A Mind Made Up

Her hips roll on yours in a rhythm that feels like it could go on forever, slow and deep and relentless, and every inch of your cock is buried inside her, wrapped in wet heat that pulses with each movement she makes. The Viagra has turned everything up—the drag of her cunt sliding along your shaft feels like it's happening in high definition, every ridge and ripple of her gripping you, every shift of her weight sending sparks up your spine.

She's got her hands flat on your chest, fingers spread wide, pinning you to the mattress like she's afraid you might try to escape. Like you could. Like you'd even want to. Her palms press into your pecs, her weight settling on you, and you can feel the muscle in her thighs working as she rides you, slow and deliberate, taking her time.

"You feel that?" she asks, and her voice is low, almost a purr. "Feel how deep I can take you now?"

You can only nod, your hands finding her hips out of reflex. They don't fit anymore. Your fingers can't span the width of her, can't grip the way they used to, and the muscle beneath her skin is hard as a rope pulled tight. She lets you hold her there, lets you feel how much woman there is now, and she doesn't slow down.

"I asked you a question," she says, and there's a smile in her voice that you can hear even if you can't see it. "Use your words."

"Yes," you manage, and it comes out strangled. "Yes, I feel it."

"Good, I hardly can but it’s the end product that counts." She leans down, and her chestnut hair falls around your face, a curtain of silk that blocks out the dim amber light from the streetlamp. Her breath is warm on your lips, her eyes dark and watching you, and she doesn't kiss you—she just hovers there, close enough that you can feel the heat of her skin, the weight of her gaze.

"You're going to come for me now," she whispers, and the words land somewhere in your chest, a command and a promise wrapped together. "And I'm going to drink every drop."

Your dick twitches inside her, a reflexive pulse that makes her smile, and she rocks her hips once, slow, grinding down on you so you feel every inch of her. The pressure is already building, the pill making everything raw and bright, and you can feel yourself getting close faster than you should.

"Please," you hear yourself say, and you don't even know what you're asking for—more, or to be allowed to come, or for her to never stop.

"Please what?" she asks, and she doesn't speed up. She keeps that same slow, torturous rhythm, her hips rolling against yours, and the wet sound of her moving on you fills the room.

"Please let me—" you start, but the words die in your throat when she clenches around you, a deliberate squeeze that makes your vision blur.

"Let you what?" She's enjoying this. You can hear it in her voice, that teasing edge that's been there all night. "Come? Is that what you want?"

"Yes," you gasp. "Fuck, yes."

"Then come," she says, and she lifts off you just in time.

The loss of her is almost painful—your cock left wet and aching, the cool air hitting where she was just wrapped around you—but before you can even whimper, her hand closes around you, warm and sure, and she strokes you fast as she kneels up over your face.

"Give it to me," she says, and her voice is different now, lower, hungrier. "Give it all to me."

You don't have a choice. Your hips buck, your whole body arching off the mattress as you come, thick and hot, spurting across your own stomach before she guides the head into her mouth. The first shot hits the back of her throat and she takes it, swallows it down without flinching, and then she's sucking you, her mouth working around you, drawing out every last drop.

You can feel her throat working around you, the muscles contracting, pulling, and you keep coming, wave after wave, until you're empty and twitching, your cock hypersensitive and aching as she finally pulls off with a wet sound.

She sits up, licking her lips, and even in the dim light you can see the satisfaction on her face. The room seems smaller as she looms over you, six-foot-eight of woman, her chest rising and falling, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

"Good boy," she says, and the words send a flush through you that has nothing to do with the heat in the room.

Her hand is still wrapped around your softening cock, and she squeezes once, almost experimentally, watching your face as you twitch beneath her.

"Think you've got another one in you?" she asks, and her thumb traces the underside of your shaft, feather-light, making you shudder.

"I—" you start, and your voice cracks. "I don't know."

She smiles, that knowing smile that's been on her face all night, and she shifts her weight, settling back down onto you. Her cunt is still slick, still hot, and she slides you inside her in one smooth motion that makes both of you gasp.

"I think you do," she says, and she starts to move again.

The second time is slower to build. The Viagra has you hard again almost immediately, and the feeling of her riding you—so soon after you've come, so sensitive that every stroke is almost too much—is a special kind of torture. She knows it, too. You can see it in the way she watches you, the way she adjusts her angle just slightly, finding the spot that makes your eyes roll back.

"There," she says, not a question. "That's the spot."

She grinds down on it, slow and circular, and you can feel yourself getting lost in her, the world narrowing to the heat of her cunt and the rhythm of her hips and the sound of her breathing, rough and quick.

"You like this," she says, and it's not a question either. "You like being used like this."

You want to deny it. You want to say something that sounds like a man who still has some dignity, some control. But she's looking down at you with those warm brown eyes, and her hand is on your chest again, pinning you, and the truth of it is sitting right there between you.

"Good." She leans down again, her hair falling around your face, and she whispers it against your lips. "I'm going to use you until you’re empty. And then I'm going to use you some more."

You come the second time with her mouth hardly having time to get around your cock and she swallows every drop again, her throat working around you as you pulse into her. This time it's less, thinner, but she doesn't complain. She just licks you clean and sits up, and there's a light in her eyes that wasn't there before.

"Again," she says, and you don't have the words to refuse her.

The third time, she flips you onto your stomach and straddles your thighs, her hand reaching back to guide you into her. You feel her sink down onto you, slow, and she takes you all the way to the hilt before she starts to move, her hips rocking against your ass, her weight pressing you into the mattress.

"This is what you're for," she says, and her voice is breathless, almost giddy. "This is what you're good for."

You can feel yourself shrinking inside her, the Viagra struggling to keep up with the pace she's setting, and you can feel the moment she notices—her rhythm stutters, her hand reaching back to grip your hip.

"Don't you dare," she says, and her voice is sharp. "Don't you dare go soft on me."

You try. You focus on the feeling of her, the wet heat of her, the way she clenches around you when she moves. You think about her, about the way she looks when she comes, about the sounds she makes, and slowly, painfully, you feel yourself hardening again.

"That's better," she says, and she picks up the pace.

The third orgasm is a relief and a surrender all at once. You come with your face pressed into the pillow, muffling your own sound, and she takes it all, her cunt milking you dry, her body shuddering above you as she follows you over the edge.

She collapses onto your back, her weight pressing you flat, and for a moment there's nothing but the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and loud in the quiet room.

"Three," she says, and her voice is muffled against your shoulder. "Three more to go."

Your heart sinks. You're already empty, already spent, and the thought of doing this three more times feels impossible. But she shifts off you, rolling onto her back beside you, and her hand finds your cock again—soft, limp, exhausted—and she starts to stroke it, slow and patient.

"You can do this," she says, and it sounds like a promise and a threat. "You're going to do this."

Her hand is warm, her touch familiar, and even though every nerve in your body is screaming for rest, you feel yourself stirring again. The Viagra is relentless, a chemical insistence that overrides your body's protests, and you watch, half-horrified, as your cock fills in her grip.

"There he is," she says, and she smiles. "Good little cock."

The words land somewhere strange—a flush of heat that has nothing to do with arousal, a twist in your stomach that's part humiliation and part something else. She sees it, you know she sees it, because her smile widens, and she strokes you faster.

"You like that," she says. "You like being humiliated."

"I—" you start, but she cuts you off.

"Don't lie to me." Her grip tightens, just slightly. "I can feel you twitch."

She's right. You can feel it too, the way your dick jumps in her hand, the way your body betrays you. And she's looking at you with those knowing brown eyes, and there's nothing you can say that will change what she sees.

"Climb on," she says, and she releases you, settling back on the mattress with her legs spread. "I want you inside me."

You don't have the strength to argue. You crawl over her, your body heavy and slow, and she guides you into her with her hand, her cunt slick and welcoming. You sink in with a sound that's half moan, half sob, and she wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper.

"That's it," she says. "That's my good boy."

The fourth time is a blur. You move inside her on autopilot, your body running on fumes and pharmaceuticals, and she takes what she wants, her hips rising to meet yours, her hands gripping your ass to keep you from pulling out. You come with a sound that's more whimper than moan, a thin trickle of cum that she catches with her fingers and licks off, and she looks at you with something like satisfaction.

"One more," she says. "Just one more."

Your cock is raw, aching, and you don't think you can do it. But she rolls you onto your back, straddles you, and takes you in her mouth, and the feeling of her tongue on your oversensitive skin is a kind of agony. She works you back to hardness with a patience that feels cruel, her mouth hot and wet, her throat opening around you, and when you're finally hard enough, she climbs on top of you and sinks down.

"Last one," she says, and she starts to ride you, slow and deep. "Give me everything you've got."

You do. You give her everything, all of it, every last drop of cum your body can produce, and when you finally collapse beneath her, empty and twitching, she sits up and licks her lips.

"Good boy," she says, and the words land like a benediction.

She climbs off you, and you hear her feet hit the floor. You can't move, can't even lift your head, but you can see her standing there in the dim light, taller than she was before. The room feels smaller, your bed feels smaller, and she looks down at you with a smile that's equal parts affection and hunger.

"That was fun," she says, and she stretches, her body rolling in a way that makes your exhausted cock twitch in protest. "I needed that."

You muster the strength to turn and watch her stand, all so you can see your giantess grow again, it stars with a loud moan, you watch as her expression shifts to that of pure ecstasy, a face you certainly didn’t see as she was using you.

Her perfect ass stretches outwards as her thighs thicken, her already toned muscles across her body ripple and expand ever so slightly, her giant tits grow just enough to notice and finally she grows taller, only a couple more inches, now at 7’3. A Goddess, a horny, dominant goddess.

“I would say I expected more… But that would be a lie” She bends down and holds my deflating cock in her hand. “Cute”.

She walks toward the door, and you watch her go, your body too spent to even think about following. She pauses at the threshold, looking back at you over her shoulder.

"Rest up, I’ve got fun plans for you once Dadd- Jake’s filled me up," she says, and she's gone.

You lie there in the silence, staring at the empty doorway, your body aching and empty, and you can hear her footsteps moving down the hall—toward Jake's room, toward the next round, toward whatever she's planning next.