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Chapter 13: Shush
While still at college I learned man is a product of nature meant to provide diversification to the species, ensuring survival in cases of otherwise mass extinction, and little else outside of killing and destroying. Men, if left to themselves, inevitably sink to the lowest level, becoming a terrible unchecked weed choking the life out of other species, driving everything around them into extinction with what they consider grandiose creations, though man has never created anything other than psychic-Babylons, allowing their frail little egos access to fabled powers beyond that of God or sanity. In reality man’s frail ego-driven mind can’t do much more than tear down all around it. Tonight Pierre brought me to visit Timothy, my ex, for my monthly stipend and his romp in the sack with me.
Unlike how Timothy was when married, he’s now a subdued ogre around me, tame as a kitten. He no longer presents himself as a macho man toward me, the jerk I’d tolerated through a year of marriage. He now throws his manliness down on his girlfriends. This month’s flavor is Suzy. As with all his ‘broads’, this dumb bastard finds it important to use her as a way of impressing me, in the only way he knows how.
Suzy was like all those after me. She’s everything I was not, am not, and never will be. To begin with she was blonde, wore too much make-up, and foolish enough to be obedient and not interfere with his Neanderthal simplemindedness. At six foot three inches tall, two hundred sixty-nine pounds, he easily dominated this bosomy little thing, as much for my benefit as for his ego. Like a tomcat fresh from the alley bringing a mouse home to impress me, he controlled this frail ninety pound, four foot nine inch tall creature like you would expect an armed gladiator to treat a naked slave. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for the money, and for what I hate to admit, the fact I have one very weak, very small but perverted streak running through me that he knew about, and liked tickling.
Suzy was a delicate flower who had trouble walking in her five inch pumps, much to our amusement. She had long thin well-turned legs that continued trembling as she worked. Except for pink pumps, she wore a tiny pink apron that couldn’t conceal her large breasts from rolling out from side to side as she served. She also wore a frilly maid’s tiara. She wore her hair in a bob framing her painted face with its pouty pink lips, her green eyes ever lowered in front of me. She also sported a pink collar. I couldn’t help but allow my perversion to play along, by touching and caressing her in rather rude ways, while degrading her verbally.
I found their relationship amusing but the food quite excellent. Here I was once more sitting before my beer swizzling jerk of an ex, eating a well-prepared meal served by a sexy maid. When Suzy set the shrimp cocktails down before us, I realized Timothy’s blind mother was still in the kitchen, but had probably retired for the evening as she does before I arrive for my once a month romp. Most wives may have found a live-in mother-in-law impossible, but things would have been worse without her. Timothy hated when I casino şirketleri convinced his mother to stay topless one day.
Timothy and I sat on either end of a short dining room table, me dining, Timothy eating, Suzy serving. It was a rather tedious and yet exciting time all at once. As usual I enjoyed the food. It began with the shrimp, followed by broiled African lobster tail with drawn butter, and spinach on the side, his mother’s favorite dish. Suzy served us rather strong margaritas and the he-man Timothy was getting drunk while I teased him by insulting and deriding openly his newest cutie. I considered how much fun it would be for me to find a Suzy for my joeie, once I caged his cock. The more I drank the ruder I got, the happier Timothy got, and the closer to a climax Suzy got. It’s always these small things that help him to write the check. By the time Suzy served the Baba au Rhum, Timothy was ready for bed, and the coffee was left to go cold.
I like being fucked by a dumb rough man who can’t do anything else, especially with his girlfriend forced to watch. It does a real woman good to be fucked good, especially when she has a boy like joeie. As a well-rounded female, I’ve balanced the ignorant lout with a down home obedient soft mommy’s boy. I’ve come to enjoy being abused sexually more than ever before, now that I have my joeie.
I’ve had my joeie under my thumb for seven months now. Seven months ago I began training him as my pussieboy and since then he’s come to enjoy the taste of sperm more and more. I enticed him with the promise of soon experiencing sexual intercourse. Then, six months ago I allowed my joeie to experience sexual intercourse for the first time. Well, it was sexual intercourse as far as my joeie was concerned.
I had him marry my left hand, whom I bring along with me when I visit to have my body drained, bathed, and fed. I’ve even had little nighties made for my hand to wear while my joeie fucks her. My joeie is blinkered by his fetish, and doesn’t know any better.
Five months ago I used money from my ex to buy myself a small home for my joeie. Now I have a place to come and go as I please. A place my joeie is expected to keep neat and clean, my bed and surroundings fresh. A place my joeie finds large pictures of my pussy decorating the walls for him to meditate on. A place my joeie can watch videos of my sexual escapades. A place my joeie knows he is always watched by cameras throughout the house. A place with a single line-phone connected to my cell-phone. A place I go when sperm filled, hungry, or dirty, where I always find a warm cozy bed and sex starved hungry pervert to feed, for intimacy
There’s also Pierre, a healthy young unhappily married dude and his cab company. This Polish Don Juan will do anything to keep my affections. As a result his cab is virtually available to me 24/7 for my personal use.
Since I’d gotten what I’d come to school for, school’s simply become an easy egress to the largest collection of cocks, the fraternity. A virtual merry-go-round… no… a playground filled with exciting rides, big dumb abusive sperm spewing fuck machines, a real Dizzy Land to a natural casino firmaları born slut like me.
Before I found my joeie, getting fucked was like getting my fix, simply a need fulfilled and no more, which I often considered a poor reason even for a woman who knows what she wants. That changed immediately after finding my joeie. My joeie gives me reason to fuck and brings meaning to my being a woman. Now, when I date, I feel like the great mother bird collecting gobs of pabulum for her baby bird, performing as Mother Nature herself does, with love and affection, storm and turbulence.
That first night with my joeie proved an exciting challenge and totally worthwhile. While I lay back in my bed, surrounded by the aroma of sperm, my legs spread wide in the air, my joeie spent almost an hour with the front of his face wallowing into my pussy, his tongue sloshing and swabbing around inside me, in a most satisfying show of male agility. My eyes were ready when his opened to look up at me, his filled with pride and mine with the look of surrender, meant solely to bolster the poor boy’s ego, to spur him on. My joeie continued ferreting around in his new found love until I was ready, until I spread my legs wider, until I reached down to grab a handful of hair at the nape of his neck.
A simple woman may glide her hand round the neck of the male she’s fallen for, her fingers tickling the back of his neck, teasing the hairs, coaxing him gently to move, but I take possession of those hairs and use them to my advantage. Some boys recoil at being taken by the hairs on the backs of their neck, because it signifies a loss of control to a superior, much like a male kitten in the hands of its owner, but not my joeie. I was right about this greenhorn.
With a grip I made more firm while measuring his resistance and acceptance, I nudged his mouth from its happy feeding ground to its next treat, my asshole. My once puckered rosette was now a gaping delicacy my joeie took to immediately, exceeding my wildest hopes. I again pulled my legs back to provide my joeie easy access to his dream filled treat, and laid my head back to wallow in ecstasy.
Afterwards, in the afterglow of numerous orgasms, I lay exhausted, looking at the shadows dancing on the walls around me, a choir of cherubs singing and dancing for me. My joeie fell into bed beside me, still fully dressed, clothes stained with sperm, his face red, blotchy, his breath reeking sperm. I was so happy I could have screamed in joy, but instead decided on playing a card or two more.
“Oh, my joeie, you’re the most wonderful male I’ve ever met,” I said in a deep sultry voice, giving him an affectionate kiss. My joeie didn’t know what to say in return.
“Gee, I just want to make you happy,” he stuttered without yet mentioning sex. You’d think after having my naked body in his hands, after all the sperm he’d swallowed, he’d be interested in experiencing the kind of sex he’s watched me have with men, and I’m sure he was, but he was clueless as to what to say or do, and that’s how I decided to keep him. Since his shyness kept him from knowing what to ask, I filled in the spaces.
“Oh, güvenilir casino no man has ever made me happier,” I said as if out of breath. I knew his ego must be soaring like a kite by then, and like any kite on the wing, I had to keep it under control. “And best of all, you aren’t begging for sex.”
“What do you mean,” he asked, suddenly thrown off guard.
“joeie, call me, Mistress Colleen,” I demanded softly.
“Yes, Mistress Colleen.”
“Let me explain it to you, my dear, joeie. Didn’t you ever notice how other males treat my body,” I asked, placing my hand over the bulge of his crotch.
“Oh, yes, Mistress Colleen. It’s terrible the way they gra…” he said catching his breath, opening his eyes wide.
“Yes, I’m glad you noticed, because I know you’ll never treat my body like that, or act like an animal in front of me,” I said pretending to ask.
“Oh, no, Mistress Colleen, not me, I could never…” I looked into his eyes and saw childlike bewilderment, the not yet understood need I would steer him away from. I had to be his Mexican free tail bat, sabotaging the sonar of any rival. At that point and much to my joeie’s glee, I told him to undress and throw his clothes on the floor. I would have him clean my room in the morning, preparing him for his future.
When he slipped free of his pants, out came that beautiful pink-headed cock, stiff and hard as marble, with its hot blood ready to burst from distended veins. It took a lot to control myself as I looked upon a hardened male organ as fine as I’d ever seen. Though as I’ve said earlier, his organ wouldn’t win me any awards, it was a fine piece of work sculpted by a female god, just for me, one I planned keeping as a pet, unsullied by pussy or mouth.
I found the area of my bed where the sheets were most stained, and had my joeie lie down there, while I lay beside him, face to face. The poor dear’s hard-on was throbbing for attention, and my poor joeie, not knowing what to do, looked to me for answers. I had the answers of course, but needed to bring him the truth slowly. I had him place his arms around me and pull my body to his, as if I were yielding to his masculinity, which wasn’t lost on his ego. I felt his healthy boner between us and pressed against it tight. I let my nipples burn into his chest, while I aligned our bellies, thighs, and even toes, providing my joeie a total sensual experience. Then I brought our lips together and coaxed his tongue out to play, his sperm-scented breath bringing a giggle to my heart. Like that we dozed off together, me in heaven, my joeie in purgatory. Little did he know then that is where he would be spending the rest of his life, but to my joeie it will seem very natural. I plan to become my joeie’s slut, giving him a female body to care for, providing his ego a false-sense of authority, as his fetish deserves.
For the entire night I slept on and off, while my joeie tried to arouse me in his naïve way. I lay passively in his strong arms, a weak frail creature in the arms of King Kong, har, har. He held me tight, his mouth on mine, or on my neck. When I sensed him dozing off, or his hard-on flagging, I kissed him until he was brought back to life, and then I rested again. The poor boy was far too horny to resist even while dead tired, and if he uttered a word, I shushed him. Tomorrow would be one of those, ‘first days for the rest of…’
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