Oral

You hilt yourself in Sartre’s throat in one swift *GULP*. Her throat distends, stretched tight by your thick, ten inch dong. You place your hand on her chin and pull her in tightly, pushing your cock as deep as you can. Obviously familiar with oral sex, Sartre slides her tongue out of her mouth and licks your pelvis greedily. You hump her face in a figure 8 in response.

Sartre chokes and crumples to the floor, coughing a thick, milky foam onto her face. You drop down to your knees and rub your balls on her face, coating them with her sticky throw up. She sticks her tongue out while you jerk your cock, slurping and spitting her vomit onto you.

You tap her tongue with your dick 3 times and enter, pinning her head to the floor. You wrap your knees around her head and sit still, waiting for a response from her. To her credit, Sartre is stubborn, holding out almost a full minute before tapping her hand frantically on her back. You hold your legs steady, pressing your full weight down on her head. She taps once, then again more frantically. Holding firm, you begin rapidly pistoning your rod into her gullet, moving your hips as fast as you can. She screams through your dick, thrashing beneath you in a frenzy. You lean onto your side and release her from your leg lock; she spits you out, sucking big gasps of air into her lungs.

“Monsieur! I could not breazhe but here I am. I zhought I was going to die!” she exclaims. Spit globs dangle off the end of her chin.

“You can’t die,” you mumble. “The laws of physics don’t apply here. Watch.” You hilt your dick inside her throat once again, this time wrapping your foot around her head in a leg lock. Sartre holds tight for as long as she can, but after 45 seconds she begins to panic, thrashing her limbs in an attempt to escape. You smack her titties and hold her tightly, determined to deprive her of air for as long as possible. To Sartre’s surprise, she doesn’t pass out.

You leave your cock parked in her throat for another 3 minutes. Sartre’s panicky flailing soon dies down, as she realizes there is no escape for her. Finally, you release the headlock around her, giving her another moment to breathe.

“Can you hold your breath for 4 minutes Sartre?” you ask. Sartre sucks air in response, unable to get a word out yet. Before she has a chance to catch her breath, you plunge inside her again, this time resting your full weight on her face again. Sartre heaves, and shoots sloppy throat juices out of her nose. You grab her neck and squeeze hard around the distension in her esophagus, fucking her throat with your cock slowly as you do so. Sartre vomits out of her nose again, but you’re too worked up to care for her wellbeing or safety. Without pulling out of her throat, you bend over and pick her up upside down, her legs folded over your shoulders and your hand on the back of her head. You squat and dig your fingers into her hair, pounding her face as hard as you can.

“GULCKGULCKGULCKGULCK,” she gurgles. Her throat grips the last 6 inches of your penis tightly as you rail away at her mouth-hole. Triggering her gag reflex, you press her head into your pelvis and sit down with her head between your knees. She struggles under your grip, shooting milky white fluid out of her nose and onto your balls. You hump her face aggressively, indifferent to her ****. Sartre has long since realized that tapping won’t do her any good.

You grab a handful of titty in each hand and squeeze your thighs together, holding Sartre prisoner in between your legs.

“If your world’s so real, bite down. Bite my cock off whore,” you gloat. Sartre’s jaw flexes, but she is unable to bite down, instead retching another milky stream down your cock. You grin and relax your legs. Sartre clumsily climbs off of you, falling face first onto the floor. She chokes and vomits a puddle of slop in front of her.

Utterly broken, Sartre’s dead eyes stare off into space. Her worldview has been shattered, her entire existence only to be throatfucked by some loser in his early 20s. You smile greedily and bring her up to her knees, crudely jerking yourself in front of her face. She flinches as her own spit flings off and hits her in the eye. You turn around and bury her face in between your ass cheeks. This is what she’s here for. Her degree, her many trips abroad to study, to help people, her whole life happened simply to lead her to this very moment. A small fart escapes your asshole, filling her mouth with the taste of shit.

Sartre gags at the smell, retching into your asshole. “I thought you guys like stinky stuff?” you giggle, delighted at her degradation. You lift her up onto the examination table and drop her on her back. Resigned to her fate, Sartre lays her head off the edge and opens her mouth wide, her freakishly long tongue jutting into the air. With no hesitation, you grab the underside of her head and insert yourself, ready to pound her face into oblivion.

Just then, the door clicks, and Bethany walks in.