Cock

Lately I've been obsessed with cock. With rubber cock, specifically, and sucking it in particular.

Don't call it fake. It might not have nerves and blood vessels running through it, but it's no less real to the dyke who wears it than if it were made of flesh and blood. When I lick my lips while looking up at her from under my lashes, then lean in and slowly wrap my hungry mouth around the fat head of her hard cock, believe me--she feels it.

Blue and I go back a ways. His wasn't the first dyke cock I ever sucked, but it was possibly the most riveting. I was in thrall to him and even after several years of life's ups and downs, that hasn't changed. He pulls my hair and I'm all his, just like that. Everything else and everyone else disappears. I could easily disappear into him, if he'd let me, but he won't. That's probably a good thing.

But oh, I love his cock. It's not about the physical prosthesis settled on his pubic bone; I don't think I've sucked the same one twice yet. But no matter what he's got there, I mean even if he strapped a banana on under his jeans, I just want to fall onto it like I haven't eaten in a month. I forget to flirt. I forget to try to show some style. I just want it, want it all, want it all right now.

He knows me so well. He knows when to push me, his hands in my hair, pulling my head down on his cock till his zipper scrapes my nose and holding me there forcefully until my gag reflex or my desperate need for air forces me to struggle. I'm overcoming both of those obstacles with practice, though--the last time he pushed me, he was surprised. He needed a bigger dick that night if he wanted to choke me with it. He made up for it, though, with cruel clamps on my nipples, pressed against his knees as I worked, and strong hands around my throat. Just the way I like it.

I saw him again last night, even though he was hundreds of miles away. Condom in my mouth, I slid it down over the head of his cock so smoothly, all the way down the shaft--hungry, starving, both of us. He moaned a little. I heard the creak of his leather pants as he settled back on the bed to give me access. I felt his body rocking under me, felt the familiar tightening of his abdomen as he came again and again, abusing my throat with quick, sharp thrusts leading up to each orgasm. I struggled to breathe. I gagged and drooled, the thick mucus and saliva dripping off my chin, down his cock, onto the new white comforter, leaving a stain. His hands tightened their grip on my hair as he growled pet names at me: Cock-sucker. Filthy pig. Greedy cum whore. You like that, don't you, babe? Take it all now. That's right--suck. Good girl. His breath came faster and faster until finally, eyes closed, body bucking, he pulled my face down hard and held me there, retching, gasping for breath as he exploded in one final cathartic climax.

I couldn't hold it then--that last thrust was just too much, and I turned my head to the side as a small flood of spit and snot rolled out of my throat. It landed in my hand, on the comforter, on the rug next to the bed: slippery, warm, feeling just exactly like cum. It didn't smell. A little revolted at myself, I scooped it up off the rug, smeared it all over my cunt, my ass, the cock I'd just been sucking. I rolled over and slid that cock up my ass to the hilt, and then I jerked off like my life depended on it. It was 3:30 in the morning. Blue, wherever he was--I hope he dreamed of me.