Cracking masks

How I managed it is beyond me. Any other day, the mere suggestion of the act would have made me cringe in horror. But when the burning hot chocolate was all the way past my gullet and settling painfully in my stomach, there were still several droplets spectacularly meeting their end on Carmencita's bosoms. I beat her.

She was still pouring the last tiny remnants of the drink onto herself when I set my empty mug on the table. The still steaming liquid on her skin made a splotchy purple stain, tracing a mad path from just above her breasts all the way down, past her stomach, between her wide open legs, and pooling on the couch in front of the jungle, which glistened with moisture.

I questioned whether it was worth it. My throat was a hot mess, literally, still burning away. I daren't speak. Was it worth hurting myself like this just to win Carmen's little game? Would winning even truly confer me an advantage of any sort? After all, this encounter was leading to the same thing regardless, the same mind-destroying peril, no matter what little shows of dominance transpired. Elizabeth Morgan, that is the essence of who she was, had died in front of me. The same fate could find me in at least two different ways, being found out, or infection. The secure knowledge of this, the assurance, the evidence that these prospects were fact made solid cause for queasiness. More than ever was it urgent I manage to leave the City.

"Don't worry, I know how hot that stuff was..."

As Carmen spoke token empathy to me, the light dimmed in front of my eyes, and I snapped out of my spiralling reflexions on certain doom. She was rising from the couch opposite me, and stepping over the glass table towards me, quickly filling my vision with her pink and purple skin. Mere months ago this would have been the stuff of my dreams, to see her fleshy breasts dangle above so close, free and uncovered, with the face beyond only showing the playful anticipation of games long craved. Now it was a wake-up call, and I narrowly avoided breaking a panicky hole in my facade just in time to hear her latest proposition of rules.

"Why don't you clean me up, Frank?" she said, "First catch the more loose droplets with your tongue, then you can roam up to meet me..."

There was no room for doubt. I wanted to survive, and in order to do that, I had to play along. Anything was worth it. Carmen began to jiggle herself over me, great bulbous breasts dancing from side to side, and I focused as chocolate began flying off her. Most of it flew wide , but soon I caught some on my tongue, just tiny pinpricks of sensation without warning. The liquid was still hot, even in minuscule droplets. I had to play the game, had to enjoy, or give the appearance of that. I grabbed my cock in one hand, coaxing it to full hardness. With the other I pulled on Carmencita's thigh toward me, pulling her crotch towards my face. When she could no longer see me, hidden by her bosoms, I brought to bear the full **** of my **** will to live, determined that my want of freedom override whatever psychedelics lay oozing from where I was to begin journeying up her body.

Her pussy tasted of chocolate, and it was tempting to try and suck all of that sweetness out, but I held back. I smothered myself between her legs so she couldn't see me grimace in concentration, and did only exactly what she proposed: clean her up. I licked and ate at the fleshy folds and the jungle, just enough to feel the hint of a rush, my hand on my hard cock almost serving to gauge my own arousal, waiting for a tell-tale surge. It was when I tentatively slipped inside her and came back with a sting of pleasure throughout my body that I knew it was time to move on. With the consolation that the hardest was over, I relaxed my face, and retreated from the love nest, letting her see nothing more than she might expect.

"Enough of that," I croaked, voice in ruins courtesy of the drink, "Got to complete the assignment," and began slithering over her mons, tongue a hungry cleansing snake. She smiled, and I thought of the kiss that awaited me above, anxious to reach it soon in spite of the risk involved.

"Well you're a damn tease aren't you?" she retorted, but her smile held true. While I started lapping her up, I sent both hands a-crawling and caressing ahead of me, feeling her naked back, thighs, hips, all that had been covered under clothing in our previous encounters. It was strange to think that I had been so far as to fuck her yet never be fully naked with her. But surreal was the norm now, apparently - unless I could get away.

I half-expected Carmencita's patience to run out before I completed my task, and so braced myself to be pulled up to her face by the ears at any moment. But she did as promised earlier, letting me take my time with no great surprises, letting me caress and kiss her as leisurely as I liked, following the wet, sweet path up her pink and purple flesh. I had all the time I needed to recover from the rush, and prepare to resist the next, slightly less potent **** from my final destination above. In fact, when I arrived at her bosoms, she made me linger, ceasing her own reciprocal stroking of me to put the slightest of pressure on my shoulders so that I should stay and suckle her a little longer. I was only too happy to continue on her breasts, summoning and preparing my mental resolve as I tasted every inch of her fleshy mounds, playing with the nipples, taking in their pure, untouched flavour to clean away the poison from below.

At last fingers gripped my buttocks and pulled upwards, time for the final reckoning. I rose to my full height, and nearly forgot to look upwards about an inch to make eye contact. It was shocking how even up close, there was no conclusive answer to whether those perpetually angry irises were green, blue, or even blue-green. The colour danced from shade to shade constantly. The next thing I knew she was kissing me yet again, and it was by a hair's breadth that all the focus I had built up didn't immediately dissolve.

Carmen's "most tacky and pasty lipstick" was flavoured after some forgotten Terran fruit. Given she was willing to spill genuine chocolate for sexual shits and giggles, she might well have chosen a rare, possibly endangered species - endangered as in the actual plant is extinct, and all the products derived from it are miraculously preserved antiques. I let the aroma fill me, concentrated on it, trying to know it better than anything else, that it might overwhelm whatever came beyond.

Abruptly the kiss ended, and what had been a slowly tightening embrace completely vanished from around me. The game's first jerky motion was so quick I felt a small whoosh of air give me phantom goosebumps.

Caught off guard, concentration broken, I felt more naked (as I was) than ever before, even when I arrived at school the previous day. Even more shocking was to see what had driven Carmencita's withdrawal, slowly painting itself across her face and body. She had tried to step back and nearly fallen head over heels because of the glass table between the two couches. Her arms hung limp by her sides. I saw her lip twitch at one corner, and the eyes flashed in a way I had never seen before on her, yet was horribly familiar. It was what I'd been struggling to hide within me constantly since discovering the great change: confusion, panic, a visceral malaise. But then in a flash all of it evaporated. Every trace of doubt and questioning and discomfort washed away from her features, and she instantly reverted to her old self. Carmen grabbed me roughly around the neck and dragged me back down to her chest, mashing her breasts into my face.

"You're not ready," I heard, smothered in her mountainous bosoms, "Devour me."

The voice was sharp and clear as ever, no whisper of fear. But I let the weight of my head rest against her, and there was no mistaking the hastened thumping within.

She was afraid.