Teach Me How To Suck

So there's Bianca, all ponytails and pleats, cornering Celtic like she's assigning him extra credit. "Show me how to work my mouth on a cock," she says, blunt as a brick through stained glass. He blinks. She'd call that cute. He stays quiet. She drops to her knees right there on practice mats still stinking of floor wax, ponytail swinging once like it needs permission. Her little pleated skirt hikes high enough to show the slope of her ass cheeks. No hesitation, just business; she's watching his zipper like it owes her change. When his cock finally springs free, she licks her lips, studies the curve, then wraps her hot tongue underneath, sliding slow, tasting every inch like she ordered extra credit sauce. She hums when he twitches, catches the sound in her throat, keeps going until her chin bumps his balls and the tip nudges the back of her soft palate. Saliva shines everywhere. She pulls off with a wet pop, strings still attached, sucks air, goes back down, deeper. Her gag catches, twice, then vanishes. Eyes water but she won't break eye contact, keeps blinking happily at him like she's finally cracking open the secret handshake. He tries to warn her but she shakes her head, cheeks hollowing, swallowing the first jet like it's required reading. The rest paints her bottom lip, drips to her chin, makes little white dots on the pleats she never bothered to lift. Bianca sits back, tongue out, shows him every sticky inch, then swallows again, giggles, pats his thigh. "Thanks, coach," she beams, wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist like it's cherry slushy.