Chapter 69 – Paris goes deep

Up and down. Breathe in and out. Suck in. Lick lick. Swallow as I go low enough for him to enter my throat. Like the last time I ended up giving Darnell a blow job, I follow the same sequence, only I get even more self-humiliation as he’s not the one doing this to me. Last time he used a handle made of my hair to pull me forward and back. He chose when he wanted my lips to focus on the crown of his cock head or when he wanted my tongue to lick and lather over his shaft. When he wanted me to hold still and just suckle on his head or when he wanted me to go deep and take him so far into my throat that my nose was tickled by his kinky hairs.

This time though, his hand is only preventing me from pulling off him completely. Otherwise, he’s leaving all the choices up to me. When I stop to suckle and lick and pamper the head of his cock, it’s my choice to do it. When I move down and move my tongue around his shaft, fluttering and licking and flicking to his delight, it’s my choice. When I let my fat puffy lips glide over the crown of his cockhead once, twice, three times, in quick succession, it’s me doing it. And when I take him into my throat, that too is me. I got by last time partially by selling myself that Darnell did it to me. That Trixie did it to me. That I was distracted by Trixie’s lips on my neck and fingers in my panties. That I was stunned and lost and out of control.

But none of that is true now.

If I’m honest, even with Darnell’s hand on my head, I could probably pull up and off of his cock. So, I’m even choosing to keep doing this. I’m ‘willingly’ sucking his cock. If blowing him last time was doubling down on my lies, then this is entrenching myself into the lie. ‘Paris? Oh yea, she sucks cock so good!’ will no longer be assumed. One person is witnessing me do it, another is experiencing it firsthand. Every fib, every exaggeration, every lie, now emblazoned to truth. To reality.

Have I sucked cock? Yup. Did I love it? Yup. Did I get pleasure out of it? Yup. Did I suck off Mal? Yup.

But it was either emphasize those horrible lies I’ve been telling for months or throw all the lies out and accept the consequences. Consequences that might include getting fired, getting prosecuted, staying in this body forever, going to prison. Consequences far worse than giving two blow jobs.

So, as I make up my mind to do this, I go full Paris and do it right. Even without Trixie playing underneath my panties, I start humming and moaning to add those vibrations to Darnell’s cock. I can’t add my hands to the mix, but I start moving my head to and for, forcing his cock to glide against my cheeks and even my teeth. I start timing my different actions like I was with my hand, keeping him interested and every sensation feeling like it’s new.

And after a few moments, the cosmos rewards me. In addition to Trixie licking and suckling at my nipples, she finally reaches down, pulls my skirt up, and starts flicking her delicate fingernails over my panty covered pussy. I’m already so freaking aroused that my body responds by bucking my hips into her hand, eliciting a giggle from Trixie and a groan from Darnell.

I once again hate that my thoughts go here, but I can’t help but think that this would be better if I were down between Darnell’s legs. I’d have better flexibility with my neck and could use both of my hands. I could even look up at him and give him a show of eye contact. As is, my skills seem to be good enough to have Darnell groaning and rolling his own hips to push deeper into my mouth. My eyes slowly close as I focus on the mixture of getting pleasure between my legs, receiving pleasure from my breasts, and giving pleasure with my mouth.

I’m not sure what it says about me that Trixie is able to get me to orgasm before I’m able to get Darnell off, but soon enough I’m again trading in my hums and moans for muted screams around Darnell’s meat as my body stiffens and trembles in delight. Only as I feel my peak pass and start to float down do I hear Darnell’s loud groan and realize what’s coming. And what position I’m in.

I have the briefest time to consider the one option before Darnell’s orgasm starts in earnest. If I am to pull up and off of him, his orgasm will just shoot all over my face again. I won’t be able to get out of the way, it’ll drip and make a mess all over his pants, and unlike Mal’s office, we don’t have a spare pair here. With that outcome tossed aside as unappealing I no longer have time to consider options and simply stop moving. I feel Darnell’s cock swell and start to throb a couple inches into my mouth. I feel the repeated strikes of his cum hitting the back of my mouth, painting me from the inside out. And with my position, more or less looking directly down, I can feel it sliding downward, over the roof of my mouth, over my tongue, over my teeth, coating everything.

Darnell removes his hand from my head completely, but I still stay where I am, making sure to seal my lips around his girth as he continues to twitch and leak out cum. With my own orgasm finished I’m left with the clarity of thought that makes this all that much worse, bowing over this huge athletic man’s lap, his sizeable cock in between my lips, my mouth filled with his still hot jizz, while his girlfriend excitedly moves above me to kiss him.

When I’m finally sure Danell is done, I very slowly pull up and off of his slowly shrinking manhood, making sure my lips stay sealed, and end up vacuuming every bit of cum from his cock. The method even ensures that my lips are pressed together as he slips from their grasp, giving the impression of a parting intimate kiss to the tip of his cock, as if I were thanking him for the gift.

Though, on second thought, that fits with the persona I built up for Paris.

I push myself up to a sitting position and try to find a napkin, but once Trixie sees I’m upright she moves from kissing her boyfriend to kissing me. Having her wrap her arms around my neck and slide her tongue into my mouth surprises me into finishing the act I wanted to avoid, swallowing down another mouthful of Darnell’s cum.

Eventually Trixie composes herself and moves back to her seat. I take a moment to adjust my skirt and button up my blouse, but before I can do more than that, a light shines from the back of the theater and I sit upright in my seat. My startled fear proves right when I see someone walk in. They barely give Trixie, Darnell, and me any notice but they stay stationed next to the door. An usher catching the last of the film before the credits roll.

When I look back at the screen, I have no idea what’s going on. Brad Pitt’s character is in the desert, talking about joining another race team and I have no idea what happened to the F1 team or his rookie partner or anything else. Just one more thing to be upset about, though comparing being snookered into giving another blowjob and missing half of a movie isn’t a real comparison.

By the time the credits roll we get our trash and leave the theater. A quick glance shows that there’s no sign of what happened, so I’m at least saved the extra layer of humiliation of having the staff here wonder which of the ‘big guy’s girls’ blew him. In the bathroom I make sure to rinse out my mouth as best I can, but… and I again hate that I know this from experience… I know that this flavor will linger until I can get to a toothbrush and lots of mouthwash. As is, the quick rinse and a couple mints at least change the flavor from cum to minty cum. By the time Trixie comes out of her stall I’ve stared into the mirror long enough to find my smile again and believe I’ll look natural and be able to hide away the truer horrified undertone that’s coloring me right now. The undertone that I’m now really the cocksucker I’ve been bragging about, but also that I’m enthusiastic about it with my gal pal and her boyfriend. And they’re enthusiastic about ‘helping’ me be enthusiastic about it.

Dinner feels awkward as all get out. It’s nothing special, just some Thai food near the theater, but I feel like a spotlight is on me the entire time. It takes almost the entire meal to realize why Trixie and Darnell are so calm and able to talk about the weather and upcoming football season. Why they’re not focused on the fact that I just sucked him off in the theater. The reason they’re acting like it’s no big deal is because, to them, it’s no big deal. I’m not sure it’s an everyday occurrence for them to invite a friend into a sexual escapade in a dark movie theater, but since they’ve been teenagers they’ve probably done things like this before. Hell, I’ve gotten head in a theater before. It isn’t the second blow job they’ve ever given. It wasn’t a gender defining moment. It wasn’t the first time they’ve succumbed as a female to a male’s sexual desires in a public area.

To me this was a monumental occasion. One that I’ll be reliving and attempting to interpret for years to come. For Trixie and Darnel? It was just a Friday night out. And that’s how I have to act. No big deal. Just a BJ for my buddy.

After what feels like a hard sell on Darnell’s part of me spending the night with him and Trixie, and me ultimately turning down that idea, we split up at the train station. Me getting on the pink line to my apartment, Darnell and Trixie getting on the blue line to her apartment. We admittedly draw quite a few eyes as Darnell pulls both Trixie and me in for a three-way kiss goodbye.

When I get home, for the first time in a long time, I’m glad to see that Grace has gone to bed early. It gives me time to clean up, get into my comfy robe, and spend some time sitting in front of the mirror. I’ve looked at this face a lot since the surgeries and have found ‘me’ under all the changes. It’s not my nose, it’s not my eyes, it’s not my lips, it’s not my forehead, it’s not even my cheeks or chin, but I’m still there under it all. But as I tilt and turn my face, I find it more difficult to find me again. I can pull my robe tight under my throat to hide away my breasts. I can pull and tie my hair back to hide away its feminine length. But I can’t hide away her. Paris. And now when I see her, I see what I’ve sold to everybody else. Paris the bimbo. Paris the slut. Paris the whore. Paris the cock sucker. It took effort to avoid thinking of these lips wrapped around a cock. They’re plump and juicy and puffy and sexy but they were mine and outside of the lies, my lips didn’t do that. But that’s not true any longer. Now I can’t NOT see them wrapped around that thick, girthy, throbbing piece of man meat between Darnell’s legs. I see what everybody else has seen.

After almost an hour of not finding me in Paris’ face, I turn to my laptop and do some research on blow jobs. I’ve worked off porn and assumptions and experience before. Before, however, I didn’t care about skill and technique as I wasn’t getting complimented on it. Now that I’m being praised for something as if it were special, I need to find out why. It takes effort to narrow down my search terms in order to not pull up a lot of porn sites and instead focus on information, but I finally get variations of women’s sites and a few gay sites talking about giving head and how to overcome what seems to be the perfectly normal, perfectly average, and perfectly difficult to conquer, gag reflex.

I end up covering at least a dozen sites regarding gag reflexes and deep throating and blow jobs to finally accept what seems obvious to everybody else. Deep throating is difficult, overcoming a gag reflex is difficult, and taking an eight-inch cock like Darnell’s smoothly down your throat isn’t only a sign of something special, it’s most often a sign of repeated practice and focus. A sign of someone that not only has performed a lot of blow jobs, but a sign of someone that takes a lot of pride in them.

It's only mentioned on a couple websites that there is a small percentage of people either without, or with a highly diminished, gag reflex. It turns out it’s an actual medical condition and can be a problem, but it’s not discussed often because it’s rare. A rare condition that I just so happen to have, that makes it look like I’m some kind of professional well practiced cock sucker.