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and tried to find space in my mouth for some of the length. The taste was something entirely new to me, like watermelon flavored gum completely ruined with too much salt. Like something faintly sour. Like accidentally licking iron.
    “Don’t be shy, more,” he said, and I obeyed. I worked my lips and tongue up and down the length, which seemed only to get bigger the more I tried to fit it in. Those two small veins were there, bigger now, the same dim, washed out blue of this tattoos. His hand gripped the hair at the back of my head and tugged me forward, bringing all of it deep to the back of my throat, where I reflexively gagged, opening my mouth even more.
    “Good. Go that deep,” he said softly.
    I pulled back, sucked him in again, learning what made him swell on my tongue, and which angle I needed to tilt my head to accommodate the most of him. He pulled his dick out eventually, and it was wet and red. I felt my body twinge in anticipation of what was coming next.
    “It’s always the most uptight ones that turn out to be such sluts…” he said to nobody in particular, absentmindedly stroking himself. I felt my own familiar wetness growing between my legs.
    “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? After I fuck you, that’s it, you won’t be a virgin anymore.”
    “I know.”
    “And this is going to hurt a little.”
    “I know.”
    The inner itch was growing, and, perhaps because of the buzz in my head or because I was tired of having everyone tell me what to do and what not to do, I flopped back onto the futon and splayed my legs, hands clutching under each knee. It was such an outrageous gesture, I couldn’t help but start giggling again. A little drop glistened at the tip of his cock, menacingly. I could feel how excited I was. I could almost smell it. He smiled and leaned in again for a kiss, but didn’t linger this time.
    “See? You’re an even bigger slut than I am.”
    He kneeled above me again, the expanse of his chest suddenly seeming so huge to me. He lay his cock down onto my little slit, and lifted it up again, pulling a sticky thread of moisture up as he did so.
    “Are you ready?” he asked, although the question seemed answered already. He pressed himself up into the wet entrance and pushed just a little, just the tiniest bit, and my body ached and resisted him. He pulled back.
    “Does that hurt? I’m sorry.”
    I smiled. It did hurt. But I lifted my hips up to invite him to continue.
    The swollen head touched me again, and this time the movement was a little more insistent. My poor, unsuspecting body was dousing him furiously with wetness, and he moved into me, a tightness closing instantly around him and holding just his head inside me. It stung, badly.
    “Shh… just breathe. Here,” he said and placed a hand on my chest. As we had done in the car, I slowed my breathing and filled my lungs till my chest rose up to meet his palm. It worked. Each breath soothed me, and the searing sensation where our bodies touched mellowed into something far, far more interesting.
    With effort, he pulled clean out again, leaving an instant ache for him to be there again. I had waited all day for it, and now I wanted it again. I was a good girl, and I didn’t want to be any more, and this magnificent chunk of flesh was going to be my falling, was going to open new and profane doors for me…
    “Cute little slut …you want it again, don’t you?” he said, and before I had time to confirm, the fat head was again inside me, stretching me out completely.
    “Stop teasing me!” I giggled.
    “Brat! Remember, we’re following my rules here. I’m the expert, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
    It was a little comical, I suppose, how we were stuck together like this, his big dick plugged into me. I wondered what Reverend Peters would say if he had to walk in right now and saw exactly what I was doing to my little pussy.
    The knotty muscles of his shoulders worked under his skin as he