Passion at the Pageant - Track 01

Brent hated his mother's beauty pageant. Ever since leaving his father it had consumed her. Instead of just running a NGO, like every other over-financed divorcee her age, she channeled her time, and his inheritance, into this ridiculous vanity project.

She called it, "promoting good values in young ladies of substance."

He knew it was really just encouraging spoiled little princesses.

Brent had just finished his undergraduate degree in college and his mother had co-opted him into being her general dogsbody for this year's event. She hadn't called the job that, she had given him the title of 'assistant director.' But, you could call someone who picks up after dogs the Emperor of the universe, they still had to pick up shit.

He wasn't even allowed to acknowledge that she was his mother! She said it might create an unfair bias, or encourage the girls to try and curry favor with him, but Brent knew it was really because she didn't want people knowing she had a son in his twenties. God forbid they discover her real age. Fortunately for her, he had kept his Father's surname, while she had reverted back to her maiden name. To the girls he was just some sad loser who couldn't a better job and now had to play nanny to their every bratty teenage whim. It was even starting to feel that way to him.

Why any of the girls would want this made-up title of his mother's was beyond him. Maybe it was the year in a Swiss finishing school, followed by full scholarship to an ivy league college along with a car and a guaranteed entrance into high society. It promised these girls a step up in social class and an opportunity to be a fake, over-medicated divorcee living off her generous alimony for the rest of her life, just like Brent's mother and all her 'friends'.

Now Brent was on another shitty errand for his mother. He had to call the girls for the rehearsal of their individual item on the stage set up in the huge hotel conference room. What it meant was that he had to stand in the corridor of the hotel, like a chump, and knock on a different girl's door every half an hour.

First up was Clarice Calfman from Allton college. She was like all the other girls, over eighteen, over-accomplished, and a senior in high school with an unblemished record. Brent had also noticed over the years, although his mother claimed it was not a beauty pageant, one other similarity in the girls. They were all crazy hot. His mother talked a good game when it came to equality for women, but she knew that the lifeblood of her pageant was public interest and, as she put it, "No one is interested in uggles."

Brent knocked on the door twice. There was no response, but he was used to being ignored. His college buddies had all been jealous that he got to spend his summer surrounded by beautiful teenage girls. Brent, however, had grown up around the pageant and he knew the type of girls the event attracted were too self absorbed to even see past their own reflections. In general they treated him like a personal slave, assistant director title or no.

On one occasion he had been sent to out buy fucking tampons!

Brent was beginning to regret that his humanities major gave him precisely zero other opportunities for internships over the summer.

Brent knocked again, loudly this time. He called, "Miss Calfman? They need you downstairs for your rehearsal slot."

Still no answer. Brent cursed. Most of his buddies had traveled to Europe this summer. They were busy fucking their way across the continent and here he was, a glorified butler.

He heard a click behind him, but continued to pound on the door, "Miss Calfman?" Always "Miss," his mother insisted that if you treat them like proper ladies they would act like proper ladies.

"She's gone downstairs already," a bored voice spoke from the doorway behind him. Brent turned to see the short, curvy figure of Addison Clarke. She was a senior at Middlewood High and represented the fine state of Connecticut. His mother insisted on trying to have every state represented in the competition, just like a Miss America pageant.

"She thinks that if she appears to be extra keen it will give her a better chance at the title," Addison rolled her big, hazel eyes.

Brent wondered again why Addison Clarke was here. She did not seem particularly interested in the title. If he had to describe her personality in one word it would be,"bored." It had to be the very eager looking parents he had seen hanging around her, between events, who had the unrealistic expectations.

Brent, and pretty much everyone else, knew she had virtually no shot at the title. His mother preferred tall, blonde, more athletic girls, with enormous white smiles and personalities so bubbly they could carbonate water. Basically, Brent had realized, his mother was looking for the type of person she thought she was. She was definitely not any of those things, once you scratched at her thin veneer. She was not even a real blonde.

He had heard his mother describe Addison as "that little dumpy brunette." Brent liked the curves, though, her figure was a breath of fresh air in a crowd of barbie dolls. And those lips! Addison had the most perfect set of pouty little pillows framing her mouth.

Brent had seen her wrap them around a lollipop during a break in the early pageant rehearsals, an action his mother had described as "vulgar," and one that had caused Brent to spend the next ten minutes trying to hide his erection behind his clipboard.

"Thanks," he muttered before looking at that same, ever present, clipboard. "Typical," he thought, his mother probably already knew but had not bothered to text or call to save him the trouble.

"While you are here, Ms Clarke, you are expected next, in about 30 minutes."

"Yeah, I kind of knew that already," she unnecessarily opened her arms to highlight the fact that she was wearing a dark pink ball gown with a chiffon skirts. Her bustier was embroidered with patterns of crystal beads. It had a demure cut, but still hinted at a generous bosom beneath. She also wore a sparkling tiara buried deep in her thick brown hair and long white gloves which covered almost the length of her arms.

Brent nodded and turned away, looking at the clipboard again, as if that would give him some way to fill the hour before he had to call the next contestant. It was not even like he could go and relax in his room. His mother would pitch a fit if he "deserted his post," and she always seemed to know when he did. He looked around to see if there was a least a bench he could sit on somewhere.

Addison cleared her throat behind him. "Uh, Mr Wenkler?" She asked

"Mr Wenkler? What fuck was this?" Brent thought. If he was lucky enough to have his existence acknowledged he was usually, "Hey, you!" The politest of the girls might call him Brent. No one called him "Mr Wenkler."

He turned back to Addison. She was posed in an artificial stance of shyness, twisting the toe of her pink pump into the carpet.

"Can you help me with something on my room?"

"Great," Brent thought, "another hairdryer that needed to be rewired or a spider he had to catch. "Still, at least she was being polite about it."

He tapped his pen thoughtfully on his clipboard. "Fuck it, it was not like I have anything better to do," he decided. He stepped closer and she turned sideways in the door to let him pass. It was not easy given the volume of her chiffon skirts.

Once inside the room he looked around to see if there was an obvious problem, but all he saw was a very untidy room. There were clothes all over the floor, biscuit crumbs on the nightstand and the bed looked like it had been the venue for a wrestling match. Brent would quit before he became her maid, if that is what she intended. He was about to spin, and tell her that, when he heard the door behind him shut. He jumped slightly in surprise.

He turned to see what Addison was up to and was only in time to see the short figure moving rapidly towards him in a rustle of skirts. Before he could react she had gripped his arms tightly in her gloved hands and shoved him back. It was slightly embarrassing that such a short girl could so easily drive him backwards, all the way until his butt bumped the sill of the window.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she slapped a small little hand over it. The satin felt cool on his slightly stinging lips. He could only look on as her, suddenly, fierce eyes locked onto his.

"Look, Brenty boy," apparently He was Mr Wenkler no longer, " I know who you are."

He shrugged. He knew his only course of action was to play this cool, and it mattered nothing to him if anyone knew who he was.

"You are going to put in a good word for me with your mother and, in return, I will make it worth your while." She punctuated her words by placing a hand on his groin. He could almost feel the blood falling from his head and rushing to engorge his cock.

How had she found out who he was? Plenty of people involved in the pageant knew, but they were left with little doubt that revealing this knowledge would cost them their jobs.

"I thought you didn't want this stupid title?" His voice was muffled as he spoke through her gloved hand

He managed to get out, "You look like you hate it here," before his words turned into a gasp as her hands began tugging at his belt.

"I fucking do." She said, while she worked feverishly. Finally, she had his belt unbuckled and was working on his button and fly. "But I hate my parents more. If I can win this thing I can travel, go to an out-of-state college and basically go anywhere in the world they are not. Then they can't force me to do another fucking beauty pageant."

She slid down his pants and boxers to his hips so that his already swollen cock spilled out into her waiting hand.

"Do you know how long I have had to put up with this bullshit?"

Brent was not in a position to respond beyond a grunt as she slid her fingers along the skin of his rigid shaft.

"Since I was 3 fucking years old! I have been in thousands of these fucking things and do you know how many I have won?" She was beginning to stroke him with agonizing slowness, "fucking zero! the best I have ever come is 3rd runner-up."

"I think you're beautiful," Brent said through a spaced out grin.

"Aw thanks sweetie," her voiced dripped with sarcasm, "But, try not to think. You can't have much blood going to your head now anyway."

"Mmm," was the only response Brent could managed as he felt the satin glove stroking up and down his length.

"I mean, you would think my dumb-ass parents would get the message, but no. So I am going to win this thing even if I have to suck a bag of dicks. Starting with yours."

Brent moaned.

She lowered herself to the floor, her skirts billowing out around her so that it looked like her top half was rising out of a pink cloud.

Kneeling, or sitting, Brent couldn't see her legs beneath the gown, she encircled the circumference of his shaft with her small hand. She squeezed it playfully, testing its rigidity. She could have rested a tea cup on it.

When Brent stole a look down at her, through hooded eyelids, he saw she was doing something strange with her jaw. She was opening and closing it and rolling it from side to side. Brent was about to ask, when he realized what she was doing. He felt a flash of pride then, when he realized she was stretching her mouth to accommodate him.

"Whew," she shook her heard, "I hadn't counted on you being such a big boy, Brenty."

It was making him tingle with anticipation. He could see a small bead of pre-cum forming in the slit of his glans.

She looked up at him with her wide brown eyes and playfully pressed her lips together in a kiss. He ached to feel himself press into their pillowy softness. They were obscene lips. They should have looked too big for her face, but they just made her look more fuckable. If ever a sex toy manufacturer were looking to make a cast of the perfect set of blowjob lips, they should look no further than Addison.

He felt the hook-tug of desire deep in his gut as she slowly leaned forward. She ran the moist tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, before finally placing a chaste peck on the end of his rod. Brent jolted as if it had given him an electric shock. But, her lips stayed there. Slowly, he began to push himself deep into them, feeling himself sink into the delicate flesh.

He felt a small intense pain and then realized she was sucking hard to drain off his pre-cum.

He flexed his stomach muscles, enjoying how it made him swell into the cushion she had created with her lips. He pushed forward again, trying to slide between them. He could just feel the tip grazing her teeth. He ached for those lips to part and enfold him. But she rocked back, keeping her eyes focused on his.

Brent grimaced, wanting nothing more than for her to continue, but not able to bring himself to beg.

"So?" she asked coyly, as if she didn't have the weight of a thick cock clutched in one gloved hand.

"So, what?" The exasperation was heavy in his voice.

"Will you put in a good word for me with your mother?"

"Fuck," he tried to rock against her, but she held his shaft tight in one hand and pushed against his hips with the other, restraining him.

"Yes," he finally snarled, "Anything. Just put it in your mouth."

"Say please."

"Please can I put my cock between your beautiful fat lips?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she finished her sentence by opening her mouth and slowly letting his tip slide into it.

He could feel her teeth, rough on the hood of his cock, and her tongue, a warm, wet sponge held out to welcome him.

She closed her lips just halfway down the dome of his glans. Kissing him and letting her tongue flick the sensitive underside. She pulled back and he could see a ring of red lipstick remained.

She cocked her head and put a mock-thoughtful finger to her chin before saying, "hmm, I wonder how far down I can make this ring?"

"Yes, yes," Brent breathed, "Take me as deep as you can."

"And, will I have your guarantee that the crown is mine?"

"Yes! They will make you queen of the world by the time I am done. Now, suck my cock!" There was no way he was going to tell her now that he had absolutely no sway over his mother. Let her learn the important lesson of doing your research properly before offering to suck a dick for reward.

She hummed in satisfaction as she opened up again, this time letting him slide over her tongue until the entire head of his cock was in her mouth.

Absentmindedly she tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. Her teeth closed in the valley just after the flared edge of his glans. It hurt, but it was tempered by the actions of her hot, wet tongue, which churned like a washing machine inside her mouth.

She tortured him like this for minutes. It felt good, but it frustrated him that her closed teeth prevented him from rocking into her open mouth.

Then, finally, she retracted her teeth behind her lips, and let the soft flesh of them slide over him. Those perfect lips formed a tight ring as his length moved slowly in and out of her wet mouth. She drew on him with a fierce vacuum, while her tongue continued to whip at him ferociously.

He was really starting enjoy himself when, after letting him push half his length into his mouth, she held him there. She twisted her head from side to side and sucked down even harder. He was unsure of what she was doing until she pulled back and looked, with amusement, at her handy work.

There was another red ring around his cock now, just past the halfway point between tip and base.

"Not bad," She mused, "But, I think I can do better."

Brent wanted to cheer for her. And for himself too.

She swallowed him again, this time with more intensity. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked down hard. Wet sticky noises were being created by her plump lips and slick tongue as they worked in tandem.

He tried to place his hands on her hair perfectly groomed hair, but she batted them away. As her head bobbed, he lowered himself further onto the window sill and allowed his hands to sink until they were brushing her bustier.

She did not protest this, so he let his hands explore more boldly. First he traced the shape of her breasts through the thick, unforgiving fabric. Then he let his fingers brush the soft skin just where she swelled out of the garment.

She seemed focused on her task as she worked his painfully hard swelling, so he allowed his fingers to dip into where the bustier pinned her breasts tightly. He found more soft skin before, finally, the rippled hardness of a ripe nipple. He teased it with his trapped fingers. He was rewarded with a deeper, more intense sucking and a low hum in Addison's throat.

He pinched the nipple awkwardly between pointer and middle fingers, before getting frustrated. He shoved both his hands in roughly between skin and fabric. She grunted, surprised, but did not let up her assault.

He slid the hands past her nipples, feeling little buds twist as each slid between two of his digits, and hooked the underside of both breasts with curled fingers. He hauled them up and let them spill emphatically out of the bustier.

She snorted and gurgled in her throat. Brent was unsure if it was a signal of her displeasure, but he did not give a damn.

He groped at her full, proud, teenage breasts. Each was more than a handful for him and he was pleased by their weightiness as they bounced up and down in his hands with each thrust of her head. Hard nipples prodded at his cupped palms. Clearly she was getting more out of this than his half-hearted promise.

The forefinger and thumb of one her gloved hands had encircled the base of his shaft. The other hand was rolling his balls around pleasingly in her palm. She was spiking her head down on him harder and harder, continually driving him deeper.

Then she stopped, and pulled back once more. He had to console himself by squeezing hard on the firm flesh of her breasts. She stared hard at his cock. Ropes of saliva now hung from her protruding bottom lip. Seemingly lost in the moment she wiped at it with the back of her hand, not noticing the frothy wetness that darkened her pristine white glove.

She appeared to steel herself. Then she took a deep breath, opened her mouth wide, and swallowed him. Literally.

He felt his length glide over teeth and tongue, past the back of her mouth and into the confines of her tight throat until he hit something spongy. But, by that time, her perfect lips were already nestled in his pubic hair. She had swallowed him completely.

The knowledge caused his cock to flex. He felt the head of it swell inside her. He could see her eyes were wide and watering, the tendons on her neck straining to hold him in. Her body twitched as she fought to control her gag reflex.

She held him inside her like that for what could only have been five seconds, but felt like a wondrous lifetime to Brent.

Then she regurgitated him in a sloppy mess of spit, that clung to to his cock and joined him to her lips in a spider's web of silk strands.

They both looked down at the faint red ring around the very base of his shaft. Brent grinned, but she continued to stare at it, fixated. Her only reaction a subtle nod to herself.

Tears had begun to squeeze from the corners of her eyes, and her thickly applied mascara was running down her cheeks. Brent was wondering if he he should ask her if she was okay, but she had already set her face, once more, in a determined expression.

Again she swallowed him. Faster this time, but just as deep. She held him there for less time before retreating, but hardly paused to regain her breath before plunging down again.