Virgish [Chapter 1] ❰Intersex-Futanari⁑MtF-Trans⁑Light-Bondage⁑Sensory-Play⁑Consensual-Force❱

^(Hello, everyone. This is the first story in a new setting that I’ve been tentatively calling SIM[p]ULATION THEORY. If you want to read a little more about it, I’ve included an index document in the comments, which will be updated as new stories are posted. As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks again!)

# Chapter 1 ⦁ ⦁ ⦁ Not That Kind of Girl

On the morning we would come to call Day One, I awoke to fairly complete agony in my abdominal region. In my half-asleep panic, I assumed I must’ve been stabbed in a home invasion or something. Throwing back the blankets to see my sheets covered in blood didn’t belay that concern. This was it: I was going to be a transitional piece in an Investigation Discovery repackage called “The Long Sleep”. I’d be played by a much prettier woman with far less acting ability in the reenactment—which would probably offend my ghost, at the very least. Halfway through planning my afterlife as a vengeful spirit, I woke up enough to realize that I hadn’t been disemboweled, which was honestly a little disappointing at that point. I’d have been a fucking excellent poltergeist.

No, it seemed the bleeding was coming from lower, and that reinforced my will to live, to a certain extent. I was not going to die in my bedroom of a massive anal hemorrhage or something. Too many people I hate would find amusement in that, and Investigation Discovery doesn’t do shows about spontaneous ass bleeding. Yet.

I waddled to the bathroom, trying to keep as little of it as possible off the filthy, worn-out carpet that my landlord won’t replace. I was modestly successful, but I felt weird and off-balance holding my legs together. It wasn’t until I finally sat down on the toilet and got my underwear off that I realized why.

I was having my period. The blood was coming from my vagina, and the pain in my stomach was just menstrual cramps. You see, I was confused because I went to sleep *not having* a vagina. I wanted one, but could not afford to get one installed. Big reveal here—I’m trans. Or I was? I don’t know if the vocabulary has expanded to give my situation a name yet, but basically: I was a trans woman before, but my biological sex was changed to female in the patch. So now I just have the emotional baggage from before—thanks, dad—but I don’t get dysphoria so bad anymore.

It was pretty neat. So neat that I cried on my toilet for like an hour until my roommate got home from work. I know that sounds like a joke, but it isn’t. I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m angry. Sometimes I cry, and I don’t have any idea why. Sometimes I feel dead inside, and I make jokes instead of crying. Confusing? What can I say? Trauma’s a bitch, am I right, ladies?

Anyway, J peeked around the corner, saw me bloody and sobbing, and immediately went into her momma bear mode. Which was fitting, because she was sort of an *actual* bear now.

I’m going to be honest: J was already one of the scariest people I’ve ever seen. I love her so much, she’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I am *still* mortally terrified of invoking her wrath.

We didn’t live in the best part of town, and one time a tweaker pulled a knife on us while she was walking me inside. Know what happened? She offered her pocket knife to the guy. Said it wouldn’t be fair if he only had one knife.

Then she showed me a really cool trick to incapacitate an attacker: subdural hemorrhaging. This man’s head went from wall to pavement so fast that I think he’s legally a tennis ball now. If I were to describe the impact out of context, you would naturally assume I was talking about how the dinosaurs died.

So if she had walked in as a seven-foot humanoid grizzly bear? I would *still be shitting to this day*. Luckily, she had the foresight to let me hear her voice and explain things before she came into the room.

I know I just talked about her like she was some sort of berserker, but I legitimately don’t deserve her. She helped me calm down, got me into the shower to wash up, and showed me how to soak my panties to get the bloodstains (mostly) out. She even brought me new sheets the next day, graciously shoplifted from the store she worked at.

I remember the first time I looked in the mirror. I got out of the shower, and it was all foggy like a movie. When I wiped the mirror off, I finally saw what I looked like. It was the first time I’ve ever looked at myself without a minor dissociation. I saw myself and thought, “Hey, that’s me.” I don’t know how to explain it to someone who hasn’t gone through it, but before, my body was just an amorphous blob that I begrudgingly piloted around.

I had blue eyes now. I looked…cute. Not gorgeous or anything; I’d just stepped out of the shower after crying for almost an hour, after all. My hair had gone back to its natural dark brown, but I liked it more now for some reason. My piercings all seemed to be gone, which was a little annoying. My skin had broken out a little, but it was almost… reassuring. Like, it was real skin. It broke out sometimes. After that, I started to let myself be a little more excited about it. I wasn’t so worried about waking up from a dream anymore.

So, my next few days were spent processing everything, but luckily I wasn’t alone in that. The whole world was going through an adjustment of sorts. The patch had people in an uproar for… obvious reasons.

As is tradition when I spent a few days around the house, I eventually got horny. Problem was, this thing was a lot more complicated than I thought. I tried rubbing my clitoris, but that just felt like licking a 9-volt. Intense, but very uncomfortable to maintain. I tried sticking my fingers inside, but it felt surprisingly… not amazing. It wasn’t bad, but it was a lot harder to get more than one or two in without discomfort than I figured it would be.

After a while, it started to bother me. I thought the cosmic irony of being randomly assigned a body that matched my gender, but being given a defective coochie was something that fit in well with my luck so far, though. It also fit that the HeatWave Patch dropped about a week later, which took being horny from a mere annoyance to cruel and unusual punishment.

So then—in an extremely on-brand, Andy Reagan-classic—I got horny enough to do something stupid.

## Χχ⨉

“I don’t normally do this.”

“Uh-huh,” she chuckled.

I was telling the truth, but I don’t think she believed me. That was fair though, given the situation. She probably just thought I was playing the part of the prey. Don’t get me wrong, it was a part I wanted to play. I just chose a weird time to get method with it, I guess.

So, you’re probably wondering where I was, and what I was doing. I’ll let you know: I can’t answer the first question, and that should tell you how stupid this was. It was her apartment, but the whole point of the site we met on was discretion and anonymity. Sounds like a human trafficker’s wet dream, right? *That’s* how horny I was. The possibility didn’t even occur to me.

Anyway, I should start by saying that I tend to get lost in my head, and when that happens, my body kind of just does what it’s told. So I didn’t even notice the gentle grip on my shoulders until my knees hit the wood. The fingers running through my hair drew my gaze skyward. She looked back at me, with an intimidating sort of playfulness. It made me feel things. Like, *complicated* things.

Her softly glowing eyes had me so transfixed that the wicked smile seemed to vanish from my mind. I read something once about how deep-sea life uses bioluminescence in varied ways. The anglerfish, for example, uses a lure to attract smaller fish that it devours whole. People always assume the fish doesn’t see the threat. If so, those fish are a little smarter than I am, I guess.

An intrusion between my parted lips yanked me back into the moment. The tip of her half-hard cock pressed impatiently against my teeth. I pulled back reflexively at the minute pressure, but the fingers stroking my hair snapped closed. I pulled again, this time more in curiosity. It was like iron. I was trapped, the after-shock of the tug bringing warmth to my scalp. She laughed in her throat.

“I know you aren’t normally ‘this type of girl’, but I think you can figure out what to do.”

Oh yeah. I knew *exactly* what to do with this. I nodded, and obediently put my hands on my thighs. She gave my hair a little slack, satisfied that I knew who was in charge. I pulled her back from my teeth, closed my mouth once to swallow, and then pushed as far as I could.

I felt her fingers slide from my hair; heard her teeth click together. I would’ve smiled if my mouth wasn’t so stuffed. A restrained sigh of pleasure escaped her clenched jaw when I pushed her into the back of my throat. I started to hit my stride. I was nervous about a lot of things, but sucking dick? That I knew how to do. I was good at that. At times, I thought it might have been the *only* thing I was good at.

*(Jeez, that sounds sad when I write it out like that.)*

Anyway, I was hoping she was more of a shower than a grower, but that *definitely* wasn’t the case. My tongue was more or less pinned to the floor of my jaw, which had already begun to feel the dull ache of hyperextension by the time she got hard.

Her grip on my hair had gone back to playful strokes. I opened my eyes, intending to look up at her. My gaze was, however, intercepted. She was… ***definitely*** a grower.

Now, look: I know the typical symbolism here. I know you’re expecting some fantastic comparison or raunchy simile, but I don’t have the skill or patience. The dick was big, okay? ***Really*** big. Big enough that I hadn’t even gotten half of it, and I was fucking *throating* it. I didn’t stop the action to find a common, household item to compare it against. I didn’t bust out my measuring tape. I kept slurping that hog, obviously.

What I did—apparently—was make a face or something, because another delightfully malicious laugh rumbled out of her. ~~She drew out the invading battering ram.~~ ~~She removed the towering fucklog~~—Fuck it. She pulled her dick out of my mouth, okay? I sucked in my cheeks as she withdrew, but it didn’t convince her to abandon the retreat.

This is always the part I hate. I’m doing my best lip service, they pull away before they finish… aaaaaand the anxiety washes over me like a mighty wave. My jaw hurts, and I’m covered in my own drool, plus whatever came out of them. So now I have questions. Are they into that look? Should I wipe my mouth? Should I smile?

Another problem is that my first two natural defenses are:

1. Pretending nothing happened
2. Nervous laughter

I’m sure you can see why both are potentially disastrous in this situation. So, to read the room, I have to look up at them, which does about as much for that anxiety as putting a spotlight on me.

Once again, lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice her fingers under my chin until my eyes met hers in the dim light. They were a different color than before, and I wondered if she had them on a cycle or something. Once again, I found myself fascinated.

She softly finger-combed my hair behind my ears, found the temples of my glasses, and gently lifted them from my face. After folding them neatly, I heard the soft tap of contact as she set them down. I’m not sure where, because everything got a lot blurrier once they came off.

“You sure you don’t normally do this?”

Well, I technically didn’t. Usually, I made people pay *me* to meet them in a hotel room and let them abuse me. And it was almost always dudes who looked like they had strong opinions about things that no one else cared about. I mean, the question was vague. Which part of this was “this”, anyway?

Despite all of that convincing I gave to myself, my vocal cords may as well have been turned to stone. I just sat there, covered in drool, the aftertaste of dick in my mouth, and shook my head slowly. She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

“Y’know, I think you’ve been lying…”

It felt like something had lodged in my spine. She knew. Of course, she knew. How could she not? My eyes began to burn, and I had already started to apologize in my head. The words didn’t make it out before I felt her fingers in my hair again. With the other hand, she dropped her cock onto my lips, the tip just barely poking my… uh… you know that little bit between your nostrils? Like, the middle of the bottom of your nose? That thing.

She held my head back as she appraised me.

“See, I know a way to get the truth out of little cunts like you…”

Is it weird to be happy when someone calls you a gendered slur? I didn’t have much time to process that, because she pinched my nose—with the hand that was previously stroking her cock—and insistently lifted it. I got the idea and opened my mouth. She rocked her hips back and pushed inside.

I wrapped my lips around it and went to suck it as I had before, but she didn’t let go of my hair this time. I felt her other hand leave my nose, and take its place opposite the first.

She pushed. I gagged. She moaned. My eyes started to burn again, albeit for a very different reason this time.

“See, you’ve got a little nerd brain… *HNNN*… but you’re really… *Haaa*… a masochist… fucking… slut… at heart.”

With each pause, she pushed a little harder, burying more of herself inside. I gagged and put my hands up against her thighs, but it was like trying to block a cannonball with paper. Her stone-solid grip held two handfuls of my hair and kept me locked in the prime, sword swallowing position. Despite my performative resistance, my panties were as drippy as my roof was at that point.

Tiny pull back, big thrust in. Tiny pull back, big thrust in.

“Brain is getting too much oxygen… *Fuck*… and you’re thinking too much. Makes you tell lies like that.”

You know, that made a lot of sense. I thought too much about a lot of things. Given, my head was getting a little floaty, so it sounded like she was talking to me while I was underwater. I didn’t know if that was because her thighs were covering my ears, or because I was starting to pass out. I figured it out when I noticed my vision tunneling.

I heard myself gagging, and felt smooth skin against my lips. My nose felt squished, but not unpleasantly so. I remember feeling very satisfied, and using what little motion I could muster to rub them against the softness. Then the sensation was gone. I gagged again. I felt a little empty.

Air rushed back into my lungs as I gasped. My eyes fluttered open, and a firm tug on my hair directed them upward.

“You like sucking dick?”

Oh, now see, this question is a lot clearer. I nodded eagerly, my head still swimming while I blinked the tears from my eyes.

“Speak up, ya little slag.”

“Tuhuh I luff suckin dick” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath.

“Anything else you like?”

I stammered around trying to say “cunnilingus” for the next 5 seconds before she pinched my lips shut with her free hand.

“See, that’s that brain again. Say ‘I like eating pussy’.”

“I like eating pussy!” I cried out, honestly thankful for the assistance.

This is the part where I got into trouble. Letting people do whatever they wanted to me because they paid me was one thing. Giving up control… just because I wanted her to play with me more? That was a *very different* thing, and it gave me more of those complicated feelings we were talking about earlier. When I did what she told me, my whole body got hot. When I didn’t, and she made me? I melted.

“So what is that mouth for?” she snarled.

*”Making you cum!”*

Quick sidebar here: Have you ever started singing along to a song over the supermarket speakers? Or any store that plays music, really, but that’s not important. Now, have you ever gotten really into it—to the point that you kind of forget you’re in public—and you just belt it out? Furthermore, have you ever had the music stop playing at that *exact* moment? And you realize you’re singing *way* louder than you thought you were? So then you’re standing there, feeling dozens of judging eyes pierce your flesh at once, making you yearn for the sweet release of death?

Yeah, that’s basically what happened. Even she seemed a little surprised. If she couldn’t see my face in the dim light, she had to feel the heat from every drop of blood in my body rushing to my face.

She pulled my hair, and I stood up onto my knees while she leaned down. Her face was only a few inches from mine. Her eyes were green now… but like, neon green, not eye-color green.

“That… is a good fucking answer…”

Then she kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her neck. She slid her other arm around my back and lifted me to my feet. My heart thumped in my chest, which made me feel like a fucking idiot. If you shove your dick down my throat until I have an out of body experience? Whatever. If you compliment and kiss me after you do it? *Apparently,* that’s romance to me.

I felt her arousal bouncing between my legs as she was pulling her lips from mine, but she still held my body tight against hers.

“Well, it looks like we’ve got one hole trained…”

I nodded, knowing that hole didn’t need much training anyway.

“So it’s about time we got acquainted with the others…”

My brain was still in slow mode, I guess because I didn’t realize what she meant until I felt the cold, smokey glass of the wall against my cheek. She took each of my wrists and lifted them above my head. An audible click. I tested the restraints. As expected, I wasn’t moving.

I gasped in surprise as her body pressed against my back. Her arms wrapped around my midsection, and her gigantic erection squished flat against my ass and lower back.

“How much was this dress, sweetie?” she whispered sweetly.

“Like… five… ty?” I babbled, caught completely off-guard by the question.

I shrieked. She tore the dress like it was made of paper and the straps snapped off my shoulders like weak rubber bands. I jumped in surprise, but given my restraints, I didn’t go much of anywhere. She seemed to enjoy the show though and looped one of the tattered halves around my head.

“Open,” she commanded.

I obeyed. She pulled it tight, and tied it around the back, completing the makeshift gag.

Then it got cold. The open air chilled my bare back, now devoid of both my clothes and the heat of her body. I could only see a fuzzy outline, and the dull glow from the ever-shifting neon rainbow of her pupils, but soon that too vanished.

“Mmm?” I mumbled.

I realized a few seconds later that she had put out the lights. It hadn’t struck me how… enclosed this room was until then. The smoked glass covered everything but the floor. Before, the light had shined through the opaque surface, giving a candlelight-feel to the whole area. Now it was just cold glass and darkness. Quiet. I started to get a little nervous.

I craned my neck as far as I could to look around, but there was nothing to see. Only darkness. I looked over the other shoulder to a similar result.

“Hhrrro?” I mumbled. No response.

I mumbled again. Nothing. I wiggled around and looked over the other shoulder, vocalizing as best I could. I squinted as if I could will light into existence where there was none.

Then there was red. It stung my eyes. I screamed, pulling in vain against my restraints. But I didn’t look away. As the red came into focus, I noticed the tiniest bit of white around the edges, and it became apparent why I couldn’t look away.

“Did I frighten you, pet?” she cooed, resting her chin on my shoulder.

I could feel my heartbeat in my toes. My whole body was shaking. The tattered remains of my party dress made a wet, sucking sound as I hyperventilated through it. What I’m saying is that she didn’t need to ask that. It couldn’t have been more obvious if I’d pissed myself.

“You know why magicians use rabbits?”

I can’t say that I was ready for that question either, so I shook my head with what little motion I could manage.

“It’s ’cause rabbits don’t make a lotta noise when you spook ’em, see?”

The warmth of flesh slowly returned to my back. I realized she had shed some of her clothes when her bare breasts and tummy squished against me.

“They’ll run away, but if they’re trapped in the dark? They’ll stay still… won’t make a sound…”

Her arms slithered around my torso and pulled me tight against her. I felt her throbbing cock down below. The rise and fall of her tummy against my back, and her heavy breath on my neck. Her hands parted ways and began to travel apart. Her right snaked up my chest, between my breasts, and came to rest at my neck. I… *squeaked*… when her playful caress suddenly became a grasp. I don’t know how else to describe the sound I made. I did it again when her left dug its fingers into my thigh.

She let out another laugh that I felt down to my bone marrow; a slow, wicked growl of mirth that paralyzed me. You remember those complicated feelings we’ve been talking about? I think I need to unpack this one, so bear with me.

It wasn’t the kind of fear I would’ve expected, considering the situation. A stranger verbally berates me, makes a note to demonstrate how effortlessly they can overpower me, and says creepy things in my ear, while I’m tied to a wall in the dark. You think it would be like, “life flashes before your eyes” type of fear, right?

It was more like stepping into a haunted house or pulling the bars down on a roller coaster. It’s “frightening”, in that it gets your heart thumping. It makes you exhibit physical symptoms of panic. Despite that, there is an inherent reassurance in the fact that you *chose* that fear. Behind that fear is an inherent curiosity, and buried deep within that, an exhilaration of a bewitching and utterly unique sort. Something that you know you can’t get anywhere else.

I feel like I must have looked catatonic. The thing that brought me back into my body was a feeling of being let go. She loosened her grip and started to pull away.

“Hey… are you…?”

Her voice was different. Concerned. Inching further away. As you may have noticed, my panic responses are either zero or one hundred. Nothing in between. So I immediately threw my ass back into her. It ended up being more painful than it was sexy, I think. She exclaimed, and her eyes got wide for a second.

“Preefontftop,” I pleaded through my gag. “*Preef.*”

She stopped pulling away at least. Given that I could only see her eyes, it was a little hard to make out her expression, but she seemed hesitant. That much was clear.

“You *sure* you’re okay?”

“*Mmhm!*” I nodded furiously.

I wanted to hear more about the rabbits. Though I guess I was more like one of those fainting goats than a rabbit at this point. Trauma fucking sucks, dude.

People think the worst part is shutting down when bad shit happens— and don’t get me wrong, that sucks too. Rocketing into the fucking astral plane because someone did something *too* right, though? That one hurts worse to me. People never believe it’s not their fault.

***~~(Haha is it fucking vulnerable in here, or is it just me?)~~***

“You’ll lemme know if you’re freakin’ out?”

I hadn’t stopped nodding since the first question, but I did slow down a little, so I picked the pace back up. The glowing circles of her irises floated closer, and the warmth of her body returned. Her hands traveled the same roads as before, but I couldn’t help noticing that they tread much lighter this time.

“Now, where were we…?” she pondered, drawing her fingers across my neck.

“Va rwavvits” I answered back.

“Hmm?”

I tried several times to enunciate properly with a rag wedged between my teeth, but the results weren’t particularly impressive. I realize now that she was probably just teasing me, but my gullibility was pretty high that day.

I don’t know if it was that, or the gentler touch she was using since my freak out, but I started to get frustrated in a less fun way.

“JuTH FUCKIN *CHTHOKE NE, BIT-TH*!”

I squeaked again. You probably know why.

“I take it back. You make a real shitty rabbit. Lucky for you, I ain’t no magician.”

Her hand crept up my thigh until her thumb slipped under my panties.

“I’m more like a tiger… I only eat ‘em while they’re screamin’.”

She slid down, and things got a little confusing for a minute. Her eyes disappeared, and I couldn’t see anything else in the pitch-black room. Then, I felt a hand on my thigh. Then another… but it was backward? Did she turn around? It was when she lifted my thighs onto her shoulders that I started to get it.

Violet eyes pierced the darkness down below. Her warm breath between my thighs made me squirm as it drew closer. I felt her shoulders rise under me, and the gag loosening, followed by the sound of the dress’ remains sliding to the floor.

I was doing okay up to the point where she started planting kisses on my thighs. Then I started getting nervous. I thought about the sensitivity issue and kicked myself for not practicing how to fake it first.

I stopped thinking so much when she kissed through my panties, right on my sweet spot.

“Oh. *Oh.*”

I swear to god, I *actually* said that out loud. The memory will haunt me for the rest of my days. She laughed, but without the bone-chilling menace from before. Luckily, I didn’t have much of a chance to reflect on it. She took two handfuls of my ass and pushed her face into my pussy.

I made noises. My legs writhed around on her back like mating snakes. I was somehow unsure about what to do with my hands, despite them being bound to the wall.

“Y—… you sure you aren’t magic?” I moaned in an unsteady whisper.

“Y’ain’t seen nothin’ yet, mouse…”

A small scrape of her teeth across my waistband. A tug. The ripping of fabric. The snap of elastic—both in my ears and against my waist. One last flash of her eyes in the darkness. I inhaled sharply, and my jaw fell open.

*”H-..ohhffffuck.”*

It started as a whisper but certainly didn’t end that way. My lungs and vocal cords weren’t on the same page, and it was causing some problems. Namely, sounds I didn’t know humans could make. I’m glad the lights were off so I didn’t see myself in the mirror across the room. I never want to know what my face looked like.

It was different than I always thought it’d be. I couldn’t really tell what she was doing. Every once in a while, she would ease back and give me a minute to breathe. I could feel kisses on my lips and thighs, slow licks along my vulva, that sort of thing. But when she pushed her face back in to work my clitoris, everything below my waist and above my knees just turned into mush. *Horny* mush.

The contrast between her vice grip on my hips and the softness of her mouth drove me nuts. No control. No escape. I pulled the bars down, and I was going for a ride. My voice got louder by the second, and it seemed to spur her on. Either that or my heels digging into her back.

You know that little, ratcheting *click-click-click* that puts a bit of a jolt in your spine when you start going up the track? Have you ever closed your eyes during that? You think “man, it can’t be *that* much higher up”, and every second puts another butterfly in your stomach about going over the top. Sometimes it takes long enough that the end takes you by surprise.

It was kinda like that.

I thought I would be a screamer, but it turns out I’m just more of a babbler. Pleases, thank yous, apologies, and addresses to gods long since proven false; they all poured out of me at increasingly inconsistent volume, as the sensations of climax overwhelmed me. She didn’t even slow down. I don’t know how long it lasted in real-time, but by the end of it, I just felt like a slug. Wet, slimy, sticky, and not a trace of salt in my entire body.

I heard a soft click, and my arms dropped to my sides. I felt good. Really good.

“Enjoy yourself, mouse?”

“I love you.” I panted.

I wanted to die. God, I didn’t even *know her name*. I’ve never felt like such a virgin in my entire life. Including when I was *actually a virgin*.

She laughed, as she lifted me off her shoulders, and stood up.

“I get that reaction a lot. Never had your pussy eaten like that before?”

“N-no… I haven’t,” I replied, honestly. “Thank you…”

“Cats eat mice, sweetheart. You don’t gotta thank ‘em for it,” Holding my chin, she guided my eyes up to hers and brought her face close. “It’s just what they do…”

Then she kissed me again, and things got a little fuzzy. Sliding, groping, unhooking, all that good stuff. Not trying to gloss over it, but it just felt like this blurry whirlwind sweeping me up, and I was more than happy to go along. What unblurred things soberingly quickly was when she picked one of my legs up, and I saw what was lining up to go inside me.

I stared at it, as the head bounced along my valley, close enough to lightly spread the lips with each twitch. There’s a rule about dicks, and that rule is that they look about three times bigger when they’re about to go up one of your places. I know I made a big point earlier about not having skill or patience, but… *holy shit.*

*(Wait, when did the lights come back on? ***Damn***, she was good…)*

I sat there, trying to solve the paradox that had formed in my mind. I wanted her inside, but I didn’t want her to put it in. I wanted to feel her, and I wanted her to feel me, but I started thinking back to all the stories I’d heard. The pain. The blood. The thinking of England. What if I cried? What if she didn’t like that? What if she *did?*

When I arrived back in my body, I had that feeling familiar to anyone who dissociates: how long have I been staring? I had no idea, and that kind of drove my gaze upwards, up to her face. I expected to find the dominant, wicked smile and gleaming eyes there. Instead, I found something far more dangerous—An expectant smile, and eyes filled with desire.

God, I’m such a slut for validation. She was so intimidating before, but she looked so cute now. She *wanted* me, and she wanted to make sure that I wanted her. I don’t mean to be a stereotype or anything, but a lot of my early sexual partners didn’t really care about that second part.

I met her gaze and nodded. She pushed.

It was like I was bracing for a punch, and got a hug instead. It just sort of slipped inside. We both moaned softly, though mine was a little more… surprised than hers.

“You okay?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“Just… slow? Please?”

“Relax, little mouse. I’ll take good care of you.”

God, did she ever. At some point, my other leg came off the floor, but I couldn’t tell you when. I was too distracted by the steady rhythm of her working it deeper and deeper into me. I had thought it was supposed to hurt. Like, I could feel my pussy being spread out, and it got pretty intense when she hit it just the right way, but it was never outright painful in the way I expected.

Before long, she’d worked into a slow, deep rhythm, my knees dangling over her shoulders, and my back pressed against the wall. It was a way different experience than the tongue-lashing I had earlier. It wasn’t as physically intense, but watching her and listening to the noises she made scratched an itch that I didn’t expect. The pleasure built slower, but seemed more…powerful.

Before I knew it, the sounds of her thighs clapping my cheeks were joined by my steady moans of encouragement. I ran my hands through her hair and planted kisses all over her face and neck.

“Oh my god… I’m all yours, Tiger,”

That must’ve flipped a switch. Remember how I said it was never *outright* painful earlier? Well, it was pleasantly sore inside after we were done, but outside? My pussy felt like it was getting mugged. Surprisingly? That *really* turned me on.

“Mmm…gunnacum…fuck!” She finally grunted out.

I started to nod, but then remembered that there might be consequences associated with that now. Expensive, crying, pooping consequences.

“I’ll swallow it…” I tried to make pulling out worth her while, not because I thought she wouldn’t do it, but because I *really* wanted her to enjoy it.

She looked a little surprised, but gently slid out of me, and set my feet on the floor. I dropped to my knees with practiced grace and rolled my tongue out as invitingly as I could. Her dick was sliding across it within milliseconds; her hand stroking it wildly.

Personally, I’m not a fan of getting lightly punched in the lip with every stroke, as this situation usually plays out, so I took a deep breath and shoved myself down. When her moan got caught in her throat, I couldn’t help but smile. I only had to work my lips a few times before I got what I wanted.

Listen, I’ve sucked a lot of dicks. All kinds of dicks. I’m like a dick-sucking navy SEAL, understand? So I want this to hit you with the proper emphasis. I want you to have all the pertinent information necessary to understand where I’m coming from.

She *flooded* my throat. Long, pencil-thick ropes of the thickest, slimiest nut I’ve ever seen just spewed back into my gullet. I gagged in my throat a little but didn’t let it get past my tongue, because I’m a *goddamn professional.* I gulped down what I could, but I could feel it spilling out of my mouth, and running down my face.

I opened one eye—cause people seem to like that—to look up at her. Elbow braced against the wall, her eyes were hidden behind her forearm as she leaned over to steady herself on the wall. Her moans softly vibrated the glass wall behind me, making them sound slightly distorted. The other hand stroked through my hair like it had temporary Parkinson’s, and I could feel her legs getting wobbly as I stroked her thighs.

I started rubbing my pussy, the sight of her drunk with pleasure sending my fingers across my clit so fast it probably sparked. I think it might have been the single most horny moment of my entire life. I didn’t realize it then, but I wasn’t having any problems with sensitivity at all. I squished that little canoe bastard until my toes curled, and all I could think about was the beautiful stranger packing a Big Gulp’s worth of baby gravy into my face hole.

She had her own slug moment a short time later, her sweat and heavy breath fogging half the wall. I was still slapping my pussy around like a cop’s wife when she started to pull out. I sucked in my cheeks, and slid my tongue all around her, extracting a couple of reserve shots from her fat cock head before it left my lips.

Bullying her hypersensitive cock post-orgasm, and the noises said bullying caused her to make, sent me over the edge. Looking up to see her exhausted, lustful face; the cooling streams of cum and drool leaking down my face and body; it sent me into micro-convulsions of incomprehensible babbling. This is where people always ask me if I squirted. I don’t have any idea. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed if I shot out a bolt of lightning.

I looked up again in a climax-addled haze. I was slumped back, sitting on my knees, back against the wall. She stood over me, still leaning against her arm, her sly grin returning as she watched me schlick myself half-way unconscious, covered in her release. Her spent cock twitched in excitement.

“God, I haven’t cum like that in—“

Her wicked smile fell. I didn’t realize why at first. I started to ask her what was wrong, but my voice came out croaky. My face felt tight, and the sound of my breathing was weird. I put my hand up to my face, and only then did I realize—I had just burst into tears.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/kh2yx1/virgish_chapter_1