The New Girl Ch. 10

'Mhm. Mumph.'

But...but I also struggle to disagree, in some fashion.

Morgan's meaty member is capped in such lustrousness, a pearlescent smoothness that is at once spongy and sublimely stiff, rhythmically pulsating as it drools an endless quantity of salty and slightly bitter pre-ejaculate into my mouth. I'm aware, already, that I've tasted her sperm just by savouring this flavour, but these are just the advance party, making ready the territory that the first load I'm going to taste of Morgan is soon to claim.

'Granny's ideas about men are definitely close to the truth,' she says, adjusting her legs. Morgan brings her knees up, rests her feet flat on the floor. The slight lift lets her balls hang more freely, and she widens her gait to allow what can only increased relaxation for the muscles that will inevitably deliver her potent payload. 'But she didn't--mhm--realise the truth, did she?'

The gothic goddess cocks her head to the side. 'There's no need to be forceful, is there, sweet Tom? Your pathetic little balls will never produce the quality of mine, and you know that I'm doing you a favour here.' She titters gently, sighs. So beautiful, so cool and sharp of mind and tongue. Hitting psychological G-spots with her awful and alluring assertions. 'I'm going to get a long, slow, hungry blowjob, and I'm going to shoot out my thick, virile, musky load for you to laboriously chew and struggle to swallow, and then you're going to thank me.'

She laughs more forcibly now, balls shuddering and breasts jiggling. 'Isn't that a lovely thought, cocksucker? Aren't you ever so lucky to be in this house, where your body can finally experience real sperm. On your tastebuds, of course, but--aah--even so.'

Why does it make me blush so much, to be talked down to? To be told such vile things?

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Slurp. Schlack.

I find myself more enthusiastic, sucking in my cheeks around her ridiculous bell-end, lapping passionately at the banjo string on its underside, shivering each and every time it pulses and emits another dose of that salty bitter oiliness.

'God, you're pathetic, aren't you? It turns you on so much, to be degraded by me.' Her eyes flutter, cheeks reddening. 'You're perfect, sweet Tom. Blondie has excellent taste. A man who knows his place is on his knees, in service of his betters -- we futanaris -- is a man I will always take care of.'

That darkness is edged in honey, at the end. A weird kind of affection, but affection all the same. Black treacle of a thing.

Schlap. Schlop. Schlurp.

Morgan pats my head, trembling. 'A day will never pass where you can't do what you're best at, okay? No matter what Blondie's feeling, you can always -- ooh -- find me. I'll feed you, sweet Tom. I'll make sure that hungry mouth always has a real penis to suckle on, and that starving belly is always full of my genes.'

I blush brightly, mind racing, heart thundering. God, she's so hot. This is so hot. Vulgar and primal and animalistic, dominance and submission, asserting her supremacy and acknowledging her as my better in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And I don't know how much time passes, because I'm lost in her eyes. Lost in her pale and perfect gaze, swimming in her soul. It's so different with Morgan. Better for blowjobs, I have to admit. I can't pretend that sucking Freya's dick is better. If Freya were to talk to me like this, maybe, but...I really can just keep sucking.

Schlap. Slurp.

No matter what I do, whether I try and fill my cheeks with the fat futanari helmet or practically stick my tongue in her cum-slit or go absolutely mad on Morgan's frenulum, she at most groans and trembles and keeps lathering my mouth in her salty bitterness. And she talks throughout, stares me down, reminds me of my place and how pathetic I am and how right this is and how grateful I should be.

Over, and over, and over.

'Mhm. Won't be long now.'

When Morgan says those beautiful words, I tense up to an absurd degree. I glance up at her, finding the smuggest of smiles. A declaration of pride, of dominance, and her total victory. Her urging for Freya to view this sharing as dominant won out, and she got what she wanted. She's about to potentially claim my mouth, to ruin me in a passing sense for the others. If her sperm is really as vulgarly virile as she claims, a thing of force instead of finesse, then I might...I might have to rethink things.

Schlup. Slurp.

'Flatten your tongue,' Morgan says, 'and keep tugging. That's a good cocksucker. Ooh.'

Her knees tremble either side of me, a pulse rocking her body and swelling her already stout glans. The precum seems to decrease, drying up almost. And her cum-vein bulges, shudders with a quaking force.

'Mumph. Mhm.'

Schlup. Schlap.

I keep sucking, of course. Keep sucking, and flatten my tongue as requested. Why wouldn't I? I need to know what Morgan tastes like. Crave that most carnal of knowledge like nothing else on Earth. God, I hope I love it, and God I hope I don't.

Betrayal. Cheating, it feels like. To potentially give my mouth to Mistress's sister.

'Aah. That's it, cocksucker. Here it comes. Here comes the real deal. Mhm.'

Her big balls rise and fall, shifting and swaying. It's happening. Holy shit, it's happening, and there's no going back. No way to escape the reality that is my filthy fate here, this doom I've brought upon myself. This beautifully baleful meeting of male mouth and futanari ejaculate.

Schlop. Slurp.

'Aah. Taste my--ooh--pride.'

I'm honestly amazed that it spits as far as it does, exploding out of her glans and going all the way across my tongue, spreading heat and a flavour that is absolutely potent but definitely not traditionally pleasant. Where Freya's loads are creamy, and Persephone's the same, this stuff is...it's so fucking viscous, it's almost like jelly.

So heavy, so thick, that her bell-end's eyelet is left with half a rope hanging out of it, noticeable when I shift my tongue in anxious acceptance of the first taste of Morgan Venyabildt.

But it's a fucking good thing I'm both utterly disgusting and clearly cum-obsessed, because I think I'm in love with her spooge.

'Mhm. Cumdump. Cumslut.'

There's little time between the first stringy shot and the second, which is of similar size and forcefulness as the first. It catches on the roof of my mouth near the back, and hangs low, stuck there like glue.

'Mumph. Mhm-hm.'

It's salty, and it's tangy, and it's rich. Absurdly thick and clinging, and not at all sweet. Not bitter as such, but pungent, and so absolutely and undeniably semen. God, she's virile as fuck. God, Morgan is some cock and cum goddess.

And it just keeps coming, her body rocked by rhythmic pulsations, convulsions culminating in constant carnal creaminess. She's loading my mouth, and all I can do is...keep sucking. Keep stroking her powerful shaft. Keep working to pleasure her and to receive her thick virile pride.

Morgan is blushing as I do so, smirking serenely. 'There's no going back--mhm--now,' she says. 'You're going to take care of me, sweet Tom. To suck out my loads whenever I ask. Is that--aah--clear?'

I nod faintly, contended, cum-filled. So much sperm, healthy rich virile Venyabildt spooge, must be racing around my mouth. It's a dramatically huge quantity, so much that I'm forced to swallow despite how badly I want to savour and taste her. Rich and salty and tangy, not at all sweet, viscous to the extreme, and I want to just keep tasting the fresh milk of Morgan.

Gulp. Gulp. Little swallows, draining a bit, only for Morgan to replace what was consumed with a groan and a sigh, her loins releasing thick burst after dense shot. Gulp. Gulp.

'That's it, cumslut. Swallow my sperm. Mhm. Swallow the creamy cum of a real cock.'

I shut my eyes and relish in the way her helmet swells and shudders, the manner in which her jism is simply so ropey and gluey. It's the best semen of the bunch, isn't it? Such a betrayal to even consider the possibility, but it's true. It really feels like she's breeding my mouth, really establishes that I've got her genes swimming across my tastebuds, and I'm so glad that she tastes so vulgar.

'Mhm. That's it. Keep sucking you--aah--pathetic little jizz toilet. It's the only reason you're here, sweet Tom. The best thing you can--mhm--ever achieve. Cumdump. Ooh. Fucking cumdump!'

I blush and shudder beneath her crude remarks, sucking away. Relishing in the perfect prominence that caps her penis, eagerly serving it, tending to it while it continues to feed me. To feed me her genes. Her strong, healthy genes. God, I'm fucking perverted.

Gulp. Gulp.

When Morgan finally seems to relax, I have to wring out the gooey muck from her shaft with a combination of suction and wanking, because it's just that dense. The dregs come out heaviest of all, these kinds of vulgar strings that require me to urge them forth, because her swollen glans won't deposit them otherwise.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

I chew and churn the stuff around, reluctantly leaving her helmet behind. And for all my efforts, that beautiful bell-end still has an oozing string of the thickest murkiest white hanging from its enticing eyelet.

'Beautiful,' Morgan says, her gothic gorgeousness catching my attention. Her blush, her peculiar smile, speak volumes as to her delicious depravity. 'I've never seen something quite so perfect. You really like how I taste, don't you?'

'Mhm.' I nod, and chew. 'Mhm-hm.'

She chuckles cruelly. 'But you've got sperm in your mouth, sweet Tom. Billions of little white wrigglers. And it's not Blondie's, but mine. Her big sister. Maybe your big sister, the way things are going.' She wets her black and crimson lips, eyes glistening. 'Doesn't that bother you at all?'

It should, I'm sure. But Morgan is offering something nobody else can. Something perverse and perfect. So I shake my head. 'Mumph.'

He smile deepens, shows off those neat white teeth. 'Good boy. Give my swimmers a home, cocksucker. Absorb me into your body. Affirm me as your new goddess. I'll feed you every day for the rest of my life, you pathetic little spooge-lover.'

I can't think of anything more divine. Gulp, gulp, gulp. I'd show her, but she already knows, right? And this seems to be the major point, the vital outcome. That her load ends up inside me, digesting, vanishing, becoming part of my body. I can practically picture it, billions of little Morgans, swimming past my tonsils into the depths of me.

A true acknowledgement of our rightful places. Me, a cocksucker. Her, possessing a superb cock.

'Thank you, Mistress,' I say, licking my lips, mouth emptied. My throat feels warm, my whole chest heated by her healthy ejaculate. 'I like your semen a lot. You were right, it's particularly, um, carnal. I wanted to taste your sperm, and...its quality is clear.'

She pats my head as I take her helmet back into my mouth, slurping out those last dregs, shivering a little as their strong flavour coats my tongue. Morgan is still hard, somehow. Her dick clearly needs more affection.

'Let's get more comfortable,' she says, playing with my hair. 'On the bed, sweet Tom. Let's leave that cute belly looking pregnant with me before the others get home.'

And...I can't think of anything quite so exciting.