Kinky Confessions

The pressure built until I came with a grunt. The first spurt left a white trail along the black satin mask and into her golden hair. I adjusted my aim and took a picture as the next one hit her mouth and cheek. The camera whirred and spat out a fresh print. I finished spurting and let her suck the head and swallow the final gushes.

I pressed the camera button again but it was out of film. The final Polaroid was still in the slot, so I turned the whole thing and watched it develop slowly. It was a little out of focus but clear enough to see what was going on. Christy’s mouth was open like a baby bird. Semen and saliva glistened on her lips. A string of white droplets arced toward her from the tip of my cock.

“You’re gonna like this one,” I said as I sat back on my heels. My dick swayed and started to droop.

“Unh! Where’d he go? Come back!”

“Greedy little thing,” I chuckled, “aren’t you?”

She sucked the remaining come from my shaft and then spent several minutes trying to keep me from going soft. She eventually released me, and my cock flopped limply as I sat back again.

“You give up?” I said.

“No. Never. And for the record, I like sucking you, even when you’re soft.”

“Oh? Then why’d you quit?”

She grimaced. “I love your come on my face, but I can feel it cracking and drying out my skin. It… really bugs me. Sorry.” She tugged at her bonds.

“Do you mind untying me so I can clean up?”

“What’s the magic word?” I teased.

“Please? I’ll suck you all night, I promise. Just let me wash my face.” I freed her wrists, and she took off the mask. “Oh, what’s this? Mmm, a little snack!” She wiped off the satin and grinned as she licked her finger. “Not as good as fresh, but still yummy.”

I began untying her ankles. “You’re insatiable.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Come on, Little Bit, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Can we look at the pictures after?”

“Sure.”

“And then I owe you a bunch of kisses. Oh, and another blowjob or ten.”

“Sounds good.”

“And… um…” She blushed and looked down. “Thank you for not going all the way. I thought I might have to bacon you.”

“So that’s a verb now?” I laughed. “Bacon?”

“Of course! It’s from the Latin baconare, to pork. As in: ‘No, no! Bacon!

Please don’t pork me!’”

I blinked and then collapsed in a fit of laughter. After a moment Christy threw herself on top of me and grinned from six inches away.

“I love you,” she said when I could breathe again. Her eyes flashed and she kissed me.

I tasted semen but didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me.

“I can’t wait for you to pork me for real,” she said when the kiss ended.

“Ten more days. I counted this morning. I mark them off on my calendar.

Ten more days,” she repeated wistfully.

“We don’t have to wait.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, we do. We’ve talked about this. Like, a million times.”

“A million?”

“A million-billion.” She sighed and said, “I know I’m being silly, but—”

“Ten days?”

“Ten days,” she agreed. “And we’ll be so busy you won’t even notice.

Then we can take all the time in the world. You can use me for real, any way you like.”

“Any way I like?”

“Any way you like.”

Back in Knoxville we began the last week of the quarter. Christy didn’t have anything major to turn in, but I did have a project due. Fortunately, I’d put in

plenty of extra hours and finished most of the work the week before.

On the day of my presentation, I took my model to the A&A building along with thirty or forty other students, including some from Professor Joska’s fourth-year design class. Their models were much larger and more elaborate than ours. They also worked in teams, which explained how they could produce skyscrapers and shopping malls and even a multi-structure office complex.

Their class was before ours, and their presentations must have run long, because Joska arrived late and out of breath for ours.

“We will begin,” he said without preamble. “Mr. Boyle, to the front.

Quickly, quickly.”

Melvin tripped, and his model hung in the air for a sickening moment. He scrambled and caught it but then stumbled into Rosemary Finkle’s desk. She barely saved her own model before it slid out of reach. Freddie leapt up and ran to her. Her design write-up had gone flying in the chaos, and he gathered the sheets from the floor.

“What are you doing?” Joska snapped, as if he hadn’t started the whole mess. “Sit down, Mr. DeFeo!”

Freddie ignored him and finished arranging Rosemary’s papers. She gave him a look of pure affection. He returned to his own desk next to mine.

Rosemary blushed when she realized I’d seen her expression.

“Yes, yes,” Professor Joska said to the room, “we must begin. Now. Mr.

Boyle, if you please.”

Melvin rushed his presentation and flubbed his answers to Joska’s questions, but I couldn’t blame him. Joska was in a foul mood and had asked some doozies. Freddie made it through his own presentation, but not without some acid commentary as well.