My world to Free-use

A.N: I'm giving the messier side of sex a little try. Let me know what you think. This is inspired by a porn video that crossed my eyes a few days back.

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**Chapter 256**

“You may go,” she told the maid. Hoarse. Still a lady. Barely.

“My lady, I should remain until—”

“Go.”

The maid bowed, shot one last worried look at the slumped noblewoman in the chair, and left the pavilion path at a near-run. The moment her steps faded past the hedge, Zara’s spine gave out. She stayed seated, legs open, skirt still pinned over my head, and just breathed. I could hear her heartbeat in the quiet. I could taste her on every breath I took.

I gave her clit one more lazy flick. She hissed through her teeth.

Then she lifted the cloth.

Light came back in a rush. I was still between her thighs, mouth still on her pussy, chin shining. Her deep brown eyes looked down at me. Dazed. A string of spit hung from the corner of her own mouth. She had bitten through her composure so many times in front of a servant that there was nothing left of the cold face she had worn when I first walked up the path.

I stood before she could find a sentence.

My cock came up with me, hard, thick, bare. The head was flushed. It stood right in front of her face in the open garden air, close enough that her breath hit it when she exhaled.

Zara’s gaze dropped to it and stuck there. Her lips parted. No sound. Her tongue moved behind her teeth like she already knew what I was going to tell her to do with it.

I put one hand on the chair back beside her head and looked down at her wrecked face. Flushed cheeks. Wet mouth. Eyes that could not climb off my cock long enough to pretend she was still in charge of this garden.

“Your turn,” I said. “Use your mouth.”

She sat there with her legs still open and her skirt bunched around her waist. Her bare ass was on the wood. Her pussy was wet and swollen from the four times I had already made her come under the maid’s nose. Her wavy black hair stuck to her neck. She stared at my cock for a while and did not speak.

I took a handful of that hair and pulled her head forward until her lips touched the head.

“Open.”

She opened like she had been waiting for the word. I pushed in.

Her mouth was hot. Her tongue flattened against the underside as I fed her the first few inches, and she made a small sound around it that was not protest. I did not stop there. I kept going until the head hit the back of her throat and her eyes watered.

“Hngk—”

I held her there. Her throat worked around the head in tight little swallows. Spit ran from the corners of her mouth and dropped onto her breasts. I pulled back just enough for her to drag in air. A thick string of saliva followed the head out of her lips and broke on her chin. She leaned after it, mouth still open, like she did not want the empty feeling.

I pushed in again, deeper this time, until her nose pressed against my navel.

“Down. All of it.”

Her hands came up to my thighs. She did not push. She held on and pulled me in. I started moving, short strokes at first, then longer ones that used her throat like a sleeve. Every time I bottomed out, she gagged, and every time she gagged, her throat clamped down harder. The wet sound of it filled the pavilion. Saliva coated the shaft in thick, uneven layers and ran down to my balls. It dripped off her chin onto her dress, onto her tits, onto the wood between her knees.

“Lady Zara,” I said, watching her lips stretch. “Daughter of this grand house. Sitting in an open garden with her mouth full of a commoner’s cock.”

“Hng… hnnk… haa—”

I fucked her mouth. Not gentle. Not slow. I used her hair as a handle and set a rhythm that made spit run down her chin in strings. Her lips stayed wide around the shaft. Her eyes stayed on me even when they watered. When I held her all the way down, she tried to swallow around it and failed, and the failure only made her throat tighter. Drool spilled out of her in a messy sheet. She breathed through her nose in short pulls and still took the next stroke like she wanted it more than air.

I pulled out. A long thread of spit connected her mouth to my cock. The shaft was shiny now, wet from her spit. She gasped, chest rising hard. Her breasts moved with the breath. The nipples were tight. A line of saliva hung from her lower lip to her chest.

“Haa… Jack…”

The way she said my name was not a complaint. It was hungry.

I pushed back in before she could say whatever else she wanted to say. This time I did not ease her into it. I drove to the hilt and stayed there, grinding against her face, feeling her throat flutter and squeeze. Her nails dug into my thighs. Soft, choked sounds vibrated against the shaft. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth and ran down both sides of her neck.

I pulled back just enough to speak.

“How does it feel to know the same place I piss from is in your mouth?”

It was not the first time she had given me a blowjob. It was the first time I had said it that plainly.

I expected a reaction. That was why I let her off long enough to breathe, to see if there would be even a little aversion. A flinch. A look. Anything.

Nothing.

She sat there with her mouth wet and open, spit on her tits, eyes still on my cock. Then she leaned forward against my hand like she was fighting me to put it back in. Her tongue came out first and licked the head, messy, greedy, tasting what I had just named.

Fucking lovely.

I let her have a second of that, just her mouth working the head on her own, sloppy and loud. Then I took her hair again and went back to using her throat. Deep and still. Fast and shallow. All the way in and held. Each change made a different sound come out of her. Spit soaked the front of her dress where it had fallen to her waist. It ran down her stomach. It dripped off the chair. Her jaw started to shake, and she still sucked when I pulled back, like she did not want to lose the taste.

I pulled out. She coughed once, a wet sound, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and still leaned forward like she expected me to put it back in. A fresh string of spit stretched from her lip to the head of my cock and would not break.

I didn’t put it back in.

I grabbed her by the arm, pulled her out of the chair, and turned her toward the pavilion railing. I bent her over it. Her bare ass faced the open garden. The long brown hair hung down her back. Spit still shone on her chin and chest. I kicked her feet apart and pushed her chest down until her tits pressed against the wood.

“Stay there.”

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