Realistic Silicon/TPE Mouth Stroker (Similar to Pussy stroker but with Mouth End)

Graham had been looking forward to this all day. He walked out of Molly’s Sex Shop with the plain black box tucked under his arm, heartbeat already kicking up at the thought of getting home.

The “Deep Throat Cocksucker” male stroker with plump silicon lips on one end of a two-pound cylinder of synthetic flesh. The clerk had smirked when she rang it up.

“Well, looks like someone’s gotta date for the evening,” she said sarcastically.

He laughed, whipped out sixty bucks in cash, and practically jogged the six blocks back to his apartment.

Now the box sat open on the bed, the eight-inch stroker resting in his palm like it had been waiting for him forever. Realistic silicon flesh with TPE interior, warm from his hand already.

Plump, glossy lips painted pink, soft enough to look wet even when dry. He drizzled half the bottle of lube straight down the throat, watching it disappear into the ribbed tunnel, then wiped the excess on his shaft. He pulled his laptop open with volume low and switched the lights off. He knelt on the mattress, stroked himself twice just to feel the slick heat, lined up, and pushed.

First stroke: slow, savoring the way the lips stretched around the head with a soft, wet pop.

Second stroke: deeper, the ribs dragging perfectly.

Third stroke: he groaned, squeezed the neck, and sank all the way to the base.

Fourth stroke: he pulled back and thrust again, harder, chasing the edge. That’s when the tunnel suddenly clamped down like a fist. Not the usual soft flutter of silicone; this was a violent, living contraction, throat muscles seizing in a full-body gag.

A wet, strangled “Hrrk—!” vibrated up his shaft and punched the air out of his lungs. Graham froze, balls-deep, eyes flying open. The stroker jerked in his hand. The throat spasmed again, harder, rippling in waves that tried to **** him out. Silicone teeth, soft but suddenly very real, scraped along his length and then bit down in warning, just hard enough to make his hips jerk while the tongue, previously molded inside the toy, was impossibly moving across the bottom of his shaft.

“MMPH…!”

A muffled, panicked scream vibrated around his cock. The lips stretched wide, trying to form words past the obstruction.

“St…stop…please…can’t!”

The toy continued to convulse even harder and bucked backward like a live animal, throat retching, teeth scraping again, tighter this time while the tongue flailed. He felt the tunnel contract in rhythmic, **** heaves, trying to vomit him out. Panic hit him like ice water. He tried to pull back; the throat clamped harder, milking him in the worst possible way. The teeth dug in, still soft silicone, but the pressure was real and climbing fast.

“Shit…shit…FUCK!”

He yanked out on instinct. The stroker ripped itself off him with a loud, obscene *SCHLORP*, lube spraying across his stomach and the sheets. It landed on the mattress with a wet slap, throat heaving, lips coughing and gasping like it had actually been ****. For half a second it just lay there, trembling, drool and lube pouring from its open mouth. Then it flipped over, inch-worming itself frantically across the bed as the mouth end hyperventilated in terror. It’s eight-inch body reached the edge at impressive speed.

High, terrified whimpers spilled out with every lurch: “No…no…no…stay away!!!”

Graham lunged, cock still slick and throbbing in shock.

“Hey wait…what the FUCK…”

It launched off the mattress, hit the floor mouth-first with a wet *plap*, and shot across the hardwood like a greased hockey puck, leaving a glistening trail straight for the dresser. He dove after it, shoulder skidding, fingers closing on empty air as it disappeared into the shadows. From the darkness came a single, shaking sob.

“Please don’t… please…”

Graham stayed on his knees, chest heaving, staring at the dresser like it had personally betrayed him. His brain ran the footage back in a loop: the gag, the teeth, the scream, the way it had sprinted for its life.

He whispered the only thing that made sense in the moment.

“What the actual fuck? I’m kicking Mark’s ass for whatever the hell he put in those edibles.”