Deep in my throat

He doesn't allow me any room to breathe. The world fades around me. My nostrils swell to try to take all the air they can. The muscle in my chest spasms. A hand around the neck can't compare. This is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, though by now I'm next to naked. Horrible noises are coming from the depths of my throat. For a second, and it could be nothing more than brain cells dying and sending up delusional warning flares, I seem to be outside myself. Doesn't she look pretty? Like someone you would want to marry? She would never marry you, might never marry anyone, but she's someone you should want to marry, isn't she? Isn't she?

My cunt trembles. That's a betrayal. Fuck, don't break the illusion. I want to believe this is all I could want. Sex is an inferior product to driving the manhood of a man I barely know past my lips and inside me, because to get fucked you need to be vulnerable, while to get throatfucked you can be an aloof little piece of ass. He can remember this forever and so can I but we never have to know who the other really is. That's all I want to be, a piece of ass.

"Take it, take it, shit, look at you,"

Look at me. Not Luke, I couldn't care less about him. But someone, please, look at me and like me. I want them to think I'm better than they could ever have. Being that perfect thing means giving it up sometimes, well, often, very many times.

Sweat

All over me. Practically pouring down my neck. It feels good, but not as good as that. Work out every day, thirty minutes a day. To keep myself presentable I do forty five, minimum. Do you think I could be this without effort? It's never happened.

Sound

Gk gk gk gk...

"Take it, take it, take it, look at you, baby, take it,"

He's learned this kind of dialogue from watching porn. Whatever, I learned this kind of oral sex from watching porn. We're two people playing out a story we've seen before and wanted to imitate, essentially isolated, not really touching. There's no intimacy here. Good. I hate intimacy more than anything else. Those few times I've let it happen, or almost happen, hike my heart rate. A normal person might call that love. This was fear. I know the smell of it, fear, that's it. When I had a man I could love on top of me, looking me in the eyes as he fucked me, holding my face, threatening to kiss me...

Shadows

He isn't looking at me anymore. I would only distract him from what he has to do, now. Luke puts his palm on my forehead and fucks my mouth relentlessly. This is so much better, yes. His face is almost hidden from me. He has it half turned away, and the other half has a shadow falling over it. The light from his apartment bathroom is cut by his nose, blocking me from him. Thank you.

Gk

Hghhhhh

Drowning. I'm drowning in my own spit. My body is trying to keep itself alive, and it thinks that a little extra moisture is all it needs to make it through. Don't worry, honey, there'll be plenty soon. He holds my head down. My nose presses into his pelvis. I feel his hair on my cheeks. "Hghhhh," I wheeze, but I make it a beautiful sound.

He twitches. I shake. It's finally going to end. Cum pours from the head of his cock, drowning me all over again, and my eyes clench shut. That taste on my tongue. Yes, please, I need the proof. Hghhhhhh. Gkh. If it rushes down my throat, some of it splashing into my windpipe. Finally it's too much for my brain to take ownership of, and my body rebels. I shove him away from me and his dick slips out of my mouth. I cough, and some splatters on his leg, but, determined thing that I am, I keep the rest down. Bent over the carpet, I press both hands to my throat to will it down.