A Wealthy & Wanton Hucow Story

Erica loved men. She knew they liked her as well, and she was fairly confident it wasn’t just her money — she had the looks and charm, to boot.

She had to laugh at business events. All of these men who are so used to women throwing themselves at them, that they would instinctively treat her the same. They always looked so shocked when she politely (and occasionally, not-so-politely) declined their advances. She didn’t enjoy mixing business with pleasure, and found the levels of pretentiousness and presumption seen among the wealthy elite so unattractive. The way they expected women to fawn over them and the smirks they wore when anyone with less money deigned to ask for them even for directions made Erica gag. She certainly enjoyed being a millionaire, but she hated all others. More often than not, she found herself siding with the protestors she might see on the street. Yes! Take away all our money! See how they all fare then, she thought. She was confident enough to be assured she wouldn’t flounder without her riches — but these hapless men likely would.

Once, she had even been in a limo with a fellow investor who went from gently flirting to aggressively touching to demanding — then flat-out offered her money to come home with him. She laughed at him, champagne glass in hand, at the absurdity — as though she needed the money. She took a long sip, and hiccuped.

She made sure to underline the fact she didn’t give a shit about his income, and she was turning him down because she thought his behavior was repulsive. He sat shocked by her aggressive reaction and her steely gaze. She sauntered away as soon as the vehicle parked.

No, she preferred to not flaunt her wealth in public. She did enjoy showering someone with surprises and gifts. She thought disdainfully of the men she was surrounded by — so much money, and so little thought into what they did with it. They bought their girlfriends diamonds and red roses, but never bothered to learn that she loves the ballet, or that she’s always wanted to go to Spain, or that she has fond family memories of fishing on the lake. Diamonds and roses: how pedestrian. How cliche. What a boring display of extravagance.

Instead, Erica took pride in genuinely getting to know her lovers — what they’re passionate about, what makes them tick. Arturo, who had been a journalist covering a gala she attended, adored Elvis. He would sing “Love Me Tender” in her ear after they made love, and had celebrated his 21st birthday in Graceland two years before. She delighted in surprising him with a collection of autographed original records.

Then there was Rick, who she met out one night with friends. He was a firefighter, with a passion for a nonprofit that promotes literacy development in underserved populations. She called the group directly, and found out they needed a collection of books to shelve at their newest location. She bought all of them, and donated them in Rick’s name.

And then Perry, the bartender who kept winking at her a few months back. He loved a deep, peaty scotch — and loved even more flying on her private jet to a last-minute Scotland getaway.

These men all treated her well, and she treated them well in return. However, she was careful to not let them get too close. She adored knowing them, but felt too vulnerable letting them get to know her. She kept her likes and dislikes vague and distant: she liked wine. She liked the arts. She liked clever solutions to complex problems. She liked making things in the kitchen.

In addition to all of this, she also loved spectacle. She adored being able to doll herself up for a night on the town, to select just the right outfit and put it together just so. She loved a man’s adoring gaze when he had locked her in his sights, the way she could feel his eyes creep across her body in the way she might let his hands later.

Tonight, she was headed to an art exhibition for a small museum that she was on the board of directors for. The museum specifically sought out previously unrecognized artists from marginalized communities. As much as she enjoyed a night out in New York’s arts district, she enjoyed these smaller-scale exhibits much more.

She pulled out a dark blue dress that hit just below her knee, with a soft off-the-shoulder neckline. She selected dark blue cheeky lace panties to match — she had a good feeling about tonight. In the mirror, she fixed her hair, her soft curls swept gently to the side. Bright red lipstick and heavy mascara completed her pin-up-esque look. She pouted her lips in the mirror, wondering to herself what they might be up to tonight.

◈ ◈ ◈

Walking into the venue, she buzzed a little — although she had been doing this for years, the way she could command a room titillated her. She knew by now that most of the men would assume she was someone’s plus one, and she awaited an opportunity to prove them wrong — she was here in her own right.

A tall, handsome server came over with a tray of wine glasses. “A chardonnay or a pinot noir, madam?” he invited.

“A chardonnay, please,” she said, taking a glass from him. He nodded and walked to his next guests.

Taking a thoughtful sip, she sashayed to a painting that hung on the wall. This was why she enjoyed smaller exhibitions — so much of the art world was made-up and pretentious, but if you found the right nonprofit genuinely trying to seek out talent (rather than any art dealer who could slap a price tag on paint chips and call it genius), you could find some truly astounding works. She stood before a massive canvas, covered entirely in dried foliage. Up close, you could appreciate the beauty of each individual leaf — standing farther back, you could see an impressionistic forest scene. She stood for a bit, moving closer and away.

A young man sauntered over to her, and stood quietly, watching her take it in. She glanced back at him and smiled.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” she said sincerely. “I had planned on purchasing something aquatic-like for my living room, but this might have changed my mind!”

“I’m flattered — although I’d be happy to see if there’s something I can put together that’s more in line with what you had planned.”

She looked at him in surprise as he extended his hand. “Matthew McClary — nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. McClary,” she said, recognizing his name from the program. “I’m Erica — I sit on the board of directors.”

“Please, call me Matt.”

“Matt, I’m very impressed by your work.”

“Thank you very much for your support,” he nodded humbly. “I feel very fortunate that Mr. Robb found my work when he was in Austin last spring.”

“Yes, Doniel has an excellent eye,” she said.

“If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you the rest of the exhibit,” he offered.

She smiled. “If I’m not taking you away from something else you ought to be doing…”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing,” he winked.

◈ ◈ ◈

A couple hours and a few hors d’oeuvres later, Erica walked up her driveway, arm-in-arm with Matt. He looked up at her house in awe.

“You live here alone?”

“Yes,” she said simply. She unlocked the door, opening it for him.

“After you,” he bowed.

She walked ahead of him, sensing his eyes on her derriere. She shamelessly exaggerated the sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him to the kitchen.

Flicking on a light, she opened the wine fridge. “Would you like something to drink?”

Matt’s steely gaze nearly bore through her clothes. “No,” he said simply.

She flushed, and met his gaze.

“Shall we adjourn to my room?”

Without waiting for a response, she led him up the stairs. As she walked, she peeled her coat off, leaving it hanging on the bannister. Glancing back at Matt, he was doing the same, not taking his eyes off of her.

“Her room” wasn’t her bedroom, although there’s no way for Matt to know that, among the endless doors in the hallway. This room was more private, and specifically designed with one thing in mind.

“Is this where you dominate all the young men who come home with you?” his eyes twinkled.

She turned in mock shock. “Me? Dominate?” Then, dropping her voice low, she said seriously: “That’s your job.”

As delighted as he appeared, Matt, as it turned out, wasn’t quite up to the task. As sometimes happens with younger men, she noted, he was a bit more talk than he was anything else. He seemed uncertain, even following her directions — “spank me,” “harder,” “pull my hair.” She tried to see what he might like, asking what he wanted from her, but he frankly seemed overwhelmed by all of this communication that was happening. Finally, she gave up — and as she suspected, he jackhammered her until he came, collapsing on top of her. She rolled her eyes, and didn’t bother asking him for his assistance in helping her reach completion.

He stood at the foot of her bed now, buckling his belt.

“I’ll call you,” he said softly, both of them knowing this wasn’t true. She raised an eyebrow to suggest further lies would be unnecessary and irritating.

After he had left, she went back to her bedroom, and texted Frank, a handsome man who was the brother of one of the ruder men she had shut down months prior. She knew he lived nearby, and thankfully, he was free.

Rough night? he teased.

Hopefully 🙂 she replied.

He promised to be there shortly.

She re-dressed herself and fixed her make-up. Frank, she knew, would at least appreciate her presentation — not like Matt, whose only note of her attire seemed to be that it was in his way.

All hump, no substance, she thought.

She went to the other room and quickly stripped the bed and changed the sheets. As she was fluffing the final pillow, there was a knock at the door. Erica opened it eagerly.

One thing she appreciated about Frank: when he showed up, he showed up. Although she was fairly certain he had been at home when she messaged him, he was in a three-piece suit and freshly shaved. His soft dark skin had a warm glow to it, and she looked up at him hungrily.

“What, no tea first?” he asked teasingly. He swept her up in his arms, kissing her. She melted, nudging the door closed behind him.

Although she wouldn’t have classified her and Frank as romantic in any sense, she loved the familiarity — they knew what the other liked. Like practiced tango partners, they knew all the steps and she could follow his lead effortlessly.

She climbed him, and he took two full handfuls of her ass and carried her to the room.

Once there, he pushed her onto the bed, following closely on top of her as she clung to him. Pinning her down, he ground his hips into hers. She eagerly opened her legs further, inviting him closer. He tugged down the front of her dress, revealing her erect nipples. Sitting up, he ran his fingers over them, like a blind man reading the only note of braille he’d ever need. Over and over, he dragged his hand across her skin, driving her wild.

One of her hands dove down to his pants, and he stopped her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided. Her lips twisted sheepishly, and she obediently lay still, letting him tease her.

She looked up at him, and he didn’t meet her eyes. His gaze was focused squarely on her chest, which turned her on even more. Watching him becoming aroused watching her was almost too much to bear. She impatiently shifted her hips, trying to get his thigh to rest squarely between her legs. She wanted to feel the pressure on her warm slit.

Watching her, amused, he slowly leaned forward, dragging the very tip of his tongue across one breast, then the other, and back. Her head fell back in ecstasy. 

Satisfied that she was sufficiently aroused, he stood, removing his coat and hanging in on the back of an armchair. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, he rolled his sleeves up — it was time to get down to business. He stopped.

“Aren’t you going to come help me?” he raised an eyebrow.

In an instant, she was on her knees in front of him, releasing him from the confines of his suit. She arched her back, putting her tits on full display. She looked up and pouted. “Like this?” she asked, sliding his pants to the floor.

“Give me my belt,” he directed.

She picked his discarded belt off the floor and presented it to him. He flicked it beside him, releasing a low crack. She didn’t flinch.

“Bow down,” he said.

Breaking eye contact with him, she leaned down until her forehead met the floor at his feet. She scooted her knees back a bit, making sure her ass was high in the air. He lifted her dress so she was completely exposed.

“Stay there,” he said, walking over to the low bench behind her, his growing cock bobbing as he walked. He sat. Without turning her head, she could feel his gaze on her ass and pussy. She felt herself becoming wet under his stare.

The silence in the room felt like an eternity. She wondered what he was doing — was he touching himself? Would he soon splatter his semen all over her ass? What surprises might await her?

“Come,” he snapped his fingers.

Obediently, she turned and crawled toward him. With each slow movement, she felt how slippery she had become. She sat back on her heels between his open knees.

“Open,” he commanded.

She opened her mouth as he guided his cock in. He placed a hand on the back of her head, lowering her further. There was no prelude here — he inserted until she felt her nose brush his abdomen. He held her there, as tears began to sting her eyes. She gagged, rolls of saliva falling from her stretched lips. He let her up.

Sha gasped for air, looking up at him. He paused for a moment, letting her breathe. Then he suddenly snatched her hair and forced her back down, harder this time. His thickness made it hard to breathe, and all she was aware of were her lips stretched around his cock, his bulk at the back of her throat, and his fingers in her hair.

He yanked her back off and she gulped, saliva running down her chin. She licked her lips, looking him dead in the eyes.

He held her face in his hand, running his thumb around her now-smudged lipstick. “You look like a whore,” he said softly, with deep appreciation. She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes. He gripped her hair and her eyes flew open again.

“Now finish what you started, slut.”

Never one to disobey, she took his fat cock in her mouth again, enthusiastically bobbing. He was rock hard, and it turned her on to think that was all for her. Her right hand pumped his shaft in coordination with her lips. The last time he came over, he blew his load all over her chest, having her lick it slowly off her fingers. She hoped she would get to fuck him tonight.

Her left hand wandered down between her legs, probing her soaking wet folds.

Noticing her self-satisfaction, he stopped her and roughly brought her hand up. “That,” he said sternly, “is my job.”

He brought her fingers to his lips, and licked every last one, locking eyes with her.

“Yes sir,” she agreed.

He cracked the belt at his side again, louder this time. “Stand up.”

She was on her feet in an instant. She caught sight of herself in a mirror across from the bed — dress jerked down, tits on full display, make-up running. She hadn’t felt so slutty in a while, and she loved every moment of it.

He stood in front of her, and reached around to unzip her dress. They both let it fall unceremoniously to the floor. He sat again, admiring her hips adorned in the dark blue lace. He gripped one side, then hesitated.

“Do you care about these?”

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“Alright,” he breathed, and eased them off gently, helping her to step out of them.

“And this?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around her faux pearl choker.

Feeling the squeeze at her throat, Erica shook her head.

“Good,” he said, pulling her closer by the necklace. As he did so, the string of beads exploded, cascading down her chest and across the bed.

He looked up at her. “Get on the bed.”

She threw herself onto the plush bedding, spreading her legs wide. There was something primal about being called a whore — almost a self-fulfilling prophecy for her. The more he called her one, the more she wanted to act like one.

He glared. “On your hands and knees.”

She turned around, raising her ass high into the air. She heard him rummaging through her trunk at the foot of the bed. She wiggled her hips in anticipation.

He returned to the head of the bed with restraints in hand. She outstretched her arms, not waiting for him to ask. He cuffed one hand then paused.

“Any time my cock is this close to your face, I expect your mouth to be open,” he snapped.

She opened her mouth, and he slid his cock in, letting her savor his taste. Then he moved to the other side of the bed, restraining her other hand.

More rummaging behind her. Soon she heard a low buzz, and felt herself quiver. The bed shifted under his weight as he positioned himself behind her.

He ran the vibrator across her clit, then took it away. She arched her back, craving it. She did another brief pass, then held it away. He repeated this over and over and over. She was sweating, humping the air like a bitch in heat.

“Please fuck me,” she murmured.

He turned the vibrator off. “What was that?”

“Please fuck me,” she enunciated louder.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

“I want your enormous cock inside of me,” she begged.

“You want it?”

“I need it,” she corrected.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, yes, fuck me.”

He eased his head into her just slightly, continuing to tease.

“Like this?”

“No,” she said, becoming irate. “Give me all of it.”

“Like this?” he asked, easy forward a little.

She struggled to lean back into him, taking more. “No, everything, all of it.”

“Ah,” he said, enjoying her frustration. “You mean like this.” And with that, he plunged all the way into her.

Her head spun with satisfaction. She moaned with abandon. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said, moving back and forth on his cock. 

He snapped his belt again. “Who is fucking who here?” he said sternly. She stopped.

“You are fucking me,” she replied.

“Who is fucking who?” he repeated.

“You’re fucking a cockthirsty slut,” she said. She tossed her head over her shoulder, straining to make eye contact. “Give it to me.”

A smile crept across his face. “You got it, babe.”

And fuck her, he did. Not the jackhammering of college students, but the rhythmic, methodical swinging of the hips of someone well-versed in lovemaking. He ground his hips into her, making sure his cock felt around every inch of her pussy. He slid in and out, dipping his hips to make sure he was gliding at just the right angle.

As he punctuated his rhythm with a smack on her ass, she let loose another groan. He flicked the vibrator back on, and held it in place as he continued. Her moaning became louder.

“Are you gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“What’s that?”

“Yes,” she said louder. “I’m going to — oh —”

She climaxed loudly, with him shortly behind. His hips slammed into hers. Dropping the vibrator, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and he rode her to completion.

They collapsed breathless on the bed. He gingerly reached up and released the restraints, giving each wrist a whisper-soft kiss.

They lay there, entangled in a pile of sweat and bliss. He kissed her forehead.

“Feeling better?” he smiled.

“Ughh… yes,” she laughed. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he stood, collecting his clothes scattered across the room.

She laid on her back, watching him in postcoital bliss. He grinned. “Did I see a new toy in your collection?”

“Maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Should we try it out sometime?”

“Maybe,” he quipped. He leaned over to kiss her. Her tongue snaked around his, in the way it had been exploring his cock not long ago.

He paused over her, looking down at his claimed prize.

“Are you willing to try something?” he asked.

Her eyes met his quizzically. There was something about his tone. He almost seemed… nervous?

“I thought I’d already demonstrated my willingness to do whatever you asked,” she smirked.

“Then be ready at seven on Saturday,” he instructed. “Dress up if you like, but don’t wear anything you care about.”

And with that, he left.

She stretched and got out of bed. Still nude, she walked downstairs to grab a glass of wine. Her satiny skin reflected back at her in the stainless steel and chrome finish of her kitchen. She leaned back against her fridge, letting her glass of wine cool the side of her throat.

She went back to her bedroom, and sprawled on her bedspread, and flipped on the TV. 

She was intrigued by his final instructions. She guessed that she wouldn’t be wearing whatever she put on for long, but wondered where he intended to take her. After all, she was the one usually taking him places.

She took a long sip of wine, pondering this new adventure.

◈ ◈ ◈

As instructed, she was ready at seven sharp on Saturday. She had spent part of the afternoon hemming and hawwing over what to wear, and settled on a dark blue gingham sundress. It was perhaps a bit short for her age, which was why she didn’t wear it often, but it fit the bill. She turned in the mirror, enjoying the way the skirt flared slightly, threatening to reveal a peek of cheek.

On cue, there was a firm knock at the door. Frank stood in the doorway, looking surprisingly rugged in dark jeans and a linen button down cuffed at his elbows. He smiled.

“Stunning, as always,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Shall we?”

Erica was bursting with questions, but decided to let Frank lead the way. He opened the passenger side door of his car for her and she slid in with a smile.

“What, no blindfold?” she joked.

He laughed. “I don’t think you’re going to guess,” he said cryptically. “But you can close your eyes if you want.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Erica watched as they took the highway west towards the hills. Frank was right — with every turn, she grew more confused. They turned off the highway at an exit she had never taken before, onto a poorly-lit winding road, then a single lane with no houses in sight, and finally a long gravel driveway.

In the distance, she could see the porchlight of a house, with what appeared to be a stable next to it.

Pulling up in front of it, Frank looked up at the building affectionately.

“Welcome to my home away from home,” he said.

Erica looked from Frank to the house and back. She couldn’t remember the last time a man really surprised her. As he walked around the front of the car to open her door, she wondered what else she might not know about him.

He extended his hand, and helped her step from the car, closing the door behind her. Arm-in-arm, they walked up the steps to the house.

Inside, the house was modest, but still quite nice. The hardwood floors were well-maintained, and the furniture looked like new. He showed her around the first floor, pointing out an occasional custom detail. The pair paused by the staircase.

“Upstairs is all bedrooms,” he said, drawing her close.

“Is that where we’re headed?” she smiled.

“Nope,” he said, kissing her gently. “I’m taking you out to the stable.”

The confusion must have played out across her face because Frank burst out laughing.

“I do think you’ll like what I have planned there,” he promised.

As they walked out toward the stable, she considered this. Frank had never once fucked her anywhere without feather pillows, except for one time in her kitchen, but he had also never failed to satisfy her. A warm curiosity was spreading through her body as she wondered what awaited her.

Frank pushed her against the side of the stable, a gentle hand around her throat as he kissed her deeply. His thigh pressed between her legs and she sighed. He grinned, stepping back to open the door.

“After you,” he gestured.

A wave of heat hit her as she walked in, the space still warm from the afternoon sun. Her featherlight dress clung to her hips as she looked around. The stable was dim, but she could see a few stalls, with equipment hanging on the opposite wall. She watched as Frank considered the array of options, finally picking what appeared to be a piece of rope.

As he drew nearer, she could see it was a sort of halter with a leash attached. He looked down at her.

“That is a very nice dress,” he said, almost apologetically. And with that he tore the delicate straps from her shoulders, the thin fabric offering no resistance to his strength. Startled, Erica jumped as her bare breasts sprang forth, nipples instantly hardening even in the heat.

Her dress now hanging at her waist, Frank admired her hungrily. All gentleness gone, he roughly strapped the halter around her ribcage, just below her tits, and ran it up her back to the collar. He tightened it and she coughed.

“Good girl,” he breathed.

Clipping the lead to the front of her collar, he began to walk toward one of the stalls. She started to follow before he spun around.

“Crawl,” he commanded. Erica dropped to all fours immediately, thankful for the soft cushion of fresh hay. She felt her skirt lift, threatening to expose her bare ass. Frank must have noticed as well, because he stopped to watch her crawl past him and into the stall.

Her arms outstretched, he lifted each wrist to a tie bar, buckling each tightly in place. He unbuttoned his own shirt, sweat beginning to glisten at the nape of his neck. She watched him hang the shirt on a hook near the stall door and step out of his boots. Chewing her lip, she felt herself begin to grow wet.

Frank briefly disappeared and returned holding a bar. Kneeling behind her, he secured each end to her knees, spreading them wide. Erica moaned softly in anticipation.

Suddenly, she felt him grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up sharply. He leaned over her, his jeans pressing into her as he whispered in her ear.

“Not moaning. Mooing,” he corrected. “Understand?”

Erica nodded, willing to do whatever he wanted.

Frank, still kneeling behind her, leaned back to look at her dress, now wrapped around her waist and barely covering her ass. He seized the hemline, and in two swift jerks, tore the dress from her body and threw it to the side. She strained back, longing to feel him against her again.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, two fingers gently probing between her legs. A shiver ran down her spine as she mooed softly, craving more. He plunged his fingers into her, swirling them gently before removing them.

He stood, walking slowly over to her face. She looked at the hardness growing in his jeans, and hoped she would be served quickly. Reading her mind, he patted her head.

“Not just yet,” he breathed.

Instead, he knelt, caressing her heavy breasts. Her eyes widened as he suctioned two ends of a pump to her chest and turned the machine on. It pinched, and sucked at her tits harder than a mouth ever had. She gasped and Frank’s eyes gleamed. He watched her nipples engorge as the machine tried to force a drop from them.

Erica was breathing heavily now and the room began to spin.

Frank took a step back. The high-powered executive was on her knees, whimpering, sweat gleaming on her bare body. The machine hummed, its mechanical rhythm pumping away the seconds. He breathed in slowly, clenching and unclenching his fists, reminding himself not to rush this.

He loosened his belt, letting his jeans drop to the floor, and peeled off his boxer briefs. Erica and Frank were both watching each other intently now, their mutual desire electric. Frank leaned against the gate, carefully stroking his rock hard cock. Erica’s lips parted as mascara began to run down her cheeks.

She never failed to impress him. From how she carried herself the night he first met her to the ease with which she adapted to becoming his hucow sex slave, it seemed that nothing fazed her.

But then again, watching her tremble before him, he realized he was getting the rare opportunity to test her. He smiled to himself, a fat drop of precum forming.

Erica ached. The sucking of her nipples was ceaseless, Frank’s touch had been enough to make her drip, and all she wanted was to feel him inside her. Her hips gyrated, trying to hump the air.

Frank took a few slow steps toward her, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. Eagerly, she opened her mouth as he plunged his cock down her throat. Grabbing the back of her head, he began to roughly fuck her mouth. She gagged, spit falling freely from her mouth as he thrust in and out. His grip tightened in her hair, pushing himself into her harder. She felt her tits jiggle and bounce with his rhythm, her nipples harder than ever in the suction cups.

A rumbling began in her throat, a broken bellow punctuated by his cock silencing her with each thrust. She felt him harden in her mouth as he heard her, moaning like an animal. He suddenly pulled away, leaning on the bar to catch his breath. He wasn’t ready to finish — not yet.

He stretched back, breathing through his nose. His cock bobbed tantalizingly, mere inches from Erica’s face, but still beyond her reach. He firmly took her chin in one hand and rubbed his cock across her face, letting her tongue and lips run across it over and over, but never allowing her to take him in her mouth. Makeup and sweat and precum ran across her face as she stared up at him.

“That’s a good whore,” he muttered, finally releasing her face.

He stepped behind her and knelt. His cock, still soaked with her saliva, slid against her teasingly. He rubbed the head across her clit and her head dropped forward as she mooed softly. Patiently, he did it again, slowly running his cock over her entrance, around her clit, and back. Her legs were shaking and even he was beginning to twitch. He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he dipped into her. She was so wet, her willing pussy welcoming him in. He leaned over her, grabbing at her collar as he pushed deeper. She gagged, still drooling profusely. Her curls clung to her skin, soaked in sweat.

He eased out a little, then pushed in again. She mooed, louder this time, urging him on. He began to pick up the pace, his hips slamming into hers with each firm stroke. Even from behind, he could see her full breasts sway in and out of his view.

Erica felt as though she was in a dream. Arms spread wide, she let the waves of pleasure overtake her as Frank fucked her roughly. Loosening his hold on her collar, he grabbed on to her hips, holding her steady as he quickly moved in and out of her. Her thighs began to seize as her eyes rolled back.

Frank’s hand clapped against her ass, the spark of pain pushing her over the edge. She came harder than she ever had before, and felt Frank slam into her, holding her hips as he did the same. He collapsed across her back, grabbing wildly at her chest as he twitched inside her.

He groaned, his mouth pressed against her back.

As he pulled out, she felt a river of cum between her legs. She took an unsteady breath. Frank reached over to gingerly unbuckle her wrists and turn the pump off. Soon, the two lay on the floor of the stall, limbs entangled.

His fingers traced her lips, her chin, her neck.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

Her eyes fluttered. After a lengthy pause, she laughed.

“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. He smiled.

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes,” she said instantly.

“Good girl,” he breathed as he kissed her.

Want more? Read Lilah Caine’s hucow stories on Amazon!