☆sam☆

for one, his cock is huge. the first time you took him you thought you would break. he was slow and gentle about it though, got you nice and lubed up and fucked you open on his fingers when he realized you couldn’t take it right away. rubbed your thighs with those big, rough hands of his in encouragement the whole time he eased in, inch by agonizing inch. since then you’ve gotten used to him, and thank god you did because now when he gives you all of him you see fucking stars. you can always expect to have an orgasm when he comes by. he fucks you so good, you almost wonder why he’s coming to an establishment like this in the first place.

the other thing that mystifies you is you’ve never heard his voice. not a groan, not a curse, nothing. you spend a lot of your time laying there imagining what he must sound like. every time he empties himself inside you (he never does it anywhere else) you’re always hoping this will be the time that he makes some noise for you.

and one day, he finally does.

it’s a weird day. you slept through your alarm and were late for your day job, you made a small screw up that your boss was particularly ornery about, and to top it all off you got a call from your dad right before walking into this seedy side gig of yours. you ended up unloading on him about your day and he called you “sweetheart” in that sympathetic dad voice of his. it made you feel a little guilty. a little gross. you ultimately tell yourself that you’re an adult who needs to pay rent, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

it’s a damn relief that your favorite regular eventually shows up. you could use the release after the stressful day you had. and he gives it to you, multiple times. he’s really hogging you tonight, making you cum on his fingers and his cock like this is more about your pleasure than his. it’s like he knows your body so well that he can feel the tension of the day wound up in it.

with all those orgasms he’s given you, you’re extra sensitive. extra wet. he’s stretching you around his cock so good and hitting that spot inside you with such force that you know this next one is going to be different. he spits down on your pussy, stroke never faltering as he begins rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. you’ve never squirted before but you’ve heard enough about them to know this feeling.

he pulls out when you do it. plays with your cunt and strokes himself as you gush. you make such a mess that you can hear it splashing down onto the floor below. it’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, pleasure wrung from your body so throughly that you feel you should emerge from the wall and thank him.

through the haze of your aftershocks, you hear his voice for the first time. gruff, encouraging, a little proud.

fatherly.

“that’s it, sweetheart. good job.”

your stomach lurches with an all-consuming, abject horror.