Chapter 204: Marielle’s Uniform [Slight R-18]

Amon broke the kiss first and she tired to get him back before getting a hold for herself.

Marielle was still breathing hard, lips wet and slightly swollen, bare breasts rising and falling against his chest.

The short school skirt was bunched around her waist.

Her panties were soaked through from the orgasm he had forced out of her only moments earlier.

She glared at him, her purple eyes still glassy. "I hate you."

"You keep saying that," Amon said. "But you’re still sitting on my lap with your tits out."

Marielle’s jaw tightened. "Because of the bet and nothing else."

Amon’s gaze dropped to her mouth as an idea formed.

He shifted her slightly so she was still straddling him, then reached down and freed himself.

His cock sprang up hard and heavy between them, the tip already glistening.

Marielle’s eyes flicked down.

For a second her expression cracked, she looked at it with both lust and fear. "...You’re serious."

"Suck it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. One good blowjob and I’ll count it as progress on the bet."

Marielle stared at him like he had lost his mind. "You want me to put that in my mouth?"

"Yes."

"I’m a professor. A grown woman. Not some desperate girl you can order around."

"You’re also the woman who just came from one finger on her clit while wearing a school uniform. Don’t start acting pure now."

Her face burned hotter.

Amon watched her carefully.

Sidney would have already been on her knees with a grin.

Seraphina would have blushed and asked how he wanted it.

Marielle however looked like she wanted to slap him and ride him at the same time.

That contradiction was exactly why this was fun.

"You can refuse," he added casually. "But then the recording stays, and next time I won’t be this nice."

Marielle’s fingers dug into his shoulders.

For a long moment she said nothing. Pride warred with the heat still pulsing between her legs.

Finally she exhaled through her nose. "...Fine but I’m not swallowing."

"We’ll see."

She slid off his lap and knelt between his knees on the living-room floor.

The short skirt rode up completely in the back.

Her bare breasts hung heavy as she leaned forward.

Marielle took him in her hand first, testing the weight.

Her fingers looked elegant wrapped around the thick shaft.

"It’s... bigger than it looked," she muttered.

"Thank you."

"Fuck you."

She leaned in and gave the head a cautious lick.

The taste surprised her, it was clean, slightly salty, warmer than expected.

She hesitated, then opened her mouth and took the tip inside.

The wet heat made Amon exhale slowly.

Marielle kept it shallow at first.

taking in just the head, her tongue moving carefully like she was afraid of doing it wrong.

Her technique was clumsy as she clearly had not done this often, if ever.

Still, the visual alone was enough.

A proud, sharp-tongued professor on her knees in a school uniform, black bra hanging open, sucking his cock because she had lost a bet.

’Better than I expected,’ Amon thought. ’She looks like she wants to bite it off and still can’t stop.’

"Deeper," he said.

Marielle glared up at him but pushed forward a little more.

Her lips stretched around the middle of his length.

A soft, wet sound filled the quiet room.

"Use your tongue more along the underside."

She did, though reluctantly and the new friction made his hips twitch.

"You’re terrible at this," Amon said, his voice low. "Your niece is better."

Marielle pulled off with a wet pop, eyes flashing. "Then go fuck her instead."

"I will."

He put a hand on the back of her head but he wasn’t forcing her and just resting there.

Marielle’s pride clearly wanted to stop but not heer body.

She took him back into her mouth, this time with more determination.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder.

Spit began to gather at the corners of her lips.

Amon let her set the pace for another minute, watching every expression that crossed her face.

Embarrassment. Concentration. Unwilling heat.

He decided he had been patient long enough.

He tightened his grip on her hair and pushed deeper.

Marielle’s eyes widened.

A muffled sound vibrated around his cock as the head brushed the back of her throat.

She tried to pull back, but he held her there for a second longer before letting her breathe.

"Easy," he said. "You’re not going to break."

"You~cough-- bastard..."

"Again."

She glared, but she opened her mouth.

This time Amon guided her.

He kept the thrusts shallow enough not to truly choke her, but deep enough that she had to take more than she wanted.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes from the pressure.

Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her bare breasts.

The wet, rhythmic sounds of her mouth filled the living room.

’She’s even prettier like this,’ Amon thought. ’All that attitude melting because she has a cock in her throat.’

"You’re getting wetter," he observed. "I can smell it."

Marielle made an angry sound around him but did not stop.

He could feel himself getting close.

The tight, wet heat of her mouth, the reluctant way she still tried to keep some dignity.

The heavy bounce of her breasts every time he guided her head, it all stacked too quickly.

"I’m going to cum," he warned.

Marielle’s eyes flicked up and her expression turned alarmed.

Though much to Amon and her own surprise, she didn’t pulled out but took him deeper.

At her sudden change of pace Amon couldn’t hold it in.

He came hard, pulsing thick ropes across her tongue and into her throat.

Marielle’s eyes went wide and she struggled for a second.

Then had no choice but to swallow or choke.

The movement of her throat around him only prolonged it.

When he finally released her head she pulled back, coughing once, a thin string of saliva and cum still connecting her lower lip to the tip of his cock.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring up at him with watery eyes and a flushed face.

"I hate you," she said, her voice rough.

Amon reached down and brushed a strand of purple hair away from her cheek.

"You keep saying that yet you swallowed everything."

Marielle looked away, breathing hard, still on her knees.

Her blouse hung open as cum dripped on her boobs.

The short skirt was rucked up around her waist.

She looked ruined and furious and more arousing than she had any right to be.

Amon leaned back against the sofa, still half-hard, and watched her.

"Next time," he said quietly, "I’ll make sure you enjoy it more."

Marielle’s purple eyes cut back to him, full of hate and lust that she refused to acknowledge.

"There won’t be a next time."

Amon only smiled as they both knew she was lying.