0 comments/ 33476 views/ 11 favorites Wet Suck! "Practice Makes Perfect" By: Sweet_Pea24 Cynthia's husband of two years, Brian, was in the Marines' Force Recon and stationed in Iraq. She had heard her brother, who was a Naval officer, refer to Force Recon marines as "bullet sponges" when he thought she wasn't listening, since he would have never said such a thing had he known she was within earshot of him. This description sent Cynthia's imagination into overdrive. That, coupled with Brian's occasional slip of the tongue during phone conversations and webcam chats, he'd mention hearing the buzzing of bullets, a fallen partner, or just some fire fight in general, sending the poor girl into a hysterical panic, crying her eyes out, pleading with him and God to be careful and to come home safe. Barely 20 years old, Cynthia was naive to the point of being frivolous when it came to such things; blissfully ignorant since her parents had sheltered her from the cruelties mankind visits upon itself. Everyone who knew her, including Brian, was infinitely thankful for this, as otherwise she may have had a mental breakdown, though she was vaguely familiar with the dangers of war. Each night she would pray to God, Jesus, Mohamed, Zeus, and anyone else she could think of, to bring her beloved Brian home to her safely, then cry herself to sleep. He had been gone for two long and tortuous years and, to her infinite relief finally was coming home to the loving arms of his wife and to safety. She had married him very young. Against her parents' wishes they had married on her eighteenth birthday guaranteeing that it was now her favorite day of the year. She had never known any other man in a romantic or sexual context and that was fine by her. She had never wanted to know the affections, advances, or the touch of any man but Brian. Sometimes Cynthia would whisper his name. Saying it made her feel closer to him, it brought her comfort, it seemed to console her at the deepest levels of her tortured soul and being. To her it was like some magical word which had infinite power over her. She had always loved saying his name. How it seemed to roll so naturally from her lips, she would sometimes annoy others by overusing it, finding any excuse to utter it. Brian was a much older man and everything she had ever dreamed love could be. However the age issue was one reason her parents disliked him so. They felt that a man of 31 shouldn't be romantically involved with a teenage girl not quite legal at the time, though he refused to touch her until she was 18 which only endeared him further to Cynthia, as he had proven his willingness to wait for her and that he wanted more than just her body. From the very beginning her father especially had been opposed to their teenage girl being with a man so much older than herself. He had even threatened Brian with physical violence on a few occasions; but Cynthia was completely and hopelessly swept away by this hero who had been fighting overseas. She wasn't about to let her parents or anyone else drive him away from her for fear her young soul would perish without its mate. Before long she'd given him her heart and soul as well as her hand, and in two years had never regretted agreeing to wait for her husband. Her heart belonged to him completely. Brian had always been her lord -- her Knight in shinning armor, and she wouldn't live again - not really, until they were reunited. At times it felt like she couldn't distinguish fact from fiction so in a way she was much like a child, with an imagination so vivid that if she thought it, she saw it as clearly as someone sees something with their own eyes. She had had this gift as far back as she could remember and practiced every time her longing for the wayward lover became more than her tender heart could bear. Sometimes she feared she'd die if she had to be separated from her soul mate even one more second. She wondered if her imagination would become manifest into reality -- if her involuntarily fearing the worst all the time would ultimately kill him. "Stop thinking!", Or "Shut up-shut up-shut up!", she would scold herself out loud. This led some to be concerned for her sanity when this happened involuntarily. She wondered sometimes if she was some sort of Witch, with the power to control such things. Cynthia in essence was a very eccentric person behind the facade she presented to the world. Cynthia had always been a 'daddy's girl' which she suspected in the back of her mind was the root of her attraction to her older husband. She would pick up the fuzzy pink teddy bear her darling soldier had won for her at the state fair those two long years ago before he had "shipped out". Its fluffy pink coat had faded and the animal was becoming flimsy with wear from being constantly clung to. Since her husband had left she had seldom relinquished her one comfort zone. Its bluish eyes, she thought, were hauntingly realistic, driving her to talk to it as she would her friends. She'd lost contact with her friends, the girls in her high school cheer leading squad, when her and Brian immersed themselves in each other arms. The couple just couldn't seem to find the time for other people. The crowd she had grown up with were of the rich, spoiled, ditsy, conceited, self absorbed variety. Words that had each been used to describe her at one point or another, and Cynthia was at a time the queen of all the princesses oh her highschool kingdom. She'd always had admirers and had always been quite a tease to them. Always playing mind game, leading the boys on, and keeping them all on tight leashes. Within Cynthia's circle it was a contest of popularity, to have the latest clothes, accessories, and most importantly boys, namely those of the same social standing as the girls. However, not even the most popular of guys in Cynthia's school seemed to measure up to those early fantasies of the brave knight in shinning armor that lay so deeply rooted in her mind's eye, and Cynthia was unwilling to "settle" for less than what she wanted. Sex - to Cynthia in those days felt beneath her. She felt that none of the boys she knew could ever be up to her standards, so the idea of sex with them simply never appealed to her, giving her the reputation of being an ice queen. She matured a great deal after Brian found her, teaching her there was more to life than a trail of admirers and an expensive hand bag. She'd hug the little bear tightly, close her pretty sky blue eyes that were lightly dabbed with eyeliner and a hint of blue shadow, whip her long angel fine golden hair out from her face and begin to visualize Brian. She'd imagine the way he'd smell when he wore the Stetson country cologne she'd bought him at Christmas, the taste and texture of his tongue when they kissed as it snaked and rolled in and out of her mouth dominating hers in a slippery and vigorous bout of passion. The sounds of his kisses. That beautiful kissing sound they made as their lips finally parted and how she would go in for more quick pecks just for the sound of them, trying to make them the noisiest kisses she could. She would daydream about the way his powerful arms -- like those of some ancient knight from King Arthur's own court felt around her petite 5'4" form, giving her the feeling of being a fairytale princess rescued from some evil lord's dragon, and whisked away to some magical land that belonged only to her and her love. She thought of how protected and safe from harm she felt when enveloped in his embrace, and how his large hands felt on her body when he made love to her over and over. Strong but always so loving and adorably gentle. A gentleness she never took for granted as though he were some wild rampaging animal domesticated and tamed only for her. His long, thick, powerful fingers - His strong and calloused hands which dwarfed hers in comparison. As well as making herself smile by imagining all the ways she'd turn him on when he came home. "He won't know what hit him." She thought to herself. She would sit on their porch swing every day and muse about what she might wear, lingerie? Her old Cheerleader uniform? What make up he'd like her in. Would he kiss her sweetly if she wore it sparingly or would he rather she wear it slutty for him? The things she'd do for him all night long. All the while grinning an evil grin with her forefinger adorned by a long pink painted nail resting on her rosy glossed lips -- giving her a playfully mischievous demeanor. Cynthia had made up her mind, knowing that Brian was so much more of an experienced lover, that she would educate herself on the fine art of giving oral satisfaction. She knew this to be his favorite act. Since Brian and Cynthia started dating she'd been blowing him. She knew her skills were adequate. Though of course Brian would always try to convince her that she was blowing his mind. Telling her about the softness of her tongue, the grip of her lips. Always moaning breathlessly "Suck it, Cynthia, you make it so good!" She reminisced fondly of how Brian was always trying to get her to do it for him and she would never have the heart to deny him anything, in fact she lived to serve him and felt such an intense feeling of pride and satisfaction when she knew she'd made him happy especially when she'd "get him off." Cynthia knew her cock sucking skills were generally run-of-the-mill though... Not much to keep Brian's attentions she feared. She knew even then that she was inexperienced and awkward in her performances but sweet Brian -- Her gentle giant was only trying to build her ego and confidence as well as save her heart and feelings by not telling her she could do better. It was her dream to become the perfect little housewife for him: cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her man by keeping the home fires blazing out of control and she often dreamed of what it would be like to carry and bare his children. She decided to do a search on 'deep throat'. She found many porn sites, as well as instructional articles and videos on the subject. What better gift for the man of her heart could there be than to learn such a skill? Each of the videos and articles spoke of how deep throat was something that every man loved. That it was one of the most intensely satisfying skills a woman can have. She listened to men speak on the sensations and the women commenting on their technique. As she listened she would practice relaxing her throat and mimic the motions and body language of the artists. She wanted to perfect her own style and technique before her husband returned so that his homecoming would be a night that would make him smile, even blush for the rest of his life. Cynthia went and bought a latex dildo of 8" which was about the same width and length as her beloved Brian. It was an odd color, an ever so obvious synthetic cross between a shiny beige, pink, and peach. It had a suction cup at the bottom which was large, round and deeply set for maximum sticking power. The latex manhood was made for realism -- complete with veins, ridges, a head, and was soft and flexible in its molding which was why Cynthia had settled on it. She looked at it for a time, wondering if maybe she had lost her mind for having this in her house and what her husband would think if he ever found out. She just wouldn't let that happen, she thought. She squeezed at it and batted at it like a kitten with some strange new toy not sure what to feel or think as she looked at this fake... "Dinger". Cynthia was such an innocent soul at heart that naughtiness was something she had to put effort into usually. She stared at the rubber cock for a time holding it up so her eyes crossed looking at it and giggled. She read the articles forwards and backwards finding keywords for further study. She felt so naughty for reading all of this but she was rather enjoying the feeling. She didn't know quite how to feel about that either. Wondering to herself, "Is this even normal?" She watched the videos until she could recite them word for word; Until she could tell you anything you wanted to know about the subject of deep throat. She studied the anatomy of the male penis until she came to understand it better than most men. The sensitive spots, techniques of the hands, and the mouth. She learned how to move her hands, her head, her body. She came to understand the psychology of the act. How subtleties like eye contact, the right words, or the right move can make all the difference in his experience. She read the testimonials from women and gay men who described how they'd get lost in the act. She read some people who spoke of how their "...mouths were like water faucets when they sucked dick" and that "It helped them deep throat more easily." She watched the porn stars, mimicking their hip action periodically when she liked how they moved and became intrigued. She came to prefer those moves where the hip action was slow, fluid, and circular like dancing as opposed to jerky, simplistic, up and down, and back and fourth repetitions. Cynthia would kneel as though riding some invisible lover and move her child bearing hips like those women did. Getting the groove down and the rhythm of motion. Her stomach flipped with curious anticipation the first time she saw Anastasia Blue and Charlie Chase "wet sucking." She cocked her head like a confused and disoriented puppy at the site of the stars who'd be blowing humongous white spit bubbles and how good it looked as it hung there -- drool hanging from her chin to his balls. She searched more like Sasha Grey. Cynthia knew this was something she'd recruit into her cock sucking arsenal. In time she became quite the Porn buff just like her husband. She wondered what Brian's reaction would be when she is doing it for him. Drooling and spitting all over it like that. She imagined how he'd react to her leaving her thick, white, bubbly glaze on his big, thick cock. She shivered slightly as a warm pang of excitement rushed through her small body. The very thought of how much that would please him sent her into heat. She really was dedicated to her lover, her man, her king. She lived to please him to take care of him...To love him. This was her motivation, and she would walk through fire to the very ends of the Earth just for the satisfaction of knowing she'd pleased him by doing so. Cynthia took a bottle of old wine from the cellar and popped the cork sending it flying as the bubbly liquid poured out, coaxing a cute giggly squeal from her as she tried to pour it into a chilled wine glass from the freezer. After all her hard study as well as a few to many glasses of wine, Cynthia decided it was time to practice. She laid her new "friend" on the table and stood up. Still a bit nervous she struggled to overcome it. "Brian likes this stuff", she thought to herself, "I have to learn to be like that for him. He thinks my prudishness is cute for now, but if I don't learn to do dirty stuff for him, he might get bored with me and find someone who will. Then what?" A cold pang of genuine jealousy surged through her veins like an icy blast and then distress at how unthinkable that scenario would be. What would she do without Brian? What good would she be without him to please and serve? She looked over at the mirror in the hall separating the living room from the dining room. The huge mirror was diligently cleaned each day along with the rest of their home. Cynthia had always been something of a clean freak. She had fallen in love with the antique style of the wooden Queen Anne trimming and had had a new mirror fashioned to fit the trim. The long rectangle stretched from the ceiling to the floor. She looked at her reflexion in the mirror, admiring herself intently. She told herself she must be beautiful if a man such as Brian would have her, swelling her, taking in what she saw filled her with gleaming pride as her features were those of a beautiful woman still caught by the death throws of adolescence: young, perky and fresh, though undeniably a woman now, even if barely. She saw her long, angel fine blond hair, with it's divine golden hue which had streaks of lighter and darker natural highlights. It seemed to give off a radiant luminous shine she was quite proud of -- an almost heavenly angelic glow. It seemed to cascade down her right shoulder stopping just above her small breast curling slightly only at the ends hanging in otherwise long strait flowing locks. Cynthia had always been a beautiful girl and she was quite aware of it. She had enjoyed the sight of her reflexion often. Secretly she would wonder what it would be like to have sex with herself or a clone, though she would never admit that and ferociously laid claim to her heterosexuality. As she brushed her hair from the front of her shoulder to the back and she held it up over her head, turning to her side profile and smiling as though she were a model posing for a photographer. Her baby blue eyes, that held in them a sense of wonder to rival a child's, that were usually so full of life and shone like deep blue pools now hid within them the sorrow of soul wrenching loneliness and the gut twisting pain and worry she felt for her knight in shinning armor, Brian. Her long delicate lashes were dabbed lightly with mascara and eye liner and a bluish tint endowed her eye lids with just a hint of color like a mystical winter ice. Her full pink lips shined in the light of the chandelier with her cherry flavored lip gloss dabbed on for effect. She winked into the mirror and danced slightly in her buzzed state to some imaginary tune. At 5'4", 108 pounds Cynthia was quite petite which gave her a very fragile yet pleasing milky white complected body. Her hips were well proportioned to the rest of her form, rounded and slightly wide child baring hips, with a flat and toned tummy. Her butt, which was very well toned by years of cheer leading and gymnastics, as well as her aerobics and pilates that she enjoyed now as an escape from the world. on each side's cheek was a dimple that Brian jokingly said you could eat soup out of. Her legs looked long despite her height, with toned thighs that matched the rest of her young exterior perfectly. She often heard praise for her exceptionally toned legs. Her feet were small and were decorated with a silver toe ring and toe nails decorated with the same pink polish that was on her fingernails. Her sweet young breasts were only a bit smaller than a medium size. Like a pair of large apples - 28 b's, they sat high on her chest. Their firmness was one of her husband's favorite features and after they had become intimate one of his favorite pastimes. She had always felt a bit inadequate in this department and she'd sometimes catch herself stuffing a larger bra just to see what she'd look like if she had "jugs". She had raised the idea of breast enhancement to Brian but was quickly shot down. He enjoyed them just as they are and wouldn't want them to be anymore than a handful. He loved them; in fact, he couldn't get enough of them. Cynthia's parents had almost caught the two of them as he was ravaging her youthful breasts. Noisily kissing and sucking at the nipples. Her cradling his head and whimpering his name and clawing at his back. Her breasts were rounded with a curvature which pointed her thick long nipples upwards. The areolas were quite large in proportion to the rest of the breast and her nipples were nearly always hard which was why she always wore a bra. Brian would call them headlights when they'd poke proudly through both bra and shirt. She'd giggle back to him as she blushed deeply but enjoying. She stood there, admiring the straightness of her posture and how the short silk bath robe decorated with pink roses seemed to drape over her body in a flawless dance of silky elegance. She untied and flung it open to reveal a thin and tight white spaghetti strap top with no bra, her nipples harder than usual -- Like two proud diamonds jutting proudly through the thin cotton material. Wet Suck! "Practice Makes Perfect" The top hung to just above her belly button, showing her diamond ring Brian bought her. Her lacy pink boy shorts, she thought, were maybe a size too small, as they clung tightly to her form, she could feel them riding up slightly and wiggled a bit which made it worse...But the inhibitions were fading with every sip of the wine, liquid courage in a bottle. She walked over, swaying her hips wide in a seductive yet playful stride then positioned her self at the edge of their coffee table. As She licked the cup... She wondered if this was a good idea. She didn't want to be known as some pervert, sex addict, or dildo queen. Wetting the cup and sticking her practice partner firmly to the table with a loud thump, she took a pink fluffy scrunchy and put up her flowing golden locks to keep them out of her way. Cynthia looked down at the shiny plastic cock on the Queen Anne coffee table which matched the mirror in the hall. She felt so filthy for what she was about to do and couldn't help but smile a wine buzzed smile and wonder what her bad boy husband would think of her if he could see her now. Brian had always been a man who enjoyed seeing a woman doing something really bad, like sucking a big fat rubber dick stuck to a coffee table. Cynthia slowly reached her petite, milky white hand down, touching her new toy, gripping it gingerly with just her fingertips and letting them slide up and down the length of this rigid latex cock. Up and down ever so slowly. She missed the loose skin sensation she felt when she rubbed Brian's. Rubbing her latex substitute and getting to know it she took a long chug from her wine bottle and giggled as she threw it on the floor. 'I wonder how it tastes', she wondered to herself, leaning down gradually becoming more comfortable with the whole affair. She could smell it as she came in close -- laying out her pink tongue and touching the tip of it to the tip of the dildo. The flavor was rubbery and synthetic tasting, but it became less of a distraction the more she licked. She nibbled sweetly on the head running her tongue along where his pee hole would be, thinking of how Brian's would be throbbing in her hand, how purple and swollen the head would become when she teased it like this. She thought of the warmth of her absent lover's shaft as she would slowly rub it with long slow strokes over the fat head and down the long shaft. She remembered the first time she saw his dick. It fascinated her like an alien in the flesh might fascinate a U.F.O. buff. She remembered thinking how lucky she was to have found such a smart, strapping, strong, and loving master. "It's so beautiful..." She told him truthfully. "Master?", she thought fondly, smiling as she continued to give the increasingly hot cock her affections. She spit into her hand rubbing it onto the toy. Then wrapping her fingers around it fully and rolling her wrist as she stroked it, cork screwing it like a professional inches from her face watching her hand intently and admiring her own technique. "Yes -- my master --Master Brian, my beautiful knight Brian... I am yours my master, forever your loving pet, your pretty slave girl, your love doll." Why oh why, she wondered had she not properly submitted her self sooner, why had she not appreciated what she had in him more? "Just you wait my love, your baby will make it up to you soon." With that, remembering the actions of the hardcore porn stars, like Anastasia Blue and Sasha Grey -- both so pretty, she marveled -- yet so nasty. If they could do it, so could she. She began to let the saliva trickle down her tongue like a watery and slippery -- sensuous ooze. It ran down over her little hand as she rubbed making the friction between flesh and latex suddenly nonexistent. Her hand slid effortlessly over the hot rubber rod. She was surprised at how much she liked the sensation of all the excess lubricant and wondered how it would feel on her husband. By this time Cynthia was getting very aroused, the warmness between her thighs was growing and her lacy pink boy shorts were becoming surprisingly saturated by the gradually increasing flow of her honey. She threw off her white silk bath robe to reveal her tight white spaghetti strap top thus completing the peaches and cream style - her signature colors of pink and white. She whipped her long angel fine hair behind her and cracked her knuckles loudly. A look of seriousness and concentration furrowed cutely across her young brow. 'It's time to get serious.' She purred, consciously getting aroused by the sound of her own dirty dialog. She griped her partner at the base smiling to her self at the naughtiness of it all as she lovingly ran the flat of her soft tongue up the underside of the shaft. Taking in the contours of her synthetic lover as though taking in the scenery on a long drive. She closed her eyes and visualized her soul mate Brian...Beautiful Brian, with his dark brown hair buzzed short in it's Marine Corps style, his baby blue eyes, always so filled with love and affection for her, and passion for life. The way his manhood would snap to attention when she touched it. How the skin on it moved when she stroked him. How it tasted and felt when he would shoot his thick, messy, pearly white load like some fountain that sprayed it's payload only for her. "Oh Brian...My king, it's so big and hard, lover." She cooed breathlessly. As Cynthia began to lick the head of her toy she thought of how much she loved touching her husbands cock, so big, so thick, she thought -- So perfect. Her imagination ran rampant as she closed her eyes and whispered, "Did that please you my love? Does my throat feel good?" She nibbled the head and snickered playfully, and in a lusty, thick, exhaling, sigh she asked, "Does my man want more, Brian? Huh?" Slowly - Rolling her hand over the head in a cork screwing motion, and down over the rigid rubber shaft lazily until she reached the table pondering what to do next. She looked over at the Queen Anne mirror in the hall. Her chin was shiny and thinly coated as a short string of translucent goo slowly got longer and longer as gravity slowly pulled it to earth. She watched the reflection for a time looking at the long contours of the mirror when she had an idea. She battled with the synthetic manhood freeing it finally with a loud "pop!" as the suction cup lost its hold on the smoothly varnished wooden table. She sat there on her knees, the feeling of being filthy overtaking her. Now under its control, as if possessed by the spirit of some succubus demon bent of absolute evil filth. It was as though she were on the outside looking in as she gazed into the flawless glassy reflection as an evil grin slowly crept across her otherwise innocent looking face. She stood up slowly and glided over to the mirror and dropped to her knees. She spit on the suction cup and pressed it hard against the mirror. "Oh my God, I'm such a pervert!" She exclaimed with all seriousness. Looking into the mirror at her glazed chin and lips, she took the big fat cock in her hand and rubbed it wildly, spitting on it and watching the saliva slowly stream off of it and down her forearm. She whimpered at the thick, warm, slimy feel of it as the bubbly ooze rolled slowly down and finally dripping from her elbow. She began to suck it harder and now, getting into the rhythm keeping constant eye contact with her reflection. She could hear the suction her mouth had sealed tightly around the latex material which was now in her imagination Brian's throbbing flesh and blood love muscle, hot and throbbing in her sloppy mouth. She used her the thumbs and fore fingers of both hands to cork screw the increasingly slippery shaft watching in the mirror as a thick glob of spit, bubbly from being frothed in the excitement hung in a slimy testament to the nasty girl she was going to be tonight. In the vividness of her own imaginary world she could now feel Brian's thick cock hard, powerful, and proud in her mouth. Losing herself -- she waggled wildly back and fourth as fast as she could, her hair whipping wildly in it's binds, before she stopped, looked herself deeply in the eyes, her mascara and eye liner quickly transforming into black rings under her blue eyes, making believe she was Brian watching her watching him. She suddenly thrashed her head ferociously from side to side, Squealing a muffled, insuppressable, roaring, growl of primal lasciviousness. Squeezing her eyes shut, clamping them as tightly as she could. The head hit her throat making very loud sloppy sounds as she wildly swung her head in a vigorous "No" motion.. When she opened her eyes again. She saw that she'd flung long thin strands and thick ropes of clear bubbly goo in random chaotic patterns all over the mirror and around the foaming glazed tool. A stream cascaded down the mirror from the base of the bouncing rod as she pulled away letting the dildo slowly withdraw from her saliva coated -- avaricious young mouth. A heavy and spumous bridge now connected Cynthia to the slimy stiff pole hanging proudly on the mirror. Leaning back on her knees, with her newly minted slut hole gaping open. Her pink sloppy lips laid relaxed, coated with the same thick illuminating coat as the rest of her face. Her bottom lip made her look as though she were sulking, looking up at the toy, rubbing it through desperate, lusty, puppy dog eyes. She stared at the sagging drooping rope bridge. "Ah! -- look what you're doing to me Brian." She whined as though he were standing before her. "Do you like ravaging my face Daddy?" She rose back up not stopping until the fat cock hit the back of her throat heavily, sending a shock wave of heaving retribution through her small body as it opened her throat producing a loud choking gag, before she fell back leisurely toward her starting position with a breathless snicker. She did this several times, each time sending one rope into her shirt as she ascended and creating a new one as she descended, as well as gagging her causing her body to lurch forward in a single convulsive rebellion by her reflexes. Then starting her dick sucking again, rolling her head in a lazy slow figure eight. "Mm-mm--mm--mm!" She whimpered as she worked and pistoned the shaft, curling her tongue under the bottom so the fit was as snug as she liked causing the periodic throaty, "Snort!" She started to hum involuntarily as she went crazy on it like some sex starved nympho maniac, "Maybe that's what I am?" she wondered. The thin white top becoming increasingly transparent as it soaked up more and more of her spit. She then slowed her tempo and tried to take the head down her throat but it promptly rejected the thickness before she could penetrate, sending another powerful heaving recoil through her body and turning the whites of her eyes a brighter shade of bloody red, as her delicate eye lashes became visibly wet with her tears. She watched the person in the mirror, as though the reflection were some being from another dimension come to teach her the ways of womanhood and the art of pleasuring her soldier. As she promptly spit a mouthful of translucent, glutinous, slop on the big shiny rubber rod, she felt the excess of the thick slime that stuck in her mouth flow off her chin and spill slowly onto her small bust, she looked down at it and gave out a deep, airy, lusty, whiny moan, almost a sob of carnality, taking her free hand and pushing her shirt into it to try and soak it up loving the feel of the slime soaked material. "Am I doing it right daddy?" she breathed carnally, "Is it supposed to be this messy?" she asked with a simpering grin. She had gradually - unwittingly lost herself -- spiraling out of control amid her own imagination like a child playing in their imaginary world. She never realized it at the time, but at least when she immersed herself in practice -- the heart wrenching longing, the stomach knotting sorrow, the unrelenting loneliness were each at bay. She imagined her soul mate, her lover, her best friend laying in his bunk in the barracks in ecstasy -- feeling every delicious sensation, every drop of his little cock slut of a wife's mess coating his groin, his manhood beating wildly under the blankets as he dreamed of her making love to him with her eager, slippery, slimy throat. Again she cork screwed the latex rod with both hands, using only her thumbs and forefingers to grip it. She could feel the thick warmth of her saliva rolling down her arms and hanging from them in thick, sparkling, bubbly ropes that matched what hung from her slimy chin down to the floor. She noticed now there was a thin membrane like a luminous veil that stretched from the rope on her arm to that which hung from her chin. She marveled at the sheer magnitude of this sloppy deluge. "Who knew some one could generate this much saliva?" She wondered in awe. Her poor thin top now resembled more that which had been in a wet T-shirt contest, than something worn by such a sweet young girl. Her mascara lay in streaks down her cheeks as she relaxed again and opening her mouth she pushed herself down. Her eyes bulged wide gazing into the reflection in shock as the head began to stretch out her virgin throat. She feared her esophagus would rip as it slowly, progressively opened up for the fat latex intruder. Her head lurched forward as her throat's snug hold on the head released abruptly passed through and automatically conforming to the shape of the rigid shaft. "Oh my fucking god!" She thought to herself, "I fucking did it!" With a feeling of nasty sexual satisfaction Cynthia moved effortlessly down the thick slippery shaft, she was conscious of the fact that part of her victory she owed to the wine but she was willing to take it. She could tell the Desensitizing effects of the alcohol had numbed her throat. The sensation of it all made her pussy flood it's warm sap into the pink lacy net of her boy shorts. She felt them soak through and filter her nectareous essence onto her slender young thighs slowly dribbling - tickling its way down. "Oh fuck!" She thought, "My kitty is dripping." Her stomach flipped excitedly with an intense - electrifying, spinning sensation of torturous sexual necessity that spiraled out of control with excruciating carnal fervency. She imagined herself gazing into Brian's eyes, watching his every expression - his every spasm of delight as she began to delve deeper and deeper down the rubber phallus -- slippery and glazed with Cynthia's bubbly, messy oral lubrication. Using her vivid imagination to watch him watching her. She glided ever deeper determined to take all 8 inches of "daddy's" cock. As she reached the hilt, she opened her eyes feeling her cute nose pushing against the cold mirror. "Oh my, look at you Cynthia." She mused as she began to work her head and neck, rolling it up and down in a fluid circular "yes" motion slowly working the latex shaft deep in her throat. Her head moving up and into the mirror, then down and away slowly and repeating never loosing eye contact. On the last repetition she felt her body heave upwards again as she forced out a gagging cough blowing a series of white droplets like a shotgun blast all around the dildo and blowing a giant spit bubble out around it. She choked hard again, drawing the long member out. Unsheathing the rubber sword from it's slippery scabbard, she let out an airy laugh as the head of her rubber cock cleared her lips, watching yet another long thick bridge of white glop stretched farther and farther before gravity pulled it down into her shirt. She lay back with her open mouth gaping wide before pushing herself back on it, slamming it into her throat and penetrating it forcing it open with a loud, unladylike gagging response. She pulled herself back off and repeated herself. The latex member hit the back of her throat as she'd loose control of the depth of her plunge, flattening the tongue, opening the airway and releasing the random crude sounding snort or coughing heaving gag. No longer thinking, only acting, thrashing her head up and down, greedily sucking and loving the snorts and loud "swishswash" sounds her mouth made as she fucked this rubber pole with it, drawing it out of her soft, wet mouth with another frothy rope. She looked at the long, transparent bridge of spit that trailed from the dildo to her lips, quivering with excitement -- with anticipation and giggled innocently and whispered sweetly, "Mmmm! Look, my love, just look what a mess we're making together." then spitting on it like some common street whore. "Aw, fuck, Brian! I'm so horny!" She exclaimed, listening to the sounds of the bursting spit bubbles between her fingers as she jerked. She withdrew in her excitement. She was coming to think of this rubber rod as some sort of Voodoo doll, a cosmic link to Brian, through which her precious husband can be given all the love and lust her little heart could send, and there was allot! She imagined him sitting there naked, with all of his rippling muscles tensed as he groaned her name. Telling her what a good little dick sucking cum slut she had become, hearing the swishing wet sound of her hand as she jacked his cock back and fourth as fast and hard as she could. "Yeah? You like me messy don't you honey? You like how your slutty wife sucks loves your big fat dick don't you? Oh - yes master, I'll be your cum slut Brian -- is that what you want? Yours and only yours, as long as you want me. Master Brian's personal slut puppet -- that's me my love." She whimpered aloud to her husband, who slept thousands of miles away. Cynthia lost and in heat pushed out a deep screaming groan from her abdomen, baring her teeth at the primal lust of her new game. She opened up her mouth and guided the toy to the back of her throat. The very idea of what she was doing over took her, and her free hand moved from the table and over her pretty pink boy shorts - so tight and lacy. As her fingertips found their mark between her baby soft milky white thighs, she was overwhelmed by how wet and hot they were. She could feel the heat that radiated from her poor little pussy who's inner walls throbbed and ached with neglect as well as the tickling of her warm honey as it slowly trickled down her slightly quivering thighs. "Oh god." She mumbled - muffled by the thick elastic cock in her mouth, which only seemed to fuel the sweltering, hot-blooded, wild fire already raging inside of her . The sensation of her fingers on her swollen clit seemed to spark a surge of urgency in Cynthia as soon as they made contact. Like a bolt of lightening jolting through a conductor. She increased the tempo gradually - until she was grinding herself into a blistering frenzied euphoria. Cynthia got her entire hand into the movement. Her wrist action - circular and fluid seemed to feed into the actions of her fingers moving up and down in a perfect melody rolling them into her pulsating, threatening to drive the young damsel to the summit of her carnal rapture. She relaxed her throat and opened up her mouth wide around the rubber pole, simultaneously her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure and anticipation as she pushed the thickness of the latex cock back home, gradually until she felt her tight throat stretching out slowly and snugly around her practice partner. She heaved hard causing a body convulsing cough and gag as her tear ducts overflowed - sending dark steams of eyeliner down her red burning blushed cheeks as she looked on in the refection. She was alarmed by how much she enjoyed the sight of this punished and assaulted face staring back at her through deeply red bloodshot blue eyes. Streams of black streaks slowly drying as well as fresh ones as the tears streamed down her eager cheeks red with the rushing of blood blazing with passion. Wet Suck! "Practice Makes Perfect" As the head stretched it's way down - her throat at last progressively surrendering to it's invader with a loud messy "Snort." stopping her to regain her control before she continued on. She could feel in her throat every contour -- every bump of the mock veins -- every inch of the rubbery tasting shaft as it began to slide down - stretching and conforming tightly to her throat. Her hand slid down her warm soaked panties as she continued down the shaft, she found her swollen button and squeezed it genitally between her middle and forefingers. Then gradually increasing her wrist action until her hand was working it ferociously. Keeping the pressure soft to avoid numbness she found herself pushing down on the hilt of the elastic shaft. Her head instinctively moved up and down in a fluid, rolling, and wide ranging "yes" motion "Up and down," then back and fourth - slowly using her slippery throat in a tight, lusty oral massage. She thought to herself as she worked the shaft, how surprised she was at how well she was handling this deep throat. She could imagine sweet Brian seeing her do this for him for the first time and groaning his disbelief. Between this new experience of deepthroating this plastic dick, and the increasing tempo of the movements of her wrist, hand, and fingers tips, Cynthia began to feel a vaguely familiar tightening in her already swollen and sensitive clit. A heated and primal feeling of electrocution began to surge through her from the wetness of her flooded womanhood, into her stomach like the ignition of some primal inferno as her stomach seemed to drop as if ridding some cosmic roller coaster as it plummeted relentlessly downward. Her blood vessels seemed to tingle inside her, blazing with flows of liquid magma blasting through them until the fine lines between pleasure and pain vanished and the two became one throbbing pulsating, shattering, singularity. The climactic bliss which had come on so gradually, seemingly preparing her for the ensuing thigh shuttering fulmination, rippling through her helpless body in wave after mind altering wave like the energy of some exploding celestial star light years away. The world of reality, of the tangible slipped away, revealing the realm behind them. A world with out form resting just beyond direction, distance, or time - seeming to leaving her shuttering, whimpering, convulsing body behind as she lost herself in the blast of carnal release. As the first orgasmic wave crashed into her helpless body like a thunderous tsunami, she gave her all to keep the plastic member down her throat as her entire body gave way rippling through her causing every cell in her body to vibrate. She continued to choke and cough on the latex pole but the gagging only seemed to increase the flow of ecstasy blasting through her veins. Her young snowy white shell rocked back and fourth as the mist covered the world with a transparent red veil. Spots flickering before her clenched eyes like the stars of night. As she shoved herself down on the rubber shaft, determined to ride the wave of heat her eyes slowly rolled back in her head. She tried to moan and scream but her voice was muffled by the plug of rubber lodged deep in her throat, so that even screams were not but pitiful whimpers of delectable helplessness at the astonishing long over-due discharge of orgasmic indulgence spiraling relentlessly out of control like a wind blown forest fire. She felt the warm deluge of succulence flowing over and between her fingers, coating her palm, cascading down her quivering thighs and onto the carpet. As the main thrust of the eruption began to slowly subside, retreating back like receding water from a shore. Cynthia's young body trembled with exhausted satisfaction. As she lazily withdrew from her elastic lover her body over run by a series of thigh shaking, body rocking aftershocks. When she finally made it to the end of her husband's voodoo doll, in her mind now an astral connection between her and Brian, she watched as the long trail of ropey froth fell to the floor, leaving her and the shaft coated with sparkling, bubbly, slipperiness. Her face had become flushed as her feverish boiling blood began to cool and subside, and the burning and scorching bombardment of earth shattering mind altering bliss slowly began to release it's hold, expelling it's self through periodic jolts of surging energy making her look as though she were being shocked some invisible electrical source. Leaving her with an expression of satisfied exhausted depletion. The hellish, demonic, carnal hunger had been exorcised -- And Cynthia was completely spent. She sat there on her knees before the spit covered mirror and the latex lover, staring at the long thick member, and the running rivers which slowly pouring down the mirror. She ran a finger along, cutting a path half way through the running river and slime. Drawing it back to her she looked down at it and smiled, "That was hot..." She said in a weak and exhausted voice. Sighing, panting, and quivering she fell limp as the last aftershock ripped the last ounces of equilibrium from her, and robbed her of the last drops of energy he had. She lay there on her side...Trembling, unable to move or articulate. Relaxed, basking in the remnants of another realm of existence - the fires from which creation it's self had sprung fourth into being. A place beyond pleasure and pain, truth and lies, what is tangible and not tangible, and most importantly happiness and sorrow. Unable to move her spent body save for the shuttering as though she were being periodically jolted by an electrical current, her eyes slowly closed and she pulled her pink fuzzy teddy bear to her bosom hugging it tightly, and with her last once of strength she whispered, "G'night my love." As she drifted away to be with her husband her knight, in a perfect fairy tail land of dreams which lay far beyond the worries of this realm. Content in her womanhood for the first time. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a Marine lay in his bunk asleep in the barracks. As his elevated hips fell back into the bunk with the front of his khaki boxers soaked with seed, hr muttered back, "G'night, my princess Cynthia." Special Thanks to my editor Teknight for his patients with a beginner, his work, and suggestions. Thank you for your help! Sweetpea24