Just Scratching an Itch

Dave removed his hands from my head and leaned back into the couch. "Now that the instructional portion of the evening has concluded, how about you do your fucking job." No approval then. But he didn't have to tell me twice. In that moment I was a little bit giddy. I'd never been able to do that before.

I took Dave's cock in my hand and wrapped my lips around it. Looking up at him with a tinge of newfound confidence, I lowered my face toward his crotch and felt his cock slide over my tongue and burrow into my windpipe. I allowed my eyes to flicker down just for a split-second to watch his inches disappearing into my mouth, which stretched wider and wider as it approached the bottom of his shaft. He either didn't notice or forgave my momentary disobedience.

My gag reflex was still there, but it was muted now by the knowledge that his cock would fit in my throat. I took Dave's thick meat all the way to the bottom, burying my nose in his trimmed, graying pubic hair, feeling his cock head bullying its way in to possess my airway. And then back up, as I exhaled through my nose, inhaled, and then back down, slowly down, all the way down, letting him press back into the depths of my throat. *slurp ... squick ...* And then back up, breathe in, breathe out, and down, down, down. And up. And down, filling my throat, serving the real man, letting him take what he wants, and up and up and breathe again. And all the way down. And up. And again. And again.

It didn't take long for me to get comfortable with my new skill. I timed my breaths so I could go all the way down on him two, three times before coming up for air. I added some variation, interspersing a few series of swift, shallower strokes in between the deep dives.

"Well, look at you now," Dave said, stroking my hair as I drooled around the cock still shoved deep in my face hole. "What a confident little bitch you are all of a sudden." I bobbed my head and swept my tongue underneath the sensitive bit below his cock head. "Mmm. That feels good, slut." He inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. "What a good cocksucker you're turning out to be."

I increased my pace slightly. This was finally going according to plan. I'd figured out — well, I'd been trained — how to pleasure him, and if I kept this up, I'd get to have him cum in my mouth, and — maybe more important — he'd be sated and we could call it a night, with my ass intact.

I tried to conjure up things women had done while blowing me that took me closer to the edge. Eye contact was a given. I moaned audibly and hungrily while I sucked and swiveled around on his huge cock head. I reached between his legs and stroked his balls, tickled his perineum, licked his shaft. I ran my hands and fingernails up and down his thighs while I sucked him.

While he watched me worship his cock, Dave unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He stroked my hair some more, letting slip an occasional grunt of approval for my service.

I intensified my efforts, taking him hard and fast and deep, teasing his shaft and the rim of his mushroom head with every stroke. I heard his breathing quicken. Oh fuck yes, it was working. Any time now he was going to shoot his cum into my mouth, and I could drink it down and rest my aching jaw.

Knowing I was getting him closer, I reached down between my own legs and started to stroke myself. I'd been keyed up for hours and had been hard as a rock since overcoming my fear of death by suffocation earlier. And now that I was about to —

"Stop that NOW," Dave barked. I yanked my hand away from my dick, jerked my head up, and involuntarily sat up straight. "I didn't tell you you could touch yourself," he said, his baritone thick with contempt. You'd have thought he caught me stealing from him. "You don't get to touch yourself, you don't get to please yourself, and you sure as shit don't get to cum unless and until I tell you so," he snarled.

"Sorry," I squeaked. Or at least I tried to. Apparently, having a thick rod of rigid flesh battering your vocal chords can impair the power of speech. It came out as a ragged whisper, followed by a weak cough.

"Not a bad time to switch it up then, anyway," he said casually, and I tensed. What did he mean? I was so close to getting him off, or at least I thought so. Was he going to insist we switch to . . . to him fucking me? I wasn't ready for that. Not at all. I wanted to protest. But I knew it wouldn't help. He knew what he wanted, and it was my place to comply.

"Get up," he said, "and go over to the bed." So this was it then. After the extremely unpleasant ordeal to figure out how to fit his cock in my throat, he was going to up the ante and insist on the much more painful invasion of my ass. I didn't want this. I didn't know how to say 'no' to him, but I didn't want this.

"The FUCK are you waiting for," Dave shouted. I literally jumped. I scurried to my feet and scampered over to the bed as fast as I could, and turned around to face him, naked, defenseless, and terrified. He'd risen from the couch and started in my direction, his still rock-hard cock jutting out in front of him and swaying heavily as he stepped toward me.

"Pull that fucking bedspread off." I did, hastily, shoving it into the space between the bed and the wall. "Those things are fucking gross," he muttered, mostly to himself. I stood tensely, not sure if I was still supposed to be looking him in the eye or if I should stare submissively at the floor. I chose the floor.

"Climb up on the bed and lay on your back," he ordered. I scooted onto the bed and flopped down in the center. "No, you stupid cunt, slide back here and hang your head backwards over the side of the bed." I wormed my way over to the side where he was standing, lay flat on my back and pushed myself a little further until my head was hanging backwards off the bed, and I was staring upside-down at his massive legs, his erect cock and heavy, cum-laden testicles looming inches from my face.

And then I knew what was about to happen. It was a good news/bad news situation. The good news was that he was not about to fuck my asshole. The bad news —

"Listen, Bitch," Dave interrupted my trickle of thought and glared down at me. "I know you're awfully pleased with yourself for figuring out how to swallow my whole cock." He was right about that. "That fact probably ought to tell you something about who and what you really are. You should reflect on that the next time you're under the delusion that you're a man." He paused, letting that sink in; it was a vaguely troubling thought.

"Anyway," he shifted gears, "now that we've got that fuckhole in your face all warmed up, I'm going to go ahead and take your throat at my own speed." That's what I'd figured was about to happen. And I was really nervous about it. I might have just proven that I could take his whole length, but completely giving up control and having him hammer away at my windpipe was a whole other situation.

Dave didn't give me any time to get used to the idea. I watched with trepidation — upside down — as he spread his massive legs and leaned forward, pressing his hands against my chest and bringing his angry cock to my lips. It was swollen to its full size.

"Open up," he said, "and — I'm only going to tell you this once — you better breathe and breathe deep when I give you the chance." I took that advice and inhaled sharply as I opened my mouth to invite his tool back inside my head.

Dave thrust his hips forward and shoved his cock through my mouth and deep into my throat. His scrotum covered my nose and eyes. "Oh, fuck yeah," he muttered. He pulled it back until just the head was in my mouth — I stole a quick breath — and then he jammed it back in again and started to rhythmically pound away at my skull.

I lay there, my body rigid, my fingers clutching the sheets at my sides, as Dave drove himself into me again, and again, and again. Angry, wet sounds announced each invasion and filled my ears. Every so often he'd withdraw to the point that just his crown was in my mouth, and I'd desperately refill my lungs before the assault continued, a task made more difficult by Dave's considerable weight pressing down on my chest. It was never quite enough air, and I was starting to get dizzy.

As he sawed back and forth in and out of my airway, he grabbed my nipples and rubbed them tightly between his vice-like fingers. Pain gripped me. His pace quickened. He was breathing hard now. Again and again and again he rammed me. I could feel the inside of my throat expanding and then contracting with each thrust of his cock.

"Oh yeah," he uttered between heavy breaths. "I'm starting to get close, Bitch." That was a relief — I was really in oxygen debt and didn't know much longer I could hold still.

"I'm going to cum soon," he told me, grunting. "You're going to get your wish, you little fucking faggot. And when I cum, you're going to take it all. You're gonna drink it all down."

Faster now. His shaft forcing my lips wider, his cock head driving into my trachea, pushing spit and pre-cum down into my stomach and lungs like a piston. No pauses for air. His balls slapping me in the face.

Then all at once he let out a shout, grabbed my head in his hands and drove himself deep into my esophagus. His cock jerked violently, and I felt a rush of liquid hit my throat. Swallowing most of it immediately was the only way not to choke on it. But I choked on the rest. He started to withdraw as he convulsed a second time, spraying the back of my mouth with another huge burst of hot seed. I felt that load dripping to pool in the roof of my inverted mouth even as he blasted me a third time, and a fourth.

Dave kept his grip on my head, his cock now only halfway inside me. I could see his balls twitching in front of me as they pumped their contents through his manhood and into my mouth. Gobs of thick, warm semen enveloped my tongue, slippery and salty and musky and . . . just so fucking much of it.

The spurts began to slow down.

"Swallow it, faggot," Dave spat at me, "and suck me dry." It wasn't so easy to swallow upside down with his tool in my mouth, while still sputtering on the first spurt of cum, but I managed to gulp some of it down, a bit at a time. In between swallows I sucked on his knob, massaged his shaft with my lips and tongue, squeezing as much remaining cum out of him as I could. I swallowed that, too.

Dave withdrew at last and sat down heavily next to me on the bed. I continued to lay there, head dangling, wheezing through the thick wetness and panting for breath. I'd swallowed what seemed like a tremendous amount of cum, and the taste of it, the smell of it ruled my senses. It had permeated the tiny opening that connects my throat to my nasal passage. My teeth were slick with a thin, residual coating of it.

"You can sit up now," Dave said, peering down at me, an unreadable expression on his face. It took me another minute to gather the strength to lift my head, roll over onto my stomach, and slide back away from the edge of the bed. I pushed up onto my forearms, still breathing hard. I coughed violently, deep and wet, and again swallowed the mixture of semen and saliva that the cough had produced.

"Come here and clean me up," Dave said. He spread his legs straight out in front of him, towards me, and leaned back to rest on his elbows. His cock was starting to soften, and it was coated in our combined fluids. I crawled over to him and lowered my head to his crotch. I licked around his shaft, took him into my mouth — very gently, mindful of his post-orgasm sensitivity — and pulled away the excess into my mouth. Then I dropped my head and licked his sweat and cum and my spit from his balls, swallowing the mixture. When I was done, I looked up sheepishly, unsure what reaction I'd get.

A long minute passed silently between us.

"You know you're never going to be the same after this," Dave said matter-of-factly. And then he climbed off the bed and casually strolled into the bathroom, still fully nude. He didn't shut the door. A moment later I heard him taking a piss.

I took a deep breath. What now? I had just been humiliated, manipulated and used. I'd sucked a man's cock, had him literally fuck my face, and now his cum was pooling in my stomach. I let my tongue slide over the slickness on my teeth. And I was incredibly turned on. Which made me a little faggot slut. My shame and my arousal swelled. I looked down at my own cock, modest in comparison to Dave's. I ached give myself the relief that had been denied me for hours. But I knew that would be a mistake.

Was he done with me? Would he come out of the bathroom, put on his clothes and leave? If he did, I could finally make myself cum. I'd be shooting off before the door was locked behind him.

What if he didn't leave? Were we going to sit around make small talk until he was recharged and ready to use me again? I was under no illusions. I knew that if Dave wanted to drop a second load tonight it wasn't going to be from a blowjob.

The sound of streaming liquid tapered off and was followed by the toilet flushing. Then the sink running. Then silence.

Dave strolled out of the bathroom carrying something in his hand. It was my bottle of lube.

"Time to do something about that tight little asshole of yours," he said, grinning.

What the fuck? He JUST CAME. How was this possible? How was this fair?

Dave climbed up onto the bed, propped a few pillows against the center of the headboard and sat upright with his back against them, his legs straight out in front of him. His now-flaccid cock rested between his thighs — no signs of life at the moment. So that was something, at least.

"Come on over here and lay down across my lap," Dave said. "Face down." I crawled over to him and positioned myself on all fours across his thighs, perpendicular to his legs. I felt his hands press down on my back, forcing me into a prone position atop his quadriceps. I turned my head to the side as my face hit the sheet, my hands splaying helplessly out alongside my head. My penis rested against his inner thigh, deflating from fear, my ass jutting upward.

"Spread your legs apart," Dave instructed. I did so, exposing myself to him. I heard him flip the cap open on the bottle of lube squeeze it. A few seconds later I gasped as I felt one of his thick, oily fingers thrust into my unprepared hole. My ring tightened around it reflexively. He laughed, withdrew his finger and then jabbed it in again. And again I clenched.

"Boy, you're going to have to learn how to relax that thing or this is going to be a long and unpleasant night for you," Dave warned. He pulled the finger almost all the way out and pressed it inside again, twisting it and coating my insides with lubricant. Out and in and out and in.

He removed it again and I heard him squeeze out some more lube. I felt him press again at my opening, but this time it was with two fingers. Their tips pushed me open and spread my hole gradually but forcefully. I gritted my teeth and clenched my eyes shut as searing pain flared to life. Farther and farther he pushed them, one knuckle deep, then two. I fought to steady my breathing, praying quietly for the agony to subside.

"The only reason I'm doing this is that I don't want to literally tear you open when I fuck you," Dave said matter-of-factly. His fingers paused, and for a moment the pain did subside from acute anguish to a tender ache. Then he pulled them out slowly and pushed them back in, deeper. And then out and then in again.

I felt a sharp sting, my ring stretched further, when Dave spread the two inserted fingers apart. Then I heard him squeeze the lube bottle again and felt a liberal amount of it drizzle directly into my anal cavity. Again he pumped those two fingers into me. He twisted them, curled them, tugging on the inside of my ring as he softened me up. Sickly squelching noises taunted me in the otherwise silent the room.

Dave thrust his fingers deeper still, and I let out a low moan. I felt myself stir, my body reacting involuntarily to the invasion. I flushed with shame as I felt my cock start to harden. The thrusts came faster.

"I feel that, you know," Dave said with a chuckle, twirling his hand to vary the angle of his assault. "On my leg. I can feel you getting turned on by this." Of course he'd noticed. I couldn't hide my arousal. In and out, he continued. Jab, thrust, push, pull, twist. More lube. And repeat. "You're just a cock-hungry faggot who needs your holes filled."

I began to think hopefully that if his patience continued, if he continued to stretch me out, warm me up . . . maybe if he added another finger — gently — and took his time, then maybe . . . maybe I'd eventually be able to take his cock after all. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensation of his flesh inside of mine. On the purposeful handling of my body's most sensitive depths.

As Dave manipulated me, my groin rocked back and forth on his thigh, and a drop of pre-cum dribbled out of my cock to ease the maddeningly slight friction between my member and his taut skin. It was pure pleasure. The feeling of fullness, of being a vessel. I didn't care anymore if there were consequences, I was going to cum before long — it was inevitable. I could warn him, I supposed, tell him to stop so that I wouldn't violate his instructions. But it felt too good, and I'd been at the brink for so long. And so I just gave myself to the pleasure, ragged breaths following the rhythm of his thrusts. It wouldn't be long now until —

A gentle knock at the door. Dave froze, then yanked his fingers out of me. I turned my head to look up at him, and he glowered at me accusingly.

"Expecting someone," he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"No," I insisted, truthfully, shaking my head emphatically. "I don't know who it is."

Another knock, slightly louder.

"Get off," Dave said. "I'll handle this." I hoisted myself back to my hands and knees, shaking, and crawled over to sit at the foot of the bed, hugging my knees. "Stay there, and don't move," he admonished.

Dave wiped his fingers on the edge of the sheet, walked over to the sitting area and picked up his pants. He stepped into them and buttoned them up as he continued around the corner to the entryway, which I couldn't see from my vantage on the bed.

I suppose he looked through the keyhole first, but in any case I heard the door open, and Dave said, "Hello again."

"Hi," came the timid reply. Holy shit. The voice was the blonde's from next door. "We're so, so sorry to bother you but after you stopped by and told us what you were going to do, we all got really . . . I don't know, curious I guess?"

"Uh huh," Dave responded, somehow patiently.

"Well, I know this might seem super weird," the blonde's voice continued, "but, like, it's Vegas and all, you know? And you came over to, like, tell us you and he were going to . . . you know . . . and we were just wondering if, like, if . . . would it be super weird if we wanted to . . . watch? I mean I know that might be super wrong, but we're just curious because we've never seen, well, THAT before, and I mean, it is Vegas and all, so anyway . . . shit, if that's, like, totally messed up, we'll just go . . . ."

"Huh," Dave said thoughtfully. "Well, first of all, don't feel bad for asking. I guess I did kind of put it out there. And it IS Vegas." Nervous female chuckling. "And I know Shawn wouldn't mind," Dave continued, thinking aloud. "What the Hell, we were just getting warmed up anyway. If you want to see something you don't get to see every day, I think we can give you a little show." My heart sank into my gut. If what was about to happen was about to happen, this was going to be extremely fucked up.

"But listen," Dave added, and then his voice lowered to the point where I couldn't make out any of the words — just a soft murmur. He said something, paused, said something else. The girls giggled. Dave's voice again, low and conspiratorial. I strained but couldn't hear anything specific.