The Altar of Jimmy

The fucking clown is standing on the sidewalk doing the “elbow-elbow, wrist-wrist” pageant wave. His clothes are the classic black and white harlequin pattern, and a bizarre pointy hat sits atop an incongruous greasy grey man-bun. His facial makeup continues the monochrome theme; white base with black eye greasepaint and lipstick. As the Molotov cocktail begins to catch on the grass about five feet from the house he does an exaggerated hop, clicking the heels of an absurdly large pair of shoes, and takes off running down the block.

Finally shaking off the sheer weirdness of the situation you grab your pants from their spot on the floor and begin pulling them on. Ever the man of action, as you do so you turn to Chrissy, who’s still staring in shock and incomprehension at the sidewalk, “Please tell me you have a fire extinguisher.”

To make a long story short you put out the fire in the yard and manage to dissuade Chrissy from calling the cops (because... well... cops, I mean seriously you are really not a ‘cops’ type of person). The terror of the early morning firebombing attempt has managed to jack up Chrissy’s Lust score again, and while you do what you can to cover up the hole in the window with duct tape, a couple blankets, and a sheet of plywood she was saving to burn in her fire pit, she continues to cling to you at every chance and that clinging quickly transitions to groping. This is very distracting, and makes it less than easy to actually finish what you’re working on. Eventually you order her into the kitchen to make coffee, setting off a submissive reaction as she scrambled off to do your bidding, still naked, with that gorgeous silver hair just barely covering her breasts.

You’ve just finished cleaning up what’s left of the glass and are taking it to the kitchen to dispose of, and the vision that’s before you is enough to once more bring your soldier to attention. She must have heard you coming, because when you enter the kitchen she’s kneeling, eyes downcast, and holding a large steaming mug in front of her like an offering. You accept it and go to sit in one of the living room chairs after dumping the glass in the trash, and she follows you crawling on her hands and knees. It occurs to you that you probably shouldn’t be taking this kind of behavior for granted as you take your first sip, but you immediately discard that thought when Chrissy starts to undo your pants.

You look down at her and see that she’s gazing at your cock like she’s seen the face of God. Her eyes drift closed, an expression of pure bliss on her face as she rubs her cheek against your rampant erection; a soft sigh escapes her lips. She opens her eyes again, turning her gaze to your face and whispers, “Your cock is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

What follows is one of the most erotic experiences of your life. You’ve received a few truly stellar blowjobs in the last week between Beth, Crystal last night, Chrissy herself, and even Eris in that fucked up dream, but nothing compares to this. Blowjob doesn’t do it justice. Neither does fellatio. She moans and sigh around your dick, licking, sucking, stroking; her eyes never leave yours. She’s not trying to make you cum. Hell, you’re pretty sure that if it was only your Johnson here, she’d probably still be going crazy on it. “God, I love the way you taste.”

She rubs her cheek against you again before dipping her head and gently tonguing your balls for a good solid two minutes, then buried her nose in your pubes, inhaling deeply. “And you smell just amazing...” Her voice is tinged with awe and fascination. She starts lapping at your balls again, gazing up at you with adoration.

You’ve heard the term ‘cock worship’ before and thought you understood what it was. Truly witnessing it is something completely different. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, her torrid sighs and the gentle reverence she shows to your member make you feel almost godlike. Her hand is between her legs; she’s frigging herself while she prays at the altar of Jimmy. In your peripheral vision you see numbers scrolling again and you realize that what you’ve been repeatedly cock-blocked in trying to do to Chrissy she’s now doing quite willfully to herself. “I don’t deserve this cock, but fuck, I’ve never needed something so much in my life.”

She begins to lick at the glans, and you can hear the wet sound of her fingers pounding into her cunt; her moans growing louder and a deep flush spreading over her pale flesh. “Please... Please fuck my face like you did last night...”

Well how the hell do you say no to that? Irrumatio once more becomes your watch word as you grip her hair and begin to thrust. You’re pretty damn worked up now, and you’re sure you won’t last long, especially when you feel the head of your cock entering her esophagus, her epiglottis dragging along your shaft. Still you last a good two minutes pounding her face before you thrust in as far as you can go and bellow out “Cum for me, girl!” as you unload directly down her digestive tract.

Her eyes roll back in her head as her body starts to spasm, flopping like a fish. You withdraw your favorite body part from her lips in fear that she might bite it off while having this grand mal orgasm, and she continues to twitch for a good bit after you’re no longer in contact with her, moaning and hyperventilating, before finally coming to rest in a heap at your feet like a puppet who’s strings have been cut. That’s when you remember that you still need to send Beth a picture. That’s also when you realize that Chrissy has passed right the fuck out.

You lift her up in your arms and carry her to the midnight blue sectional couch. Retrieving your coffee, you sit with her head in your lap, noting with interest that her mouth, leaking drool and cum, manages to find its way to your cock and unconsciously begins suckling. You slide your phone out and snap what might be the most sexually charged picture ever, send it off to Beth, and then do what research you can on the Dahlbergs. And fucking clowns.