She gives Stacey a blowjob she won't forget

Krissi's mouth stretched wide to accept just the first inch of the mammoth rod. Her tongue swept up its cockslit, tasting salty precum. Stacey moaned in in pleasure. Instead of futilely trying to stuff the oversized parody of a cock further into her mouth she kept it in this position while she moved her hands to work Stacey's balls and shaft. Her new talent covered this part of the blowjob too and she groped and stroked and lightly tugged in just the right places.

Stacey's new balls were particularly sensitive, she found. She lightly squeezed one tennis-ball testicle and Stacey gasped - a gasp of pleasure, but also of clear surprise at their sensitivity.

"Don't squeeze those too hard cocksleeve," Stacey warned.

Krissi popped off Stacey's cockhead. "Of course not," she promised demurely, then started to run her tongue and lips up and down Stacey's obscene shaft, working both her hands in careful coordination.

She carefully varied her pace and rhythm, stimulating new areas with a light brush or a firm grip all according to her instincts. On one hand she was disgusted at what she was doing - what she was being **** into doing - but part of her took the same delight as any virtuoso practicing her craft. Yes, each motion was as precise yet soulful as an expert violinist performing a solo. She was reaching heights far higher than she had during Finn's cursory uses of her mouth.

"Yes, slut, oh my god yes!" Stacey was grunting and yelling in pleasure. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed, her breathing labored, her thigh muscles tight with tension. She'd been reduced to passive putty in Krissi's hands. Krissi knew, of course, that Stacey could take violent control at any moment. Yet she steadied her nerves and continued to play the impossible instrument of phallic carnage in front of her.

She sensed her tormentor's orgasm coming near and strove to draw it out as long as possible. She strategically kept her licks, strokes, and suckles just slow and light enough to keep Stacey on edge.

Krissi felt the tremor that nearly buckled Stacey's knees. The girl was on the brink, losing control of herself, her eyes rolling into the back of her head at the sensations of a true maestro's ministrations to her magnificent meat. Her expression was slackening, and so, Krissi saw with a burst of excitement, was her grip on the marker. If she could just drag this out a little longer, make Stacey lose herself in pleasure...

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I need to cum down your throat bitch!" Stacey suddenly screamed.

And with that Krissi lost control of everything. Stacey grabbed her long hair in an iron grip and pushed her mammoth rod to the back of Krissi's throat. Unbelievably, under the marker's influence Krissi thought dimly, her throat stretched to accomodate the monster - not without pain but at least without injury. Krissi felt her throat stretching, distorting. It was difficult to breath. Finally her nose mashed into Stacey's pubes and she smelled the intense yet still feminine musk of her sweat and juices.

That one thrust down Krissi's throat was all it took to make Stacey cum. Krissi couldn't taste the cum, so far behind her tongue was the tip of Stacey's cock, but she could feel the eruption of thick, viscous fluid spurting into her throat. She desperately tried to swallow, to keep from **** or spluttering. The movement of her throat muscles only seemed to coax more and more cum, and impossible geyser, from Stacey's huge cock.

But even as she struggled to avoid becoming the first person to ever die of cum-drowning, she felt Stacey's grip on her hair grow limp. The cock slid out of her mouth, still dripping an ample stream of salty cum onto her tongue even as it popped out of her mouth. Stacey fell back against the bathroom door, then fell to the floor in an awkward heap.

Her hand loosened, and at last she dropped the marker.