Blake and the Blowjobs, chapter 4

A young woman’s problems in a highly pornified future world.

(All characters in this story, that do anything erotic, are at least 18 years old)

After a post-fuck kiss and cuddle with Debbie, I got dressed and went home. I might have stayed and eaten Debbie out and her me. When we were underaged, we swore to each other we would never do such a thing. We were straight as a pencil. Then after our first hundred pricks, eating pussy wasn’t being gay or bi; it was just an exotic variation.

Unlike Debbie, my bosom is too bounteous and just plain heavy to go topless. I had a cute lacy bra that supported my mountains while showing as much skin as possible. Hundreds of years ago there were laws and customs preventing women from wearing anything revealing. Thankfully, I live in the free 23rd century. While many ladies go about completely nude, I find that almost hiding treasures is more enticing. So I had a very short skirt that matched my bra and shoes. It was just short enough for my kitty to peek out and visually say hello, welcome to paradise.

It was when I refused a second helping of potatoes that evening that the subject of my metabolism came up. I didn’t eat lunch, I swallowed Blake. And after school I swallowed Brian’s friend. The calories added up. I googled the matter of diet and weight loss. I hadn't known there were so many resources about it. Finally I found one that made sense: Eat Light and Grow Slender. That struck me as an excellent idea.

I got a few crackers and some cheese and ate them absent-mindedly while I thumbed through the site. There was a plan for losing five kilos in ten days; the menus looked pretty skimpy. There was another for losing five kilos in a month. That's for me, I said; no need to be fanatic.

There was a chapter about calories. They make it so simple: one ice-cream cone, one hundred and fifty calories; three dates, eighty-four calories. My eye lit on "soda crackers"; I knew they wouldn't count much and they didn't - only twenty-one calories apiece. Then I looked up "cheese." Arithmetic stirred in my brain and I had a chilly feeling. I went into Mom's study and used her postal scale to weigh the cheese that had not already become Jezebel. I did the arithmetic three times. Including two little blowjobs I had eaten six hundred and seventy calories, more than half of a day's allowance given in the reducing diet! And I had only meant to stay the pangs until dinnertime. Jezebel, I said, this time you've got to be a fanatic; it's the ten-day die-trying diet for you. How was I going to get through ten days without swallowing any men?