Paizaru

This is so humiliating, Josh’s fading masculine persona protested, you’re not some brainless z-girl - you’re a man. For fucks sake. Fight it!!! Refuse to be trapped as a mindless fuckpet! You are Josh, not Jojo!!! Right!!?

Jojo giggled as she slowly swayed her shoulders, sending her breasts jiggling in a perfect counterpoint, her upturned nipples sharp enough to cut glass… or maybe a tongue.

She liked her nipples.

And they all liked her nipples. She could tell. Who doesn’t like breasts? She thought. The heft, the pliant bounce… like beautifully bountiful buoyant balloons were her breasts.

Behind her a huge screen broadcast her nipples large as day, the camera zooming in as it dollied away. A vertigo of breasts.

Josh stated at the screen as they filled his vision. He looked down. They filled his vision. “Oh wow…” he muttered.

Her perfectly formed breasts were intoxicating, the nipples a blushing pink of slightly darker dimpled and crinkled pretty protuberance.

Before Jojo a big cock swayed. Thick. Veined.

“Yum…” she said. She had to win. To please master.

To get the phone, Josh said faintly, mouth oddly dry.

She grinned, heart a patter… fear, shame, anxiety, excitement, it was a heady cocktail of divergent and confusing emotions that made her pussy clench and mouth whimper. So confusing but so right.

And she was on display like a petite toy. Jojo giggled softly, the childish sound escaping her lips as she leant forward into the cock, her nose at navel height as she pressed her tits together, enveloping the drone’s shaft in their warm, yielding flesh. She exhaled a warm breath into his abdomen, rocking up and down slowly to tit fuck him.

The heat of his turgid manhood against her skin sent jolts straight to her clit, her nipples peaking like little precious diamonds. As the timer started, she began to slide her breasts up and down with greater abandon, the friction delicious, her saliva dripping onto the head to slicken the motion.

The drone groaned, his hips bucking slightly, and Jojo leaned in, her tongue flicking out to lap at the tip each time it emerged from her cleavage. Shit this was good. She was good.

“Yeah baby girl, that’s how I like it…” the drone droned.

“Yes… yes… sir,” she growled as she lovingly fondled his large dangling balls beneath her boobs.

I had those once… Josh observed in his little island of denial and disbelief.

The judges circled, clinically noting the bounce of her tits, the way her face flushed with genuine pleasure. One held an imperial Libidometer. Another a metric plethysmograph. They both scoffed at the others tools as they perfunctorily measured the drones tool and Jojos assets. “Look at that technique—natural rhythm, no hesitation,” one said, scribbling. On the screens, close-ups showed her drooling lips, her glazed eyes, the veins pulsing in the cock nestled between her mounds.

Other Z-girls struggled nearby—one with oversized lips fumbled the grip, another came too soon from the stimulation—but Jojo excelled, her body instinctively knowing how to please. So good… Master’s going to be so proud, she thought, her hips grinding against nothing as arousal built. No! Win for the phone. Undo… this… oh, but it feels amazing…