("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2009. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- A Tale Of Four Blowjobs by Kimmie Holland (thefreakbox.blogspot.com) *** It's a 4-blowjob night for this sissy. Here's the first one. (MM, tg, cd, oral) *** 1. First Time (That Night) He Used My Face... 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. To be continued... The thought pleases me. For more stuff by us—pictures, art, vidclips, real-life experiences, & assorted nonsense, please visit: http://thefreakbox.blogspot.com/ http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fStoreID=336055&fMode= edit * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world contract HIV every year. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 62