Daily Affirmation:
I am a human garbage bin
collecting cum meant for better women.
I am lucky to be used at all.
***
We worked through some details carefully, as best as we could, discussing what I was willing to try and where I'd draw the line. We understood that this was not a mathematical equation- the line itself was its own pulsing, breathing creature. Shadowy and unfamiliar. The whole fucking thing could be a myth, or might bear enough teeth to devour us both, so we prodded at its shape gently. Trying to understand.
You were Aladdin,
I was your Jasmine,
and the flying carpet of depravity was our guide.
A whole new world of orgasms.
We started out small, in public. At bars and in clubs, where women were dressed to be noticed and appreciated. I begged to hear you unfiltered, and slowly the firewall between your cock and your mouth came down. I felt like the ultimate voyeur, hearing these thoughts. Like you were the voice for all men and I'd volunteered my ear, trembling, the weakest representative of my kind.
God, I loved it.
Sometimes you were sweet, telling me how beautiful or gorgeous someone was. How elegant. How graceful. Well-dressed. Qualities I envied as much as their figures.
Other times you were crass. Muttering quick, simple observations without restraint.
"Her fucking ass," you'd groan.
"Watch the way she walks."
"Fuck, those tits are unreal."
Sometimes, when you really wanted to get me primed, you'd flip the script. Turning your thoughts against me.
"You could never pull off that dress."
"She should teach you how to put on makeup."
"I can't believe I gave this up for you."
There was some bizarre ratio happening, some slutty inverse; the closer I came to crying the harder I actually came. It was inexplicable yet undeniable, and I loved you even more for understanding. You'd hold me afterwards, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead, reminding me how much you adored every single piece of me.
But during sex you were a monster. My fucking monster. I'd willed you into existence and the consequence was for my body to take.
Keep your torches to yourselves,
I thought, grasping at our headboard. Panties stuffed into my mouth.
I want to be devoured.
***
We'd soon progressed to movies and shows, so when you selected some popcorn rom-com for our night in, I knew I'd be in for a treat. I had no disrespect for the lead as an actress, but I understood that we weren't viewing her film as discerning members of The Academy. And to be honest, I didn't care either way...if we were having a staring contest with her figure, I was willing to bet you'd blink first.
We got maybe fifteen minutes in when you told me to pull down my shirt.
I was wearing a skimpy pink tank top and faded pajama shorts, a bit loose around my hips. I slid each strap off my shoulders gently and tugged the fabric around my ribs, exposing my small, eager breasts, illuminated by the glow of our tv.
"Play with them while you watch," you ordered, your voice low.
I teased each breast slowly, thoughtfully, imagining how much better her body would feel beneath your hands, filling my palm with my own firm and inadequate peaks. Wondering how many other women you'd touched. The ways you would touch her. I circled my fingers around my soft and swollen areolas until my nipples stiffened, watching the hourglass of her shape, my hips undulating on their own. Desperate for something to fuck.
"Tell me why she's better than you," you instructed. "Touch your pussy while you do it."
I dove into my panties without hesitation and felt my clit drowning in a sea of arousal, my fingers bravely navigating the crisis. I rubbed it violently while tugging my tight nipples until I gasped. Abusing my body for not being hers.
I pointed out her obvious assets first. Breasts. Ass.
But I liked her hips and her narrow waist better than my boyish one.
Her smooth, tanned complexion.
I didn't mind my dark hair at all, but I'd seen enough of your porn to understand that some gentlemen really do prefer blondes, so I pointed that out too.
Her confidence.
Her mouth.
Each feature punctuated by a moan.
"You want to know the truth?" You asked me, your voice hauntingly still.
"Yes," I whispered, my back arched. Breathing heavily.
"My dick gets harder seeing her fully clothed than looking at you half-naked, playing with yourself."
Fuck
.
I dive my fingers into my pussy as it clenches, rubbing just beside my clit with my thumb. Juicing every bit of inferiority from my body.
I don't even have time to recover before you tell me to come make myself useful and suck on your dick.
I start to lift my shirt back up but you tell me to leave them out. That it's better than nothing, you guess. I kneel beside you and suck your thick cock as sloppily as I can, coating your warm, tight flesh with my saliva. I choke a little when you hold my head down but you keep it there until the first small heave. I pull your cock out of my mouth, a rope of drool between us, my eyes tearing up. I'd been practicing like you told me too.
"Use your tits," you urge, lightly fondling one as it hangs, or rather, protrudes, softly pointed.
"Um, what?" I ask, confused.
"I want to fuck your tits while I watch the movie," you explain.
Right. Ok. It seems a bit silly, a sort of first-boyfriend request, but harmless enough for once. I hop off the couch to grab some lube.
I spread a generous squirt over my skin and rub my body until I glisten, slowly teasing my hard nipples, the warm light of the television dancing behind my back. You turn on a small tableside lamp and pull out your phone.
"You want a video of this?" I ask nervously. You are allowed to record me, but it always stays between us, despite any arousing threats to the contrary. Those were the rules.
You shrug. "Make me cum or it's going in the group chat."
I swallow, a familiar dread and excitement coursing through me. A deeply rooted fear of anyone we know seeing what a desperate slut I was. Did your friends already know? Had they heard how far I'd tumbled? How much further I was willing to go?
To hell with it either way, it was time to work.
Now, I'd seen titfucking in porn, of course, but I'd never tried it before. Most of the women performing it were fairly well endowed, but I'd seen some petite women rub a man to completion too.
How hard could it be
, I thought?
I gave your tip a final flick of my tongue and pushed my breasts firmly together, attempting to create a satisfying well of cleavage to tuck your cock between.
Nope
. They rebelled against contact almost immediately, slipping back apart like spiteful siblings who'd been forced to hug.
