It was bliss.
Alice couldn’t stop herself. She was no longer in control of her body. She was at the whim of the cock and its cum covered tip in front of her. Of her son’s semen. Almost in disgust, she watched her tongue flick out, as if in slow motion. She watched the pink tip of her tongue meet the purple tip of her dildo. Caress it and roll over its bottom, under the broad head. She watched as her tongue moved to touch the gob of cum on that tip. And oh, how good it tasted. If it smelled like heaven, then it tasted like she had become a goddess herself. Where the smell of her son’s cum was life itself, the taste of it was the power to bring back the dead. It shook her body. Sweet, salty, musky, heavenly.
Alice had spent the last twenty years of her life dedicated to finding the perfect cock. She had come close, with Richard, but she had not stopped her search. Even now, she had albums full of pictures of cocks that she had played with, sucked, and fucked. Notes on how each of their cum had tasted, how it had felt in her pussy, on her face. Never had she found the perfect cock, the perfect cum.
Now, she found herself faced with finding the latter of those two, and given what she had seen earlier, she was fairly certain that she had found the former as well. She would not admit it to anyone, not yet, not even to herself, but Alice knew. Her search was over. She had found the perfect cock.
Without thinking, she drew the head of the dildo between her lips, tonguing the rest of her son’s cum off of it. There was not much there, not much at all. Just the little gob at the end. But she sucked it, slowly sucking on the head of her son’s cock – no, her dildo, she reminded herself. Not that she needed the reminder. Faint as the differences were, little as she had seen her precious son’s cock, she knew its shape already. Her tongue could pick out the differences. She was getting wetter and wetter. She might even orgasm soon without touching herself, a feat that she had almost never manager to pull off before.
She moaned into the cock, thrusting it into her face, trying to get that cum as deep into her, as far into her throat, as she could. Almost there now, just a couple more strokes. She could even taste her own pussy under that sweet cum, a taste she was well familiar with. The thought of her pussy juices, her own cum mixing with her son’s, almost took her over the edge.
“Alice?” Richard’s – Jacob’s – voice sounded from the bedroom. Which one was it? Jacob didn’t usually call her Alice, but who knew what he was thinking after what had just happened in this bathroom? She got up slowly, hiding the dildo behind her back. It wouldn’t do for Jacob to see her with it again.
“Yes?” she called out.
“Honey?”
The tension melted out of her, and something replaced it within her. Absolute, succubus, siren-levels of horniness. She practically tore out of the bathroom and pounced on the man that stood in the bedroom. Jacob, just as he had been in the bathroom, but with clothes and about twenty years older. With greying hair, slight wrinkles, and a beard. Her husband, Richard.
Her hands were already at his belt, unbuckling even as she sank down onto her knees in front of him.
“I need you to fuck me. Now.”
He seemed a little taken aback, but not by much. He’d seen the dildo in her hand, her state of undress. The slightly puffy lips from sucking that cock. He’d imagine what had gotten her here. What she needed now.
So he let her undo his belt, take out his rapidly-growing cock, and stroke it, smiling fondly up at him. The smile turned into a horny smirk before it reached her eyes. She started to flick her tongue around and around the tip, the foreskin still pulled up tight. She ran her tongue between the foreskin and his cock itself, running in circles along the head, tasting the inside of his foreskin and his head at the same time. He groaned above her, and she smiled through her ministrations.
“Get on the bed,” he ground out, one hand coming out to rest on her head, the other playing with his balls. Behind him, the door stood open, forgotten, swinging wildly. She was too involved to notice, or to care.
“No,” she said, smiling sweetly up at him. “I don’t want you to fuck my pussy. I need you to fuck my face.” She whipped his now-hard cock with her tongue.
He made a strained noise, then caught her unawares. The hand at the back of her head slammed her full-force into his cock, choking her on the respectable length of him, too long to take down her throat. At least not without some more effort on her part. He held her there, unmoving. She could see nothing, she was so far down on his cock. She could feel the head grinding into the back of her throat as he moved his hips, trying to get more and more of his cock down her throat. She welcomed it, enjoyed it, loved the feeling of a cock in her mouth. She needed it.
Her eyes started to deaden, tears streaming down her face, when he finally let her up. He caressed her cheek gently as she eased off his cock, gasping for air. He always knew exactly how far to ride her.
He bent down and kissed her. Her tongue, still wet from his cock, played with his, trying to draw it out and into her mouth. She would take any sort of fucking at this point, even a tongue-fucking.
He straightened again. “If you want your face to be fucked, love,” he said, dropping his pants and loosening his tie, “Then fuck your face I will.”
He took her head in both of his hands now, stepping out from his clothes. His grip was like iron, hard and unyielding, a crushing cage around her skull, but not enough to hurt or bruise. Just enough to keep her locked, exactly in one place.
His cock slide past her lips, a whisper, just slightly too far for her to reach and take it in her mouth. Her pulse quickened as she gasped after it. It went past her mouth again, waving slowly in front of her. Richard held her face in such a way that she could not see too far in front of her – the only light was light spilling in from the hallway and beyond. Then, Richard’s cock came back, but too far forward, slapping her cheek, hard. It stung, stung hard enough to send jolts through her body. Stung hard enough to make her even wetter than she was before.
He hit her other cheek with his cock again, branding her twice with the afterimage of his almost-perfect member. Almost perfect, but not quite. He left it there this time, lying hot and hard, basically steaming, against her cheek. He lazily drew it across her cheek and then against her lips, and she reached out with her tongue, needing a cock, any cock, to fill her up. He pushed it into her mouth, farther and farther, until it was pushing against the back of her throat. Farther still, forcing her throat open for his cock, chocking her out of breath. Her mouth finally slid against the base of his cock, and she reached out with her tongue to bathe his balls in her spit.
He held her there for ten seconds. Twenty. Her vision was starting to go dim around the edges when he finally relented, allowing her to gasp for breath. To Alice, however, twenty seconds was not nearly long enough. Between cock and air, she knew which one she really needed right now. And it wasn’t air.
He thrust his hips again, slowly increasing his pace. Every stroke brought him fully from tip to base, fully immersing and releasing himself from her mouth. Her throat was starting to go raw from all the chafing, but she loved it. Oh, how good it felt.
When Richard finally came, filling her mouth and her throat, Alice was still on the floor, still kneeling in front of him, begging for his cum. But as he came, Alice realized something. Richard’s cock wasn’t the one that she was imagining sucking, the one that she saw when she closed her eyes.
It was just slightly the wrong shape. She could feel it with her tongue. The ridges on the sensitive underside of the head were wrong, the foreskin a little too tight where it should have slid easily. Now that she had something to compare it to, Alice could easily tell exactly what was wrong with her husband’s cock. The worst of which, even if she could not admit it yet, was the fact that it was not her son’s cock, but her husband’s cock in the first place. That it was not perfect.
And so, Alice was still horny. Still insatiable. She had seen heaven, witnessed perfection, if but for a mere moment, a single frame of time. But now, nothing could compare. Nothing could come close, at least not without substantial effort – and possibly some very creative plastic surgery. No, Alice knew that now that she had seen the perfect cock, nothing else could make her cum. Which left Alice with only two options. Find that cock again, and find her release with it, or decide and accept that she would never cum again. Never experience orgasm again.
There, on the floor, covered in her husband’s cum and belly full of it, throat still raw from a brutal throat-fucking, she thought about all these things. And she knew that really, there was only one option. Because finding that cock again, watching it orgasm again, being a part of its orgasm, was not an option at all. She could not do that, not to herself or to her son or to Richard. Which meant no more orgasms for her, as she would long for that single instance in time when she saw the perfect cock, tasted its precious perfect cum, for all eternity. It was her son’s cock, his penis, after all. She could not, would not, take advantage of him like that.
Except there was another option. An idea started to form in Alice’s head, an incredibly short-sighted idea, but it would help her now. Grant her that orgasm that she so desperately needed, after the incredible events of the day – the plumber, and then seeing her son cum, and then tasting her precious boy’s seed? Incredible events indeed. But now, she needed to cum. Not her son, not the plumber, not even her husband, but her. And there was only really one way for her to get that orgasm that she so desperately craved.
She smiled up sweetly at her husband, licked a bit of cum that had leaked out of her mouth. She saw his cock twitch. She knew what she looked like. Her hair had leaked out of her loose bun, going all over the place around her head, blonde strands of it in wisps around her shoulders. Her eyes were teary and strained and bloodshot, mascara running down her cheeks. Her glasses were askew, knocked aside by her husband’s powerful thrusting into her face. A dazed smile, cum-covered and swollen-lipped. In short, she looked like she had been thoroughly, absolutely face-fucked.
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