Susie Goes Deep Kink

So, there are these hot threads on breeding, impregnation kinks and "cumming inside", and these are all my kinks.

And that got Susie's thinking all twisty and kinky.

I had to explore this further, and did you know there are powerful and secretive 'deep-kink' societies dedicated to ruling porn search terms and discussion threads. Don't ask me to explain. I think they're just looking for validation.

"I put out some feelers," I say to BF. We were making a quick lunch in the kitchen.

"Feelers?"

"Yeah, there's a deep-kink breeding, impregnation society I'm trying to penetrate."

"Why?"

"Seriously? You're not going to make a joke about 'penetrating' a deep-kink breeding society? You're not going to say something like: Are you going in unprotected? And I'll say, No, I'm going in 'undercover'. Get it? And you'll say, what if your cover is broken? And I'll say: Then it could be a nine month mission. Get it? Get it?"

"Are you going to finish that peanut-butter?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

Then BF was stuffing his lunch into his lunchbox (he pours concrete and is built like a concrete truck). In the evenings he reads novels. Sometimes I wish he'd just be normal and watch Bridgerton or Dr Who, but after he's left his female (meaning me) dazed, on her hands and knees, ass up, her insides sprayed with spunk, he'll pick up where he left off, all intellectual, reading Steinbeck or Kevin Barry or Amor Towles or his favorite, John Updike. There's something about seeing those huge hands, hands that break me like a twig, delicately leafing through the collected short stories of Dostoyevsky that triggers me. Is that a kink? The brainy man built like a brick-house and with a cock like a battering ram? He's a slam and hold it there, man. I could squirm, kick, and claw, but that cock would just keep pumping seed. Is that a kink? It's the best of both worlds. I melt before him. My pussy belongs to him. He can use my pussy however he wants. He can fill it whenever--"

"You okay, Babe?" he asks.

"What?"

"You need a load in your pussy."

"The fuck? Is that all you ever think about?"

"Bend over."

"I'm more than just my body--I'm a genius erotic writer."

"Bend over."

When he leaves ten minutes later, I'm bent over by the entry hall closet, legs straight, legs spread, holding onto my ankles and my pussy swimming in jizz. "Am I just a cunt to you?" I asked him as he filled my cunt. As soon as I straighten it will spill down my thighs and into the underwear stretched between my thighs. I stay like that for a minute, just to let his jizm (don't you just love all the words for it?) work its way into my reproductive system, really get in deep. I can almost feel it oozing into my abdomen. Sometimes I can have another orgasm just from that feeling. Sometimes.

And when I do, each gasm squeezes cum down my thighs.

That didn't happen this time.

But I did get a letter from the Illumeroti saying my membership card was ready--a secretive organization dedicated to seeding women, (otherwise known as 'Men') but totally a conspiracy. (Can conspiracy be a kink?)

I went to the secret meeting place of the Illumeroti on a Thursday evening. It was in the municipal library. I mean, in case you're wondering, libraries aren't really about books. The books are just a front. Every conspiratorial organization --ever-- has a room at the local library.

I handed over the card they'd sent me.

When they said I was going to be playing Russian roulette, I said, "No way!" And then they said, "Not that kind. Nobody dies. Just the opposite. And you'll be well-compensated."

"How well?"

"A quarter of a million."

"Where do I sign?"

Next I was blindfolded, shepherded through a door somewhere between the 500s and 600s, and told to undress. Yeah. Okay. Such is life for women in erotic fantasies. Seems like guys are always telling us to get naked. You'd think they would come up with something more original.

Anyway...

There were five of us. All of us were here to live out our breeding, impregnation, cumming inside kink. Our hands were tied behind our backs with a black ribbon and there was a velvety black bow tied round our necks. Don't ask. Then we were led into this big circular room.

A man, hooded and gagged, was tied to a narrow steel bench with black vinyl cushions. I knew there was an incomprehensibly evil genius at work. His pelvis was forced upwards and his cock stood straight--like they'd given him three doses of Viagra. He was already moaning, his cock twitching every now and then. You could tell he was full of milk. He was leaking that clear fluid that guys leak when they're really in need of a woman. There were five seats--quote-unquote in a circle. Each time they turned one click, like a roulette wheel, the next pussy would be above the man's cock. All of us faced the middle and each of us had to fuck him, sliding up and down, counting to thirty before the next woman was rotated over his cock. Eventually, like a gun, he was going to go off inside one of us.

Each of us climbed into a seat, and then we were spun like you'd spin the barrel of a pistol. Suddenly there was a field of butterflies in my stomach. This was for real. That cock was going to go off in one of us. One of us was going to walk away with a uterus loaded with come.

And then I woke up and it was all a dream.

Kidding! Just kidding. Would I do that to you?

Nah. You're in the audience watching from the outskirts of the unlit room. You're all filthy rich upper class socialites who paid big money to see one of us conceive. You're all dressed to the nines. Women, you're wearing dresses or skirts with nothing underneath. If you come here, that's the rule. Maybe nothing happens, maybe your husband takes you or maybe he watches you be taken. That's up to you, honey, but if you're anything like me, I know what you're thinking.

Oh, and all that money you paid? Half of it goes to us because one of us is going to carry a stranger's baby.

Stranger-kink!

So. Where was I? When we stopped spinning, the man's cock was under the woman across from me. She looked at each of us, bit her lip, then closed her eyes. Then she lowered herself until the guy's cock was buried balls deep inside her. That was the rule. If you weren't moving, he had to be balls deep. The guy under her squirmed and groaned. Next she was all determination and strategy. There wasn't much chance he was going to blow right away, so she rode him hard and fast, swiveling her pelvis, bringing him closer so that he would go off in the next woman. He squirmed. She exhaled with each descent until she had counted to thirty, then slipped off. Her pussy had soaked his cock. We were rotated one click to the right.

The next woman screwed up her courage and took him into her abdomen until the little mouth of his cock kissed her cervix. He was bigger than she expected. "1", she said out loud. Then "2", then "3", and then her eyes fluttered with pleasure, fear and confusion as she moved faster and finally reached 30. She looked like she couldn't believe he hadn't shot off inside her. All the while, the guy in the hood was struggling against his bondage. That's when it dawned on me that he was also in it for the risk. If he could just last until we went three times around, then we would all be freed. He was trying to keep his cum in his balls. 30 up and downs the first round, then 20 ups and downs the second, then 10.

Can you imagine what that must have been like for him?

Five women riding his cock--five females milking him for cum?

Next was my turn.

I admit I might have grunted. He was wider than I expected and went deeper. This was a big gun, It was loaded and I was riding it. My kink?--was totally activated. My lips kissed his balls. Then it was all I could do not to move. He stiffened, hyperventilating, and I felt him twitch inside me. At first I didn't move. Just being inside a woman's body can trigger some guys, and he was squirming like his cock was desperate to escape.

Okay, so you know how a cock is a power trip for guys? So is a pussy.

Imagine having a guy under you, his hands and feet tied. Imagine you've got his cock trapped inside you. He doesn't want to be there, but he has to spill his nuts to get out. There's nothing better for spilling a man's nuts than that dark mystery in a woman's belly. We nuzzle his cock like he was already a little baby inside us, with sweet ups and downs, with feminine backs and forths. And then right in the middle of our climb to orgasm, we impregnate ourselves. That's the trick nature plays on us.

Anyway, all those thoughts were going through my head.

Could I make him? Could I force him to come? But I didn't. I counted to 25 then froze. He was breathing short little breaths and I felt his cock grow and harden just like they do before they shoot. The rule is: If we stop, we have to stop balls deep. So I stopped and I felt his cock getting harder and longer and pressing against my cervix-- but I didn't move and his cock was slowly a little less swollen. My next 5 ups and downs were slow. I'm not sure that was any better because when I finally pulled off of him, I saw him twitch hard. Our musical chairs clicked once to the right.

He must have come down from his almost orgasm.

We went all the way around and back to me. Now I only need to count to 20, but from his perspective, the fucking was relentless. As soon as one succulent pussy rose from his cock, another descended and pumped him. Now he was mewling like a little kitten. The bulb of his cock was shining, swollen to the limit, and ready to pop. There must have been something about my pussy because, once again, I felt him swell like I'd just cocked his gun. As it were. I felt him twitch and I froze. More twitching didn't follow. I was lucky he didn't go off inside me.

The musical chairs clicked again, then again, then it was once more time for blondie, the youngest one among us, to take up and into herself. Her eyes fluttered as she slid down and the lips of her pussy kissed his balls. She counted to ten and then froze. She mouthed the words, He's getting bigger!

Don't move!--we shook our heads. Don't move!

But maybe because of her youth, we saw her eyes begin to roll and we saw her silently mouth the words, I'm cumming! I can't stop it! I'm cumming.

She did everything she could to stop the orgasm, but sometimes a girl's body knows what it wants. (Cue all you guys saying, millions of years of evolution!) Her sharp little breaths turned into squeals. She came--tight, involuntary spasms. They squeezed his cock against her will. Her head was thrown back. Her orgasm was too good for breathing. The guy under her was like a drawn bow, then her eyes grew wide and she gave dazed and tragic cries with every spurt that impregnated her.

When they removed us from that sick and twisted roulette table, they made her turn around and bend over so that everyone could see how full of cum she was.

The four of us who didn't have cum swimming toward our eggs were given a complimentary library card (compliments of the Illumeroti) and an invitation to play again--and also that 250,000 dollar check.

Would you do it?

Would you play breed-me roulette for a quarter of a million?

Anyway, I had a lot of explaining to do.

Did you get the library card? BF asks. I mean, Jesus. I crumbled. I folded like a cheap skirt. I confessed everything and he says, For fuck's sake, why can't you just be normal? I swear to God, babe. Only you would pick up a library card and turn it into a deep-kink dive into the Illumeroti. What the fuck even is that? The Illumeroti? Then BF picks up John Updike, kicks back and says, You aren't going to write that on some porn site are you? I'd give it two stars. No. One. One fucking star. You know why? Because how the fuck would a roulette table like that even work? And where the fuck is that that 250,000?

Groceries, I say. You wouldn't believe the price of eggs.

Yrs, in love, Susie Suede: All true. No lies.