Maid To Order 2

Bruce smiled. He unbuckled his belt, opened the button, and unzipped his fly. His cock was nice and hard, but it slipped out into the open easily enough. Natasha gave a delighted gasp when she saw it and reached out to take it in her hand. Bruce’s smile widened. He had wondered if Natasha would play hard to get. Instead, she was out to be the one seducing him. He sprawled back on his hands and let her jerk him off.

“That’s good,” he groaned out. “I’m sure your pussy is delectable, but there’s just something about being in a woman’s hands—feeling how she plays with your cock…”

Natasha’s eyes sparkled, her gaze heavy with her gathering lust. “Do most women suck you off after you fuck them? Because I’m going to suck you before you fuck me. And I’m going to get your cum at both ends.” She bowed down to his groin until his knob was in her mouth.

Bruce put his hands on the back of her head. He wanted Natasha to blow him, even if she took too much out of him for his cock to get it up again. And he wanted to be sure her milking of his prick didn’t stop at a crucial moment. He could already sense the appeal of finishing in her mouth. There would be other times to fuck her, unless Natasha was such a good actress that she had tricked him into thinking she was enjoying this far more than she was.

“Easy, girl, easy,” Bruce said. “You’ll get everything in time, believe me.” 

Despite her reputation as a honey trap, as a rule Natasha didn’t suck cock unless she liked it. This was no exception. Bruce’s prick had a salty tang at first, but that went away as she bathed his length in her saliva. Her tongue ran up and down his shaft in sensual counterpoint to how her lips were plunging from one end of his erection to the other. Between her stroking tongue and caressing lips, Bruce moaned with pleasure—and despite any wish she might have to keep this professional, the sound excited Natasha immensely.

“Yes, that’s it, suck it, suck it all,” Bruce sighed. He pressed lightly at the back of Natasha’s head, not that she needed any encouragement to milk his cock, but because he got the sense that she enjoyed being something other than a temptress, a dominatrix—being just a girl with a prick in her mouth, sucking it because she liked the taste, needing his hands on her head to show her how it should go in and out of her lips. “I may not be able to hold back if you keep sucking me so good. I’m not as young as I used to be and you’re such a vixen, such a goddamn vixen…”

Natasha looked up at him, her moist, pert lips snaking all around his girthy cock. Every time she dove down on his erection, her full breasts swayed and jiggled beneath her. But pulling his attention even from that was how her eyebrows—even that tiny part of her poised and exquisite—weaved up and down in ironic suggestion, the gesture teasing and lascivious all at once. It was enough to make Bruce wonder if they were still playing at being a billionaire playboy and a naughty maid, or if they’d shed those disguises for the sex itself.

His hips bucked upward as she pistoned down. Bruce felt his cum rising in his balls. He rammed harder into the willing target of Natasha’s mouth while she sucked him more and more, her hunger growing, her eyes blazing into his to demand his cum just like the rest of her was doing. 

Bruce exploded into her mouth, his cum flooding her cheeks until they bulged out—then she was swallowing, not missing a drop. Bruce kept the pressure on at the back of her head, rearing up so that his prick was spurting deep down her gulping throat. Finally, he fell down on his back, satiated to the point that he was unable to move.

Natasha kept licking and sucking, cleaning up all the cum she hadn’t been able to swallow. It was long moments before she stopped, letting Bruce’s limp manhood fall from her sperm-wet lips. And then, Bruce got the feeling it was only so her tongue could come out, lovingly tracing over her full lips to erase all the cum from them. 

She flattened her body to Bruce’s, the feel of her flesh enough to compel him to put his arms around her despite his weariness. Natasha kissed his neck, his ears, the skin along his hairline, before falling still with her chin on his shoulder, letting out purring exhales of satisfied pleasure, evidence of a cooing afterglow deep in her sex.

“Oh, Bruce,” she murmured hazily. Her eyes flickered to his with a film of delight still over them. “You’re a man… my man… you’re mine… take me to bed… no more clothes…”

Bruce couldn’t stand to downplay his strength and stamina any further. What Natasha needed, she would get. He got up, hefting Natasha’s pliant body with him as easily as a doll, and just like that, they were lying in bed, Bruce on his back, Natasha cradled in his arms. His prick lay limply on one muscular thigh, leaking a thin gruel of weakened cum—the dregs of all he’d given her.

Minutes passed, with both of them giving into the pleasurable exhaustion they felt. The only thing they needed in their satiated state was the feel of each other’s skin. But that peaceable contentedness was its own destruction. They couldn’t touch each other for long without the heat flaring up once more, resurrecting itself from the embers of their remaining strength. They began to kiss. 

As their contact grew heavier, so did their need for each other. Bruce put a callused hand on top of Natasha’s succulent ass, groping and massaging it in a way that seemed to rub energy back into her tired body. She took his prick in her hand, loving the feel of it, so soft and malleable, knowing how hard it could really be, was meant to be. 

Inevitably, feeling her and being felt by her, Bruce’s manhood swelled. Natasha savored it, every moment and every inch. She loved the way his loose scrotum tightened, how Bruce groaned pleasurably as if it was tangible delight flooding into his member, making it so stiff. She loved as well what was coming, the spurting cum and the exquisite feeling of holding such a massive weapon inside her, which made Natasha burn so hot that sometimes, with a guy like Bruce, she would come herself from getting him off. 

Maybe that was some trace of the Red Room to make her a better seductress, she didn’t know, didn’t care, so long as it kept feeling as good as it did. Times like these, with both her duty and pleasure behind her, were when Natasha truly enjoyed herself. And part of her satisfaction would be making Bruce feel the same ecstasy she did.

Natasha made her way down his body on all fours, her curves so luscious that her breasts dragged over his chest, down his belly. And as she moved down the broad, veiny muscles of his pectorals and the small, chiseled abs tightly set in his stomach, Natasha kissed them at random, stopping at the vee-shaped cut down into his loins, the last of his physique before she’d be overwhelmed by his groin. She nibbled at the taut muscle, then bent over his limp member, to lick his cum up from his leg and suck it from his cock.

“You’re incredible,” Bruce sighed. “Just incredible.”

His praise bored into Natasha far more strongly than he could’ve intended. She felt as if she’d lost control of herself, no longer distinguishing between fantasy and reality. Natasha couldn’t believe she’d wandered so far from the mission, that now she was going to shove her mark’s prick into her throat and swallow his cum.

Yet that was very nearly what she did. She sucked and gulped at his member until it was once more a lengthy, hardened erection, something that took much less time that Natasha would’ve thought. She’d believed she’d dealt a crushing blow to his stamina; perhaps she’d underestimated just how lustful she’d made the man.

She kept sucking Bruce, dragging him to the brink of orgasm, all while staring up at him seductively with green eyes aglow—such lustful intensity they barely seemed to fit into her soft, delicately formed face. She flicked her tongue at the delta on the underside of his knob, making Bruce gasp, then sucked him even closer to climax. 

It got the point where Natasha didn’t know how he was resisting her wiles before she pulled her mouth from his prick, leaving him with a burgeoning erection that she could barely believe. The man looked like he hadn’t come in months—not a quarter of an hour ago. She wondered if Bruce had a masterful control of his body or if there was simply something in him that could not be controlled, even by her. Natasha sensed she would have a lot of fun finding out.

“Let’s see how much more cum you have to give me,” she purred with a smirk, then rolled onto her back. Feeling as if she were lying supine on a pagan altar, about to be sacrificed to a dark god. “Feel free to be on top.”

Bruce moved to mount her, holding himself at arm’s length over her luscious body. As much as he wanted to crash down on Natasha and relieve the agonizing strain of his swollen erection inside her, taking a good look at her unbelievably supple body—all pale, creamy flesh, voluptuous curves, and toned muscle in a blend that seemed impossibly perfect—was equally tempting. She was in the fullest bloom of her youth, her skin as smooth as it would ever be, her body as eager to be fucked as seduction and biology and anticipation could make it. 

There was an intimacy in how Natasha offered herself to him, not even trying to tempt him, but giving him something realer, sharing a deeper part of her that was all the more enticing. Her waist was subtly canted, her legs arching open, with red hair thick on her mound—bristling when Bruce reached down and opened her labia with his fingers, showing himself and her the glistening flesh inside, waiting for his entry.

“Ya obozhaju tebya,” she whispered.

“You’re exquisite, just exquisite,” he said, letting go of her slit to take his manhood in hand. He ran his cockhead along her open sex, Natasha seething as she felt his hardness finally so close to where it belonged. “Poshly tancevat.”

Natasha couldn’t stop herself from writhing. Her disciplined body suddenly felt like it wasn’t her own, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt like it was his. “Oh goddamn, put it in me!” she cried. “Kosnys' menya!”

“I know where to touch you,” Bruce chuckled, pressing himself into her wet pussy.

Tight as she was, her sex immediately opened to his contact. Bruce’s immense manhood slid right inside her. She clenched on him instantly, as though in sudden climax, and the rest of his prick went in slowly. He grunted, pacing himself, not wanting to stretch her too painfully, but having to sate himself with all of her sweet tightness that he could get.

There was no more coyness in Natasha. She opened herself wide, her hips flying from the bed to surge against his covering body and force all of his length inside her. She held herself up against him, mashing their bodies together, her sex closing around his prick until she couldn’t take anymore. 

Natasha lapsed back down to the bed, moaning liberally as her descending weight pulled her off of his cock. Bruce groaned, but made no move to pursue her, not yet. The delicious agony of being robbed of her inner tightness was far too good to be disturbed so soon.

“Christ, you’re tight. I haven’t had anyone like you in years,” he gasped.

Natasha’s eyelids flicker, trying to recover after that initial entry had brought her perilously close to climax—the kind of subservient nymphomania she pretended when she was playing a bondage slut. Suddenly feeling it for real seemed exquisitely dangerous… the kind of risk that thrilled her when it was only threatening her health and mission. Now, when it threatened her sanity, her sense of self, she was halfway in love.

“Now you’re flattering me,” she cooed. “The great Bruce Wayne doesn’t have a girl like me every Sunday…?”

“If I could, I would,” Bruce admitted. “But you’re the first girl like you that I’ve ever met.”

Natasha smiled and ran her fingers down his back, fingernails scraping softly down his wide lats, then feeling out the firm muscle of his gluts with the pads of her fingers. Squeezing his ass like she was gripping some massive sex toy poised at her cunt. Biting her lip, Natasha pulled him closer. “You may be telling the truth there. If you’d met many women like me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“I’m standing?” Bruce asked, a wry eyebrow raised.

“Where it counts,” Natasha retorted, tilting her head to the side to underscore the quip before she pulled hard at his hips, the slender muscles of her arms flexing, intent on forcing him inside her and unwilling to settle for anything less.