1 comments/ 33957 views/ 3 favorites The Blowjob Chronicles Ep. 01 By: SyzslakXXX Hey Dave, It's me. Phil Dunn. Remember me? I haven't had access to a functioning computer in two months, but now that the problem has been temporarily fixed, I've decided to reestablish communication. It's been six months since my last email. I just hope you haven't changed the address; otherwise this is all a big waste of time. I've been coping pretty well since the divorce. I moved into a small apartment three blocks from my old place. I waste my morning and afternoon hours working full time at Best Buy, and work the night shift at UPS unloading trucks. On the weekends, I can do anything my heart desires. I don't really need two jobs, but without Amber around, time moves slower. Speaking of my lovely ex-wife, she moved to Ohio a few months ago. She's engaged, and last I heard, happily pregnant. She found my replacement two weeks after the separation. I hope she gives birth to a two-headed monstrosity. I hope an alien creature with hundreds of razor sharps horns tears from her- As you can tell, I'm completely over the failed marriage, but I still hope my replacement gets squashed by a falling piano. Divorce can't stop a man from dreaming. She took the good television, the microwave, the DVD player, and all the DVDs. What the hell does she need with 800 DVDs? While I was buying them, she did nothing but complain that I was squandering our money, but once she hits the road, she wants them all. But I still have my dreams. Like countless people have advised, I moved on. I started a new DVD collection. I bought a quality DVD player, and many other expensive gizmos and gadgets. But I can't fill the emptiness she once occupied. Amber was needlessly cruel, vein, sexually predictable, stubborn, and she chewed with her mouth open, but after five years of marriage, a man grows accustom to a routine. A couple weeks ago, I found away to break from my routine. I hadn't been with a woman since she walked out. My only sexual gratification came while viewing internet porn. When the computer started acting funny, I rented porn. During the last six months, I became an addict. Amber absolutely despised smut, and for five years it had been shunned from my daily life, but with her out of the picture, I could watch all the good old fashioned hardcore pornography I've enjoyed since the day we invaded my father's secret stash in the back of my parents' bedroom closet. With porn, I was able to forget about Amber, and replace the hurt with lust. I needed more, however. On Saturday, I accompanied a couple guys from Best Buy to a strip club in Chicago. The strip club was called The Scarlet Haven, and to be honest, this establishment is really sleazy and disgusting. In the past, I wouldn't have bothered spending even a minute in such a place, but I tolerated the vulgar atmosphere on this occasion. The Scarlet Haven reeked of tobacco, alcohol, and body odor. The customers included circus sideshow attractions, lifelong perverts, and sweaty obese men. The girls were pretty, but by no stretch of the imagination were they as exotic as the strippers I'd been expecting. I watched naked girls dance badly to music that was too loud. I had a good time. An hour later, I met Rochelle, and my entire life changed. I want to clarify a couple things right now. I didn't fall in love with a stripper. I didn't invite her on a date to the IHOP, and make chit-chat about her interests. I didn't tell her she was beautiful, nor did I ponder why a pretty girl would work at a sleazy strip club. I did offer her one hundred dollars for a blowjob, however. Rochelle accepted my offer. Don't judge me, Dave. I'm twenty-seven years old, and I've been in one serious relationship my entire life. Ninety-five percent of my sexual experience involves the same woman. I needed to do something completely bold. But what I needed more than anything in the world at that moment was a blowjob. I gave Rochelle my number before I left. She agreed to a meeting at my apartment after she got off work. I could've accompanied the stripper to a dimly lit back room, and got what I desired, but there was something else on my mind. As you are about to discover in the coming paragraphs, pornography has corrupted my soul. I'll skip some of the pleasantries. I returned home after midnight. Rochelle called at 12:35 on the dot. She had just left The Scarlet Haven when she called, and was walking toward her car. I gave directions to my building. I waited for fifteen minutes. I didn't wait patiently. To keep my mind occupied, I played with the camcorder. Rochelle arrived at 1:03 AM. I offered the stripper a seat on my green and white checker pattern sofa, and offered her something to drink, but she only wanted to earn a quick buck. Deciding to just act on impulse, I asked Rochelle if she had considered pornography as a career option. There was awkward silence for a few moments, but instead of getting mad Rochelle demanded more money. The negotiations didn't last long. We settled on one hundred and fifty bucks. Wanting to be a true professional, I did an interview with Rochelle before introducing her mouth to my cock. Rochelle was a little shy at the beginning of the shoot. I admired her body in the silence. She's five feet, four inches tall, and probably weighs one hundred pounds. She wore a simple white tee-shirt, and tight jeans. Her tits are small and plump, just like her ass. Rochelle was perfectly petite with a round stomach, long brown hair and almond brown eyes. I started the interview slow. I asked simple questions. I'll skip the play by play, and give you the gist of the interview. Rochelle is nineteen years old, and has two children. Unlike most girls in her position, she is a high school graduate, but admits she doesn't know the fathers of her children. She admitted to being completely obsessed with sex, and in the last month, she had been crossing the line between stripper and prostitute more frequently. An image of the dimly lit room back at The Scarlet Haven came to mind. How often did Rochelle take customers back there? It didn't matter. Deciding to skip the rest of my questions, I asked Rochelle to strip for me. I'll be brutally honest, Dave, the girl can't dance for shit. She moved her hips slowly, and tried to be seductive, but she looked lost, and completely stupid. She removed her shirt. Her small breasts fell to her hands. She turned away from me, and started shaking her ass. I yawned behind her back. Rochelle removed her hands from her breasts and revealed her pointy nipples. On her hands and knees, Rochelle crawled to me, moving slowly, keeping eye contact. It looked absolutely ridiculous, but I was enthralled. She started rising between my legs, her hands settling on my crotch, her right hand massaging my cock through the pants. Moaning, Rochelle pulled down my zipper, and removed my cock from the opening. Rochelle's many rings made her grip cold. My pants and boxers were at my feet. I held the camera with a steady grip while Rochelle massaged my cock with her palm and fingers. The pressure in my balls was rising quickly. I had waited six long months for this encounter. Her smooth skin embraced the bulbous tip of my cock, sending shivers down my spine. Keeping eye contact, Rochelle smiled, licked her lips. The action was more comical than erotic, but I was too horny to decipher a difference. My cock was completely level with her mouth. Rochelle leaned forward and ran the tip of her tongue up and across my balls, then moved it along my cock to the head. She guided her tongue up, over and around the entire head. I nearly dropped the camcorder. She pushed the head of my cock into her mouth. She licked the pre-cum from my piss-hole, and then stroked it around the V-shaped ridge under the head. Finally my entire cock started departing between her lips. I leaned back against the sofa, and let myself relax. I held the camcorder with my right hand, and the back of the stripper's head with the left. Her left hand moved up and down my cock as she bobbed her head hysterically between my legs. I noticed saliva building at the corners of her mouth. I zoomed in for a closer look, completely satisfied. In time, my hold on the camcorder steadied completely. I acted on impulse. Standing up, I started thrusting my cock into Rochelle's mouth. My cock slammed against the back of her throat. Rochelle gagged and coughed, but she didn't push away. I tightened my grip on the back of her head, and fucked her mouth intensely. "AAAGGGHHH!" Rochelle mumbled. My cock assaulted her tonsils. "AAAGGGHHH!" My balls slapped her chin and cheeks. "MMMPPPHHH!" I stopped suddenly, leaving the entire length of my cock crammed in her mouth, pushing against the back of her throat. I squeezed her nose shut, and called her a nasty whore. I might have slapped her face a few times, but I can't remember. Tears formed in her eyes. Finally, she pushed me away, gasping for breath, and spitting saliva all over my brown carpet. I didn't object. I was motivated by lust, and corrupted by porn. I gave Rochelle a few moments to catch her breath before sliding my cock back inside her mouth. Her breasts and stomach were coated with saliva. I stretched the left side of her mouth wider with my fingers, and launched my cock into her mouth while keeping the camera as steady as possible. On her knees, hands behind her back, Rochelle gave me complete control of her mouth. A few minutes later, I felt my balls tighten. I didn't give Rochelle any warning. One second I was fucking her mouth, and the next second I pulled out and ejaculated a massive load of cum all of her face. Six months of frustration all released in one explosion. The first two jets erupted from my cock. My knees went weak, and a loud scream escaped my throat. The first two jets landed across her face, from nose to forehead. Thick strands of semen caught in her hair. The next three jets caught the right side of her face, striking her across the right eye, and obscuring her facial features. Cum was already starting to pool in the socket. Another jet caught the bridge of her nose. I slid my cock into her mouth, and let her swallow the last drops. Instead, she immediately spit the semen out, coating her chin, throat, and tits. When I paid her, Rochelle was still naked and humiliated. Sitting on the sofa with a dumbfounded look on her face, she asked for a towel. The camcorder was still recording when she cleaned her face. She got dressed, and walked out of my life forever. I was satisfied. But I needed to do this again. I'm dedicated to my new career, Dave. I want to be a pornographer. Thanks for listening, and hopefully we can stay in touch this time. Life isn't the same when we're not friends. The Blowjob Chronicles Ep. 02 Hey Dave, I just read the email you sent last week. I would've responded sooner, but I've been working double shifts at UPS most of the week, and couldn't find the time. I've been sleeping three hours a day. If I can stay awake long enough to heat something in the microwave, I eat. Between working the night sort at UPS and working full-time at Best Buy, I'm physically exhausted. Back to the email. I want to apologize for the inconvenience my last email caused. I didn't realize you shared the email account with your wife. She never liked me, but I imagine her dislike has turned to hatred and disgust. I swear to God that all the emails I send you in the future will go to your brand new secret email address. Anyway- Amber's nephew and two friends repainted my apartment a couple days ago. I paid them twenty bucks each for a job poorly done. Speaking of my lovely ex-wife, I got a letter from her the other day. She's three months pregnant, and a newlywed. The groom's an English teacher at a high school somewhere in Ohio. I wrote back, wished her good luck, asked her to go fuck herself. The usual. I stopped collecting porn. I threw most of the DVDs, tapes, and CDs in the trash right before Amber's nephew and his friends painted the apartment. I'd rather watch the movie I made with Rochelle. There's nothing as gratifying as watching oneself receive a blowjob from a stripper on a forty inch television. I did a second shoot last night. Her name is Trisha. She can sure suck a dick. This is how it happened. I work with Trisha at UPS. She's a thirty year old black woman with big tits, and a fat, bubbly ass. The woman's a complete pervert. She loves flashing her tits. According to the rumors, she also enjoys sex with coworkers. No strings attached. She's involved in a serious relationship. They're living together on the east side of Chicago, and they have a son. I think it's a woman, but nobody knows for sure. Since I've starting working at UPS eight months ago, I've had a few sexually vivid conversations with Trisha. She's bisexual, and doesn't judge race, weight, height or age. Trisha once said she'd fuck a 75 year old overweight Japanese midget. The comment made me laugh hysterically for over a minute. A few months ago, I told Trisha about my divorce. To cheer me up, she invited me upstairs to the lady's bathroom for a quick blowjob. I thought she was joking. She was laughing when she squeezed my crotch. I turned down the invitation. Our friendship wasn't affected. Since the shoot with Rochelle, I thought about Trisha often. Convincing Trisha to do some amateur pornography didn't seem like a challenge. I've listened to her sexually deprived stories while unloading trucks for the last eight months. I've listened carefully. I know her likes and dislikes. I made my proposition on Thursday night. I cut the part involving the camcorder from the conversation. Trisha agreed to a meeting after work. At work last night, I was unusually happy. I chatted with everybody. While unloading a truck with Trisha, she shoved her left hand down my pants, and tugged on my cock. She gave me the world's quickest hand-job. Smiling, she explained how badly she wanted to suck my dick. The five hours I spent at UPS went by quickly. I'd slap Trisha's ass or squeeze her tits when nobody was looking, and we'd giggle like teenagers in love. But there was no love; just lust, and the building anticipation. At quitting time, Trisha and I left together. Some guys stared. They knew our little secret. How many men have taken the same walk to the parking lot with Trisha? I don't mean to gossip, but I'm positive forty percent of the men staring have been in my position at some point. Very little was said while we walked. I found the silence comforting. Mindless conversation could ruin the sexual tension. We reached my blue Corolla in fifteen minutes. I was more nervous about Trisha's reaction to the camcorder than the blowjob. In the end, my worries proved pointless. Checking out my car, Trisha noticed the camcorder in the backseat. A mischievous smile came upon her face. I hid my delight. I told Trisha I forgot the camcorder was there. Trisha said she'd always wanted to see herself on camera. I grabbed the camcorder from the backseat, made sure everything was ready, and started the second shoot. Trisha smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. Acting without instruction, Trisha pulled off her shirt. Like small basketballs, her breasts bounced. Her thick, dark nipples were already hard. "You like," Trisha asked. "Very nice." When horny, I'm not a good conversationalist. She had her long black hair fixed in a pony tail. Her tummy was a little flabby, but years of unloading trucks had kept her in good condition. Her brown eyes glimmered. I noticed her perfectly oval face, and the purple streaks in her hair. While I admired her, Trisha caressed her breasts. Trisha and I spoke for a few minutes. She talked about random sexual experiences. She admitted to love sucking dick, but she didn't like to swallow cum. When I asked if I could cum on her face, she said maybe. Done talking, Trisha advanced toward me. She pulled down my zipper, and start stroking my cock. I held the camcorder, Trisha held my cock. Her hands were surprisingly soft. She smelled like coconuts even after five hours of intense labor. I could smell peppermint on her breath. She tugged on my cock. I told Trisha to stop for two reasons. The first, I was dangerously close to ejaculating. Second, the lighting in the car was ruining a perfect second shoot. A little dejected, but still in good spirits, Trisha asked me what I wanted to do. I made a recommendation. Trisha started laughing. "Let's go," she said. We headed for the gas station down the block. Gas World was empty at 4 AM. Because of the outrageous prices, most UPS workers avoid this gas station. There are two entrances into Gas World. I parked my car by the back entrance, behind the clerk. We carefully closed the doors behind us, and headed inside. Trisha dashed into the Men's bathroom, and I followed. The clerk behind the counter didn't notice us. We locked ourselves in a stall. The scent of pin-sol lingered in the air. My hands immediately found Trisha tits. I pulled her shirt off. While I sucked her nipples, Trisha removed my pants and boxers. I sat on the toilet, and turned on the camera, quickly explaining the situation. Trisha slid her tongue up my inner thighs, teasing me by coming up to my balls, and leaving the feeling of her hot breath against the wetness. While executing the teasing, her right hand stroked my cock. I tried to keep my mind occupied. I didn't want to spoil the moment by ejaculating in Trisha's hand. She sucked and nibbled on my balls, then moved her tongue from the base of my cock to the head. All at once, she took my entire cock inside her mouth, distending her chubby cheeks. The movement of her head cast a shadow on the stall door. Trisha licked and tasted the head of my cock, moaning with satisfaction. She ran her fingers up and over my cock, then pushed it against her cheek. Eyes focused on the camcorder, Trisha bobbed her head up and down frantically while bracing herself against my inner thigh. I watched my cock vanish between her pretty lips. She spit my cock from her mouth, licked up and down the shaft, moved up, stopped at the head, and licked the V-shaped ridge beneath the head. "Lick my balls," I said. Trisha sucked and nibbled on my balls. She slurped on each testicle individually, moving her tongue all around. While she worked on my balls, her hand stroked my cock. Taking my cock back in her mouth, Trisha sucked with more vigor while stroking at the bottom half. She licked the underside of my shaft as my dick probed deeper and deeper inside her mouth. Trisha easily swallowed the entire length of my cock, and halted. My pubic hair stuffed her nostrils, and my balls pushed against her chin. She held my cock in her throat for ten seconds before coming back up. She repeated the action several more times, and each time, she would hold my cock in her throat a little longer. I started thrusting into her mouth slowly, and Trisha matched my rhythm. I told Trisha to caress her tits while she sucked my dick. No hands, on her knees between my legs while I sat on the toilet, Trisha's devoured every inch of my cock as I matched her pace. I was breathing heavier, and felt ready to burst. I fought the sensation, trying desperately to hold out. I pulled my cock from her greedy mouth, and told Trisha I wanted to fuck her tits. She wrapped her melons around my cock. I fucked her tits at a nice pace for a few minutes. Every time my head poked through, Trisha would lick it. I picked up the pace. Trisha worked her chest up and down. A few moments later, I lost my fight against ejaculation. I warned Trisha, but didn't wait for a response. I guided my cock a few inches from her face, and let it rip. The first jet of cum landed across her lips. The second left a perfect line from her mouth to her forehead. The third and fourth jets connected in identical spots, about an inch apart. The fifth jet caught her across the left eye, and found her hair. The sixth missed her eye by two inches, and caught more hair than face. The seventh and eight were depleting in volume, and landed weakly at the center of her forehead. Trisha guided my cock back inside her mouth. She deep-throated me one more time with her face covered in cum, and held my cock until it deflated. I got dressed. Trisha admired her reflection in a dirty mirror. "I don't let guys cum on my face all the time," she said. The camcorder was still recording. "Are you mad," I asked. She shook her head. No. The thick white cum seemed to sparkle on her dark skin. It pooled in some area, and leaked onto her breasts. "Our fun isn't over," she said. "I want to do one more thing." With her face covered in cum and her tits bouncing, we left the bathroom. Trisha attempted to buy a bag of potato chips, but the clerk refused. Trisha was persistent. Semen fell from her face, and splattered on the counter. The clerk threatened to call the police, and finally we left Gas World. In the car, Trisha and I couldn't stop giggling. She wiped her face clean with my shirt. I dropped Trisha off in the parking lot. She waved good-bye before closing the door. I turned off the camcorder. Well Dave, that's the story. I really enjoyed my second shoot, but I also can't stop thinking of a third. A fourth. And a fifth. I have the next girl lined up. She works at the strip club where I met Rochelle. I hear she's really desperate for some extra money. If anything happens, I'll give you all the details. Until next time, Phil. The Blowjob Chronicles Ep. 03 Hey Dave, It's been two weeks since my last email. Before I get started, I want to offer my congratulations to you and Bonnie for three years of successful marriage. I still can't believe you didn't do anything special to celebrate the milestone. Jewelry would have been nice, you cheap bastard. A lot has happened since my last email. I'll break down the events in no precise order. I'll start with Amber, my ex-wife living in poverty down in Ohio. I got another letter from her last week. I got ignored the first six months following the divorce, but lately I've been getting a letter every two weeks. In the letter, she was vague and to the point. Amber and Husband #2 moved to a new home in a pleasant neighborhood. She's four months pregnant, and having a boy. They're debating on a name: He likes Casey and she likes Cory. They can name him Shitstain for all I care. Amber's nephew went to jail a few days ago. Apparently the crazy bastard struck his unfortunate Algebra teacher in the head with an aluminum baseball bat for cutting him from the class. Amber's new husband is a high school English teacher. I wonder how he reacted. I hope someone takes him out with a baseball bat. In more depressing news, I had to replace the Corolla. I've had that car for four years, but I've been having problems with the brakes and the transmission. I still haven't bought a new car, but I did buy an ugly brown van to get me back and forth from work in the meantime. The car will be missed. It's the only thing Amber didn't take in the divorce. Now that we're caught up on the current events, I can write honestly about the true reason for this email. I found another girl. I met her at The Scarlet Haven. I went there alone a couple weeks ago, before the shoot with Trisha. Her name might be Diana, but I'm not sure. Unlike Rochelle, the other stripper I met at The Scarlet Haven, Diana didn't want to be a prostitute. When she called two days ago, she had apparently changed her mind. This is how it happened. I was sitting in the living room, watching Trisha suck my dick in the Gas World bathroom on a 40 inch television, eating stale sour cream and onion potato chips and drinking warm, generic root beer when the phone rang. I answered on the sixth ring. I didn't recognize the voice, but once she mentioned The Scarlet Haven, I recalled. I listened to Diana for five minutes. She was desperate for money. She had debated the prostitution issue in her mind all week, but money had become scarce, and the rent was due at the end of the week. She decided to set aside her morals. Diana asked about the camcorder. Two hundred and fifty dollars convinced her to let me use it. I set a time, gave her my address, and hung up the phone. For the next five hours, I downloaded porn off the Internet, looking for ideas. Research. I also watched the home movies I made with Rochelle and Trisha. The final fifteen minutes were the hardest. I paced the apartment muttering to myself. When she finally called, I was pissing. I answered the phone without washing my hands. She was waiting for me downstairs. The buzzer was out of order I rushed downstairs, desperately wanting to proceed with the third shoot. Diana dressed in black. She sat on my green and white checker pattern sofa (purchased at a thrift store for thirty bucks), and smiled bashfully for the camera. I'm sure Diana was more nervous than shy. She dances naked for the sleaziest men in Chicago for a living. How many shy girls can make that testimony? Her small, firm breasts pushed against a tight cotton shirt. Her nipples imprinted against the black material. They're pierced. Diana's hair is black, and cut really short; kind of reminiscent of Demi Moore in the movie "Ghost." Her thick lips were painted dark red. Her fingernails were black. She has a pale white complexion, an apple-shaped face, light green eyes, and a nose ring. I started thinking of Diana as a gothic version of Snow White. For a few minutes, Diana and I talked. She adjusted to the camera quickly. During the interview, Diana revealed that she grew up in a trailer park. She lived a good life without much money. Mommy switched back and forth between stripper and waitress. Diana was following Mommy's footsteps. Daddy was an unemployed mechanic, and a full time drunk. She has two younger brothers and an older sister. Diana graduated high school near the top of her class, and attends college part-time, although she's uncertain about her educational future. She never wanted to be a stripper. Her mom's friend got her a job waiting tables at The Scarlet Haven. A few weeks later, needing extra money, she decided to take the stage. Since becoming a stripper, her life has been unpredictable. A guy she'd been dating for three years left her for a fifteen year old girl. I changed the subject. We talked about sex, mostly blowjobs. She sucked a dick for the first time five years ago. In nineteen years, nobody has fucked her mouth, gagged her, or cum on her face. She swallowed cum a few times, and hated it. The taste reminds her of cucumbers. I pulled out my cock. Leaning forward on the sofa with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, Diana gawked. "You're a very lucky guy," she said. "Ready to get this show started?" I joined her on the sofa, holding my cock and the camcorder. Left hand planted on her forehead, giggling uncontrollably, Diana shook her head back and forth. "I can't believe I got myself into this," Diana said. She reached for my cock, pulled away, and giggled for a few more seconds. Diana slid the tip of her tongue across the head of my cock. Her right hand moved up and down the base of my cock. She slobbered on the head until it was nice and slippery, then let it slip inside her mouth. Bracing herself with her elbows against my thighs, Diana guided her head down my cock. One inch at a time, I watched my cock slowly descend into the warm depths of her mouth. I pulled off my pants and boxers. Swirling her tongue along the underside of my shaft, Diana swallowed more cock. I shoved my free hand inside her pants and start rubbing her pussy through the panties. She was already wet. I inserted two fingers inside her slippery opening. She spit my dick from her mouth, and moaned loudly, blowing warm breath against my hard, wet cock. The sensation sent shivers down my spine. Diana pulled the black shirt over her head. Her breasts were small, round, and creamy. Her tiny red nipples were starting to harden. Diana swallowed my cock, and started bobbing up and down. I removed my hand from her pants, and started caressing her tits. She put more effort into the blowjob, drooling all over my cock. Saliva fell from her open her mouth. Her teeth gently grazed my cock a few times. I could feel the tip of my cock making contact with her tonsils. I told Diana to get on her knees in the center of the living room, and put her hands behind her back. She did as instructed. I got off the sofa. I gently slapped her with my cock, and brushed it across her lips. I slid my cock deep inside her mouth. She coughed, gagged, and relaxed her throat muscles. I held my cock deep in her throat for ten seconds. I waited until her eyes got really big before pulling out. She glared at me for a second, but said nothing. I did it again, holding for twenty seconds. When I pulled out this time, Diana looked pissed. I convinced Diana to accept my cock by reminding her of the rent. She didn't want to be homeless; therefore I owned her mouth and throat for the next ten minutes. I shoved my cock against the back of her throat again. This time, I gradually pulled out, teasing her. Instead of pulling out all the way, I brutally fuck her mouth for fifteen seconds. Diana gagged, coughed, and moaned against my cock as strands of saliva fell from her mouth, coating her chest and stomach. I pulled out with a loud pop. Diana shuddered, massaged her throat, and spit a nasty glob of saliva all over my cock, and her chest and stomach. "Fucking bastard," she whined. "I'm almost done," I said. Diana's eyes were watery and red. She looked completely humiliated, which I'm embarrassed to admit made me more eager to proceed. I fucked her mouth slowly, and picked up the pace every few seconds. I grabbed the back of her head with my left hand. My balls smacked her chin and cheeks. At one point I was literally throwing her face into my crotch. I fucked her mouth savagely for thirty seconds, then held the entire length of my cock in her mouth for another thirty seconds. I pulled out. Diana mumbled and screamed. She puked saliva all over the floor. "I can't do this," she complained. "You're going to strangle me." "You're doing fine." I had been watching porn all day without masturbating, and there was a lot of semen waiting to be emptied from my heavy balls. I instructed Diana to lie on the sofa. I straddled her chest, lifted her head, and slipped my cock inside her mouth. Thrusting my cock slowly, I watched in awe as it slithered between those thick red lips. I kept the camera locked on her face. Diana rocked her head back and forth, matching my slow rhythm. The assault against her throat had finally come to an end. "Lick my balls," I told Diana. My balls dangled over her mouth. She sucked, licked and nibbled while I stroked my cock. I grunted loudly, and screamed. As instructed, Diana pushed her breasts together, and shut her eyes and mouth. The first jet of cum missed her face completely. A thick, creamy rope of cum caught in her hair. The second jet caught the center of her forehead, and also landed in her hair. On the third and fourth, I squeezed my cock tightly, and aimed. A jet of cum caught the center of her face, from chin to nose while the fourth took a weird angle from bottom lip to below the left eye. The fifth, six, and seventh jets covered the left side of her face, missing the eye, but catching the ear, and more hair. Little gobs of cum fell all over her chin, lips, throat, and chest. "Holy shit," I screamed. "Oh my God," Diana moaned. "That's a lot of cum." I made Diana wave good-bye. I watched her clean the mess I made. I paid Diana, and a few seconds later, she stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door shut. A few seconds later, I turned off the camera. I had made an enemy. But I had fun in the process. That's the end of this story, Dave. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had experiencing it. Until next time, Phil.