Chapter 11

Peggy’s bedroom was dim, the blinds drawn tight against the afternoon light. The room smelled faintly of vanilla candle and cologne. John, the big rig driver, was on his hands and knees on her bed, completely naked. He was six foot three, broad shouldered, with tattooed forearms and a beard that made him look like a mountain man. His powerful back glistened with sweat. Peggy, barely five feet tall with her mousy brown bob haircut and wire rimmed glasses now resting on the nightstand, knelt behind him wearing nothing but a black harness and a thick ten inch dildo. She looked like a cute librarian who shouldn’t be doing what she was doing.

She had both small hands gripping his hips, controlling the pace. The silicone cock slid deep into him with steady, practiced strokes.

“That’s it, sub,” Peggy murmured, her voice soft and in control. “Take it just like that. Such a good boy for me.”

John let out a guttural groan. His elbows buckled slightly as she pounded into him. He was rock hard, his cock hanging huge and untouched between his legs, leaking steadily onto the towel she had laid down.