I did not begin Mackenzie's story with a clear destination in mind, preferring instead to discover where she needed to go as I wrote her. As a result, I began to feel a disconnect between the early chapters and the latter ones. This updated version of "A Controlled Descent Chapter One" is an attempt to close those gaps as best I could. It is not substantially different, mostly minor tweaks and edits, along with a few additional passages that felt essential to include. It is probably hubris to think anyone will reread, but thought I should offer a brief warning just in case.
- A.
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I lay there in the dark listening to him breathe, waiting for it to become deep and regular. Sleeping men are one of my areas of expertise - knowing when it's safe to get up and avoid awkward conversations while I hunt for my clothes. I touch my fingertips to my cheek. He's all over my face, mostly dried now. I could've wiped it off on his sheets but that's not my way. Streetlights from between the slats of the venetian blinds cast prison bars across the ceiling. When he begins to snore, I slide silently out of bed. I dress quickly, although my panties are nowhere to be found. Not the first time that's happened.
I glance in the mirror. My long black hair is a twisted mess from the death grip he had on it while fucking me. I don't fix it, but instead look for something to take, eventually settling on a black comb from his dresser. In movies, serial killers always take trophies from their victims. I'm not a killer, but I'm certainly a serial offender. At home, I have a whole box full of odds and ends taken from rooms like this one. At this point, I couldn't tell you what prize belonged to what man. I find that incredibly hot for reasons that I try never to think about. Sometimes I pick something out to hold while I masturbate.
I know. I have a problem.
My purse and phone lay on the floor by his bedroom door like fallen soldiers. I scoop everything up and take one last look at Alex. Or was it Dave? Maybe Chris? What the fuck was his name?
Was
because he's already past tense to me. I rarely see anyone twice unless they really surprise me. AlexDaveChris definitely did not, so what would be the point?
I slip out of the bedroom and close the door quietly behind me. In the living room, one of his roommates is splayed out on the couch playing Call of Duty in the dark. He glances over his shoulder at me and nods a greeting before returning to his game. Guess I'm not the first girl to creep out of here in the middle of the night. A thought occurs to me, and once had, there is only one way to rid myself of it.
I've been accused of poor impulse control. Fairly, I'll be the first to admit.
Leaving my things on the kitchen counter, I circle the couch. He's wearing a T-shirt and athletic shorts.
"What's up?" he asks without looking away from his game.
"Nothing. Can I watch for a bit?"
"Yeah, whatever," he shrugs.
He makes no attempt to make room, so I sit on the floor between his legs, back against the couch. I can smell him - a mix of sweat, alcohol, and body spray. Why does that do it for me? I can feel how wet I am and put my head back, resting it on his bare thigh. He's either too cool or too shy to react. Up on the television, he doesn't falter or get distracted. I'm impressed.
"Where's Dave?" Not the question he's really asking, but we both know what he means.
Dave, his name was Dave. "Asleep."
"Cool."
I sit up on my knees and turn to face him. He's not looking at his game anymore. It's the first time I've actually seen him - not good-looking but far from the worst I've had. I take hold of the legs of his shorts and give a gentle tug. With a bemused look, he lifts his ass just enough to allow me to slide off his shorts and boxers. He's hard. I wonder if he can tell in this light that I have his roommate's dried cum on my face. Would he stop me if he knew? You never can tell with boys. To be honest, I probably wouldn't be on my knees now if I didn't.
"You're fucking hot," he says with genuine surprise and goes to put down his controller.
Such a gentleman. I tell him to keep playing and take the head of his cock in my mouth. It's a good size, bigger than his roommate's and feels solid on my tongue. He growls contentedly and his hips slide down the couch like a horse being led to water. When I glance up, he's looking at the screen not me, his fingers working the controller expertly. My pussy clenches involuntarily. There's a whole subgenre of porn where guys get head while playing video games. It never did anything for me before, but now I get it. I feel alive for the first time tonight - down on my knees where I belong, being taken for granted. Not all girls enjoy giving head, not even sluts like me, but I do. I always have. I'll happily suck a cock for an hour If I'm given space to relax and do my thing. I find it very peaceful and Zen. The chewed-up ends of all the pens I've ever owned are a testament to my abiding oral fixation.
Time passes, my mind empties pleasantly. It's just me and his cock, slick and hot. I want it all in my mouth, and there's a wet spot on the couch beneath his balls to prove it. He doesn't seem to mind my struggle either and leaves me to fight the good fight. I press him against my throat barrier again and again until finally I feel the pop as it slides home. My throat immediately tries to reject him, but I fight the urge, my back arching involuntarily. I had a frustratingly sensitive gag reflex as a teenager, and it took a hell of a lot of practice to learn how to control it. More than one mad dash to the nearest toilet too, hand over my mouth so vomit didn't get everywhere. All part of my ten thousand hours of practice on the long and winding road to being the whore I am today.
I grab hold of his hips and use it as leverage to force myself down on him, gradually accelerating while remembering to breathe. The controller falls into his lap, and his hand slips around the back of my head. I worry he's going to ruin his blowjob. Some guys don't know what's in their best interests at times like this, more concerned with recreating porn they've seen than the experience their having, but thankfully he doesn't interfere with my rhythm. His hand is just resting there, moving with me like a silent dance partner until the very end, when it holds me down as he grunts, tenses, and empties himself down my throat. Most I swallow, but there's a lot of him and some runs down my chin. A lot of girls will stop now, thinking they're done, but I know better and keep working him all the way through his orgasm. He shivers and tries to push me off, but I am locked onto his oversensitive cock like a python. Eventually he slumps back in surrender while I clean him off and then gently set down his cock.
I lick my lips as I stand and straighten my skirt. As if that's going to make a difference.
