How many hours has it been? Two? Four? Six? The whole time he’s been working, taking calls, handling business.
And while he’s busy he gave you one simple rule: rub your cunt until he says stop. So you keep going. Your clit so sensitive it feels like it’s vibrating on its own. Coated in your own juices, dripping onto the floor, drifting in and out of a haze of exhaustion and overstimulation. You want to beg him to let you cum, or just to let you rest, but you know better.
You’re just background noise to him. A sex toy he left running while he focuses on things too complicated for you to understand. So you keep those fingers moving, because you’re his good little fuck doll.
Rubbing until your mind goes completely blank. Rubbing until it’s time for him to use you. Rubbing because he didn’t say stop.
