The Doxy's Daybook: A Friday in Two Acts Read Free

of appreciation for his massive dick.  It throbs in my mouth like it has a heart of its own— thump, thump, thump— eager to drop the load he’s been carrying.
    His hips move, just a tiny bit, and I bob a little faster before releasing him with a wet pop.  Hand wrapped around the base, I stroke up on the shaft and bear down with my mouth.  Jackson loves it; his hands rake through my hair and force my head down.  He moves me faster, my hand moves faster, the slick, sloppy sounds of my mouth and soft little hums of delight spurring him on.  He grows harder, is right on the verge of exploding, almost—
    “Mr. Temple, line one.”
    “Uhhhhh…uuuhhhhhh… ” he grunts, ready to jet.
    I release him from my mouth, thumb and fingers grip tightly just beneath the engorged reddened head.  When he comes he’ll be focused on nothing else but the velvety feel of my warm mouth on his dick.
    Jackson slaps the intercom, barely able to control his anger.  “I said hold ‘em.”
    “It’s Darla.” Eva’s voice comes nervously through the speaker.
    His hand chafes his jaw, frustrated, torn. 
    Clearing the desire from his throat, he lifts the receiver with surprising calm.  “Hey, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back in a few?”
    He listens to the reply from the other end; my hand starts to move.  His abs clench and brown eyes glare down at me.
    “Sure, I’d be happy t’…have your parents st-, uhh, with us…for a whi-….”
    Jackson bats at me, tries to make me stop.  My lips return to his cock, kissing the root, licking up his veined length.  He fists my hair in his hand, tries to yank me off, but I shove him down all the way to the back of my throat, stuffing him in with an audible gag.
    “Fuuucck.”  His hold loosens.  “No, not you Da… somethin’s goin’…hey, baby”—I bob faster, his body jerks—“Really gah! -gotta call you back.”
    The receiver crashes into the cradle, and he grips my head with so much force I think he just might crush it.  Standing quickly, he grits out, “Naughty bitch.” His hips thrust, forcing his dick into my mouth.
    “Mmm hmm,” I hum in agreement, head moving busily.   Love when he talks like that.  It gets me so hot I can feel the wetness pooling between my thighs, my nipples pebble to rock hard points against my bra.  I snake my hand between his legs and massage the velvety sac. Not lightly—Jackson does not like his balls played with lightly.  He wants to know I’m there.
    “Fuck, Roz,” he breathes, still pumping, still fucking my throat, until hot cum gushes from him, filling the condom.  I suck him off through the grunting orgasm and right on through the afterblow, his body twitching and jerking before collapsing again into the chair.  He’s quiet as the intensity of the release passes through him before, “Damn, you got a mouth on you, sweetness.” He catches his breath, strokes my hair gently.  I lap at the skin of his inner thigh, inhale his masculine scent. “That was a dirty thing to do, Roz.  While I’m on the phone with the wife?”
    “Aww,” I purr innocently, bat my lashes.  “Let me make it up to you, Jackson.”  One long lick of my tongue over his hypersensitive head makes his dick jump.  Leave your audience wanting more….
    “Not twice.” He chuckles, absently shakes his head. “Twice and I won’t get through the day.”
    I press my lips to the head of his cock, kiss it goodbye for now.
    Some people need their Friday morning coffee to function, for Jackson it’s a Friday morning blowjob. He told me before that his Darla doesn’t do this for him. His Darla, his dearest possession, cannot see fit to give him head.  Pity she doesn’t.  He’s got a beautiful cock; thickly veined and long.  I sometimes wish one day he’d ask for more than a BJ just so I can feel that impressive monster inside me.  But it’s not in the script and Jackson’s not much for ad libbing.
    His breathing