Chapter 10 #2
Of course, that just makes him press in even harder.
“I’m sure you can control yourself for thirty seconds,” he goads.
“Now, apart from dick in butt sex are any of the following off-limits? A) Fucking you with my fingers and torturing you with prostate pleasure; B) Burying my head between your legs and tongue-fucking your hole; C) Stuffing your ass with sex toys and other insertables; D)…”—he reaches up to grab a fistful of my hair, yanking roughly—“shoving you to your knees and fucking your throat…”
Fucking hell. I let out a soft groan, but Jazz cuts me off before I can respond.
“Save your response until the end of the survey, thank you. Now… E) Anything ass-related; F) Anything cock-related; G) All of the above; or H) None of the above.”
By the time he’s done laying out all the options my whole body is trembling; I’m so fucking turned on.
“Fuck…” I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think. How the fuck am I supposed to answer a survey when my brain isn’t working?
“I want all of it,” I rasp out. “Everything. Want to be used and degraded and treated like a cheap, dirty whore.” I’m shamelessly grinding my dick against his thigh now and I couldn’t care less.
“You are a cheap, dirty whore,” he snarls in my ear. Then his grip tightens in my hair again and I feel myself being urged downwards. “On your knees, little bitch.”
The command sends heat surging through me, along with a dizzying rush that is both thrilling and horrifying; it’s like I’m about to ride one of those insane roller-coasters that leave you hanging upside down in mid-air for what feels like an hour.
I drop to my knees without hesitation; it’s not a conscious decision, it’s just…
instinct, I guess. The next thing I know, I’m struggling to breathe as Jazz shoves my face into his crotch.
His fierce grip of my hair holds me in place as he grinds his erection against me, using my face the same way I was using his thigh just a few moments ago.
I vaguely recall him promising to demonstrate a situation where I wouldn’t be able to speak and showing me what to do if I didn’t like it. Three quick jabs and this will stop.
But I’m not going to do it; because I don’t want this to stop. It’s so fucking wrong. So degrading. But I’m loving every second. I can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop me groaning wildly.
Way too soon, my head is yanked away, prompting me to let out a whimper of disappointment.
“I know it’s probably hard for someone as gross as you to imagine, but most of us prefer not to cum in our jeans,” Jazz says with a soft laugh. “But don’t worry, dirty boy. If you’re that keen to rub your face in my junk I’m more than happy to oblige.”
He unzips and shoves the front of his jeans down. And I have all of a microsecond to take in the hard, throbbing boner right in front of my eyes before Jazz once again takes a fierce grip of my hair and shoves my face into his crotch.
Jesus Christ. Why the fuck is it so much hotter this time? It’s so gross. But I guess gross is my thing now, isn’t it?
“Mmm…I bet my sweaty balls smell good,” Jazz goads. “I haven’t showered since this morning so it might just be manky enough for you down there…”
I respond with a groan that borders on animalistic, eagerly grinding my face against him even as his grip loosens slightly. It definitely doesn’t smell good, but it’s fucking intoxicating and I can’t seem to get enough.
Unfortunately, I’m not the one calling the shots here so I once again have my head yanked back before I’m ready.
“I know how much of a struggle it is for you to stop being gross,” Jazz taunts, “but my cock’s feeling a bit neglected…”
And there it is again—Jazz’s hard, uncut cock hovering mere inches from my face. He’s not as big as me—which isn’t particularly surprising after some of his comments—but he certainly doesn’t have anything to be insecure about. I guess that probably shouldn’t be all that surprising either.
It looks fucking enormous now, though; I’ve never seen another dick up this close before, let alone an erect one and I can’t help staring in rapt fascination at the precum dribbling from the flushed, swollen head as Jazz guides it closer and closer to my mouth.
He tightens his grip in my hair again and my mind flashes to the survey earlier when he mentioned shoving me to my knees and fucking my throat.
I let out a groan of anticipation at the thought of being used in that way; but there are also a few tendrils of apprehension curling around me because that thing is freakin’ huge.
Jazz tilts my head back slightly, his grip commanding but not quite as rough as I would have expected. “Open wide.”
I dutifully part my lips, but instead of stuffing his cock in my mouth, he just slides the very tip back and forth over my bottom lip.
A few drops of precum trickle into my mouth and I groan at the intoxicating taste. Fuck, I want more. I want to taste him properly. I want to run my tongue around his shaft. I want to suck on his cockhead…
Before I’ve even really given it any thought, my head is bobbing forward and my mouth is wrapped around the head of his cock.
I’m half-expecting Jazz to grab my hair and yank me back, denying me what I want—which would definitely be a hot consolation prize—but he doesn’t.
Instead, he lets me go for it and it doesn’t take long for me to get completely caught up.
Fuck, I have no idea why I’m loving this so much. It’s not degrading in the way Jazz fucking my throat would be, and he’s not acting particularly dominant right now. There’s just something I really like about being on my knees with a dick in my mouth.
“Jesus, no one would ever believe you’ve never sucked a dick before,” Jazz says, a noticeable hitch in his voice. “Proof right here cocksluts are born, not made.”
Strangely, his words don’t induce any sense of shame or embarrassment; instead I feel a surge of giddiness prompting me to moan wildly around his cock as I suck hard on the head.
Cockslut. I hear the word echoing in my head as I continue with the blow job, my curiosity and enthusiasm gradually making me bolder.
“Jesus Christ,” Jazz mutters as I slide my lips down his shaft, taking him farther into my mouth. “You don’t—fuck.”
I ignore whatever he was planning to say and keep going, taking him a little deeper. I like the way it feels having my mouth so full; I wonder what it’d be like to take him all the way down my throat…
As though reading my mind, Jazz grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs my head back; his other hand is wrapped around his cock, which is positioned tantalizingly close to my mouth. “You’re that desperate to choke on my dick, are you?”
I try to nod but his grip is too tight so instead I manage to rasp out, “Yes.”
And the next thing I know, my mouth is once again full of Jazz’s dick.
But this time it doesn’t stop with my mouth.
My throat burns and my eyes water as he thrusts in as deep as he can before pulling out and doing it all over again.
It’s rough and painful and relentless and I can barely breathe… but I fucking love it.
Way before I’m ready for it to end, I hear Jazz let out a soft curse and then his cock is gone from my mouth.
He lets go of my hair and I lurch forward, bracing myself on my hands as I sputter and gag and attempt to recover my breath.
Once I’ve managed to do that, I lift the hem of my t-shirt and wipe my streaming eyes.
“All good?” Jazz asks, sounding amused.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. Because I need you to clean up this mess.”
Still feeling a little disorientated after that ordeal, I cast my gaze around in search of the mess in question. It doesn’t take long to spot it. Evidently while I was trying to control my gag reflex Jazz was emptying his load onto the floor.
“You came on the floor,” I say with a pout. “I really wanted you to come on my face. Or in my mouth.”
Jazz offers a wry smirk. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get a taste. And I can rub your face in it if you really want.”
“Huh?”
“I told you to clean up the mess,” he says. “But I might have forgotten the part about using your tongue…”
My eyes widen as I glance at the mess of cum again.
The floor hasn’t been mopped after tonight’s service yet so in addition to Jazz’s cum there’s also the sticky residue from various drips and spills that accumulate over the night.
But it would have had a thorough cleaning yesterday, and at least everything’s edible; it could definitely be worse.
“Okay…” I crawl the few feet to where Jazz has shot his load, but then I hesitate; am I seriously going to lick the floor?
Before I can decide whether or not I’m actually going to do this Jazz makes the decision for me, grabbing my hair and shoving my face into the mess.