My Girlfriend's Blowjobs Are Legendary! Too Bad They're Not Just For Me… Part 1

Chapter 1

Standing nervously in the bustling airport terminal, I found myself patting the bulge in my back pocket—again—for reassurance. My collapsible white cane was folded there, always within reach. Ever since that night I got caught out alone in the dark, I didn’t travel without it. Here, the terminal was bright enough that my vision wasn’t a major issue, but I still scanned the floor carefully, my steps more cautious than usual. Everything moved in a chaotic blur—blending colors, darting bodies, spinning luggage—and the constant drone of announcements and groaning passengers waiting on delayed flights pressed in from all sides. One careless misstep, and I’d be on the floor.

I took a deep breath, trying to still the flutter in my chest. My heart was racing. I had waited over a year for this moment. Part of me still didn’t believe it was happening—not really. Even hearing Nora’s voice just a week ago, saying, “I bought a plane ticket so you could come see me,” felt more like a dream than something real. If not for the dull, aching pressure between my legs, I might have convinced myself I was imagining it all.

That ache was the only proof I needed. Nora had ordered me to lock myself into my chastity cage—our cage—during a video call. She made me seal the keys in an envelope and mail them to her, just to be sure. That was when the real frustration began. Every day, she bombarded my phone with selfies—her smirking, teasing. Videos in the afternoon of her moaning with toys I could only hear. And every night, face time calls where she’d whisper every filthy detail about what she’d been up to with her clients that day, describing things so vividly I could practically smell the sweat, lust, and cum dripping off her lips through the screen.

By the end of the week, I felt like a caged animal, starved and pacing, just waiting for my first taste of her. It was while I was slowly slipping back into that headspace—horny, caged, feral—that I smelled it. A scent that made my knees almost buckle. Sweet, sharp, and sensual. Vanilla... with something darker. Boozy. Familiar. Her.

Then I heard her voice. That warm, slightly husky Norwegian accent that had haunted my dreams for so very very long.

“Mr. Luca! Hallo, my hero!”

The sound cut through the noise of the terminal like a blade, and suddenly the world shrank down to just that voice. My hero. That’s what she called me.

I turned toward the eager clicking of boots on tile—and then she collided with me.

Soft and warm, she crashed into my chest like she belonged there, her arms snaking around my neck, pulling me in so tightly I could feel her heartbeat pressed against my lips. Her scent engulfed me. Her body wrapped around me like a memory I never wanted to forget. Her hair brushed against my cheeks as she leaned in, her breath hot against my ear.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered. “My good boy.”

My arms slid around her waist before I could even think, my body acting on instinct, crushing her against me as if I could somehow fold us both into the same skin. Her heat was overwhelming—my face sandwiched between her overwhelming womanhood, her breath curling into my neck—and beneath it all, the ever-present, maddening pressure of the cage between my legs as I pressed my hips desperately into her along with a new feeling, one of cool metal dancing across my skin.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I was home.

For a long, perfect moment, nothing else existed. Just the two of us locked in each other’s arms, swaying in a sea of strangers. But eventually, the world crept back in. Footsteps. Luggage wheels. Distant chatter. Nora pulled back slightly with a heavy sigh, her arms loosening, though her fingers remained tangled in mine.

Then she looked at me—really looked. Down at me. And smiled like I was the only man in the world.

“You look so… fresh, boy. Ja? Like I could eat you up,” Nora purred, leaning in until her lips brushed the edge of my ear. “Want eat you up now,” she added, her voice thick and smoky, just before her teeth grazed my earlobe in a slow, teasing nibble.

Heat flooded my cheeks before I could even process the touch. My breath hitched. My thoughts stuttered as that delicate graze sent shivers down my spine.

But before I could respond, her arms were already resting on my shoulders—possessive, grounding—and that wicked grin spread across her face again. She leaned in close, her breath warm against my lips as she whispered one simple word:

“More.”

And just like that, she claimed me.

Her fingers guided my chin upward, gently but firmly, and our lips met in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was soft at first, but deep—hungrier than anything I had remembered, and far more dangerous. She kissed like a woman starved. And true to her promise, she didn’t stop there.

Her tongue slid between my lips with deliberate slowness, and I felt the cool edge of her tongue piercing trace the seam of my mouth before gliding against my own. Her booze-laced breath was intoxicating, her rhythm slow and exploratory. She drew circles with her tongue, savoring every second, like she was trying to memorize the shape of me all over again.

The dull ache in my cage had erupted into a full, throbbing torment—each gentle grind of my hips against her only making it worse. The plastic remained cruelly unmoved, and I could feel myself pressing forward again and again, wordlessly pleading for something, anything.

But then, just as suddenly, she pulled back.

A thin string of saliva still linked our lips—trembling, delicate—before it broke and the world came rushing back in.

Nora exhaled like she’d finally tasted water after days in the desert. Her eyes didn’t leave mine as she cupped my cheek in one hand, her thumb brushing gently over my skin. There was something softer there now beneath the hunger—a kind of wonder.

“Is weird… to touch you after so long,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I want to hold you all day. Not let go.”

The noise of the airport melted into the background again. Her touch lingered on my skin, and for the first time since she landed, I saw it in her eyes—the longing, the ache, the truth: this wasn’t just lust.

It was love.

Taking a step back, I finally let myself look at her.

She was gorgeous.

Tall, black leather boots clung to her legs like a second skin, rising all the way up past her thighs, the glossy surface catching the light with every slight shift of her weight. The heels were high—impressive so—adding a good four, maybe five inches to her already statuesque frame. She was towering over me with them on, easily six-foot-one, and the power she carried with that height alone made something primal in me stir. It was…

Obedience.

Her legs disappeared into sheer black stockings, patterned faintly with delicate spiderwebs. The hem of her skirt—pleated and frustratingly short—bounced just above mid-thigh, swaying with her hips in a rhythm that was hypnotic. I could see the faintest outline of garter clips beneath, teasing with every step. And above it all, the high straps of a black G-string rose sharply over her hips.

Above that, she wore a tight, long-sleeved crop top made of deep velvet-black fabric, the neckline cut low enough to command attention. Her breasts—full and heavy—were framed perfectly in a way that felt far too intentional. And nestled between them on a silver chain hung the key to our cage that I had sent all those days ago.

Her makeup was just as intense. Deep plum lipstick framed her mouth perfectly. Her cheekbones were sharp, her gaze fierce—yet behind all of it, that playful glint I’d memorized from countless video calls still sparkled through.

She wore silver bat earrings that dangled from her ears, their tiny wings almost flapping as she moved. A silver septum ring gleamed beneath her nose, perfectly matched by the twin studs on the bridge above it.

And in place of your basic purse.

A huge plush rabbit backpack—black and green, ragged, and stitched together like something dragged from the grave. Two button eyes, a mouth stitched close in an eternal secret, and a frayed little bow on its head. A zombie bunny. Of course.

“So, we go now. Ja? I show you home. Then get food. You must be very eat. I show great place. Is very nice. Very… boogie, you say?” Nora said, her tongue rolling playfully over the unfamiliar word.

I couldn’t help but grin.

“Of course. I’m starving after that flight. And dropping off my bags sounds perfect. Plus... I won’t deny it, I’m very curious to see where you live when it’s not just on a screen.”

“Good!” she beamed, then reached for my hand without a flicker of hesitation. “Oh, but you take hand, ja? Nora remember, you my blind boy. I keep safe. No worry.” She gave my fingers a squeeze. “You fly Air Nora all way here, after all!”

The reference to an old inside joke made us both laugh. Her grin widened as she began tugging me gently toward the exit.

“Now come, come. I can’t wait. Want taste food. Then… you.”

That last word lingered like a promise—low, suggestive, and full of wicked intent.

And just like that, the throb between my legs pulsed harder—hopeful, aching, restrained. My body already knew what she planned, even if my mind still knew we were only going to dinner.

The rideshare rolled to a smooth stop in front of a towering glass building that shimmered like obsidian in the city lights. I tilted my head back instinctively, trying to gauge the height, but the building seemed to disappear into the fading night sky. A sleek, gold-lettered plaque by the entrance read “The Garden.”

“Home,” Nora said simply, her voice brimming with pride as she stepped out first, boots clicking sharply against the pristine sidewalk. Her fingers tightened around mine, guiding me up the short marble steps toward the gleaming doors, which slid open soundlessly as we approached.

The lobby was like stepping into a five-star hotel. Polished marble floors stretched out in all directions, veined with silver and deep charcoal. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, elegant glow across the space. Everything reeked of wealth.

To the right, a young concierge stood behind a massive onyx desk, dressed in a sharp white blouse with a subtle smile that never quite reached her eyes. She gave Nora a polite smile as we passed, clearly recognizing her. Yet I couldn’t help but notice as the flicker in her gaze as her eyes lingered just a second to long at our hands entwined in one another.

She waved a hand casually in return, her other hand still clasping mine possessively. “Is okay,” she said in a low murmur. “They know me. We don’t wait.”

We didn’t. She led me straight to the gold-trimmed elevator at the far end of the lobby. The doors opened with a gentle chime, revealing a mirror-walled interior and dark velvet carpeting underfoot. Nora hit the button for the top floor—PH—and the elevator began its slow, silent ascent.

I could feel the hum of the machinery around us, subtle and smooth, as we rose higher and higher above the city. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but my focus kept slipping. In the mirrored panel behind us, her reflection was practically a sirens song trying desperately to pulled me in.

My gaze wandered lower, tracing the hem of her skirt as it swished with every subtle sway of her hips. Even beneath the skirt, the full, round, curves of her ass made  sure every onlooker could see just how undeniably perfect it was. Just above it, the high straps of her G-string rode her hips with lewd confidence, peeking out like a secret invitation to stare. My breath caught as I realized how little was left to the imagination.

I tried to tear my eyes away, but it was hopeless. The slow, hypnotic motions of her body was enough to drive the blood pulsing straight down. The cage around me tightened with the pressure, a dull, unforgiving ache settling in as I shifted my stance in silent desperation. She hadn’t even looked at me, and already I was squirming.

She leaned in close, her breath brushing against my ear.

“You like?” she whispered.

I nodded, my throat dry. “Very much.”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Is only beginning.”

The elevator chimed again, and the doors slid open to reveal a private hallway lined with dark wood and soft golden lights. Thick carpet muffled our steps as Nora led me to the very last door on the left. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pulled out a sleek keycard and swiped it across the panel.

The lock gave a soft click.

She turned the handle, pushed the door open, and gestured dramatically.

“Welcome… to paradise.”

The door clicked shut behind us, muffling the world outside, and I found myself standing in the kind of space that was only seen on magazine covers. The sheer space of the room caught me off guard. Sleek, clean, and stylish in that distinctly modern way. Smooth concrete floors led straight into the kitchen, where matte-black cabinets and polished stone countertops gleamed under soft recessed lighting. Stainless steel appliances lined the far wall, minimalist and sharp, with a row of deep green hanging plants decorating the edges.

Beyond that, the living room. A pristine, black leather couch faced a wall-mounted TV that put the own I owned to shame with its sheer size. In the middle, a sculpted coffee table made of smoky glass and black metal. Along the far wall, floor-to-ceiling windows cast warm amber light across everything, the sun just beginning to dip behind the city skyline. The view was breathtaking. Skyscrapers stretched out to the horizon, their glass faces catching the fire of the setting sun.

Nora didn’t pause to let me soak it in.

“Come, come. Drop bags, then maybe…” She paused to look down at my waist, licking her lips before shaking her head as if to clear out whatever thought just crossed her mind.

Walking further into her home, she turned back once to make sure I was still following as she led me to a door at the end of a short hallway. Her bedroom.

The lights flicked on automatically as we entered and before me loomed a massive, dark wood canopy bed that looked as if it were pulled from a romance story. The frame was sturdy and elegant, with thick posts at each corner that reached up toward the ceiling before curving into sleek horizontal beams.

The bed was made with charcoal-gray sheets and a deep burgundy comforter, layered with a pile of oversized pillows in velvet and satin. The rest of the room carried that same modern-meets-dark-fantasy aesthetic — matte black furniture with brushed brass accents, a tall standing mirror in one corner, and an entire vanity wall covered in softly glowing bulbs.

Tucked into the corner of the room, a sliding frosted glass panel, half open, revealed the hints of a walk-in closet. I tried not to think about what other outfits lay hidden in her hoard as I set my bag down at the foot of her bed. My fingers brushed against the soft fabric as I stood up. But right as I began to turn around I felt Noras hands on my shoulders, and with a surprising amount of strength, I was suddenly off balance, being pushed into the mattress now below me.

Before I could protest, Nora had already mounted my waist.

Her full weight settled onto me with quiet authority, pinning me to the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. The soft pressure of her ass sank through the fabric of my jeans, grazing the unforgiving bulge of the cage beneath. My breath caught. Even the lightest contact had my blood rushing downward again.

Her hands slid down my arms slowly until her fingers found mine and laced them together, holding me there.

I blinked up at her, stunned, as her hair fell forward like a curtain around us. An inky black veil of shadow and scent, shutting out the rest of the room. All I could see, all I could breathe, was her.

She grinned wickedly.

“So… what you think?” she asked, voice casual, as if she wasn’t already perched on top of me, dominating my entire world. “Is nice, right? The room?”

I nodded, barely trusting my voice.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I mean uh…yeah. The room is gorgeous. So are you.”

Nora tilted her head causing her hair to tickle my face, clearly amused, her hips shifting just slightly against the growing strain in my cage. My jaw clenched.

“Mm. Thought so,” she purred. Then without breaking eye contact, she shifted slightly, just enough for her ass to now sit perched entirely over the bulge of my cage.

I felt my stomach doing flips.

“Also…I felt what you try doing before. At airport.” She whispered as she let more of her weight press down on to the cage. “You think I didn’t notice?” She mused out loud. “Or maybe…maybe your way of letting me know how needy you become.” She whispered as her hips began gently rocking back and forth, grinding against me.

Struggling hard, I tried to keep my voice from cracking.

“I-I wasn’t trying to…” I started…but stopped as I realized that was a lie.

Sitting up and placing her full weight now on my throbbing member, she raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening with quiet triumph as if she could feel my cock pulsing in desperation within the confines of its prison under her. I felt her squeeze my fingers just a little tighter.

“Okay... maybe I was,” I admitted. “I couldn’t help it. You were right there, and I’d waited so long. Everything in me just... reacted.”

Her eyes didn’t leave mine. I could see the flicker of something darker there now—pleasure, control, satisfaction. She shifted again, slow, and deliberate, letting her ass drag along the line of the cage.

“Oh, I know,” she whispered, voice like silk. “You know…I can still feel how long you waited.” She emphasized by gently grinding her hips against me again, now in rhythm with every twitch, throb, and pulse, of my cock straining against its cruel prison.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my head back into the coolness of the sheets beneath me.

“It’s been torture,” I said, my voice already starting to crack. “Every day. Every call. Every picture you sent.”
I swallowed hard, eyes locking with hers as the words tumbled out.
“And every night, when you’d go into those excruciating details about what you did with your clients…”
I hesitated, my chest tightening.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About them. About everything you were doing… and would keep doing… while I was stuck so far away, feeling like I was a million miles from you.”
I took a breath, barely managing a laugh that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“And the worst part? We hadn’t even kissed yet. Not once.”

Looking up, I saw her grin soften. Her eyes glistened almost as if she were about to…

Then, before I could say a word, her lips met mine again.

It started soft, her lips barely gracing my own with their presence. Just enough to silence me, to hush the words that seemed to cause her so much heartache. Then with a pause she pulled away, looking down at me one more time to study my face. Whatever she was thinking, she didn’t speak it.

Instead, she kissed me again, truly kissed me. Her fingers squeezed against my own tightly, grounding me, anchoring me to her bed as she melted against my mouth.

This kiss was different.

There was passion, yes, but it was far deeper than that, an apology. Her lips moved with an aching slowness, pressing harder, drawing me in. And then came her tongue. Long, deliberate, she slipped it past my lips with no hesitation. I could feel the cool, hard ball of her piercing as it slid along my own tongue. She explored me with it, circling, tasting, coaxing me to give in. To submit.

And like the flip of a switch, it became messy. Desperate.

She kissed like she meant to ruin me—tongue curling deeper, teasing, dominating every inch of my mouth. Her breath came in soft huffs between each hungry press, and I could taste her—something warm, slightly sweet, tinged with that faint trace of liquor from earlier.

Every tilt of her head deepened the kiss. Her tongue tangled with mine, slow at first, then sloppier still. The piercing flicked and rolled against me in rhythmic pulses, dragging across sensitive spots I never knew I had. She moaned faintly into my mouth, a sound that vibrated through her chest and into mine—and I couldn’t help but respond with a helpless noise of my own, caged and straining beneath her. She didn’t stop. She kissed like it was her only language. Like she was telling me everything she hadn’t said in words—with lips, tongue, teeth, breath. All of it, crashing down on me like a wave.

And I let her.

Time stood still for us there, our bodies pressed against one another, tongues dancing, hips grinding…and of course the relentless throbbing that I now knew she could feel too…

But like all good things, it eventually came to an end.

She pulled back at last to catch her breath. Her tongue faintly licking her lips, as if tasting what remained of me on them. Then she looked down, smiling that same smug, contented smirk I’d grown to love.

“Almost forget need air,” she laughed, releasing my hands. Her fingers drifted lazily down my arms before settling on my chest. Sitting up now, her full weight sank onto me—and directly onto the cage beneath my pants. The pressure was maddening, but she looked entirely at ease.

I stared up at her, still vibrating with pleasure from our sudden kiss, and nodded in silence. Letting her know that her apology was more than accepted.

She lingered a little longer, perched on top of me, clearly enjoying the constant pulse beneath her as her fingers traced little hearts on my chest. Then, finally, she slid off the bed with a stretch and a teasing little sigh.

“Okay Mr. Luca. Enough fun for now. Work up big hunger and want real food now.”

Her eyes drifted downward before widening slightly in surprise. That devilish grin only grew as her gaze locked on the evidence of what she’d done.

“But… I think you need change pants first,” she teased. “Look like I make a little to excite.”

I glanced down.

Sure enough, a damp stain had spread across my crotch. Precum, pressed out by the grinding of her body against mine, had left an unmistakable mark.

“I, uh… Yeah. That’s probably a good idea,” I muttered, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

“Good boy,” she purred, already turning toward the door. “I step out. I want save surprise for later. And be quick.”

She threw one last glance at my lap, biting her lip to stifle her laugh.

“I take you to my favorite place, ja?” she said, practically bouncing out of the room, clearly proud of herself.

When the door shut behind her, I let out a long breath and rolled off the bed. My whole body ached with need. It was almost scary how easily she could leave me like this—caged, leaking, desperate. She had said she had never heard of chastity before. Had never even done anything really kinky before even with a client. Yet…

As I reached for my bag to find a change of pants, I couldn’t help but wonder: was she that excited because we were going to her favorite restaurant… or because of what she saw just before she left?