So you take her mouth

You grab her shoulder, guiding her mouth further down. That coy smile grows larger and larger, until she is practically grinning ear to ear as her head arrives at your throbbing cock.

You gently grab her head, feeling her oily hair, and guide those pouty lips to your length. She looks at you lustfully, then at your length. She casually tucks her hair behind her ear and starts to kiss it from the base up, working towards the tip.

You watch, feeling the tension rise within you as she peppers your penis with wet kisses until she reaches the top.

She glances at you with sultry eyes, waiting for you apparently. You grab her brown hair, guiding her lips to your tip, through her eyes do not move from yours.

“Please?” you gasp with a weak smile, your body shaking in need.

She opens her mouth and swallows your whole length down to the hilt in one slow steady movement.

“Oh Christ!” you cry out as your dick is enveloped in the soft wet warmness of her mouth and throat in one go. You feel your eyes flutter, your hand limply holding her long hair out of the way as she starts to suck on your cock.

You let out a series of animalistic grunts as she bounces her head on your cock, her eyes watering, taking it all the way down to the hilt with every thrust. You feel her throat sucking down on your tip, her tongue lapping and licking at you as her lips make wet sucking sounds.

You squeeze your eyes tight shut and feel your mouth hanging open, steam coming out of it in big gasps.

You are suddenly aware that there is no way that you’re going to last like this. You grab her hair, trying to pull her off your length, and only succeeding in making her strokes up and down your cock longer, leaving trails of thick drool on your whole length that pool around your hilt.

You feel a familiar pressure building in your balls, a roiling need to release that this woman seems more than happy to oblige.

You kick your legs helplessly as this woman sucks you in what felt like mere seconds from 0 to 100, your orgasm already at the gates.

You feel your whole body tense and eyes screw shut as you kick your hips forwards and feel the first shot of semen traveling up your member ready to splash down her throat.

You open your eyes and find yourself in an unfamiliar place. You are lying face down under a pile of miscellaneous things: books, crumpled notes, an empty wooden box, and an upturned ladder under the intense yellowy glare of incandescent lights. You let out a low groan as you feel rope after rope of cum shoot out of your cock and into your pants.

Once your balls are finally exhausted, you sigh and go limp, hips still twitching against the cold floor. For a moment, you feel fine, if a little sticky. Then, as the intensity of your orgasm wears off, everything seems to hit you at once.

You have a splitting headache, and you generally hurt all over, but otherwise seem surprisingly unbroken. Then you try to move and it’s nothing but soreness and pain. You rest your head on the linoleum floor for a moment, wondering what exactly you did to deserve this fate.

You lay there just focusing on your breathing. Is that sniffling you hear? You try to listen over the whine of the lights overhead. Somebody is definitely sniffling nearby, you think to yourself. Oh Alice, that’s right. She’s in here with you. Why’s she sniffling? you think, furrowing your brow.

Eventually you gather enough strength to wiggle out of the debris dropped on you from your fall. Things clatter off of you as you get shakily get up on your hands and knees and crawl the rest of the way out of the surrounding destruction. Once clear, you sit down again, your back to the shelf and your head in your hands. You don’t know how long you were out for but you were pretty sure you wandered that forest for many many hours before finding that woman, who or whatever that woman was.

You wipe your eyes and see the mess you’ve made of your pants.

“Jesus,” you groan, touching them and feeling the fabric damp. You rest your head back against the shelf.

“Was that a dream?” you whisper to yourself. “Is this the dream?” you say looking up at the stained asbestos ridden ceiling of the archive. You sure know which one you would prefer to be in right now.

“John!” you hear Alice cry out, trotting towards you down the aisle.

“Hey Alice how’s it―” is what you get out before she kneels down in the surrounding destruction in front of you and hugs you, shoving herself against your very sore chest. Then she lets out a long, loud cry and you feel tears wet your very very sore shoulder. You can feel her shaking like a leaf against you. You have to bite your tongue to not yelp out in pain. You, harshly grimacing, patting Alice’s back.

“There there.” You gasp out as Alice continues to cry on you, hard and loud. Eventually she relents, sitting in front of you on her knees with her glasses cockeyed on her face.

“I tried to call the paramedics,” she warbles out, “but the phone line in here is dead and I couldn't get reception and the whole floor was empty and I was so scared because I didn’t want to move you if you had a back injury and I didn't want to leave you and you were moaning and and and―” You can tell she’s about to launch into more very ugly crying.

“Alice!” you shout at her, snapping her out of her thoughts, “I’m not great. Can you give me some space please?” she looks at you with her big bloodshot doe-in-the-headlights eyes and then scoots back from you, sitting there on her knees like a scolded child. You sigh. You sit there for a moment collecting yourself.

You look at Alice, who alternates from looking down at the floor and then at you several times as you and her both try to catch your breath.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing your suddenly very strained eyes.

“9:05” she says, wiping her snotty nose and pulling out her phone.

“Great. Cool. Perfect,” you groan. Somehow you were out for only 20 minutes. How does that work? Did you pass out, was the whole forest thing a dream? You were walking for hours, easily. You’ve never dreamt that much before in so little time.

You look at Alice, who meets your gaze for a moment and then glances away from you.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, idly rubbing her hands together.

“I don’t think so,” you grumble, feeling yourself and just how sore your body is, but thankfully nothing feels broken.

“Are you sure?” she asks, face turning red, “you were, ah―”

You cock an eyebrow at her.

“You were moaning,” she murmurs, clearly embarrassed, “a lot.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly remembering the big fat cum stain on your pants, and trying to cover it from her with a hand.

“I thought that you must have been really hurt,” Alice says, looking away.

Alice knew full well that those had hardly been sounds of pain that she had heard.

After she had heard John fall off the ladder she had rushed over to check that he was alright. Fear was her overriding emotion when she had seen him splayed out under broken artifacts and books and files. She had had to fight every urge in her body to yank him out of there, knowing full well that if he had a spinal injury that would be the worst thing for him. She had tried calling 911 on her phone, on the room phone, and finding neither working was in the process of running around like a headless chicken when she had heard him moaning.

When she rushed back to John’s side, she was relieved that he was still alive, tears streaming openly down her face. But then the moans became more frequent. She’d watched on in gathering confusion as his moans became needier, louder, faster.

She had to admit that she had backed away in utter embarrassment when she saw John first start to buck his hip against the floor like an animal. She remembered from when they had dated that he was just as much of a horn-dog as she was, but this was just plain weird. Perverted.

She had backed all the way down to the end of the aisle, peering out from between the shelves, as she watched him without blinking. She watched as he had continued thrusting down against the floor, until finally, releasing himself with a loud series of animal grunts and falling quiet and still.

Sitting here now, the stain on John’s pants where he had obviously creamed himself plainly visible, Alice was at a loss for words. This was compromising for the both of them in the ****. She’d get in so much trouble for letting an injury happen on her watch, and he’d came in his pants in front of her.

Deep in her own thoughts, she is faintly aware of John asking her something.

“What?” Alice asks you, blinking.

“I said,” you sigh, “can you help me up?”

“Oh,” she replies, sitting up straight, “yeah, um”

She comes close enough to you, and does her best to help you stand up slowly, though you still need to grab onto the now conveniently empty shelf to steady yourself on your feet.

“Sorry,” she whimpers, blushing hard. You look back down the aisle and see the right mess you made. Glass is everywhere. Paper is everywhere. A couple books lie on the ground, their spines broken. Dead. It's a very big mess. You sigh. It is tomorrow's problem.

“Do you drive to school?” you ask Alice, trying to take a step down the aisle towards the entrance and finding your legs terribly weak.

“Yeah?” Alice snivels, following closely behind. You stop and look back at her.

“Could you give me a ride home tonight?” you groan.

“Yes! Of course!” she gasps, her eyes lighting up a little bit. She nudges her smudged glasses up the bridge of her nose.