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                               Chapter 2 part 5 A Submissive Female Of New York City

 
                             Chapter 2 part 5
A Submissive Female Of New York City



No, they don't let you touch their vaginas with your fingers.

Idiots, said Sue. Please tell me at least that they suck your cock.

Yes, but only with a condom. It's not very comfortable either. You can feel their teeth scraping you, and they tend to suck too hard.

Sometimes I feel like I'm inside a vacuum cleaner. I usually just do vaginal now.

"No vaginal for you today, buster. Today you are going to get swallowed."

"S-swallowed?"

"Did you think I was joking online or something? I meant every word."

Every word?

Phil stood up suddenly, eyeing her. His heart was pounding. He could barely even believe this was happening. He fought back the panic, the old fear that gripped him like a vice. You don't need to fear her, he told himself. She's already said yes. She means it. Sue's face reflected only calm amusement.

"S-stand in front of me," said Phil in a small voice.

She obeyed. She looked utterly desirable, like a mature porn star brought to life.

"Kiss me," he said.

She stepped forward.

"On my feet," he corrected.

Her eyes lit up. Quick as a flash she was down, groveling on the floor, pressing her lips to his socks.

"Let me pull them off for you," she volunteered.

Never had it occurred to Phil that even taking off your socks can be highly erotic, if you're with the right woman. Phil could not see what she was doing — even if his erection had not blocked his view, his belly would — but he could feel his pant leg being lifted, her nose scraping along his calves. Then he could see her, gripping his sock toes between her teeth—

"You're pulling them off like a dog," he said in surprise.

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "Want me to be your little bitch?"

Bitch!

He had, online, called her a slut and a whore, but had never dared say bitch. He'd never used that word even with commercial phone sex operators. It was out of the question. It was an insult, a putdown, a terrible thing to say.

Sue was quite taken with the idea. She rapidly pulled off his other sock the same way. Then she sat on her haunches, lolling out her tongue, making doglike panting sounds, even wiggling her ass back and forth as if she had a tail. Phil didn't know what to make of this. He had never met someone so utterly lacking in shame.

Take off my clothes, was all he could say. Sensing perhaps that he wasn't quite ready for the dog act, Sue reverted to more human behavior. She stood up and kissed him deeply on the lips, pressing her pussy against his zipper.

She unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. "Is this what you've been so worried about?"

"Yes," he replied. How could he not be ashamed of his hideous body? He avoided mirrors as much as he could. Photos of him were a rarity. For as long as he could remember he'd regarded his body as something grotesque, despicable, worthy only of shame and pain.

"I think it's beautiful," said Sue. She caressed his belly gently. "Don't be ashamed of who you are, of what you are."

"But the porn I look at, the women I stare at, they're all thin and gorgeous. You're thin and gorgeous."

"That's okay," said Sue. She started kissing his belly, digging into it. "You want what you want, and you have what you have. Nobody said they had to be the same."

"Yes, they did. Isn't it hypocritical—"

"Shh," said Sue? "You worry too much about what's right and wrong, and too little about what you feel, and what you want. I know what I want — to suck your cock. I will be quite upset, at this point, if I don't get to."

She knelt and licked the front of his pants, then fumbled with his button and zipper, slowly pulling off the last of his clothes.

Phil was shaking, trembling, erection wilting. Sue tried to think back to what it had been like to lose her virginity, over a quarter century ago. Then she tried to imagine what it would be like to do this having led the life Phil had led.

"I think you need to lie down," she said.

She lay down beside him and started licking his chest. "I love your chest. I can suck on your chest just like you can suck on mine," she said. Fat is more pliable, more manipulable than muscle, and it can be sucked on, not just licked. Phil felt a hot spot spread under her tongue. His cock was lying comfortably between her breasts. He put his arms around her head and stroked her hair.

You don't need to worry, she soothed. Mommy is here. Mommy will take care of you. Somehow, these were the right words to pierce through Phil's wall of anxiety. Her tongue felt so relaxing, it was like a balm of peace, bringing release and softness wherever it went.

She kissed and nuzzled him on the parts of the body he had long been most ashamed of, most repulsed by: his belly, his sides, his navel. She even took the trouble of licking his waist, the embarrassingly remote region that lay under the overhang of his belly.

"God, your cock is gorgeous," she said.

"Mine?"

"Yes, yours. It's just the right size. Not too big, and not too small. I can get the whole thing in my mouth, easy. And it's the right color.

Your brown skin is so beautiful, so rich and textured. Not too dark, not too light. Not a hint of pink in it, I never like seeing pink men."

Phil's cock jerked at the praise.

"And," added Sue, laughing, "white cum contrasts so much better on darker skin!" She kissed the tip of his cock.

Now Phil was bulging, straining with anticipation. He wanted to grab her head and impale her on his rod. But he restrained himself.

He had only one load to shoot, and he wanted as much pleasure as she could give before he fired.

Sue's tongue teased him, tantalized him, brought out long-buried feelings and surfaced them into a paradise he had never felt before.

She spread his legs apart and went for his groin. The feeling of her wet tongue was like a strong drink, a soothing warmth that permeated him, excited him, filled him with a hunger for more. Her tongue was on his balls. Phil felt himself losing coherence, babbling, giggling.

He began calling her names, those words that had such emotional power. Slut. Whore. Bitch. They were not just words of sexuality; they were words of rebellion. Words no decent man would say, no decent woman would want to hear. But neither of them was decent.

They were being indecent, obscene. Sue was licking his balls, and, in contemptuously final dismissal of moralistic feminism, she was enjoying it as much as he.

"You're not going to last long, are you?"

To be continued
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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