What is happening to me?
By Kristen Shigh

After the motel called and we decided to stay another night, we both
drifted back to sleep for a few hours. As you might guess, I was far
too excited to sleep for long. Who the hell was this man? I didn't
even know his name. I was fucking a stranger. Finally. I was hot.

He lay there atop clean sheets. My hair smelled of juniper berry. I
recognized my shampoo. He had washed me after I passed out. God
knows what all I did. I wish I could remember how many of his friends I
had fucked. Thoroughly fucked. I am a whore.

I remembered having pissed on the bathroom floor. I don't remember if
that was because some pervert wanted me to, or I was just too drunk
to make it all the way to the toilet. What's the difference, really.
The point is, by the end of the night, I was a serious mess. I think I
threw up. I am sure I did. I can't think about that right now. He
had cleaned me up. What a sweet heart.

I felt whole sexual gratification, like I never had. It had been
monthssince I started fanaticizing about being banged. I had done it. I
felt alive.

I do remember he was a huge part of it. I let him fuck me I the ass.
Or maybe he just did it. Either way, it was amazing. Christ, was it
amazing. I was glowing. I wanted to reward him.

There is a big difference between getting your face fucked and
sucking a guy's cock. I was never really very good at the latter. I wanted to
try. God knows, I had some recent practice.

He was still asleep. Soundly. It was soft. It lay there curled up
in a nest of sinewy curls and bulbous mounds of flesh. I rubbed my
cheek against it. He even smelled good. Like a man. I stretched his
sleeping cock out. It seemed to yawn and stretch as it swelled,
rolling over to meet the new day.

I kissed it a few times about the face and shoulders. Baggy flesh
became more taught, as if it were puckering to kiss me back. I
circled his whole head with my tongue, waking the sleeping giant. His
generous cock stumbled from its nest and into the dark damp confines of my
mouth. I really wanted to give this man one incredible blow job,
even if he was asleep. It was turning me on.

He tossed a bit, I slowed down. The rhythm was polar opposite from
last night. I could take my time. No one was going to shove their
cock down my throat - fucking my face. No one was in line for me to
suck them off. Jesus, my jaw still ached. This was heaven. It was
just me and him. Clean sheets, cloudy memories of pure sexual
gratification pacified my hunger. There was no real rush. This
could take all day. Slow. I was in charge.

It took a while but he became fully extended , but still far from
hard.I let his cock lie on his tummy coated in my saliva. I blew lightly
across the shaft to keep him firm. It is called a blow job after
all. Resting my head on one arm I lightly stroked him, and admired the
fine specimen.

As my forearm started to tire I had to wonder, "How do guys do that
for so long? I guess because they can't do this."

I gave him a few long licks with the flat of my tongue. She wrapped
around him like a blanket. He was nearly hard.

The tip of my tongue became an entirely new sensual pleasure zone, my
whole mouth, an erogenous expanse. I opened wider inviting him
semi-erect inside.

My eyes whirled backward with need as his savory member began to fill
mymouth. I could not imagine anything so satisfying as the taste of
warm flesh on a perfect morning.

His skin grew taught.

In the back of your throat there is a spot that, if you let it slide
in just right, you can fit the entire swollen tip in through your
tonsils. You have to take a deep breath through your nose as you do it or
you'll gag. When that slimy membrane cinches round him, he is yours. That's
the spot. Don't let him shove farther. You'll vomit. It takes
practice, and after last night, I had practice. I was a fucking vet.
I am a slut. A good one.

This was not about me just sucking cock. It was about me GIVING
head. I was not some fuck hole like I was last night. I would not let him
fuck my face if he wanted to. I was doing this. I was in charge. He was
NOT going to grab my head and stuff his cock down my throat till I
gagged - or he came. No fucking way. I had this one, baby.

But even in his sleep he tried to buck his hips to push his cock
deeper in my throat. No fucking way. Men.

I considered leaving him right there, bobbing helplessly, but I
didn't. Knowing I could was a major turn on. I pushed his hips back with my
hands as my head bobbed furiously. In and out through my narrow
tonsils, the widest part of his tip clung to the sides. I felt him
start to spasm in my throat. I wanted it. I wanted it, now. I was
going to take it. This was about me!

Taking one big final breath, I pulled my head back, and retreated his
cock from my throat to give him room. I had to create a nice warm
dark wet cavity to take what was coming - but not too much - to ummm -
keep it from coming. I was playing it perfectly. He bucked one last time.
I pushed his hips back. I knew the spot I wanted him to hit. Period.
He throbbed recklessly and finally filled my mouth in three giant
spurts.
I swallowed with ease. Nothing up my nose. No gag. Not even a cough.
Damn, I'm good.

I even managed to let out a tasty, "mmmm." in case he was even half
awake. I was a pro. I am a whore. I am a slut. I am a Goddess.

I grabbed the base of his softening cock and pushed upward like a tube
of tooth paste. He stroked my hair and said, "that was incredible."

"you were awake?"

"Absolutely, I didn't want to interrupt the best blow job ever
given."

"The best blow job ever given?" I questioned in my mind as I melted
in his arms like a girl. "hmmm" I wondered. "How do you measure such a
thing - what constitutes the BEST blow job ever given? Oh, I don't
care - as long as he thinks so." I took a drink of water.

He wrapped my arms around torso and pulled me up for a kiss. After
everything that happened last night, after every one I had fucked, I
had not been kissed. Once. I guess I did not want to be kissed.
Maybe they did not want to kiss me. I am a whore. Anyway, I didn't want
to look at the idiots as I let them fuck me.

"You are amazing." He said. "First last night and now that! You
have got to meet my old lady."

"Old lady?" I thought. "What the fuck was this?" I was fuming. I
don't know why but I was. I said nothing. He continued.

"Yea, you'd love her. She likes to get passed around too. Ummm... do
you like women, too? I would love to watch you and her go at it."

"Jesus, this guy is a fucking idiot too," I thought but I just gave a
weak, "We'll see." I fell into his arms and waited for him to drift
off back to sleep. It didn't take long.

I slipped from under his arms, packed my things and snuck out the
door, leaving him with the second day motel bill. I was pissed.

I felt empowered.

None-the-less, his words lingered in my head as I walked down the
stairs. My thoughts bounced from one side of my head to the other.
I was running away.

"His old lady," I thought. I was turned off. Cold. Not because I
thought experimenting with women would be bad - just just just -
everything. "She likes to get passed around too. HA Like I wanna
share with some other bitch - who does this fucker think he is?"

When I got to the car, when I got home, when I got to my bed room and
all week at work the notion loitered in my head.

I was confused. I fanaticized about it - at least I tried. It really
did nothing. My fantasy pool was dry. Perhaps because I had just
had more sex in one night than I had in my entire preceding years
combined, I was just exhausted. A week passed. I did not successfully
masturbate once.

I went to a dike bar. Nothing. I felt no attraction - just more
confusion. I was horny as HELL. But could do nothing about it.

I tried going on line to look at porn. I really don't like porn, per
say. I admit I have looked at it in the past, but I hate the way the
models smile and pose and preen. Often they are - well - beautiful
people. Square jawed hunks with five o'clock shadows. Erect towers
of erotic flesh peek over tight chinos. Giant erect cocks tickling
washboard abs. Hot, but phony. Posed. Boring.

To be honest, I hadn't spent much time, any really, looking at women.
The cloud of curiosity that bastard implanted was driving me to do
things. I went to several sites. Most of the women there really did
nothing for me. They are attractive, I guess. Well dressed. Well
photographed. They are everything, but what they are supposed to be:
sexy.

Boob Jobs. What is it with big tits? If this turned me off so, why
then was I so obsessed with looking?

I could not think of anything else. The other day at work I actually
went on line to find pictures of women. Jesus, I hope I don't get
caught. Fear is erotic.

I found myself going to the amateur sites instead of those lusty ones
with California girls sucking picture perfect cocks. At least at the
proletarian sights it wasn't some model, posing and smiling naked
for the camera just because she couldn't get job selling laundry
detergent. The amateur sites were at least real. Some were even hot.
But still, I was just flipping through the pictures.

Something was stirring but I didn't know what it was - I know where it
came from, that mother fucker's comments - but I didn't know WHAT it
was. These pictures just did nothing for me, sexually. I guess I am
just not a lesbian. I have certainly had opportunities to try. I
was confused. I wish I were one. That would be easier to deal with.
What did I want?

None the less, I kept looking at the screen. I couldn't stop. Also,
over my shoulder to see if anyone could see what I was doing. Fear
is erotic, did I mention that? There was nothing I could do. I could
not stop myself. I could not. I am obsessed. I am a slut. I wish I
knew how many cocks I had sucked Friday night.

I got to a sight that was so amateur it was actually moving.
Upsetting.
Violent. Some of the pics were so blurry or dark you had to work to
make out what was happening. Always hidden in that darkness, there
was pain and loneliness. It was real. It made me hot.

When I saw her through the pixilated shadows, I froze. Immobile. She
had such sad eyes. Always downcast. She did not dare look at the
camera. I could see her pain. I knew her. I was her. She was
afraid, as was I. Fear is exceedingly erotic. I couldn't take it.

I chickened out. I shut the browser and erased my footprints. I was
wet. The URL was tattooed on my brain. I could not wait to get
home. I thought about her - or it - all the way. I imagined she was being
made to pose for the camera. Even in the one picture, when she
smiled, you could tell she was being forced. It turned me on. I imagined
her sitting naked watching as someone posted her pictures on the internet
for anyone to see. Humiliation. Hot!

I knew what she wanted, or needed. I imagined myself taking the
pictures, telling her to remove her clothing. It was a long ride
home.I burst though the doors. I didn't even feed my cat. I walked
straight to the computer, and straight to that sight. I was completely
captivated. I could see through her flesh to the switch that would
turn her on. I felt what she was feeling. I wanted to flip that
switch. I know where it is. It was overpowering. Erotic.

She knew what a distraction a man's cock can be from your own sorrow.
Sodo I. Her first picture was a portrait of her face. I studied it. I
could not turn away. I zoomed in through the murk and blur. I had
to. I don't know why. Her eyebrows had been plucked. I wanted to jump
ahead in the series to see if her pussy had been shaven. If so, I
bet it too was plucked - one hair at a time - while masturbating - and
crying. Pain. I have done it to myself. I got off. I hate myself.
I am a whore. I am a masochist.

Trembling, I clicked next with my mouse.

Her blouse was unbuttoned revealing her busty chest. She was ashamed
of doing what she was doing. So was I. I could not stop myself.
Neither could she. I unbuttoned my pants.

It was a peculiar hunger that made me click to the next image.
Involuntarily, I used my left hand to operate the mouse. My right
had a different button to press.

My home dial up connection ran slowly revealing her picture like a
backdrop flying in during a play unfolding in my brain. She touched
her breasts. Her listless eyes were cast downtrodden at the floor.
Obedient. Her desire came from a need to do what the photographer
told her to. It came from a need to please. I know that desire. My own
fingers worked their way inside my jeans. The tips of my fingers
found their way to my clit out of pure route . They have been there
before.
But never like this. I wanted her.

Severe sexual desire was manifesting itself from a new place. It was
confusing and awkward. Arousing.

Energy in my body began to radiate downward from my chest and upward
from my thighs. I was wet. Very wet. Yet my fingers felt awkward
rubbing their familiar patterns round my most erogenous areas. It is
not at all what I wanted. I clicked to the next image.

The photographers arm protruded into the frame. His hand held her
chin in a firm grip. She faced the camera, still her eyes were cast
downward. She did not want to look. She couldn't. I know.

I plunged my fingers inside. I was hot. Wet. Wanting. Yet, my
fingers felt cold and wrong. I leaned back, my spine arched downward,
thrusting my hips forward as I clicked to the next image.

She had removed her skirt and panties, they lie at her feet, discarded
onto the concrete floor. She was trembling, frightened, aroused. I
wanted to cum.

My fingers fumbled, nothing I had known before was working. My energy
was manifesting itself in new ways that could not be satisfied by old
means. Only by staring at this woman, whose pain and desire I fully
imbibed, could I begin to reach anything. I was confused, fixated,
possessed. It was the first time in my life I was unable to just finger fuck myself
into an orgasm. I could not look away. I have never been so turned on.

She was shoved to her knees and stared at the floor, frightened. He
grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to his cock while managing to
take the picture.

My fist clinched into a ball and began to pull at my pelvic mound -
well above my snatch and familiar clit.

All of the skin from my navel to my cunt flexed as I pulled harder and
harder. Energy was releasing from my forearms. Everything radiated
outward but there was a huge bottle neck. I didn't know what the
fuck I was doing! Pressure. All was bottled inside me and MUST be
released.

I managed to click to a new image. She was sucking his cock - taking
him in whole. He was hard, taking his own pictures. I could tell by
the way she took him in that he had made her do it. He was purely
fucking her face. He held her by the hair. He was in too far. She
looked like she might throw up. She was a hole. A fuck toy. I knew
she would cum. I didn't care. I wanted to cum.

All of my sexual energy was growing more unstable - checking every
porein my body looking for a possible escape route. It was as lost as I
was. It didn't know how to get out. It grew more volatile. Desperate.
I pulled at my pelvic mound. Flesh flexed taught and released. It
was incredible! I was stroking myself. I was fucking jacking off is
what I was doing.

I wanted her to suck my cock! But I don't have one. I could get a
strap on - no! This was different somehow. It was not about
genetailia. It was about the transference of energy. Dominance,
submission, alpha, beta, top bottom, positive, negative -- opposites
attract - what ever the fuck you want to call it. I was on fucking
top! Everything in my body shifted. My arm was getting tired - but I could
not stop. I had to release.

I let my other hand slip from the mouse to go lower and rub my clit.
Nothing. Still out of habit, a finger slipped inside. Fuck, I was
wet. I didn't care. I was only interested in stroking myself. My
sticky fingers went back to the mouse.

She was still sucking his cock. He used a different angle and a
flash.She was on her knees. The floor was concrete, the walls black cinder
block. She had a red mark across her face. She had been slapped.
Her eyes were watering. A tear formed in the corner. She was in pain and
ecstasy.

My spine shot forward. I took an involuntary breath, like a hiccup,
or suddenly being startled. Another. Another. I could not inhale
anymore. I had to release. My body made me take yet another burst
of air. It was too much oxygen. My brain just exploded. The force of
the eruption meteor-ed to my hips. My body spasmed clicking the
mouse.

He splattered hot gallons of white cream across her face. I felt it.
She was frozen in time with a self satisfied outer shell, like she
was valued. She is not. Cum dripped from her chin to her breasts. She
is a whore. I wanted to cum in her hair.

I jerked one more time. The shock waves reverberating from the
explosion in my brain ran full force through my pelvis breaking down
locked doors and walls - storming out into the open air in one
gigantic rush. A tsunami.

My thighs snapped shut slamming my knees together. I felt a warm wet
slime splatter against my them. My hand fell away in utter exhaustion.
I inspected the wetness on my thighs. That came from my cunt!

I had... I had ejaculated.

Holy fuck!

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