cock against his back. He came on the cushion. She came across his hole and rubbed it in, then made him kneel and clean her with his mouth. He did it gladly. The fridge rule stayed where it was. They did not need to read it.

Ellis kept the taste of her through the afternoon meeting and texted her one line: still yes. Remy replied with a time and a place and the word throat. He was early. She was not gentle. He went home hoarse and happy and hard again in the shower. She came over after nine, pushed him to his knees in the hall, and used his mouth until she came, then bent him over the bed and fucked him until he did too. He thanked her with his mouth still wet. She told him to save the thanks for the morning.