It was my first Christmas party at the company. I was twenty-four, bright and dedicated, sporting my shiny new MBA to anyone who would listen. When you’re twenty-four, fit and good-looking, the world is there for your taking, right? My confidence might have been mistaken for arrogance sometimes, but I’d gotten a really unpleasant lesson a few months ago in the difference between confidence and arrogance; the fuck-up that had been my fault alone had cost the company a lot of money. Me and my deflated ego, and wiser approach to things, went into this Christmas party not as some young hot stud looking to make an impression, but perhaps as a more general employee who was simply learning the ropes.
I saw her – the big boss who had reamed me a new asshole in the wake of my fuck-up. I’d had two more conversations with her after that day, one where she issued a very stern warning to me that another fuck-up would cost me my job, and the second only a month ago where she had complimented me for pulling my head out of my ass and doing much better work, but then we went through the items that she had found to be questionable. I asked many more questions this time around, and turned in the updated work the following Monday after working all weekend. She had scanned it, noting the obvious corrections and a few other things that I’d found, thanked me and dismissed me.
The big boss was a big woman. Not fat, just large. She was taller than me by probably two inches and I’m six foot even. She was definitely broader than me, in shoulders and hips. Although she was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than any one of my net paychecks, the conservative cut could simply not completely hide how juicy of a body the woman sported. I was certainly not alone in my admiration of her. My closest friend in the company, Todd, wandered up to me with a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Oh, fuck,” he said softly. We stood side by side, arms nearly touching, staring while trying hard not to look like we were staring. “Christ, what a body.”
“I know, right?” I had a beer and took a quick pull. “Fucking outstanding.” We had discussed her before, as we were part of a larger crew that nearly always hit the bars on Friday afternoons. I had met him my senior year in college and we had become friendly, though not friends. We were trending towards friends now, though.
“Mean, though,” Todd said.
I gave him a side-eye glance. “You’re telling me?”
He chuckled. “Nah, I know you know. Dumb-ass,” he tacked on.
“Yep.” No sense in arguing the point. “I’m learning, though.”
“Me, too, just not as painfully,” he laughed.
Our direct boss then wandered by. He was a skinny, nerdy thirty-something with a wife and new baby at home, and was already plastered. I think it took him about two beers to get drunk, and the third teetered him into la la land. “Hey what’ch’all talkin’ about?” he sort of threw in our general direction while staggering past. He did not stop, thankfully, because our boss was not all that pleasant a drunk. Not mean, just…preachy.
“Crisis averted,” Todd breathed as the bossman wandered off to accost the three female employees in our department. Not two minutes later, I looked over and saw one of them tugging at her ear.
“Friend save,” I said softly, nudging Todd with my arm. He looked and saw it too, the desperate look of “fucking save us!” in Rachel’s eyes. We headed over and conducted the friend save, and were thanked profusely afterwards.
Todd, who had eyes for Rachel, lingered and I headed to the bar to get another beer. I got in line and was waiting patiently among the higher-ups whom I did not know nor really want to try to meet in that moment.
“Ah, young Bryan, you are you enjoying your first Christmas party?” I knew that soft, smoky voice instantly, and turned to see the big boss smiling at me. Her eyes were large and round, with eyes that sparkled with pleasure and intelligence.
“I am, Catherine,” I said with a smile.
Catherine Brooks was her name, and she insisted that everyone call her by her first name. She was not married, so far as we knew, as her left hand was decidedly ringless.
“How about you?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, they can be enjoyable or they can be tedious. So far this year is heading towards tedious, sadly,” she commented. Her chin lifted for a moment. “That was nice of you and Todd to go save your coworkers from Barry.”
“You saw?” I said with some surprise.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, nodding slowly. “Good worker, Barry, but he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn,” she judged.
Being that he was my boss, and she was his boss, I felt the most prudent course of action was merely to smile and say nothing.
“Anyway, you’ve improved, your work product and attitude,” she said.
“Thank you,” I replied sincerely. I felt a little glimmer of pleasure; even unofficial attaboys are welcome.
“Ah,” she said suddenly. “Listen, will you do a huge favor for me?”
“Um, yes, of course,” I said.
“I’m tired of this. I’d like you to escort me to my car. Will you?”
“Oh. Oh yeah, sure.”
“Good. Now,” she said, a trifle softer, “in order to prevent tongues from wagging, I want you to get your coat in twenty minutes. Make an excuse that you’re bored out of your mind, and prepare to pack up and leave. The minute that I see you at the coat check, I’ll head that way. Meet me in the lobby, by the coffee shop, and then you can walk me to my car. Fair?”
“Sure,” I said, surprised by all of this, but willing to do it anyway. I was maybe more surprised that she wanted an escort; if there was a woman in this world who I thought could take most men, it was Catherine. “See you in…twenty or so?”
“Yes. Good.” She smiled, and this was a genuine one that conveyed vastly different messages than the thin smile you got for a job well done. “See you soon.”
I got my beer and wandered back to Todd. He was really working Rachel hard, and she was at least somewhat amenable to his advances. Her two friends, both blond, cute and taken, chatted idly with me but without any real enthusiasm. Finally the twenty minutes was up, I made my excuses and said my good-byes. I walked to get my coat, and donned it, and headed to the elevator without a look back. Somehow, I felt it would not be advisable to look back.
I moved to the coffee shop, and actually bought a small one while waiting. I was there maybe ten minutes before Catherine arrived, her coat wrapped tightly around her body. She spotted me right off, and nodded her head for me to move to the door of the hotel where the party was staged. Our building was a four-block walk.
I went outside into the bitter December air. It was a cold snap, and the temperatures were in their teens already, forecasted to drop into single digits in the dead of the night. I pulled on gloves and a hat, and wrapped the scarf around my face. No sense in being uncomfortable. A moment later, dressed similarly, Catherine appeared.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” she said without preamble. We walked steadily, neither fast nor slow, just a good pace.
“Cold night,” I commented.
“Yes,” she agreed right off. “Going to enjoy snuggling under my covers later.”
I felt an eyebrow arch. While not exactly suggestive, it was not exactly the kind of thing that a boss would say to an underling. So I was careful in choosing my words. “A cozy bed is a good place on a night like this.”
She chuckled. “Sure is. I have a fireplace too. I might get a glass of wine and sit in front of it, just staring into the fire. There’s something romantic about that.”
“Sounds like quite the scene,” I agreed.
“Do you have your own place?”
“I do, I rent down in Featherington,” which was a suburb south of the city, on one of the main subway lines.
“So not a bad commute,” she judged. “I live in North Heights.”
I’d heard of it, and the million dollar homes. Evidently Catherine was making waaaaay more than me. “Nice neighborhood, so I hear.”
“You’re not from the city, are you?”
“Nope, from back east.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice neighborhood,” she confirmed. “Hoidy-toidy as fuck, though,” she commented.
Now, she’d cursed me out good, so I knew that Catherine knew her way around swearing, yet it was a little curious to hear her so casually drop the f-bomb. My chuckle was not feigned nor forced. “Mines a bunch of people like me, just starting out in life.”
“Yeah, I was like that once myself,” she confirmed. “We’re almost to my garage. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said. The walk and talk had been pleasant, and I was not a little sad to see it end.
“Would you like a nightcap?”
I almost faltered, her question stunned me so. My head whipped to look at her, and saw her prepared for it. Looking at me, her eyes shiny with interest. God, she was so gorgeous, and I would be a quivering wreck, and yeah, it was probably a stupid idea to even consider it given the layers of management between her and I, but then my cock said “FUCK YES STUPID!” while I managed to say “That…would be lovely.”
“Terrific,” she graced me with one of those genuine, big smiles. “Come on,” she said, and entered her building. She had a Land Rover, one of those fancier ones, a pearly white color that shone under the harsh artificial lights overhead. We hopped in and she started it up, smoothly pulling away and out of the building, into the cold night air.
“Surprised by my offer?” she said into the silence.
“Yes.”
“You’re a good looking young man,” she said. As she did, my ego went FUCK YEAH and my cock did a dance. “And you show potential,” she said next.
My ego deflated a little. So this was to be a work conversation, though in a private place. Well, whatever. “Thank you,” I said, hoping to sound pleasantly sincere.
She shot a quick grin at me. Her white teeth were straight and perfect, surely the result of orthodontic work. There were a few more innocuous strands of conversation in the fifteen minutes it took her to drive to her home. When she pulled in, I found myself staring not at a house, but at a fucking mansion.
“Jeez, nice house,” I blurted out. She pulled into the long driveway that ran alongside the house, and parked in the back. She killed the car and smiled at me, and hopped out. I followed, and we entered her mudroom where our coats were hung and shoes doffed, and then she guided me through the kitchen into the big sitting room dominated by a fireplace. She picked up a controller and it came to life with a gas-driven whoosh; she fiddled with the controls until it was just the right size. No lights were turned on.
“Take a seat, relax,” she said, indicating a big sofa in front of the fireplace. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, I craned my neck to watch her approach. In each hand, she held a full glass of dark red wine, but that’s not what caught my eye. What caught my eye was the way that her chest swayed with each step; it was obvious that she had removed her bra. Her shirt was now untucked, and she handed the glass to me, and then sat on the other end of the sofa, curling her legs under her. They remained encased her in pantyhose. Her legs, her boobs, the ambience, the wine – all of it stirred my cock to life. Its wakening was not exactly wanted, and I managed not to let it get to full mast. But it was also fair to say that it was on a hair trigger in that regard.
“Nice, huh?” she asked. She sipped her wine, and then twisted her torso to put the glass down on a table next to her. The way that her body moved pressed that flesh into the side of her shirt. I yanked my eyes away before she caught me staring.
“Yes, its…amazing,” I said after considering and discarding several other word choices.
“I love it here,” she said quietly. “I would not have it any other way.”
“Big house just for you,” I commented. Then I winced. How fucking stupid could I be?
Either she did not care or let it pass. “I know. But I have appetites,” she said. “One of them is to live in a big, posh place like this.” She shrugged. “It suits me.”
“I would probably sit in here every night and stare at the fire,” I said.
She chuckled. “Most nights I’m either too busy, or too tired,” she said. “I work pretty late most days – I hate getting up early so I tend to come in later, and work later, and then, you know,” she said while sweeping her hands from chest-level down past her legs, “the workout regimens are exhausting. Do you work out?”
I nodded. “Pretty much daily. I swam in college, some, I was never very good,” I added. “But enough for a partial ride, and I really can’t stand going more than a day without going to the gym.”
She understood that completely, I saw in her nod and the expression on her face. “Same here, not the swimming bit, but the daily workouts.” She adjusted her position, once more straining her shirt from the movement. “There’s one thing that does get very tiring about the gym, though.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“All the fucking staring.” Her sudden tone change knocked me back a little. “I know what my body’s like, I can’t help that. But gawd. Look at your own damn reflection or something!”
“I guess its exhausting?” I hazarded this reply.
She nodded. “Yes. The meathead douchebags are the worst, walking past me all flexing and shit, thinking I would just fall over and suck their dick right there.”
That made me laugh and snort at the same time. “I belong to a much smaller gym. Probably more roids than mirrors,” I judged, “but I like it because everyone is pretty much left alone just to work out.”
“Sounds better than my place, one of those high-profile corporate gym places. Still,” she said, “sometimes its fun to prance through there and watch tongues wag,” she said with a sly tone and wry smile. “But I much prefer to do that on my terms, and not have some meathead all googly-eyes at me.”
She turned to retrieve her glass, and took a sip, then continued.
“Besides, like I said, I have appetites, and no one at my gym would amount even to a tasty snack.”
I sensed the allusion, the sly way she said it, the side-eye glance I got. Her toes curled, the movement pulling my eyes to it for a moment. As I brought my eyes up, I saw intrigue in them. Fuck it, I thought. “Your appetites. Large?”
Smoothly and coolly she nodded her head. “Large, and extensive. I would get so bored…dining…on the same thing night after night.”
“Variety, its the spice of life,” I managed.
“True. But sometimes, I mean, that delectable dish, you know, the one you come back to time and again, providing such comfort and sustenance and its always so pleasurable to dig into it.”
“What good is a large appetite if dining does not give you pleasure?”
“See?!” she said with a quick flash of a smile. “There are just so many things to savor. Why limit oneself?”
Somehow being consumed as a snack for this woman felt like something I would enjoy tremendously. My cock certainly thought so; it was beginning to swell more steadily from this light flirting. “If you don’t try…new things, why, you might never know what you’re missing!”
Now the head bob was slower, with more deliberation. Slowly she uncurled her legs, and adjusted herself so that she was seated with her legs crossed, slightly leaning against the side of the sofa. She looked over at me. “How about you, Bryan? Are you inclined to try new things, perhaps some things that might be a trifle…exotic?”
Gulp went my throat. My voice was more than a little hoarse in my reply. “I look forward to trying new things, even exotic things. I’d rather try it and discover whether it was to my taste than forego it, and be left to wonder.”
“That,” she said softly, “is the best attitude to have. And who knows, perhaps you’ll develop a craving for it!” She gently patted her lap. “So for an example, if you would want to lay your head down in my lap?”
“Uh…sure,” I said with some hesitation. That was a curious one. But whatever. I turned on the couch, and laid in a prone position. As her warm hands cradled my head, lowering me into position on her lap, the moment felt deeply intimate. I had never really had a woman cradle my head that way, and she seemed to know exactly what she wanted out of me. I shifted around once or twice to ensure that I was comfortable, and I was pleased to note that my neck was not really strained in the position I found myself.
She smiled down at me, though half of her face was now blocked from my vision because of the swell of her chest hidden behind that light blue top she still wore. “Why don’t you simply clasp your hands together above your abdomen,” she suggested lightly. Her head tilt suggested that she was watching, so I brought them together, lacing the fingers, and rested them on my lower belly. As I was now quite erect, I was certain that the outline of my cock was showing through the boxer shorts and rather thin-material khakis I had worn to the office that day.
“How lovely,” she said. “And now, I hope that you will agree to enjoy one of my deepest appetites?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
In my position, gazing up around the mounds of flesh, the only light in the room from the dancing flames, for a moment her face looked primal, maybe predatory. But it passed in the briefest of moments. “I find myself quite wanting to enjoy your appetites, Catherine,” I returned using the barest whisper of my own.
“Mmmm, such a good boy,” she said, a casual yet noticeable inflection change at good boy. It stirred my brain a little. I was no stranger to viewing, shall we say, fetish-themed porn. From time to time, the bossy, dominant women in those videos called their male submissives good boys. While the thought of submitting to a dominant woman had stirred some interest, it had not really set a deep hook in me, either. I supposed that I was about to find out. I realized that I did not much mind, either way. My cock sure didn’t.
Her hand rose, and my eyes rolled back to watch as she brought it to the first button of her top. She adroitly slipped the button through the opposite side hole, and loosened her top. Her fingers moved slowly but deliberately down to the next one. And then the next. As she got to the fourth button, her large breasts had swung out some, unfettered by the hold of the top. The deep valley between them was now revealed, and her breasts looked enormous, with milky-white skin that I was dead-certain would be warm and supple.
She nudged my head out of the way in order to get her last button undone. She adjusted herself, and the shirt fell to the side, revealing both heavy breasts, hanging down. Her areola were quite large, a pale pink, and in the middle, large nipples stood out from the curving flesh. “As we were discussing dining,” she said softly, “I do hope that you’ll enjoy this tremendously.” She adjusted her torso slightly, and using her hand, slipped it behind my head. She applied pressure and I raised up, and it was obvious that my mouth was to suckle her nipple.
That first touch of a woman, even if its mouth to breast, is something to savor. The new tastes, aromas, and textures of her flesh. The hard little button flicked by my tongue stirred her to a soft coo, and then my lips pursed around the bud, and I applied slight suction, using my tongue to tease the stiffening bud.
“Oh. Oh!” She pulled my head tightly against her breast all of a sudden. “God, here it comes!” she moaned.
Here what comes?
All of a sudden, my mouth was flooded – and I mean absolutely flooded – by liquid. It was warm but not gross, tasty in fact. I found myself not just wanting to suckle at her breast harder, but needing to! No, it was a compulsion from which I could not turn away, I had to suckle harder, and harder, and the harder I sucked, the more of her milk I was given, and I fed greedily, as greedy as any baby nursing from her mother.
The more I suckled and nursed and drank, though, the absolutely harder my cock began. It was screaming in its hardness, throbbing with a need unlike anything I had ever felt before. My balls felt as if they were churning cum-production at a rate and volume that might cause them to explode. And my mind was quite wiped of all coherent thought; all I knew was that I had suck. I had to drink. I must, for I must get it all.
The fluid dried up, becoming only a droplet.
“The other one, hurry!” she cried out. She was panting now, as her other full breast was offered and my mouth automatically went to it. I suckled hard, until I was again rewarded with the flood of her milk. I drank deeply, my hands still resting easily at my abdomen, my mouth the only thing working. Sucking and drinking and hearing her moans, her cries, her sounds of absolute pleasure.
I felt a deepening sense of utter addiction. The taste was exotic, delicious, perfection. It seemed to go right through me, to my cock, growing it, making it steely, the cum production churning more than I’d ever felt in my life. Her cries, her moans of pleasure, how her legs twiched under my head, shifting back and forth. God I was so perfectly aroused. I wanted only to satisfy myself, and knowing that my satisfaction would completely fulfill her.
“OH FUCK I’M CUMMING!” she screamed suddenly, and I felt her body’s sudden convulsions. Yet more milk came, almost as if spurred by her orgasm, a huge squirt out that I had to greedily gobble do keep in my mouth. It almost made me cough, so much flooded my mouth and throat, but barely I avoided that, then continued to suckle. Her moans continued, though tapered off in intensity after a moment.
“Oh dear god,” she moaned, releasing me from her breast. There was no more coming out, and it was my opinion, being up close to those breasts, that they both looked a little deflated – though still large. Both nipples remained hard, and huge, slightly elongated from the passage of her milk.
“Mmmm, Bryan, you savored that meal. Few have made me come while drinking from me.” She stroked her hand over my chest. I found that I could not really move my hands. In fact, I could not move at all, but I was so drunk from imbibing her gift of milk, that my brain took solace in being unable to move. I looked up at her, and had no words. I could only marvel at her, perhaps like a babe gazing at its life-giving mother in the wake of a meal.
“You’ll discover my milk has a few…effects,” she said softly, her hand now undoing the buttons of my top. “As you might have already discovered, you are paralyzed. That won’t last too long, sensation will return to your limbs soon enough,” she said. “But,” she continued as she unbuttoned the last button of my shirt, her hands moving along bare skin to my nipples, “you might find that a lot of your nerve endings in your body are curiously dulled. Except,” she suddenly chuckled, “those in your cock. Those are excited to levels I doubt you’ve ever experienced. So when I sink down upon you, my hot, tight pussy enveloping your cock, you will surely almost lose your capacity for anything as your mind and body will be consumed by the pleasure coming from your penis.”
She said all of this a matter-of-factly. I was not in the slightest bit upset to hear it. My brain was so fogged already that…none of it mattered. Not really. I was in her care, under her protection. What could really go wrong?
“You’ll be most susceptible to suggestion as well.” She slid my head to the side, and then adjusted me on the couch, so that my knees dangled over the one arm, and my head was positioned just about in the middle of the couch. She then stood, and I could only follow with my eyes, as she shrugged out of her top, and reached behind her to unzip her skirt. That fell away, revealing not boring pantyhose, but luxurious stockings, a garter holding them up, and skimpy panties covering her sex. She smiled, and wiggled her way out of the panties, having put them on over the garter straps. I saw a small patch of pubic hair, and the aroma of her sex wafted to my nose. Not that I thought that I could get more aroused…but inhaling her scent did exactly that.
She got onto the couch, kneeling, facing away from me. I rolled my eyes back to see the big expanse of her ass, and the winking pink hole nestled between the cheeks. “In fact,” she said next, “I suggest to you that you’ll take great pleasure in eating my ass. It’s something that I do dearly love, and you’ll be that good boy and do that for me, right?”
Not that I could talk. I was able to blink fast several times, hoping to convey a non-verbal way of me screaming YES YES YES! She leaned back and I found my tongue working properly, and explored that hole with a passion never before matched. Once, in college, my girlfriend and I were both pretty drunk while fooling around, and I had been going down on her, and on my own, ate her ass. She had cum awfully hard from that, and while I had enjoyed it, when going down on her sober, the thought never really passed my mind to do that again. Nor had my girlfriend suggested it.
But as I licked, circled, teased and pushed against the tight opening, I was loving it. How alien it felt, yet arousing. Perfectly arousing. Her cries and coos, her moans and suddenly jerks of her body fulfilled me, knowing I was giving her pleasure. So I gave more pleasure, faster and harder, deeper and deeper. More cries, more “oh…ohhhhhh…MMMmmmmMMmmooooOOO!” which sounded perfectly musical to me. I ate and ate, and then as before, was rewarded when her body clenched and spasmed hard.
She leaned forward, panting heavily to catch her breath. I found that I was able to now wiggle my fingers and toes a little, and had regained at least some movement in my neck, thus was better able to follow her movements. She slid from the couch, and busied herself removing my pants. She pulled me up fully onto the couch now, and then knelt over top of my body. My hands remained where they had been, though fingers were moving slowly. “And now, my young, lovely, Bryan, you are going to find out the true measure of my milk. You will be dropped into the deepest well of pleasure that you have ever felt. While I am taking your cock, riding you to orgasm after orgasm, you will find it impossibly hard to come. In fact, you won’t be able to come. So you will find this constant delightful fucking to be mind-blowing. But you will come, but that will be later. Until then,” she said, edging backwards, reaching a hand between her legs to pull my cock into an upright position, “just lie back and enjoy the ride!”
“Oh…oh fuck,” she moaned as my cock pressed to soaking wet, searing hot lips. No pussy had felt hotter, tighter, or wetter, and then her lips parted easily and my head began sliding inside. I was lost; she had not lied. Once or twice before, I had used a cord to tie up my cock and balls while masturbating, and the orgasm had been huge and more of a pure relief. My cock had been deadened though, not passing through quite as much sensation. This felt similar in that my cock was tied off and unable to orgasm, but that I was constantly in those last two or three strokes just before cumming. That’s what I was in, and there was nothing to do except endure it.
It drove me out of my mind. I was there but not there, lost in sensation. I breathed, I felt her body crashing down on me, and her cries of orgasm after orgasm reached my ears but as if screamed from a long distance off. This wasn’t just that I had to cum – I HAD TO CUM. No words satisfied that need, it was all-encompassing, and I was trying in my limited state to force myself into it, but it was not coming.
Each time she came, her pussy clenched on me wildly, and I felt the change in pressure. From tight to extremely tight, if just for a second or two, then a release of that pressure, once or twice an explosion of wetness. But she never stopped, just kept rocking and rocking, cumming and cumming.
Eventually I was rewarded with a new sensation – this one not pleasant. A distant but growing ache in my balls. And it was with that ache that my paralysis broke, and my hands flew up to her breasts, and grabbed and squeezed. She leaned down, pressing herself onto me, her hips moving a last few times, as her last orgasm finally died down. She picked her head up and looked at me, her face sweaty, hair every which way, eyes huge and glassy. Her lipstick was smeared and her face deeply shaded red.
“Are you ready to come for me, Bryan?” she wanted to know.
“YES PLEASE!” I screamed.
“Good.” Though my hands could move, I was still mostly paralyzed, and could not stop her as she slid down and nestled herself down between my legs. She looked up at me, as she gripped my wet cock, and she smiled. “Your cum will restore the milk in my breasts, Bryan. So when you come, it’s going to be in my mouth, and I promise you that I won’t miss a drop.” With that, her head dropped.
That big head of hair was all I saw, but what I felt was again, pure perfection. Bliss. I screamed as her tongue worked some kind of magic, making me feel even harder, thicker than ever. She stroked at my base, lifting my balls each time, letting them fall. The jostling of them seemed to release the dam, and all of a sudden my back was arching high up off of the couch and I cut loose with a truly guttural scream.
I had had hard orgasms before. If you would have asked me, that first shot, if it had not gone down her throat, would have splattered on the ceiling it erupted with such force. And then as mind-wiping as it had been to be fucked by her without the ability to move, the orgasm I had destroyed me utterly. I lost count of the powerful blasts after the fifth one. Or was is the sixth? I don’t know. It felt like my cock would never stop spurting. Yet I realized on some level that Catherine was moaning and shuddering around my cock, as if every spurt of my seed triggered her to orgasm.
Finally, like cutting off a tap, my orgasm ended. My balls felt deflated. My body was exhausted, sweaty. I felt that I could move my body, but I was far too wrung out to bother. Catherine lifted her head, and her face was as wan and drawn out as mine. She weakly crawled up and shoved herself in between me and the back of the couch, and I managed to turn to face her. She threw a leg over mine, pulling me tight into her, and we adjusted until our arms were entwined comfortably around the other’s body.
She inhaled deeply, and her exhale was slow and shuddery. I knew how she felt. She gazed at me, and I matched her gaze.
“Did you enjoy your meal?”
“Oh god yes. Did you like yours?”
“Mmmm-hmmmm,” she smiled. She looked down at herself; my eyes dropped to see as well. I was not entirely surprised to see that her breasts looked already like they had inflated a little once again. “In an hour or so,” she said as she moved her head, resuming eye contact with me, “they’ll be filled up once again, ready to deliver another meal.”
“I won’t be,” I groaned.
“Don’t be so sure about that!” she giggled.
“What…are you?” I heard myself asking.
“I am special,” she said with a little smile. “Just a woman with large appetites.”
“You’ll kill me,” I said a little raggedly.
“No, I won’t do that,” she said. “I could,” she said. “But I won’t.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Enjoy you,” she said honestly enough.
***
That lost weekend of mine. I could never quite remember what had happened. Todd asked me several times what had happened, and I could only look at him, and shake my head with some frustration. No matter how hard I tried, nothing that had happened was in my memory. Like it was wiped clean.
All I could ever tell him was that I awoke in my bed on Monday morning, ready to go to work, feeling both as tired yet refreshed as I had ever felt. I did not get an erection for like two weeks, and had tried twice to masturbate, only to find that my cock never swelled.
Women seemed to flock to me from that moment on. I never had trouble getting laid, and truth be told, once a woman began giving me a blow-job, she seemed unable to take her mouth away from me. I kind of laughed it off, how ever girl I’d been with since that weekend had swallowed and not spit, every time.
In time, I met a woman who excited my mind as well as my body, and we ended up getting married. Our sex life was spicy and pleasurable, and almost always ended with her swallowing my cum. I think I came inside of her body perhaps a half-dozen times at best; she always had to end sex by taking my cum in her mouth. It was like a compulsion with her.
She got sicker and sicker though, throughout the course of our eight year marriage, and finally we had to take her to the hospital. The doctors were unable to ever find anything that was wrong with her – they just said that her body was as if it was worn out completely, and simply gave up. I cried real tears, for I had loved her dearly.
My second wife was with me for five years. One day I awoke to a note, telling me that she was divorcing me. She flat-out ghosted me, filing for divorce from some remote location, never giving away where she was. She was willing to give away all of the joint possessions. She just had to be gone from me, never to come back, never to see me again. I had not loved her as fiercely as I had loved my first wife, but I missed her deeply in the aftermath of her sudden disappearance.
The only thing that ever bothered me about her was that when I met her, she was a plump woman. She was round in the breasts, belly, hips and thighs. When she finally left me, she had dropped to a size six, yet her skin had remained quite taut, showing no signs of stretch marks. She, too, had almost always swallowed my cum to conclude sex.
From time to time, especially in the wake of my second wife’s departure, I found myself returning to that lost weekend, wondering what happened. Why had all the women in my life after that weekend had such a deep-seated need to suck down my cum? Why had my first wife died, and my second wife peeled back years of age, returning to be such a skinny, lovely woman – and then ran off without a word? Deep thought and lots of note-taking forced me to conclude that something in that lost weekend was at the root of it all.
Yet I could never remember it. The only time I could come close was in that penultimate moment just before orgasm. Sometimes I’d get a flash of something, of a beautiful creature, of unbridled lust, of insatiable need. But in post-nut clarity, no recall was possible.
I sighed, tossing my pencil down on the notebook. I looked up at the wall. I was in my office, a well-appointed one that I’d used since the start of this damned pandemic. My home was spacious and airy, though well over one hundred years old. I would work in the day, tend to the house, and then almost every night, sit in the room with the fireplace. I’d have a glass of robust red and stare into the dancing fire. When I had a wife, she would sit with me, and often we’d make love right there.
It was a cold night, rainy with the wind blowing steadily and gusting noisily from time to time. So when the knock came at my door, I was quite surprised; I was expecting no one, and who would be out in this weather. I paused by the door, calling “who is it?” through the door.
“You know who it is,” came a woman’s voice. For some reason, my hands worked to unlock and open the door before my brain had a moment to think better of it. And in that moment, upon gazing at Catherine once more, that lost weekend came tumbling back.
She walked inside. “We made a date, remember?”
I gulped. “Yes.”
She took my hand in hers, and walked me into the fireplace room. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt and pulling her bra off. Bringing me to her breast. To suckle. God help me. To suckle…