82 Nights with Christine Pt. 01

Christine said nothing for a long few seconds, just watched and let me stand there in silence. Then she gave a cool smile and wordlessly waved me in. I closed the door behind me.

Christy put her book down on the nightstand as I climbed onto the foot of the bed. She flicked the waistband of her panties and said, "Take 'em off." I did. She opened her legs and the sight of her rapidly-hardening cock was like a red cape to a bull -- there was a jolt in my chest and I went right for it, instantly bowing forward to get in position. I took hold of her with two hands and slowly stroked up and down a few times. As ever, slightly in awe of that immense, perfect slab. A hefty bead of precum appeared at the tip and my mouth watered. Instinctively, I dove in.

But my mouth never made it to her cock. An inch away, I hit an obstacle. I looked up, confused, and saw that it was Christy's index finger pressing firmly against my forehead. She was holding me there.

"Stop," she said. "Tell me what you want."

"What?"

"Noah, you have to tell me what you want first." I still wasn't getting it.

"I just ... it's like I said, I thought you might like--"

"No," she cut me off. "That's enough of that. Ask for what you want, and you'll get your supper. And ask nicely."

"I,uh..."

"Or you can just head back to the couch, and that's fine. No hard feelings."

Fuck. Fuck. With my hands still around her shaft, my head slumped down and landed with a thud right beneath her scrotum. On my knees, bowing down as far as I could, my forehead pressed against the mattress like I was praying to Mecca. Or begging for mercy.

Either metaphor would be apt, because I had then a singular moment of clarity: almost since she moved in, Christy had been waging a campaign. We both had. A campaign in my head. Her, taking ground -- me, giving it. Charge & retreat, back & forth ... except I'd lost almost every battle. It was a pathetic showing, when you think about it. And now it was time. Here she was, asking for my formal surrender.

And the funny thing is: when you lose a campaign for your head, it may sting your pride for a moment, but mostly you don't care. You're happy to surrender. Eager, even. That's what you lost.

Christy waited patiently while I lay prostrate in front of her. 15, 30, 60 seconds -- I don't know how long. She just watched the top of my head while I came to terms. I swear to god, her cock got even harder and started throbbing in my hands while we lay there motionless. Finally I gathered myself, took in a deep breath, and lifted my head to look her in the eye. If I was gonna do this, I'd do it right.

"Please, Christine, may I suck your cock?" She rewarded me with a warm smile.

"Aww, precious, of course you may." She stroked my cheek. "First kiss my balls."

I did as she asked -- a slow, loving kiss on the left, then the right.

"Now thank them," she said. What, exactly, was I thanking them for? It didn't matter. Nothing, everything.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"How sweet. Now clean them for me, give them a bath."

I didn't think, I just did it. I stuck out my tongue and methodically ran it up and across every square centimeter of her swollen sack, pausing only to suck here or there. It was not a chore. In fact I loved it. It was smooth, and savory, and it smelled like everything I love about Christine injected straight into my sinuses. I was in a Zen state, working with gusto, and my own dick was hard as a rock, on a hair trigger. Christy noticed.

"Mm-hmm, so eager, heheh! My little man likes his snack, doesn't he?" I nodded vigorously and kept at it. "Do you still think you're the one doing a favor for me?"

"Nnh-hnnn," I mumbled with my mouth full.

"That's right. Every night I give you a gift. Every night I teach you something you needed to learn. Mmmm ... and you're grateful, aren't you, sweetie?" I nodded again. "Then what do you say?"

Her sack left my mouth with a loud, wet slurp and I gasped.

"Thank you, Christine." I kissed the underside of her cockhead. "Thank you, you're so good to me."

"You're thankful?"

"So thankful, Christine."

"Then prove it." With that she took a fistful of hair and showed me where I needed to go. My mouth enveloped her cockhead and slid halfway down her shaft. Christy moaned. I moaned louder.

It was liberating. She had called the question and wrung some truth from me. I no longer had to keep up the pretense for Christy, or for myself, that I wasn't utterly in love with this. I didn't have to worry about how I'd be perceived. Christy had taken control; the only thing I had to worry about was doing what she wanted. She wanted me to be needy, wanton -- honest. And so for the first time in my whole life, I was free to be those things. Thank you, Christine.

I attacked her pillar with abandon. My lips flew up and down the shaft faster than ever; my tongue danced around her head more frantically; I sucked harder; and when I needed a breather, I worshiped her balls like a hungry zealot.

I tried taking her deeper than ever before. Taking just half of her is a challenge, but suddenly an image flashed before my mind: me, on my knees, her cock in my throat, my lips sealed around her base, my tongue darting out to lick her balls. Right away I tried to make it real, and I got an inch further than usual, but trying to open my throat further just caused me to cough and gag.

Christy stopped me. "Whoa, baby, be careful. Heheh, you're a valuable asset, we don't want you damaged. Be patient, we'll get you there ... you're doing such a good job, keep going..."

I did, and it was so good. Each of her happy little sighs or words of encouragement lit up some seldom-used pleasure center in the back of my brain. Every dollop of precum I sucked down brought forth a pornographic moan from deep within me. The entire process was sublime -- how could I have ever thought I wanted less of this?

After 10 or 15 minutes, too quickly, it came to end. Christy was on the brink, and she let me know.

"Mmmmm ... are you hungry, baby?" Without stopping my work I looked up at her and nodded. "Yesss, I've got something for you ... I have what you need ... Oh! But we don't want to make a mess ... maybe I should cum into a bunch of tissues you can throw away? Is that good?"

"NNGH!" I knew she was just teasing, and still a tinge of panic rippled through me.

"Haha ... don't worry, babe, I wouldn't dream of wasting it like that ... ohhh, keep doing that ... You're gonna get all my loads ... every one of them is going in you ... Mmmm ... You like that plan? Yeah you do..."

It did sound good at that moment, but I barely registered the words. I was focused on what her body was saying, and what her body was telling me was that I was about to be flooded by a tsunami of dickgirl spunk. Christy announced its arrival.

"Ohh here it comes, baby ... gonna fucking fill you up ... Mmmm, you're my thirsty little cumslut ... all mine ... Shit! Here it comes ... Yes! Big swallows NOWWW-- AH!"

Her body jerked violently and she filled me up, just like she said. There was so much of it, more than ever before, and fired with such force and volume -- I happily slurped it down, but for the first time I couldn't quite keep up and small streams of her cum escaped from the corners of my mouth. Somewhere in there, my own dick had fired off and I ruined another pair of boxers. I was a sloppy mess from top to bottom, but I loved it.

I finished squeezing every drop from the rigid shaft, then cleaned her off thoroughly with my tongue. Finally my mouth disengaged from Christy's perfect cock and I looked up at her, eager for her approval. She giggled.

"Heheh -- you're leaking! We won't let that go to waste, will we?" She reached down, gathered the cum from around my mouth and chin onto her fingers, and fed it to me. I was glad to have it.

Once that was done I slid up on the bed to share the pillow with Christy for a minute; we lay on our sides, facing each other. Servicing her always seems to brighten my mood, but I was especially contented just then. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I gently sighed.

"God, I wish I could just stay here all night," I said.

"Me too, babe -- soon enough. You know your mom is going on that trip in a few days." I perked up: she was right; we wouldn't have to sneak around, at least for a little while. "Mmm, we're gonna find so many fun things to do, you and I..." As she said this she reached her hand around me, ran it down my back, landed on my ass, and pointedly squeezed & rubbed at the crack. It was not a subtle hint. My eyes bugged out slightly.

"Oh, god. Christy, I don't know. You're fucking huge, and I've never ... I don't think ... I mean, there's just no way I'd be able to--"

"Shhh, shhh -- relax, sweetie. Don't worry, by the time I take your ass you'll be begging for it." Somehow still capable of embarrassment, I blushed and looked away. "The only thing you have to do is trust me. That's all. I'll take care of you. Ok?"

"... Ok."

"There you go." She leaned in and gave me a brief, tender kiss. "Besides, have I steered you wrong yet?"

I smiled and shook my head no.

"And I'm pretty sure you enjoy all the things we do, right?"

"Ha, yeah," I said. "Even the dirty talk. I mean, some of the shit you say when we're -- I know it's just, like, roleplay -- I never would have expected to be ok with that stuff. But I admit it's a turn-on."

"I can tell," she said.

"Oh, jeez, and I really didn't expect to be a futa's summer boyfriend, haha."

"Oh-HO! 'Boyfriend'! Is that what you are?" She was needling me, giggling, and my obvious embarrassment just egged her on. "No no, tell me more, darling. When are you gonna come over and meet my parents?"

"Alright, alright, stop. I get it, not 'boyfriend,' that's not what I meant. I just mean ... well, you know what I mean. I don't know what to call it, but I'm something, right?"

"Of course: you're my boy -- my male. That's enough." I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. She saw me trying to formulate a response and cut me off. "Don't even worry about it. All that matters is that you're cute, you're sweet, and you're all mine. Isn't that right?"

"... Yes, Christine. Well, for the next 6 weeks anyway, right? Then you go back."

"What, you don't have a passport? Come stay with me."

"Whoa, I can't -- I mean, maybe for a visit sometime, but I've got school, and my--"

"Ha! Relax -- I'm joking, I'm joking," she interrupted. Then she leaned in and whispered in my ear, "But you would love it there."

After that I finally had to go freshen up and get ready for bed. I don't know quite what to think about all this. I've got my appointment with Dr. Morgan tomorrow, and I really don't know what the hell to say there.

Whatever. There's no problem. I'm having a little fling -- it's new and fun and exciting. And it's got a built-in expiration date, which is kinda sad, but that also means there's really not much that can go wrong. All I have to do is take it a day at a time and enjoy these next 6 weeks. All I have to do (like she said) is trust Christine. She'll take care of me.

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Thanks for reading; I hoped you liked it. Like I said, if there's interest I do have plans for a Part 2. (Eventually, that is -- I don't write fast). Can Noah salvage a shred of independence? If so, how? If not, what is it that breaks his will for good? Hmmm. In any case, the next part would no doubt feature more depravity & submission, and less of Noah's neurotic handwringing.