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Abby lives in Section 8 housing. Smoking’s not allowed on the property, so people gather out by the street most nights. On weekends, it becomes a scene–lawn chairs lined along the curb, cheap beer, Bluetooth speakers playing slow R&B. Just hanging out.
We’re usually the only white folks out there. I blend in like furniture. Abby belongs–she knows everyone.
This Saturday night, the air was thick and still. Everyone had a buzz going. Abby was leaned against a car, talking to some Black guy I’d seen around before but never spoken to. Mid-forties maybe, six feet tall, with a bit of a belly–but a heavy presence. The kind of man who doesn’t try hard. He doesn’t have to.
“Babe,” Abby called across the lot. “Go with Jon and grab us some beer.”
I was already getting up when she added, “And be nice.”
That got a few chuckles from the men nearby. My ears burned, but I smiled and headed to Jon’s truck.
We hadn’t even made it out of the complex when he spoke.
“You know Abby didn’t give me any money, right? She said you’d take care of me.”
He didn’t look at me. Just said it like it was fact.
Something in the way he said it made my stomach twist. I managed a half-laugh. “Guess I’ll figure something out.”
He didn’t respond–just turned into a dark, empty parking lot behind a closed laundromat and killed the engine. Only the ataşehir escort dash’s blue glow lit the cab.
“You know what she meant,” he said, finally turning to face me. “She told me you’d handle it. That you knew your place.”
He reclined his seat, unbuttoned his jeans, and tugged the zipper down.
“She also said not to let you embarrass her. So don’t.”
He watched me for a second, then leaned back, spreading his legs.
My heart pounded. I should’ve said no. Should’ve walked.
But I didn’t want to disappoint Abby.
I didn’t want to prove her wrong.
I wanted to make her proud–even if it meant being used.
I reached over, my fingers brushing the soft weight of his cock inside his boxers.
“Nah,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “No hand-job. She said you suck dick. Now let’s see it.”
I helped him shove his jeans to his ankles. He spread his legs wider. Even soft, he was thick and heavy, balls low and full. The heat of him filled the cab.
He put one hand on the back of my head and guided me down.
“Come on. Show me how Abby trained her little bitch.”
The moment my lips touched him, he sighed. I started slow–tongue teasing the head, letting him swell in my mouth. I could already taste the salt of his pre-cum.
“Good. That’s it,” he groaned. “She told me not to ataşehir escort bayan go easy on you.”
He gripped my head harder and pushed deeper, forcing my throat open.
“Abby says you love this. Says Bobby caught you sniffing his boxers once and now you can’t get enough dick.”
My face flushed. I had hoped she kept that story private. I moaned around him before I could stop myself.
He laughed. “Knew it.”
Now he was fully hard–thick, curving up. I bobbed my head, trying to find rhythm while he used my mouth like it belonged to him.
“Fucking look at you,” he said. “Abby’s gonna whore you out to every dude in that complex. Hell, we might take turns while she watches.”
He pulled me off suddenly, cock glistening and wet.
“Suck my balls. Get them wet for me.”
I obeyed, one at a time, lips stretched around them while he stroked his shaft above my head. His pre-cum smeared across my cheek. His fist brushed my face with every stroke.
“I’m close,” he warned. “Back on my dick. But don’t you dare swallow. Abby wants proof.”
I shifted, kneeling on the seat, angling my mouth open as wide as I could. He grabbed my head again.
“Oh fuck–hold still. You’re gonna take it.”
Then he came. Thick, hot spurts shot into my mouth. I gagged, some spilling over my lips, dripping down my chin escort ataşehir and onto my shirt. He kept me there, twitching in my throat, until I felt like I’d drown in his cum.
Finally, he let me go.
I sat up, dazed, mouth still full. He pulled out his phone and started taking pictures.
“Open. Show me.”
I did.
“Fuck, look at that load.” He snapped a few more as more leaked out and ran down my chest.
“Swallow.”
I obeyed, throat working hard to get it all down. He captured the moment.
My eyes watered. I tried to wipe my face.
“Leave it,” he said. “Abby wants to see my nut on you.”
I nodded and sank into the seat, heart pounding.
We finally drove to the store. He went in alone, came back with the beer, grinning like a man who’d just won a bet.
“Damn,” he said as we pulled into the lot. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it. You’re a damn good cocksucker.”
When we pulled up, a group of men were gathered around Abby. She had her phone out, showing off the pictures.
“Come here, babe,” she called, smirking. “Your jaw sore?”
The guys laughed. I handed her the beer.
“Give me a kiss,” she said. “Jon said you were a good girl.”
As she pulled me down, she let out a loud squeal. “Fuck–he nutted all over you. Your face and shirt are dripping!”
The laughter broke out again.
People slowly wandered off, still grinning. Jon walked up, didn’t even look at me, and casually handed Abby a $20 bill.
“She really does love dick,” he said, chuckling as he walked away.
I sat beside her, stunned.
I wasn’t sure if she loved me, or just loved showing them what I’d do for her.
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