And Trey seems happy to oblige.

Still gripping my neck, Trey yanks me up. He sits on the floor, legs splayed out, and he shoves my head down onto his fuckpole. I'm limp like a rag doll; it's all I can do to lay there between his legs as he abuses my throat. For all he cares, my head is a fucktoy, a living sleeve of flesh to be slammed down his glorious meat again and again.

I see his massive balls, somehow the size of cantelopes now drawing up in his nutsack. He grunts and moans, like an animal in heat. His toes curl. And the flood begins.

As Trey orgasms, I fade in and out of consciousness. I'm so blissed out I have no idea how long he fucking brains me. The taste of his cum is intoxicating. Pure masculinity - salty and bitter and sweet and cummy. It's like cum, but unlike cum. It's like cum times cum. No, cum to the power of cum.

When he finally finishes spewing, he pulls out and a dollop of spooge falls out of my lips, spewing over my chin and onto my swollen belly. I don't know why, but I must have it. I try to bend over and suck it back up - back into me - but I can't reach it. My normally flat stomach is bloated and full. I'd guess I've consumed about two gallons of jizz.

The smell of the room is absolutely rank.