Interview With The Bimbo 1

The party was already in full swing when she arrived. All heads turned, as one after another, people were no doubt told; 'Don't look now, but...". She was something of a spectacle; everything about her screamed bimbo.

She was of average height, but improbable build. Her generous bubble butt and wide hips were incongruous with her slim legs. The slender limbs suggested her flat abdomen might actually be natural. Her tits almost certainly weren't. Real breasts that large seldom jutted out so prominently, particularly since her thin top would have revealed the sturdy bra those monsters would require.

Yes, from the neck down, she was classic bimbo. But in itself, her body would have commanded more respectful admiration than the blatant ogling that was going on. The lack of discretion could only be blamed on her face; specifically, her outrageously augmented lips. Her lower lip was almost certainly plumped, but rarely do you see an upper lip fatter than the lower. There was no way to deny it - she had blow-up sex doll lips. It was borderline comical.

She seemed to know several of the hosts' friends. She fell into a small circle of couples, and I watched with keen interest as men would approach her and engage in conversation. She was pleasant to each, giving them their chance to impress. She'd flash them a million-dollar smile, then say a few words; after which they would invariably walk away. To her credit, none looked pissed off or dejected. She must get a lot of practice, I thought.

All the while I watched her, I couldn't take my eyes off her lips. And I couldn't get my mind out of the gutter. The one that's full of cocksuckers, all on their knees.

I imagined my cock, rigid and throbbing; pointed directly at that mouth. In my naughty tableau, her obscenely fat lips don't even part for me; I just push in and force my cock between them. Her jaw automatically falls open, and her mouth engulfs me without a struggle. I'm thick, but her lips make my cock look thin. I imagine the massive cocks that have been in this mouth, pumping their slimy cum down her slut throat. How many did she beg for? How many just took her, knowing it was what she wanted?

I break free of my reverie in time to see the biggest stud in the room get the same courteous brush-off as all the others. I look around and take stock. It seems every man who isn't accompanied tonight has taken their shot, so I approach her.

"Hi, I'm Randy."

"What a coincidence, I am too!"

"What? Oh, no. I mean... that's my name, Randy. And you are...?"

"Brooklyn; I'm Brooklyn."

"Pleased to meet you, Brooklyn. Look, we don't know each other, but seeing as how you've gracefully shot down every eligible guy in this room, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're here for something else. I guess I am too, although I didn't realize what it was until I saw you."

"Oh? And what did you realize you're here for?"

"To learn from you. To talk to you, on the chance that you might talk to me."

"And yet you stood back and watched every other hungry guy in here hit on me. Were you that confident I wouldn't say yes to one of them?"

"No, in fact, I fully expected you would. I simply knew that I couldn't compete. I mean, look at me; I'm a pot-bellied, middle-aged man who wasn't even particularly attractive when he was 20. And look at you. I mean, I know

you

look at you all the time. Anyone who looks like you... well, it comes with the territory, I would think."

"You sayin' I'm a narcissist?"

She surprised me with that one. I had fallen into the stereotype trap -- airhead bimbo. This woman was certainly a bimbo, but apparently not an airhead. Excellent!

"No ma'am, not at all. I just mean a person who has had that much... work... done, has had to have spent a lot of time looking in the mirror, assessing the situation with the critical eye of a sculptor."

"Well, ya' got me on that! How do you know so much about it? You a doc, or something?"

"No, no; just a writer trying to do some research."

"You're writing about augmentation procedures?"

"No, it's just background. I write fiction, and my main character has had extensive work done. I just wanted to understand where she might be coming from, and I found there are pieces of the puzzle that aren't in psych research studies. No offense here -- just an honest question; why do you do it? Specifically your lips, I mean."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened, to the extent that was possible. In spite of how I had prefaced the question, I feared I had, in fact, offended her.

"Why specifically my lips?"

Because they're so over-the-top, and because they're so highly visible. They're simply impossible to ignore."

"There's your answer. I want to put it in everyone's face. Make it obvious. I want them to know what I'm all about."

"And you're all about... fellatio?"

"That's right. I'm a cocksucker, and I want every man who meets me to know it. As for the women; they can just deal."

"Fascinating. And you want all the men to know because... "

"Because I can't get enough. I love sucking cock. Especially strange cock."

"So, that's it then." It didn't make sense that she had shot down all those guys, but I was stuck on the fact that her motivation was so... pedestrian.

I inadvertently allowed my disappointment to register on my face. She said,

"What do you mean, 'that's it'?"

"I'm sorry, I just hoped there might be a little more to it. You know, for the sake of my story. I guess I imagined some psychological motivation that I could use to reveal my character in more depth."

"Oh, there's more. I just told you the main reason, because that in itself is more than enough."

"So, what else is there?"

She gave me a final assessment, apparently concluding I was harmless and interesting enough.

"Alright, let me illustrate with a hypothetical. Take any woman in this room; say... her, for instance."

She pointed out a woman roughly her own age, and as normal looking as you could get.

"I don't know her" she said, "do you?"

"No" I answered.

"Good. Okay, pretend for a minute that she's a world-class cocksucker, and it's widely known that she is; and that she takes on all cummers. How do you imagine she'd be regarded by those lucky enough to receive her services?"

"I would imagine she'd be very popular."

"Indeed. But I was thinking about emotions. Perhaps gratitude, maybe even affection. Sound plausible?"

"Sure." I had no idea where she was going, but I continued to be impressed by her intelligence. Embarrassing to admit, but it was just so unexpected. I couldn't help feeling drawn by this woman; attracted in a way I would have never guessed.

"Now you can stop imagining. She's not a world-class cocksucker, I am. And everybody in this room pretty much knows it, or at least assumes it. And when I give them what they want, how do you think they regard me?"

"Oh, I see. Yeah. I guess they probably don't have the same respect for you, do they?"

"You could say that." she chuckled. "But more to the point, they objectify me. They call me names while they use me. Nasty names, filthy names. And I

fucking love it!

The only thing that gets me hotter than sucking strange dick, is being called the most degrading things you can imagine, being shamed and humiliated for what I'm doing, by the man I'm servicing. I've actually orgasmed from that, without even touching myself."

"Excellent! I mean... aw hell, you know what I mean. It's perfect for the character! Would you mind if I used you? Wait -- no; I mean, would you mind if I used you as the main character in my story?"

"I don't see why not. Maybe you can even make me famous!"

"Uh, I seriously doubt it. You see, my stories only get published online, to a niche audience."

"Is that a euphemistic way to say you write dirty stories, Randy?"

"Ha! You got me. Alright, so if I can be permitted to get a bit analytical here, I just want to make sure I've got this straight. You're love for degradation... I assume a psychologist would diagnose you as suffering from low self-esteem?"

"Well, if he did, he'd be wrong. I don't

suffer

from low self-esteem. I embrace it. I

revel

in it!"

Her self-awareness put the icing on the cake, as far as my character was concerned.

"Amazing. Thank you, Brooklyn. This might be the most fun story I have ever written!"

A beat later, I noticed something odd.

"Huh, look at those guys on the stairs. It looks like they're in a line. I wonder if the downstairs bathroom is out of commission?"

Brooklyn smirked but offered no comment. I remembered I had one more question for her.

"Tell me, those guys who hit on you... how'd you shoot them down so gracefully? What did you tell them that got them to go away so pleased, even happy?"

"I told them they could be a car in the train I was going to pull with my mouth tonight."

"What! Holy fuck! You're serious, aren't you? Ho-leee fuuuucck!"

"Ha ha ha! The look on your face! Priceless! But c'mon, you can't be that shocked. I mean, what better way to further encourage my objectification? And guess what? I want you to be the caboose in that train. I want you to be the last guy that uses me tonight. The one that gets to have me at my filthiest. Covered in spit and cum, throat stretched open, tongue out, a full-on cocksucking cum slut. Does that sound like something you might enjoy?"

"Jesus, what do you think? Hell yes! This has got to be the best thing that's happened to me in years!"

"Oh, it could get better. Way better, if you want. You see, I'm friends with the hostess, Jane over there..."

She waved and indeed, Jane - who I knew as Bob's wife - waved back, then glanced at the line on the stairs and smiled. Suddenly the penny fell. The line on the stairs was the train, it just wasn't moving yet, because I was keeping the engine occupied.

"... and Jane has helped me arrange this party, which is a mix of some of their friends and neighbors, plus a lot of guys I invited over the course of the last few weeks. Now, here's where it gets good for you: I'm going to be using the upstairs guest bedroom; and it has, as you might expect, a closet."

My eyes lit up. My immediate thought was it had a gloryhole set up for her, but that didn't make sense; everyone had already seen her.

"I'm going to be seated on the bed as much as possible, just to keep from blowing out my knees. If you want, you can be in the closet. It's got those accordion doors, and if you keep them cracked a bit, you'll have a good view of the bed. I'll even try to give you a side angle, when I can manage it. So, whaddaya say? Wanna watch me suck cocks?"

"I'm in! What do I do?"

"Okay, here's the plan. We need to get you in that bedroom without the guys at the head of the line seeing you go in. You're going to go upstairs, all the way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. I'll follow a few seconds later and work the line a bit, just to get all eyes on me. I'll cause enough commotion for you to hear. When you're ready, you flush the toilet to let me know you're about to come out. I'll be at the other end of the hall, and I'll distract them long enough for you to slip into the bedroom. It will be the first door on your left.

Then, just make yourself comfortable in the closet and wait. And don't you dare spill your load in there! Remember, caboose, you're the anchor man in this relay, and I'm not pullin' no empty cars!"

I couldn't help but admire her single-mindedness, even if she was mixing metaphors. I suddenly had a thought.

"Is there any chance... that maybe I could use what I'm about to see, as the main action in my story?"

"Honey, I wouldn't have it any other way. And for the sake of your readers, as well as all those lovely gentlemen over there, I will give it my absolute best effort. I hope you all have the time of your life!"

She stood up and motioned me to do the same, then pointed me toward the stairs.

"Remember, flush; then first door on your left. Now get that little caboose up those stairs."

She patted my butt and walked toward Jane, no doubt to make final arrangements. I walked up the stairs, sharing unsettling glances with the line of men as I passed them. They'd never remember me, but I was confident I would never forget them.

I went into the bathroom, where sure enough, the first two guys at the head of the line watched me all the way down the hall. When I got in and closed the door, I didn't have to pee, so I stared in the mirror and tried to gather my thoughts. Turns out there weren't many of them. Pretty much just a series of graphic blowjob scenes going through my head, one after the other, courtesy of hours of hard video research. Men shoving large, hard cocks into women's mouths. Lots of vigorous throat fucking.

I barely noticed the din in the hall, but Brooklyn's distinctive laugh pulled me out of my reverie. I took a deep breath, flushed the toilet, waited two beats, then opened the door. Sure enough, all the men were facing away fom me. Only Brooklyn was facing me; me and all the men in line. She was bending down, seemingly adjusting her stockings. The blatant display of cleavage was ludicrously being passed off as purely incidental.

I stepped lightly to the first door on the left, slipped in and brought the door softly to rest against the jamb, not wanting to risk unnecessary noise. It was a sparse guest bedroom setup, and I made my way directly to the closet. I wanted to have plenty of time to get nested in and adjust the doors for optimal viewing. I closed them as far as I could while still being able to see the bed. I slid the few hanging items to either side, then sat down cross legged on the carpeted floor and waited.

I heard Brooklyn before I saw her, then I heard the door close and she appeared, leading a man by the hand. When they reached the bed, she said,

"Tell me honey, what do you think of my lips?"

"They're... awesome!"

"Why do you like them?"

"Y-you know."

"Tell me, I want to hear you say it."

I was pretty sure she wanted

me

to hear him say it.

"Because they're dick-suck lips, that's why."

She ran one hand down his front, hooked a finger inside the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward her as she sat at the foot of the bed.

"That's exactly what they are, and I love the way you put it... so deliciously crude!"

She deftly unbuckled his belt and took his pants down to his ankles, then slowly pulled down his underwear to unveil her hidden prize. It was completely average and semi-hard. She took the entire thing in her mouth immediately and held him there. The motion of her neck muscles belied the apparent inactivity. Inside her mouth, where he was held captive, her tongue was working fast. He let out a protracted sigh, then exclaimed,

"Oh my God, that's sooo goood! I've never felt anything like that! Please slow down, I don't want to cum too quick."

She pulled off him and teased, what's the matter honey? Am I too much for ya?"

"No, no. It's just... well, it's been longer than I care to admit."

"Awww. Alright, I'll try to play nice."

She began licking him up and down, then pursed those fat lips, mashed them against the side of his shaft and slid her face up and down while humming an unrecognizable tune.

"You're so fucking nasty!" he said.

"You still want it to last longer? Or do you want me to just let you jamb your cock into my mouth and face-fuck me like the bimbo slut I am?"

He growled and grabbed her head. ramming his dick back into her mouth. He started fucking her face so hard I half-expected her to protest; or make some attempt to slow him down. Instead, she let her body go limp. He moved her like a rag doll as he pulled her head off and onto his cock. He maintained his brutal assault until he buried himself as deep as possible down her throat and held it there. He kept her nose mashed into his pubes as he pumped his load down her throat.

When he finally let her go, she slowly pulled away, leaving his hard cock sathered in throat slime, still connecting her mouth to its violator. As she caught her breath, her vacant expression melted into happiness.

"Thanks for starting this off right. If the rest are a good as you, I just might forget my own name!"

She gave his dick a final kiss, then turned his hips and patted him on the ass, saying,

"Be a dear and send in the next one."

It occurred to me that I had no recollection of getting out of my cross-legged position onto my knees, but that's where I was; sure as my pants were down and my dick was in my hand. If I didn't start paying closer attention, I risked having nothing left for the anchor leg of this relay.

I heard a quick exchange of unintelligible words from the hall, mixed with laughter from several guys. Then the next man in line came in, closed the door and walked up to her.

"God, your mouth makes you look like a god-damn sex doll! Do you feel like a sex doll, slut?"

"I take it you heard about me. You seem to know what I like."

"Oh, don't worry, every guy in that hall knows what you like; and within 10 minutes, I'll lay odds everyone in this house will know. If you want to be used, don't you think it's time you show off those big tits?"

Brooklyn did as suggested and displayed a near-perfect pair of impossibly firm tits.

"Waggle them for me. Shake those big 'ol titties!"

He unfastened his trousers and dropped them as she obeyed him, taking a big boob in each hand and shaking them up and down roughly.

"Theeerre's the real you! Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

Again, she complied, adding an aaaaaahhhhhh; just like she was at the doctor's office.

"Get your bimbo lips on this cock and show me what you're good for!"

With that he shoved his dick into her mouth and let her get started. He continued with his verbal abuse as she fellated him. His creativity devolved as she worked his schlong, and he fell into repetitious encouragement.

"Suck it, suck it; yeah, suck it, you whore! Swallow my fuckin' cock, bitch! Yes! Aaarrrrgh!"

He pulled out of her mouth and jacked his load onto her face, including a solid shot in her mouth, which she gratefully swallowed. As he buttoned up and made his way out, she used both hands to scrape the cum off her face and rub it all over her tits, glazing them like massive donuts.

The next man entered, and they started to blur together in my mind. Not so much individuals with faces and distinctive traits, they became a seemingly unending series of dicks, each with a load of cum to be delivered, mostly to her face and open mouth. Each was received with enthusiasm and gratitude, and each man left happy.

Not to say there weren't moments, of course. Moments that stand out in my mind, even now. Like the man who told her,

"Loosen your mouth and keep those thick lips wrapped around my cock. When I pull out, I want you to drag those lips over my shaft. Don't let it go easily; let my cock pull your lips away from your face. Make that duck face that only a true bimbo can make!"

I knew she liked that one, because her hand fell to her crotch -- something she didn't do for many. Then there was the big stud; the one I thought would go home with her, before we all learned her agenda. I have no idea his profession, but he sounded like a psychologist to me.

"Aren't you ever ashamed, meeting people? Having them know you're a cocksucker?"

She shook her head no. He told her,

"Suck me and don't stop until I nut"

Then he asked,

"Has your father seen you since you bought those lips?"

She nodded without breaking her rhythm.

"He wasn't pleased, was he?"

She shook her head side to side, sliding over his cock as she moved.

"But he wasn't just unhappy, was he? Not like, gee honey, you were perfect already and any man who can't see that doesn't deserve you. No, not like that. What do you think he thought when he looked at you?"