It’s a 4-blowjob night for this sissy boy

After pizza by candlelight, he calls me over to sit on
his lap. I settle my pantied bottom across his thighs
and put my arms around the back of his big neck. We
talk and kiss, doing less and less of the former, until
we’re doing almost exclusively the latter. Meanwhile
his hands have found their way under my nightie, inside
my nightie, down the back of my nightie. It feels as if
he has seven or eight hands and they are all over my
body.

He makes me admit what a slutty little girl I am. What
a dirty, cocksucking mouth I have. He has me tell him
how many men I’ve sucked off. I can feel his cock throb
under my bottom when I give him an honest answer. Gosh,
even I’m surprised: it’s a lot of cocks!

“And you swallowed every time didn’t you, you little
cunt, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes,” I whisper into his ear and that, too, I’m
perversely proud to admit, is the truth.

His cock pulses again: picture the ring of muscle that
passes through the body of one of those thick Amazonian
rainforest snakes. That’s what it feels like, something
predatory and feral and sexy that’s just woken up,
hungry and looking for dinner. That’s me: what’s for
dinner.

“You love it don’t you, you filthy bitch?”

“Yes I do.”

“You love to suck cock?”

“I love to suck cock.”

“You need it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I need it.”

“Show me.”

I slide off his lap and H stands up, undoing his belt,
then the top button of his jeans. I take over with the
zipper, getting it started with my fingers, and using
my teeth to pull it down the rest of the way. My hands
are occupied lowering H’s pants, which he steps out of
one foot at a time. I press my face against H’s crotch
and use my breath to warm his balls. Next I use my
tongue, licking him through his underwear as his cock
begins to make its way through the opening in the
front, searching me out. That’s how I know it’s time to
get down to serious business.

Kneeling on the floor at his feet, I slowly feed his
cock between my painted lips. As I work slowly up and
down the length of it, H. gets himself worked up
verbally, his sexual glossolalia growing more heated,
more aggressive, more “abusive.” Things are heating up
to that semen-boiling point where desire and violence
meet, the tipping point between tease and please, the
endocrinal trigger, the synaptical jump that separates
orgasm from everything else.

“That’s it bitch, take it, take it all.”

I open my mouth as wide as possible, take my hand away
from the base of his cock, and use both hands to cradle
and warm his balls in my palms. I might be a
pornographic priestess consecrating the holy wafer as I
look up from the floor to H-on-high, his cock planted
in my face, my lips sealed around the shaft where it
meets the curling hairs of his lower belly. This is my
favorite moment, a man’s cock half-choking me, my big,
made-up eyes looking upwards submissively, pleadingly,
gratefully…adoringly?…and him looking down, all-
powerful as every alpha male deserves to be at this
moment lord and master of me, this pale, weak, perfumed
vessel of fluff and pleasure at his feet.

Something happens at this moment, something always
magical, a transubstantiation as miraculous as any
other. It manifests like this: H cups the back of my
head in one of his big hands and jams my face into his
crotch.

His cock, which seems to have swelled to unreal
proportions to fill my entire mouth from tongue to
roof, is literally jammed against the back of my
throat. He’s begun to violently thrust his hips and the
solid stream of obscene verbal abuse that pours forth
is no longer playful, teasing, and cautious, but pure
rape-talk. It’s at these moments of unrehearsed
soliloquy that many men reveal themselves and one
understands how thin the curtain is at a given moment
between sex and violence even under the most consensual
of circumstances.

Thrillingly, even knowing H as well as I do, this voice
he’s using now it’s the voice of a stranger, a man
capable of sudden violence…a killer? Maybe! Does he
feel it, too? How much stronger, how much more powerful
he is? How I couldn’t get away unless he let me go? How
he has me totally at his mercy? How he has, quite
literally, the power of life and death over me?

I hardly ever suck cock without it turning into an
educational experience. And, indeed, I learn another
lesson during this session a practical cocksucking tip.
As H’s cock beats relentlessly against the back of my
throat, I suddenly realize that to keep from gagging
and choking it’s only necessary to constrict my throat
the way you would if you were preparing yourself to
drink something very, very cold. It stiffens the
muscles back there and makes them ever-so-less
sensitive to the insistent jabbing and stabbing of a
man’s hard cock. It just goes to show you. Even with
your nose buried in a man’s pubic hair, there’s always
something new to learn if you’re paying attention!

“You love when I cum in your mouth, don’t you, you
filthy slut?”

“Mmmnhnrghhh…”

That’s International Cocksucker for “oh god yes, I love
when you cum in my mouth! I love when you use my face
for your sexual pleasure!” and it’s understood all over
the world. Just for emphasis, I nod my head, nod, that
is, as enthusiastically as one can nod with a mouth
full of cock and I let my eyes smile between thick
lashes. Drool, warm and copious, spills from my mouth
as I moan-mumble and forms a little puddle on the floor
around my knees. How degrading! How humiliating! H
grunts with satisfaction, a leering sneer of lust
rearranging his features into those of a centaur, a
satanic satyr, the great god Pan.

He cups the back of my head again; tired of looking at
my face, no longer wanting eye-contact, requiring only
my warm mouth, the sight of my kneeling, suppliant,
submissive and defenseless body beneath his, enjoying
my helplessness and surrender, he resumes battering the
back of my throat with his cock ((how can he thrust so
hard, I wonder, doesn’t it hurt him… no, the harder
the better it seems to feel to him!)).

No longer concerned at all about my comfort indeed, he
almost seems unconcerned if I literally choke to death
or not at this point he thrusts in and out, out and in,
harder and harder, using my head like some sort of
fuck-ball, my ribboned pigtails ((as per his request))
swinging, until he starts spurting, one after another,
short, tight jets of thick cum so far down my throat I
don’t even have to swallow it’s already well on its way
to my tummy.

With a touch of gallantry, H helps me back up atop my
stilettos when he’s finished unloading and holds me
tight, until my knees stop feeling all wibbly-wobbly.
Then he guides me gently, with his finger thrust come-
hither fashion inside my ass, back to his chair, and
sits down with me once more sideways on his lap.
Meantime, he feels me up, has me ask him to please,
please kiss me on my filthy slutty cocksucking mouth,
and then he thrusts his tongue into said filthy slutty
cocksucking mouth, a.k.a. cum-bucket, piss-pot, etc.

He breaks the kiss long enough to tell me that my face
smells like I’ve been sucking cock. He wants to take me
out with his musk all over my face, women can always
tell, he says, they’ll look at you and know what a
dirty little cocksucker you are.

“Would you like that?”

I nod, eyes closed, picturing it. “Yes,” I whimper,
unnecessarily, since he’s pulled up my nightie to
reveal incontrovertible proof of how much I’d like it.
He touches the front of my panties.

“Oh look, you’ve wet yourself, baby. Are you excited?”

“Mmmm….yes,” I squeak.

He puts his finger in his mouth. “You taste good baby.”

I bury my face in his shoulder as he teases my swollen
pink clittie free at last of its confinement behind the
lace-and-rhinestone panel of my bikini-style panties.

“Feel good?”

I wiggle my ass in his lap and whimper some more. Oh
god, does it feel good, whatever he’s doing to my
clittie, it’s driving me crazy! His hand is like a
warm, intelligent vibrator, automatically synchronizing
its speed precisely to my level of arousal… set,
purposely, just one setting lower than what it would
take to take me over the edge.

“Do you want to cum, baby?”

Nodding…yes, yes, yes!!!

“Ask me to let you come, tell me what a dirty girl you
are.”

Now it’s my turn to be filled with the holy spirit, to
speak in tongues. “Please, please let me come. I’m such
a dirty… cocksucking girl… such a slut… my
face… like cock… smells of cock… I’m… a…
cocksucking… cum-swallowing… sissy-girl… oh…
oh… oh…”

I lift my head from H’s shoulder. My nightie is hiked
up over my pierced navel, my panties pulled down, and
I’m sitting side-saddle across a man’s lap as he
diddles my engorged clittie. My face smells like his
crotch. My tummy is filled with his cum. The pale
smooth flesh is exposed above my streetwalker-pink
fishnet thigh-highs. My legs extend, trembling, and
rigid as I approach orgasm, my feet arched inside the
red platform sandals, my back arched, everything seems
arched, if eyeballs could arch mine are arched…and
then it happens.

“Are you going to wet your pretty nightie,” H asks,
scarcely a moment before I start helplessly shaking and
spurting.

His hand has picked up that scarcely perceptible
quarter-speed necessary for me to achieve escape
velocity. As I shudder and gasp on his lap, achieving a
kind of feathered apotheosis, I’m lost, floating within
moments of timeless bliss, wide-eyed, blinded to
everything, I see it clearly: paradise as celestial
orgasm, just these peeks (and peaks) of pleasure, no
more, no less, and in those moments, all we could ever
desire of angels and heaven.

In the hazy, candlelit aftermath of bliss, I feel H
peel the soaked nightie from my belly with a tsk-tsk
expression of mock-disapproval.

“Look what a mess you made.”

I gaze down over my exposed tummy and purr my
contentment. He holds his palm, shining with my cum, in
front of my face.

“Lick it clean, piggy-girl.”

I lie back in his muscled arms again, close my eyes,
and softly lap the cream I’ve made, quiet little
pussycat tongue-strokes across his work-hardened
palm…I taste clean, almost sweet, it must be the
exclusive diet of fruits and veggies, nuts and oats, I
think, absently. I’m like some passive creature raised
for milk and meat, to fuck and eat, gentle, soft, and
yielding, here’s my mouth my ass my throat master…
it’s all for you.

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