I drove my car into the open garage, and the garage door shut behind me. I guess he saw me come in on the camera. I took a deep breath, the butterflies beginning, I could feel my pussy getting heavy. It didn't take much with him.
I walked into the house, it had changed since I had last been here, but it didn't matter - it had changed often over the years, but every time I walked in, I would go back to that summer I turned 18. It didn't matter that I was now 30, older, supposedly wiser, my body still felt like that 18 year old. Feeling overcome with desire, wanting him, wanting his cock all. the. time. Then feeling shame, telling myself I shouldn't, that I was letting him use me and then getting more aroused by the thought that he was using me, and I was letting him. The shame, the wanting, the way he got me to do what he wanted, and how hard I came every time, fused into something I couldn't name, but couldn't deny. I had stopped trying. All i knew now was that when he called, I came. When he texted me a time and a place, I showed up.
I rounded the corner, and saw the door to the study. I could hear the porn he was watching. It was some pretty nasty stuff, I could hear a woman getting railed by two men, but I could also hear her getting ready to come. He spent a lot of money on the porn he watched and claimed it was real, especially the women cumming. 'See how she flushes, her belly muscles flutter, that's not something you can fake'. I remember him explaining to me. I saw the back of his office chair and my knees almost buckled. It was the same expensive Herman Miller chair, he'd replaced it over the years, but it was the same model. I couldn't count the number of hours I had spent on my knees in front of his chairs worshipping him, worshipping his cock. Sucking him, licking him, gagging as I came with his cock in my mouth. Sometimes I would walk by a chair like that in an office building and my pussy would clench, my body conditioned by him.
I walked into the room, and he turned to look at me. He was older, but still had the same body, big and broad with a bit of a belly, big, hairy, and commanding. He wasn't conventionally good looking, but he always had beautiful women on his arm. It helped that he was rich and successful, and that always drew women to him. He loved the young, virginal, graceful eye candy type of woman that he could take places and show off.
He looked at me, his eyes were heavy lidded and far away. I knew that look - he had been edging for hours, watching porn, touching himself, but not coming. He needed to come and he was beyond caring how rough he was or what he did to me to get there. He stroked his cock, eight inches, thick so thick, it was hard and the tip was leaking precum. He smiled when he saw me look at it and lick my lips, I looked away embarrassed at how obvious my need was.
He rolled his chair back, and motioned me over. I walked over and stood between his legs, fully clothed in my suit. He liked me to keep my clothes on, sometimes he tore them off, and sometimes he just pushed them to the side to get to a tit, or my pussy, or my ass. He told me he liked me looking like a whore whose body was just used, not like a woman who was carefully undressed by a lover. And when he put it like that, I liked it too.
He slid my skirt up until it was bunched around my waist, and put his hand up against the silk of my thong. I knew what he would find, he did too. A soaked pussy, trembling for his touch. He smiled knowingly, and rubbed me through the silk, feeling my lips part. He scratched my clit with his nails and I moaned. He slid my panties to the side and slipped two fingers in hard. I was tight, and he pistoned in and out a couple times, and then pulled out. I cried out, I wanted, needed him so badly, but I knew it wasn't going to be about what I wanted, and why did that make me wetter?
'Kneel, cunt'. His voice thick with the need to release. I knelt, he ripped my jacket off, reached into my top, and grabbed my tits. I closed my eyes as he began rubbing his palms against my nipples, and then grabbed them between his thumb and forefingers. Pinching and twisting, watching my face as it went from pleasurable to too much, pulling back, and coming back harder again. He pulled my tits out of the front of shirt and left them laying there. Red, the nipples hard. 'Look at you, just sitting there like my personal whore, about to come because I touched your nipples'.