Matt felt it, too. Knew that he’d let his mind wander.
Only when the wind had gone out of Matt’s sail, when he had slicked the whole surface of Garland’s cock with saliva and frothed it ‘til a steady stream of pre-cum pulsed from the tip, did Garland tell him to rest a moment.
“Are you ready to be face fucked?” Garland asked.
Matt nodded nervously.
Garland placed his hands on Matt’s cheeks, teased Matt’s jaws open with his thumbs.
“Relax your neck,” Garland instructed. “Rest your head in my hands. Let me guide it back and forth, up and down, side to side.”
That was easier said than done. It took a few trial runs before Matt surrendered control, became a living sex doll with a mouth-shaped hole in its head.
Garland eased his cock into Matt’s mouth, inch by inch.
“Look up at me,” Garland said. “I want to see those pretty blue eyes. I want to see your total surrender. Open your throat and let me fuck it.”
Matt stared into Garland’s eyes. Felt Garland’s cock sliding across his tongue, pushing deeper.
Felt it retreating until the cockhead neared the exit.
Absorbed the forward thrust until pubic hairs tickled his nostrils.
Matt cupped his tongue to ease the cock’s passage. Adjusted his lips to provide perfect friction. Breathed through his nose and suppressed his gag reflex. Became a flexible Raggedy Andy doll—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, handcuffed one with an arched back and beautiful boy pussy reflected in a Cheval mirror.
Felt jets of cum hitting the back of his throat and sliding down, warming him ‘til he glowed with contentment and slumped to the floor, his own cock still soft.
Chapter 31: Debbie Gets Screw-ged
11/24/’95
Mustang,
Perseus? A giant scabbard? I don’t have a sword that size, but I do look pretty good in shorts.
I never told you which Leyendecker cover is my favorite. “The Saturday Evening Post,” June 29, 1907. A tall, blonde college rower stands with one hand on his hip and the other holding an oar. He’s so self-assured, almost cocky…like someone else I know.
I’ve never been kissed—not on New Year’s Eve, never.
My counselor told mom and dad they should let me go to OKC for New Year’s Eve! (Assuming I continue to make progress in the meantime.)
Dad is PISSED!
I’m smiling now, by the way…
Adam
Wednesday, December 13, 1995
Matt stood at the urinal—listening to Christmas muzak crackling from the grainy speakers overhead, his piss hissing as it smacked the porcelain and splattered down the drain.
Finals were over.
He’d been up cramming most of the night,guzzling Mountain Dew to stave off sleep.
He’d spent the last two hours in an essay-writing frenzy, spilling facts onto the page. Facts about pre-Civil War American History. Jamestown, Williamsburg, Stamp Acts, and tea parties.
Or was it pee-tarties?
