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    A Tale of Four Blowjobs – 2

    9 June, 2018 (13:15) | Gay Sex Stories | By: admin

    by Kimmie Holland (address withheld)
    
    ***
    
    A sissy goes to sleep with a cock in her mouth -- and 
    wakes up with a cock in her mouth. (MM, tv, oral)
    
    ***
    
    2. Pillow Talk with a Mouthful 
    
    Having changed into a short black chemise, I tiptoe 
    around the bed and slip under the blankets next to H. 
    His big body radiates heat and has already warmed the 
    sheets. This is my favorite part of the evening. I curl 
    up, snuggle close, almost clinging to him, like a koala 
    bear on a eucalyptus tree. He puts a heavily-muscled 
    arm around my waist and pulls me even closer, his hand, 
    burning like a brand, resting possessively on the bare 
    cheek of my ass, a.k.a. his ass, as he occasionally 
    likes to remind me.
    
    "Whose ass is this?" he'll ask, giving me a playful�if 
    still stinging�slap on the bottom. Or sticking his 
    finger inside me without preamble.
    
    "Yours."
    
    "Don't forget it."
    
    "I won't."
    
    From where I lie nestled against his hairy chest, I 
    stare up at the shadows of the roses that he brought me 
    earlier in the evening; they're dancing hypnotically on 
    the ceiling in the scant light of a scented tea candle. 
    H. begins to reminisce in the dark. He's recalling the 
    night he took me to an upscale restaurant along the 
    shore. I was wearing an itsy-bitsy backless black mini-
    dress, silver heels, black thigh-highs. He tells me 
    that as we walked up the stairs to the dining room he 
    could see the exposed place between the tops of my 
    stockings and my sheer panties. 
    
    "I swear," H says, "every guy at the bar turned and 
    probably caught the same view." 
    
    "You think?"
    
    "Oh yes baby. They caught a glimpse of that tight sweet 
    ass of yours."
    
    "Do you think they'd want to fuck me?"
    
    "Oh I know they'd want to fuck you. You'd like that, 
    too, wouldn't you?"
    
    "Definitely."
    
    He lifts my hand off his shoulder and directs it under 
    the sheets. His cock is stiffening.
    
    "Next time we go away, I'm going to have you ask the 
    desk clerk for the key and tell him you can't wait to 
    get to the room so you can give your boyfriend a 
    blowjob. Let me hear you say it, baby."
    
    I do, in my best sissygirl voice, like a spoiled Lolita 
    pouting for her cherry lollipop.
    
    "Would you do that, baby? Next time we go away?"
    
    I'm momentarily returned to my senses. Most probably, H 
    is still only fantasizing, and is only looking for me 
    to play along, but, then again, I'm not so sure. We've 
    ended up actually doing many of the things that started 
    out�and seemed to me at the time�only fantasies. For 
    all I know, a week from now I could be standing in the 
    shabby lobby of some David Lynchian motor lodge at two 
    a.m. trying to force out these very words to an 
    unamused homophobic clerk who'd like to see me at the 
    end of a pitchfork. 
    
    "Well," I say, with a balance and objective 
    philosophical honesty not often found in pillow-talk 
    (or any talk, for that matter), "I'd probably be too 
    humiliated and nervous to get the words out. How about 
    if you said something to the desk clerk like 'she can't 
    wait to get upstairs to suck my cock' and then you can 
    turn to me and say 'isn't that right, baby' and I'll 
    like lick my lips and purr, 'oh yes�'"
    
    "Hmm," H says, "I like that. Maybe you can give the 
    clerk a little sample of what you do best. I know you'd 
    have no trouble with that, would you, you little slut?"
    
    "Oh you know I wouldn't," I murmur teasingly into his 
    ear. "I'd suck off anyone you told me to suck off if I 
    knew it would get you hard."
    
    "I know you would baby. You'd do anything to please me, 
    wouldn't you?"
    
    "Oh yes�I would. Anything." 
    
    Under the sheets, his cock now fills my hand. I can 
    feel it sliding, hot and hard, along my creased palm, 
    the smooth already-slick viper head of it nestled 
    against my inner wrist. No way is he going to be able 
    to get to sleep with this between his legs.
    
    "Look what you did, you naughty girl."
    
    "What I did?" I nibble playfully at his neck. 
    
    Under the sheets, both hands go to work. I tease the 
    underside of his cock with my fingertips, gently 
    manipulate the foreskin up and down around the glans. I 
    cup his balls, lightly run my fingernails over them. 
    
    "I think you're going to have to use that filthy mouth 
    of yours again. What do you think?"
    
    I smile and nod. "I think so too."
    
    "Better get to it then, baby. Show me what that dirty 
    mouth is good for. Show me what a sissy cocksucker you 
    are."
    
    And so I scoot down beneath the sheets and slowly feed 
    H's erection between my lips. Lying on his back, hands 
    behind his head on the pillow, he groans his 
    satisfaction.
    
    "That's it baby," he says softly, contentedly. "Take it 
    all."
    
    My hair hangs over my head as I bend over his crotch. 
    The room is quiet except for the sound of my diligent 
    slurping. H is in no hurry; he's taking his time. This 
    is the way he'd like to fall asleep every night, I'd 
    bet, slowly sucked to complete relaxation, his last few 
    ounces of tension squirted out into the warm and 
    willing mouth of his girl-slave-wife-whore-geisha-
    bitch-sissy. 
    
    After a bit, I lay my head lightly on the warm pillow 
    of H's stomach and continue to suck, changing the angle 
    and facilitating the ejaculation I can tell is nearing. 
    There is a thin rod of buzzing�is it muscle, seminal 
    fluid?�it's hard to tell exactly what it is but I feel 
    it between my lips whenever H is getting ready to cum. 
    It reminds me of the glowing filament in an electric 
    bulb. When I sense it, that is my cue to lock in on the 
    rhythm of my hand and mouth, coordinating them to his 
    thrusts, letting him take over and dictate the pace as 
    he begins bucking his hips off the mattress and pushing 
    his now fully engorged�and engaged�cock in and out of 
    my mouth. 
    
    Soon I'm rewarded with a spill of precum spreading 
    across my tongue. I tighten my lips, forming a wet seal 
    around his slippery shaft, tighten the ring of my 
    fingers; my mouth, he says, feels like a hot wet pussy. 
    I feel a rush of pride. The strangest things can make 
    you happy.
    
    Within a matter of seconds, H lets out a loud groan, 
    then another even louder, and a third loudest of all. A 
    far-off part of me wonders what the couple downstairs 
    must be thinking�all night long my heels click-clock-
    clocking across the uncarpeted wood floors, then the 
    occasional "cocksucker" "slut" "bitch" escaping, still 
    audible, from H's erotic chitchat, and finally the 
    rumbling roaring-groan of the male primate giving 
    triumphant voice to its full sexual satisfaction at the 
    moment of conquest. 
    
    They know there isn't a woman living here and they've 
    no doubt seen H coming�and seen him leaving�often in 
    the morning. Just from the look of him it would be 
    obvious that H wasn't the "slut" and "bitch" they hear 
    being ordered to her knees. That it's not me groaning 
    with animal pleasure as I release the contents of my 
    genitals into a compliant mouth. They might, by now, 
    even be rolling their eyes as they lie in the bedroom 
    under mine, and saying to each other, "That fairy 
    upstairs is at it again."
    
    It almost seems odd to me, not that it doesn't make a 
    difference anymore what the neighbors think, but that 
    it ever made a difference to begin with. If I reserve 
    any of my former shame at all, it's hardly more than an 
    old reflex, a vestigial remnant of an instinctual 
    defensiveness to hide myself behind a flimsy fa�ade of 
    "manhood" that has long outlived its utility. I'm 
    talking about the terror of being caught, found out, 
    and named: sissy, fairy, faggot, pansy. Just the 
    opposite�I now take a kind of perverse pride, a 
    humiliated distinction in being a sissy who is so 
    obviously good at pleasing my man. 
    
    I imagine the people downstairs must be wondering at my 
    cocksucking skills as they overhear H's orgasmic 
    vocalizations�not the first and not the last of the 
    night. Speaking of which it now feels like an 
    adamsapple is moving up and down inside H's cock; at 
    the apex of this muscular knot's rise to the crown of 
    his cock another burst of semen squirts into my mouth, 
    which I dutifully swallow before the next is delivered. 
    With a slow, gentle, rhythmic squeezing of my hand, I 
    milk out every last drop.
    
    For a while afterwards, I lay there with my head on H's 
    groin, his cock still in my mouth, still semi-hard, the 
    crown still so sensitive and enlarged that it's only 
    with difficulty and considerable care that I can open 
    my mouth wide enough to take it out. I gently lick his 
    penis clean, avoiding the super-sensitive glans, and, 
    finally, gently wipe everything dry with a soft cloth 
    beside the bed. H gathers me up in his arms, kisses me, 
    plays with my nipple rings, tells me how good it felt, 
    but he's already losing the battle to sleep. I listen 
    to his breathing growing deeper and deeper, his 
    conversation lapsing into longer and longer silences, 
    and then ceasing altogether. 
    
    He's asleep; this great big man in my bed is asleep, 
    his cum in my belly, his heavy arms encircling me. It's 
    a wonderful feeling, being protected and possessed�the 
    sensuality of it something most men never experience 
    and, after all, being men, why would they want to? I 
    wriggle around a bit until H is spooning me in a comfy 
    position. I work my practically bare ass into his lap; 
    and dammit, if he isn't getting hard again, even now 
    that he is sound asleep and dreaming!
    
    ***
    
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