Cocksleeves for Life

**The Wish**

You wake to the familiar, wet heat clamping around you. Another midnight visitor. But this time, the muffled gasp against your cock is one you recognize instantly.

Fuck, this one is up there with the time you girlfriend's little sister showed up.

It's Ariana. Your boss. Eyes wide, lips stretched tight around your shaft, she trembles in your bed. Her manicured nails dig into your thighs as she tries to jerk away, but the magic holds her there, lips sealed to your base.

"You knew this could happen when you hired me." you remind her with a shrug. The contract did mention the side effects of your genie’s wish. Random, sure. But people close to you had a higher chance of showing up. Right there in fine print.

She whimpers, a ****, vibrating plea against your skin.

"Relax." Your hand tangles in her hair, not gentle. "Nothing we can do about it now. We'll just keep it nice and professional for the next 24 hours. Just pretend I'm not here and I'll do the same. Cool, boss?"

With a slow thrust of your hips, you push deeper. Her throat convulses, and you groan at the wet, tight heat. She chokes, spit dripping down your balls. But you don’t stop. She'll learn.

Tonight won't be quick.

You let go of her hair, watching as she tries desperately to pull back, but her lips stay locked around you, her throat swallowing every inch you feed her. The sight alone makes your cock twitch inside her mouth.

"Fuck," you mutter, rolling your hips forward, forcing her to **** again. Her eyes water, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks as she struggles to breathe through her nose. But the magic won’t let her stop.

"Yeah, the spell does that. It feels, ugh. It feels really good. Just pretend you're somewhere else. You'll get used to it. I'm just gonna use this slutty little fuckhole while you're gone, okay?"

You grab the back of her neck and start fucking her face in earnest. Deep, relentless strokes that leave her drooling, her spit slicking the way as you hammer into her tight throat. Every time you bottom out, her nose crushes against your stomach, her gag reflex triggering hard, but she can’t stop. Can’t even close her mouth.

Her hands clutch at your legs, not fighting now—just holding on as you use her. The wet, obscene sounds of her struggling to take you fill the room. You can feel her throat working around you, trying to adjust, but you don’t give her the chance.

"Tighter," you command, thrusting harder. She whines, her body jerking with every rough push, but she takes it. Takes all of it.

Your fingers tangle in her hair again, not guiding now. Just *owning*. Her lips, swollen and slick, stretch obscenely around your girth as you drag her forward into another brutal thrust. A choked gag ripples through her, but you don’t slow, grinding your hips against her face until her eyelashes flutter, mascara smeared black down her cheeks.

The air reeks of sweat and salt, her spit dripping between her tits, her chest heaving with every **** breath she steals between strokes. You can *feel* her. Every twitch of her tongue, every involuntary swallow as she tries to keep up, her throat convulsing around you like a second cunt.

“That’s it,” you grit out, watching her nostrils flare wide as she fights for oxygen. “Take it.”

Her moan vibrates against your cock when you pull her all the way down again, her nose buried in your skin. You hold her there, letting her squirm, letting her *feel* you throbbing against the back of her throat before finally letting her up, just enough to hear her gasp before slamming home again.

She’s shuddering now, her thighs squeezing together, her fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks. You smirk.

"Oh, your mouth feels so good."

Her protest vibrate pleasantly along your length as your cock hits the back of her throat again. Lips sealed tight around your base, her tongue presses up in weak resistance. You don’t let up, rocking into her with slow, deliberate thrusts, savoring the way her throat spasms, how her fingers tremble against your hips.

Saliva drips down your shaft, pooling between her tits as you drag her forward and back, forcing her to take every inch. Her muffled sobs only make you harder.

You smirk, angling her head just right, letting her feel the *pop* as your tip breaches her throat again. The guttural sounds she makes are filthy—****.

Her nose bumps your pelvis, her breathing ragged through flared nostrils before you yank her back just enough to let her wheeze. “Fuck,” you grunt, rolling your hips, grinding into the tight heat of her mouth. “That’s it. Take it.”

A ragged moan escapes her as you slam back in, her throat convulsing around you. You can feel it. The way her body fights, then yields, her muscles fluttering in helpless submission.

Her whimpers vibrate around you as you fuck her face in short, brutal strokes, her spit dripping down her collarbone, her tits heaving.

Then you’re coming—hot and thick, your release flooding her throat, her **** swallows muffled by your relentless thrusts.

She chokes, but you don’t let go. Not until she’s taken it all.

Her nose is still pressed against your skin, each breath a ragged exhale against your pelvis. Spit pools under her chin, soaking her neck, her chest—her mascara streaks down her cheeks from the tears her body can’t hold back.

You pull her up just enough to watch her swollen lips wrap around your cock again, the slick slide of her tongue dragging along the underside as she takes you back in. A shudder runs through her when you push past the resistance, her throat fluttering in protest before surrendering to the stretch and you deposit your final spurt directly into her stomach.

“Jesus. That was amazing. It was every bit as great as I thought it would be.”

Her moan vibrates around you, muffled and broken, but she doesn’t stop. The heat of her mouth, the tight clench of her throat—you let yourself get lost in it, hips rocking in time with her stifled gasps.

“Still twenty-three hours left.”

Thankfully for her, you have a bit of a refractory period so your cock starts to shrink in her mouth to a more manageable size. You hand your boss your phone with a text app out so she can type things.

"Look, I'm really sorry about this. Kind of. Because I'm not going to lie, you're really hot and I'd be lying if I told you I never fantasized about this before. But if you keep talking or screaming it's going to... tickle me down there, and I don't think you are going to be happy about what happens next."

Your boss protests but there's little you can do so you just shrug. You ask her if she wants anything to get comfortable. A blanket, maybe. More comfortable clothes, the negligee is a little too intimate, you tell her you don't want things to get too weird.

Her glare could cut glass as she snatches the phone from your hand, fingers flying over the screen with furious taps.

*"You’re so fired."*

The text pings on your phone. You smirk, tracing the damp curve of her lower lip with your thumb. "I don't think you can. I did specify no consequences in my wish. So far nothing bad has happened, and it's been a year."

She starts typing again—then freezes when your cock twitches against her thigh. Her breath hitches, and you click your tongue.

"Careful. Every little sound you make just gets me harder." You drag a fingertip down her spit-slick chin.

"Blanket? Sweatpants??"

Her fingers tighten around the phone. The next message comes slower.

*"Fuck you."*

You laugh, "Suck me, rather. I tried, just for a little variety, I can't pull out even if I want to. I'm forever stuck on third base now."

She types again, jaw clenched.

*"Sweatpants. And water."*

You tighten your grip in her hair, guiding her head back just enough to stand—but her lips stay sealed around you, warm and wet, her tongue flicking instinctively at the tip as you shift. A groan rumbles low in your chest when she accidentally deepthroats you for a second, her nose bumping against your stomach.

"Fuck. This isn't going to be easy."

She glares up at you, but the effect is ruined by the way her cheeks hollow around your cock. You smile awkwardly and take a step forward, forcing her to shuffle on her knees to keep up, her nails digging into your thighs. The sound of her spit-slick lips sliding along your length is obscene, each tiny movement making your pulse throb.

Waddling toward the closet is ridiculous—but the friction of her mouth, the hot little swallows she can’t stop, is maddening. Halfway there, you pause, hips jerking forward on instinct, and she chokes, her throat convulsing around you.

"Oops." You don’t sound sorry.

She slaps your hip weakly, but you just tug her hair, forcing her to take you deeper until her eyes water.

"Almost there, boss. Unless you’d rather crawl back to the couch just like this?"

She makes a noise—half protest, half moan—and you laugh, dragging her the last few steps before yanking open the closet door. Reaching past her head for sweatpants is a challenge; every shift of your body makes her gag softly, her tongue writhing against your shaft.

You grab the first shirt you see, popping the buttons one-handed while her breath comes in ragged puffs against your skin.

"Lift your arms,"

She hesitates—so you thrust shallowly, just once. Her gasp is muffled, but her arms shoot up, and you slip the shirt over her head, your cock still buried between her lips. Fastening the buttons is a messy, one-handed affair, her tits pressing against the fabric as she leans into you.

"Good. Now the pants." You drop them in front of her. "I think that's all you."

Her glare could melt steel, but she reaches for the waistband anyway—her lips never leaving your skin.

"Okay, we need to go get a blanket, but it's not a few feet this time. It's on the other side of the house. I could back up and you could crawl behind me, or uh... I can carry you?"

She glances back at the closet and grabs the phone and types furiously.

"*I am absolutely not crawling.*"

"Okay, I'll do my best. Oopsie daisy. Here we go!"

Lifting her is easy—she's barely 5 foot tall without heels—but the second her legs leave the ground, she makes a strangled noise. Neither of you really thought this through. Her mouth is still glued to your cock, the only way you can carry her is upside down. Holding her body like a potato sack with her entire weight pressing down on on your cock via her throat. You slip in easily as her mouth slides down your cock until you bottom out in her throat, her muffled scream abruptly cut off as you completely fill her esophagus. Her legs flail but all it does is cement your boss's new position as your personal cocksleeve.

"God*damn*," you grit out, adjusting your grip under her ass. Her muffled scream vibrates through you, her body jerking as you take a step forward. Every movement jostles her, her lips sealing tight around your base, spit dripping down your leg as you shuffle through your house.

Her legs kick weakly, but you just tighten your hold, laughing when her nails dig in harder. "Quit squirming. Seriously. I'm really trying hard not to **** you to ****."

She glares up at you—upside down, teary-eyed, and furious—but the effect is ruined by the way her throat spasms, milking you with every ragged breath. By the time you reach the guest room, your cock is throbbing, her face flushed dark with exertion.

You grab the blanket one-handed, draping it over your shoulder while she gags, her body trembling. "Almost there, boss."

A sharp thrust of your hips silences her protest, her scream dissolving into a wet, shuddering moan.

You eventually make it back to the bedroom. Ariana's movements are starting to get more sluggish from the lack of oxygen. She moans around your cock, blowing pleasant bubbles on your balls as you gently lay yourself down on the bed with her on top of you. You're not too worried, the no consequences seem to apply to your unfortunate partners in crime as well. She might lose consciousness, but she won't die. You lied, you just told her that so she'd stop screaming so much.

Ler legs dangle over your shoulders, thighs pressed tight against your ears. The shift in angle makes her **** harder, her hips jerking involuntarily—pussy hovering just inches from your mouth, heat radiating off her. You inhale deeply, the musk of her arousal thick and intoxicating.

"Fuck, you smell good," you murmur, gripping her hips to steady her. She whimpers around your cock, thighs tensing, but you just pull down her sweatpants a little and lick a slow stripe from her clit to her soaked entrance. Her entire body shudders, her muffled cry vibrating down your shaft.

You do it again, slower this time, tasting her, letting the slick drag of your tongue tease her before pulling back. The way she writhes is fucking delicious—her pussy clenching at nothing, her throat working frantically around your cock. Every choked breath she takes is music, every **** squirm a reward.

"Quiet now, isn’t it?" You smirk against her folds, nipping lightly at her inner thigh. "Perfect."

She bucks when you suck her clit between your lips, her muffled scream dissolving into a gurgle as you thrust lazily up into her throat. The obscene mix of her gagging and the wet slap of your mouth on her cunt fills the room, her legs trembling as you take your time.

Peace and quiet never tasted so good. You eventually drift off to sleep.

You jerk awake with a groan, hips instinctively bucking deeper into her throat—still tight from the dream, still throbbing with the ghost of your boss’s imagined moans. Ariana gags sharply, her nails digging into your thighs as she struggles, but you don’t pull back. Not yet.

Rolling her over in one rough motion, you pin her beneath you, your mouth hovering just above her glistening cunt. Her legs tremble against your shoulders, her **** gasps muffled by your cock still lodged in her throat.

“Fuck,” you growl, grinding into her face with a lazy, possessive rhythm. “Dreamed about you—” another thrust, her throat fluttering around you “—spread out on your desk, dripping for me.”

Spit drips from her lips, her pussy clenching uselessly in the air as you fuck her mouth harder. The wet slap of your hips against her chin mingles with her choked cries, her thighs jerking every time your breath gusts over her swollen clit.

“Wanted you to beg,” you snarl, gripping her hips to keep her still. “But you— real you?” a brutal snap forward, her nose pressing into your pelvis “—you don’t even get that choice.”

Her cunt twitches, her whole body shaking as you pistons into her throat, relentless. You can smell her—musky, needy—but you don’t touch. Not yet. Instead, you bury yourself to the hilt, groaning as her throat convulses, and spill hot down her gullet.

She gags, tears streaking her temples, but you hold her there until the last pulse fades. You groan into her glistening cunt, then swipe your thumb through the mess on her lips before pressing it against her clit.

You exhale against her damp skin, tongue lazily tracing the crease of her thigh as she writhes beneath you—half-struggle, half-spasm from your cock still lodged deep in her throat. Her muffled retches vibrate through you, but you just nuzzle closer, inhaling the heady musk of her arousal mixed with the salt of sweat.

"Quit fucking moving," you mutter, grinding into her face with a drowsy thrust. Her throat tightens in protest, but you ignore it, your fingers absently tracing circles on her trembling hip.

She gags again, body arching, but you pin her down harder, your cock sliding effortlessly in the slick mess of her spit and your earlier release. The rhythm is slow now, half-hearted, more about the warmth than the friction—just enough to keep you half-hard as your eyelids grow heavy.

Her pussy twitches against your cheek, wet and impatient, but you’re too exhausted to give it attention. Instead, you press a lazy kiss to her inner thigh, humming as her legs jerk.

"Keep it warm for me," you murmur, already drifting. The last thing you feel is her choked whimper, her body shuddering under yours as darkness pulls you under.