Lady Stefanie - Boozer 2

I visited my boozer at his place of work just before he went home. Every evening, after a long and tiring day, I would make my way to his cubicle in the office building where he worked as a janitor. He would be there waiting for me, ready to do his duty as my personal human toilet. I loved every second of our time together. Watching him squirm in anticipation of what was to come was almost as satisfying as relieving myself into his mouth. He knew the routine by now: every time I visited, I would collect my divine juice all day long to reward him for working hard every day and earning my cash. As I approached his cubicle, I could already hear the sound of his heart racing. He knew that the moment I arrived, his life would be over for a few minutes—his body would belong to me completely. I paused at the doorway, savoring the look of terror and submission on his face before stepping inside. "Good boy," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've been such a good boy today." Without further ado, I lifted up my skirt exposing my silky smooth thighs. My boozer's gaze fell straight to my crotch, and he let out a whimper of desire. Slowly, I lowered myself down onto the toilet seat, spreading my legs wide open for him. I could feel the cold tile against the outside of my thighs, sending shivers down my spine. As soon as I was settled, I beckoned him forward with a crook of my finger. "Come here, baby," I purred. "It's time to taste your mistress's nectar." Reluctantly, he approached me, his eyes fixed on the glistening puddle forming between my legs. I leaned back against the cool wall, letting him have a better view of what was about to happen. His wide eyes darted between my eagerly waiting cunt and his trembling hands as they hovered just a few inches away from their target. Finally, he gathered enough courage to lean forward and gently place his lips against my wet folds, hesitating for just a moment before taking a tentative lick. The taste of me - warm, salty, and intoxicatingly sweet – filled his senses, and he couldn't help but moan in appreciation. Encouraged by his response, I reached down and grasped the back of his head, pulling him closer to my throbbing sex. "That's it, baby," I breathed against his ear. "Drink up. Drink every drop of your mistress's nectar." And so he did. With each passing moment, my boozer became more and more engrossed in his task, lapping up every drop of my juices with an enthusiasm that made my heart sing. His hands gripped my thighs tightly, and every now and then, he would squeeze them as if begging for permission to continue his divine work. Time seemed to stand still as we spiraled deeper into our twisted ritual. I lost myself in the feelings of power and control coursing through my veins as I watched my boozer worship at my feet. It felt almost too good to be true. Eventually, he slowed down, reluctant to consume the last drop of my essence. I let him catch his breath, feeling satisfied and content knowing that I had once again reduced him to nothing more than a mere vessel for my pleasure. "Good boy," I said softly, reaching into my purse and pulling out a wad of crisp bills. "Here's your reward for being such a good boy today. Now go home and clean yourself up, because you'll be back here tomorrow, ready to serve your mistress once again." With that, I stood up and left him there, alone with his thoughts and his sticky hands. Tomorrow would be another day of submission, but for now, I contented myself with the memories of our forbidden encounter.