Small Town Secrets: A Forbidden Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Already, my thighs were burning, calves stretched from this kneeling position. But trying to move didn’t even cross my mind. Because I was here for Mr. Dawson’s pleasure, to do whatever he wanted. Whatever his whims, I had to obey.

  So I merely turned big brown eyes his way, pink pout parting slightly.

  “Yes, Mr. Dawson,” I whispered. “Whatever you like.”

  The big man smiled again, shifting slightly in his seat. And that’s when I saw it. Recent events had been so mindblowing that I hadn’t been able to see very well. My eyes were open but not much had registered.

  But now, my senses were on high.

  Because when he lifted the newspaper, it was there.

  That giant club.

  A huge, Godzilla-sized cock that stood upright and stiff, almost purple he was so aroused. A vein pulsed hotly on one side, trailing all the way from base to tip.

  Oh god, oh god.

  I stared, eyes wide, trembling in my pose.

  Was that because of me?

  Did he love having me like this? Seeing me like this? So much so, that his cock was leaking from that tiny hole, the glans purple and shiny?

  Evidently so because Mr. Dawson followed my gaze.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he rumbled smoothly. “It got hot, so I let it out. He won’t bite.”

  I could only nod breathlessly, eyes still mesmerized. While I’d been unzipping my dress, he must have unzipped his trousers. And now the result was here to see.

  Because it was magnificent.

  At least ten inches, throbbing and powerful, making my mouth water.

  And the handsome billionaire knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “You want a taste?” he asked, voice raspy. “You want a taste?”

  Of course I wanted a taste! I mean, I didn’t. I mean, I did.

  But the alpha didn’t wait for an answer. Because he reached over, broad fingertips taking another almond from my breasts and held it up to the head of his cock. And then one big hand slipped up and down that shaft, squeezing and milking it.

  As if on cue, a white drop of cum beaded at the top. My mouth went dry. The pearl was luminescent, beckoning to me, and unbidden, my lips parted.

  But Mr. Dawson had other plans. Because slowly and carefully, he dipped that almond into the bead of cum, coating it with man milk until it was shiny and wet. And then with a gleam to his eyes, he held the almond out to me on one flat palm.

  “Come and get it, sweet thing,” he growled. “This is for you.”

  And like a hungry dog, I leaned forward, eating the nut from his palm. Oh god, a burst of flavor splashed over my senses. The almond itself was the same as always, slightly bitter and nutty. But there was a new salty-sweet flavor, viscous and milky, making me swoon.

  I crunched down slowly, eyes fluttering closed, savoring the cum-coated almond.

  “Mmmm,” was my breathless moan. “Mmmm.”

  And Mr. Dawson’s low chuckle startled me from my reverie.

  “You’re gonna work out real good,” he rumbled, eyeing my curvy form lasciviously. “You’re gonna be one of our best hires for sure.”

  I stared at him, still chewing a bit before swallowing with an audible gulp. Oh god, the almond had been delicious and suddenly, I wanted more. I wanted more of whatever he had planned, of whatever he wanted to do. So I nodded my head, our eyes connected by a trail of intense fire.

  “Yes, Mr. Dawson,” came my dulcet murmur. “Yes, whatever you like.”

  And oh god, but the rest of the trip was amazing. No, the billionaire didn’t do that much more. As much as I wanted to feel that huge dong inside my mouth, savoring the source of heavenly semen, he didn’t take action. Instead, the man flipped his newspaper back up and returned to reading, occasionally fingering an almond like nothing had happened.

  Nothing of course, except that I was bare to the waist, big boobies out.

  Nothing except the fact that he had a panting, aroused female next to him, creaming desperately within.

  But Mr. Dawson was training me to be his servant. His slave. His plaything. Because the man pretty much ignored me, immersed in his paper.

  Well, as immersed as you can be with a giant cock out, stiff and straight, ready for action.

  Because he didn’t hide it. He didn’t tuck it back into his pants. And so for the remainder of the flight, I held still, letting him use my body as I stared longingly at that massive pole, the tip oozing pre-cum like a never-ending faucet.

  It was only when the seatbelt light flashed on that that newspaper came down once more.

  “Good,” the billionaire said, eyes sweeping over my kneeling form. “Very good.”

  And then he looked down at his cock.

  “I’ve really made a mess of things haven’t I?” he rumbled deep in his throat. “Go ahead, Miss Evans. Clean it up.”

  I gasped, eyes flying up to clash with the blue.

  “You-you mean the mess in your lap?” I whispered. Because it was true. At this point, so much semen had leaked out that his pole was glossy and shiny, drenched with the good stuff. Even his trousers were a little stained, there was so much fluid.

  One black eyebrow quirked.

  “That’s your job, isn’t it?” he rumbled again. “To clean? Isn’t that what we hired you to do?”

  And I nodded, small pink tongue sweeping over my lips tentatively.

  The gleam in his eyes deepened then, seeing that gesture.

  “Now,” he rasped. “Now.”

  And immediately, I obeyed. Leaning forwards, my tongue gently brushed over the head of his cock. It jerked under my soft caress, immediately spurting a little on my chin, warm and wet.

  “Unnh,” grunted the man, fisting his base now. “Here, I’ll hold it for you so that it’s still. Now clean.”

  And pussy creaming so hot, I dove onto his pole. I’ve actually never given head to a man. Oh sure, there have been boys who were interested, who begged me to touch their willies. But it wasn’t appealing. First, because they were pimple-faced adolescents, nothing like the gorgeous billionaire here. And second, the boys’ private parts were tiny, only half this size, limp and rubbery. Nothing like the magnificent monster beckoning to me now.

  So with a hungry moan, I did it. I lowered my head and began slurping on his manshaft, taking as much as possible into my mouth until my cheeks bulged.

  “Mmmm,” was my low moan. “Mmmm.”

  One big hand came to rest on my head.

  “Slow,” that low voice ground out. “Appreciate your eagerness sweetheart, but no sense in choking yourself. Slow.”

  So I pulled off for a moment to stare at him, brown eyes wide. By now, my boobies were free, giant gazongas pressed against his knees. It must have been such a slutty sight. My mouth and chin dripping with semen, hot cunt smell musky in the air.

  “But Mr. Dawson,” came my small mewl again. “I love it so much.”

  And the dark man smiled lasciviously.

  “I know you do sweetheart,” he ground out. “I know you do. But no worries, we’ll be taking a lot of flights together in the future. So no need to get ahead of yourself. Just enjoy the ride.”

  And nodding, I bent my head again. Because this is what I want. It was so wrong. I’m a flight attendant, not a hooker for hire. But the situation had permeated my mind and body, and suddenly I wanted to take everything he had to offer. The cum. The hot semen in my mouth, my pussy, spurting anywhere he wanted.

  But he’d promised more, so I obeyed. No need to rush. And slowly, lovingly, I ran my tongue up and down that hard shaft, drinking in the male musk, savoring each inch of that iron rod.

  “Mmmm,” came my throaty purr. “Oh mmmm.”

  My pussy felt like it was gonna burst, clit throbbing and hard. And Mr. Dawson knew. As I lapped at that giant manshaft, he leaned over, one massive palm stroking my back and lifting my skirt until the white cheeks showed.

  “Fuck,” he rasped.
“Fuck you’re beautiful.”

  And then it happened. The man stroked over my butt cheeks, pulling my thong out from my crevice. And then he pushed two fingers into that tight warmth, sampling the hot female dew.

  “Ohhhhh!” I screamed. “Oh god!”

  Because that’s all it took. I was so aroused by the steamy play of the last half hour that my body was already cranked to a ten out of ten. And the massive male fingers pushing insistently into my warmth forced me over the edge, the heat and insistence so delectable.

  “Unnnnh!” I screamed once more, mouth stuffed with manmeat. “Unnnh!”

  And that was it. I exploded around his fingers, screaming with ecstasy as my pussy clenched and pulsed on his fingers.

  “Mmmm!” was my muffled shriek. “Mmmm!”

  And my mouth must have done something at that instant as well. Because suddenly hot jets of sperm spurted wildly into my oral chamber, hitting the back of my throat as I swallowed furiously, trying to capture it all.

  “FUCK!” swore the big billionaire, stuffing his fingers even further in. “Fuck fuck!”

  And we were caught in a loop. The more semen into my mouth, the harder I swallowed. The harder I swallowed, the harder the alpha pushed his fingers into my cunt, making me cream even more. And then my mouth sucked even more ferociously, milking the man of every last drop of cum.

  It was the best feedback loop ever, the most enticing, arousing situation I’ve ever been in. Because the truth is, I’ve never really touched a man. Nor have I ever let any man touch me, even though they tried. It’s just something that’s never appealed, with the boys gangly and nervous, their breath stinking of garbage.

  But this was a different situation. A different circumstance, pressed into service by a gorgeous, magnetic billionaire. We were on a private charter flight high in the clouds, our privacy guaranteed by his money and power. No one would interrupt us. If the man wanted to throw me into the back room and shove that massive cock into my steaming pussy, there wouldn’t be a peep of protest.

  And the thing is, I would have said yes. If he told the pilot to fly over the Atlantic, extending this flight by another ten hours, I would have said yes. I would have watched as Mr. Dawson locked the door on the private cabin and took me ten ways until Sunday.

  But the seatbelt light had already come on. Damien’s cock, though still firm, was merely dribbling into my mouth now, instead of spurting hot lashes of juice. And my cunt, though still horny and wet, was merely quivering on his fingers instead of clamping hard with every scream.

  The billionaire leaned back in his chair, pulling his hand from my secret space with a obscene wet squelch. Oh god oh god. Even the sounds were so disgusting, yet erotic all the same. Oh god.

  And slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, lips slightly parted.

  “There’s a gob of cum on your tongue,” he rasped, eyeing my flushed face. “I’d swallow that before we land.”

  Cheeks going bright red, my mouth snapped shut and I swallowed hard, the gooey liquid disappearing, before scrambling back into my dress. How did I look? With flying hands, I patted my curls into place, straightening the canvas fabric of my apron while stepping back into those high heels. What kind of stewardess wore four inch stilettos, the arch so high that my bust was thrown forwards, hips pulled back? Well, now I knew why.

  And never dropping my gaze, Mr. Dawson tucked himself back in, pulling his blazer forwards to hide the slight wet spot at his crotch.

  “You were great,” he said casually, eyes looking over my heaving form. “Just perfect. I’ll tell them to make a note in your file.”

  And dumbly, my chin nodded.

  “Thank you sir,” came my trembling voice. “Thank you.”

  Turning on my heel, I walked unsteadily back to the front of the plane, disappearing behind the partition where the stewardess’s jump seat was hidden. And only after I was buckled safely, did I let myself breathe deep for the first time in hours. Because had that really happened? Had I just sucked a handsome man’s cock hungrily, letting him stroke my pussy until it creamed deliciously? Had I really gulped every last drop of sperm like an adoring slut, letting Mr. Dawson use my body any way he saw fit?

  And in the dimly lit corner, my pussy pulsed its answer. Because yes, it’d happened. The alpha had taken over my senses with his filthy ways, his unerring air of command. And it’d been so good and so amazing … that I only wanted to do it again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Joanie

  Drying my hair in the spacious bathroom of my Dallas hotel room, I stared at my reflection. The big brown eyes, the flushed cheeks.

  Was that really me?

  The girl with the curly brown hair and curvaceous form?

  Could anybody tell I was different?

  I guess on the outside, things looked the same. But on the inside, my mind and body were absolutely changed.

  Because I’d done it.

  I’d enjoyed a man’s cock on a private flight, creaming and mewling as he stroked my clit. I’d come all over his hand as he spurted into my mouth, pouring liters of hot man milk down my throat.

  And even now, I could taste that tangy semen. The unmistakable salty taste as I slurped, welcoming the hot fluid into my insides.

  How would it feel in another part of me? Dripping from my pussy cavern? Or pulsing into my ass?

  WHAT?

  My cheeks flared, mouth opening into a shocked O. Because how could I think this? How could I have these dirty thoughts? It was wrong. So, so wrong. This wasn’t the Joanie I knew at all. And yet my imagination went wild, every and any fantasy suddenly up for grabs. Mr. Dawson’s fingers in my sweet channel as I cried out, clutching those big shoulders. His massive cock burrowing deep into my pretty pink place. That giant cock in my ass, slow and steady as I cried out, resisting the stretch.

  Oh god. When did I get so dirty? I’ve seen porn, I admit, on my laptop. But that’s TV. Those are paid actors and actresses, who are acting out fantasies, figments of the imagination. By contrast, this was real. I was a newbie flight attendant working for a private charter company. The situation was totally different. So what was going on?

  But staring at myself once more, I knew it wasn’t going to stop. Because if Mr. Dawson wanted me again, I’d be there. I’d do anything he asked, willingly letting him use my body, to caress and stroke anywhere he wanted, seven miles up in the sky.

  But would I ever see him again?

  Would he even remember me?

  That was the worst part about this whole scenario.

  As a sex-positive woman, there was no shame in my actions. I’ve been taught to own my sexuality, to be proud of my choices. It was the other things instead. Like the surprise ten thousand dollar deposit from Elite Air in my bank account today, labeled “Bonus Pay.” How I had no idea if and when I’d ever see Damien again. Because we weren’t dating. We weren’t friends. The billionaire was a paying customer.

  And the truth made my heart seize painfully.

  Because is this what Elite Air did? Was this why I had a generous compensation package, a full fifty thousand dollars more than the commercial airlines? Was that the reason for the “surprise bonus” in my bank account?

  It was crazy.

  But somehow, I suspected it was true.

  Which meant that the filthiness might not end.

  Was I ready?

  Could it be happening?

  And tentatively, I delved deep, examining my heart of hearts. Because I’ve had a boring life. High school had been dull, and good grades weren’t exactly my thing. I was a shy mouse most days, hiding my figure behind baggy, unflattering clothes, with just one or two close friends.

  But now, the world had cracked open wide.

  There was opportunity at my fingertips.

  The chance to see the world.

  And shamefully, the chance to meet more men.

  Powerful billionaires all. Handsome. Charismatic. Dominating.

  Is that what I wanted?<
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  Unable to compute, I got into the king size bed, pulling the fluffy comforter over my head. There were too many thoughts in my brain, swirling fitfully, making me toss and turn.

  And the next day, when I woke up, a groan escaped my lips.

  Because there were dark circles under my eyes. Nothing a little concealer wouldn’t fix, but still. Appearance is very much part of my job, and there was no sense in looking pasty and gaunt.

  So quickly, I hopped in the shower and spruced up, dabbing some extra blush on my cheeks. I’ve never been a make-up person, but a perky and professional demeanor was important.

  And bustling through my routine, I got ready in a flash. Good. It was a new day, and I couldn’t be wasting time thinking pointless thoughts. This was a job.

  Stepping onto the G6, I busied myself prepping the plane for my next passenger’s arrival. Don’t think about Mr. Dawson anymore, a stern voice sounded in my head. That’s over and done with.

  So taking a deep breath, my eyes glanced at the manifest. Hmm, only one passenger again. My head shook. Man, these guys had to be King Midas if they were able to afford riding alone in such a fancy plane. Such wealth had been unimaginable to me even yesterday, but evidently there were multiple men who had vast fortunes at their fingertips.