Gym Buddy Ch. 02

This was my calling.

I startled again -- I'd been in this room for less than a minute, and I had just thought of this place as "my room". It was like living inside a bottle of Pepto!! Still, as I sat there in my dream-house, I stared at the picture of Brock's cock and ...

I wanted it.

That realization sobered me a bit, and seeing the picture of his most intimate part reminded me of his last command. I removed my shoes and socks and stood to take off my underwear. I put them, along with my new key ring, in my bag.

My modest cock bobbed to attention as I stood naked in the cool of my room, and I knew that at least a part of me was flattered, or at least aroused, by all this attention. He'd done this - all of this... for me? I had to reward him -- or at least obey.

I dressed as quickly as I could, which was, to say, not quickly at all. I had no idea of how to best manage lace pink panties over my hard cock -- until I discovered they had a pouch which kept what little I had snug against my body. After that came a padded pink bra, pink fishnet stockings, a pink camisole fringed with white fur trim. Finally, I sat down and tried to put on the pink high-heeled pump shoes.

I awkwardly stood and fumbled toward the door. In the pale pink light I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked like a freak. "I can't go out there like... like... this." I almost began to take it all off when I noticed the top of the dresser, complete with all kinds of accessories.

The hardest part (other than my dick, which was now uncomfortably hard in the confining pouch of the panties) was picking up the lipstick. Of course, it was pink, and I puckered my lips in the mirror and applied a whorish amount. I smacked my lips together, thinking "Better."

I turned back toward the door, and I saw myself again. Not yet. My eyes caught sight of a long, blonde wig hanging from a hook on the corner of the bed. Obviously, Brock had put that there, so I put it on. Stumbling toward the door, I again paused to take in the view. I wasn't "passable" in the least, but the change was humbling, humiliating, and complete.

Again, I gently opened the door.

Frannie stepped out to play.

I clomped down the hallway to the living room. I could see Brock's head and shoulders as he sat in a recliner, facing away from me, watching a NASCAR race that had just started on the TV. He almost certainly heard me trying to hoof my way in these damn shoes, but he didn't turn to recognize me. I came around the edge of the couch and stood before him. He didn't look up from the TV. He still had his desert-sand t-shirt on, but his red gym shorts were laying neatly on top of his gym bag by the locked door. His cock was fairly flaccid, draped casually over his right leg, but as I stood there, my eyes were drawn to it. I didn't notice the race on the TV, nor the furnishings, nor even the rugged, almost handsome older man sitting in his chair.

I was mesmerized by his growing cock.

I knew it was growing ... it was growing for me.

I stood there, drinking in the moment, just watching his cock harden and lengthen as it lay across his leg, the head darkening as the shaft filled with lust and pushed it forward, bit by bit. When it finally became erect enough, the head rose from its resting place and began to throb, keeping time with his heartbeat as it grew. It rising up like that finally prompted me into action, and I took a step toward him. He shook his head no, almost imperceptibly, eyes looking down toward the floor.

I dropped to my knees and crawled the rest of the way toward him. When close enough, I reached out to touch it. Again, with the subtle "no", so I crawled the additional steps closer to him, putting my hands on his knees instead. Despite all my fears, despite all the humbling and humiliating dress-up, and now being made to crawl, I was completely delighted that my touching his knees made his cock jump noticeably, and a drop of precum emerged from the tip.

I stuck out my tongue and intercepted it before it reached the leather of the chair. The clear liquid was warm, thick and almost flavorless, yet it felt like nectar of the gods to me as I hungrily and noisily slurped it into my mouth.

I parted my whorish pink lips and opened my mouth, moving forward again so I could take his cock. He flexed his stomach muscles, and his cock stood straight up, temporarily out of reach of my seeking lips.

"Ask," was all he said.

I could feel my stomach drop at the same time my cock lurched inside the lace confinement. The entire situation became alarmingly clear for just an instant. Here I was, dressed like a sissy, on my knees in front of a man old enough to be my father, my lipstick-plastered lips wide open, crawling to him, ready to suck his cock... and he wanted me to beg for it.

Despite the humiliation, I didn't hesitate -- I couldn't. I wanted it so badly.

"p.. p.. please..." I was barely able to make words, "let me... let me suck you." His cock stayed rigidly against his stomach, and I knew that I did not yet have permission. I tried again. "c...can I please suck your cock... p.... please, sir?" I could see him smile, and he relaxed his muscles. His cock flopped forward, sliding against my cheek and leaving a wet, snail-trail of thick, viscous precum down the side of my face.

"Begin."

I took half a second to look one more time at his dick, before I began my worship. Less than an inch away, it bobbed urgently at me, as more clear fluid oozed from the tip. I inhaled deeply, drinking in his scent. While not unclean, it was obvious he hadn't showered in a few hours, and his manly musk filled my nostrils and inflamed my desire. Without thinking about it any longer, I again opened my mouth and took his penis deeply into it, my tongue circling the head as if I was taking a victory lap at the start of what I hoped would be a 500-mile race.

I was rewarded with another dollop of thick fluid, but even more rewarding was the soft sigh from Brock as his cock surged happily harder in reaction to my warm, wet, hungry mouth.

He put his hands on my wig-covered head, not really pulling me closer, just letting me know where I stood... or knelt... in his world. Finally, now that his cock was ensconced in my sucking mouth, he spoke. "That's it, Frannie... suck Daddy's cock." 'Daddy' was new to me but it fit the entire situation. I took him deep, relishing the length and hardness of him as he became more and more erect. I could feel his hips rise slightly in reaction as I practiced my talent. He drew in a sharp breath. "That's my good girl. You look so cute, Frannie." I moaned in thanks, and took a couple deep breaths. All I wanted to do right now was suck his cock and make him happy.

Trying my best to relax, I took him as deep as I could until I began to gag -- then urged myself to go a little deeper. I couldn't do it, and I released most of his cock and worked on the swollen glans for a bit. Suddenly, Brock pulled me close to him, and I relaxed just in time for his head to snake its way into my throat. I felt his balls on my chin as they tensed up and I was driven with the urge to drain them. I gagged around his thick shaft and did my best to stick my tongue out to bathe his large, hairy nuts. As his firm hands pulled me tighter, I had an epiphany. If I was to choke to death right here, right now, this was the way I'd want to go.

Brock, of course, had longer range plans in mind, and released enough of me that I could breathe through my nose. I thanked him by circling my tongue around his cockhead again and again, and I timidly brought up a hand to cradle and massage his bull balls. He didn't object, so I lovingly squeezed them as I dove back down, this time taking his full shaft without help. I could feel his nuts lift themselves out of my hand and his shaft started to pulse.

"Oh, god, not already?" was my thought as he began to cum. His cock danced a merry tune in my throat as his hot seed blasted from the tip. Kind enough to reward me (or cruel enough to paint me) he pulled his spurting member out, a squirt or two landing on my tongue, and the last few drops smearing my lips and dripping from my chin with his chunky, thick seed.

As I rocked back to my knees, I could see his cock, the base of it covered in gaudy pink lipstick, the tip of it still drooling a gob of fresh sperm. Of course, I went after the tasty cum first, hoping he wouldn't mind my milking his shaft with my hand that was still cradling his now-drained nutsack. I then licked at his cockshaft and pubes trying to get the pink lipstick off of him as best I could.

Finally, he pushed my head back. "Go fix yourself, you look like a whore. Come back and sit on the couch like a good girl."

I went back to my room (yes, MY room!), working on my walk in those heels. As I straightened my wig and makeup, I thought to myself that I should make Brock some lunch.

My eyes widened. What have I become?