Listen up, losers. It’s Rory. And I’m in a mood. The kind where if you even think about telling me no, I’ll make sure your cock regrets it more than you do.
Last night some cute idiot at the bar tried it. Tall, cocky, thought he could flirt, buy me one drink, then dip with some lame “I’ve got an early meeting” excuse. Cute. Real fucking cute. I grabbed his tie, pulled him close enough to feel my tits against his chest, and hissed right in his ear: “You don’t get to walk away from me, baby. I’m not done with that dick yet.”
He laughed nervously. Big mistake.
I dragged him to the bathroom — yeah, the single-stall one. Locked the door. Pushed him against the sink. “Pants down. Now.” He hesitated. I rolled my eyes, dropped to my knees anyway, and yanked his zipper myself. His cock sprang out — already half-hard because deep down, he knew better than to deny me.
I didn’t tease. I swallowed him whole on the first go — throat tight, lips sealed, no gag reflex bullshit. Just pure, greedy suction while I glared up at him like “you really thought you could say no to this?” He groaned, hands in my hair. I slapped them away. “Don’t touch. You haven’t earned it.”
I worked him sloppy — spit dripping, slurping loud enough for anyone outside to hear. Edged him twice — pulled off right when he was throbbing, pouting my glossy lips: “Beg me to let you cum, or I walk out and leave you blue-balled.” He whimpered. Pathetic. Hot.
But I wasn’t done punishing him for that “no.” I stood up, hiked my skirt, no panties (duh), and backed my ass onto him. “Fuck me like you mean it, or I’ll find someone who will.” He slammed in — desperate now. I rode him reverse, grinding hard, clenching around his cock like I owned it (because I do). Told him exactly how worthless his excuses were while he pounded me against the mirror.
When he started begging to cum inside? I laughed. “Not yet, bitch.” Pulled off, spun around, dropped back to my knees, and jerked him fast — mouth open, tongue out. “Give it to me. All of it. Now.” He exploded — ropes across my tongue, my cheeks, my tits. I milked every last drop, then made him watch while I licked my fingers clean.
Then I fixed my lipstick, smoothed my hair, and left him slumped against the wall, pants around his ankles, still twitching. Texted him later: “Next time you try to say no, I’ll make it hurt worse. Call me when your cock’s ready for round two.”
That’s me, Rory. Bratty. Bitchy. Unstoppable. I don’t hear “no” — I hear “try harder.” And I always win. Especially when there’s cock involved.
Got the balls to let me take what I want? Call now. Don’t waste my time with excuses — I’ll just take it anyway. 💋🍆