Blake and the Blowjobs, chapter 5

A young woman’s problems in a highly pornified future world.

(All characters in this story, that do anything erotic, are at least 18 years old)

Danny, was at the dinner table looking exhausted. Mother must have rode him pretty hard today. He is a good cocksman and I know why Mother keeps him visiting; I have used his skills too. I admired his shoulders silently. I want to run my hands all over that body.

My problem with weight gain from all my blowjobs was my own business. I planned to keep who (and how many) I was swallowing to myself, selecting the diet from what was placed before me. I would still eat with everyone else, but limit my portion size. I would fuck the men that came along and cut back on the blowjobs.

Unfortunately such a course is impossible in a family that combines the worst aspects of a Senate investigation with the less brutal methods of a third degree. I got away with passing up the cream-of-broccoli soup by being a little bit late, but when I refused the gravy, there was nothing to do but show them the diet site.

Mother said a growing girl needed her food. I pointed out that I had quit growing

vertically and it was time I quit growing horizontally. Thankfully, my huge boobs had also quit growing; they are fun but heavy to carry, so I didn’t add that point. Junior opened his mouth and I stuffed a roll into it. That gave Danny a chance to say, "Let's put it up to Dr Heinlein. If she gives Suckin’ the green light, she can starve herself like a model. She's a grown woman."

Junior had shoved another pork chop into his mouth and bolted off to his room.

After dinner two big guys knocked at the door. Mother looked at them with hunger and invited them upstairs. She had her night’s hedonistic entertainment sorted out. Danny looked a bit sad. She had ridden him, fed him dinner and was now ignoring him. He would have to spend the night at the boy’s barracks. I had visited there and blown a few guys. They have closet-sized rooms with a folding cot. It was a place to store their stuff, but they should spend the night in some woman’s big bed.

So when he got up to leave, I suggested, “Danny, you look very weary. I would like it if you would warm my bed. We are both tired from a good riding or two; it doesn’t matter if it was with someone else.”

He smiled gratefully and took my hand. I had ideas about what I would do to his body, tired or not.