Dying For Sex Read Online Free PDF Page B

dick, so Mara put Mike’s hand on Moody’s dick,
the sight of two gorgeous cocks making her wet. His head swimming
from the killer grass, Mike dove into the pussy tickling his
nose.
    Except he forgot he just came in there. She
didn’t forget, however, and grabbed his head to pin him to her used
hole. When he got his first taste of his own jism, they all knew
it. He yelled something into her snatch, but that only made her rub
it farther into his face. They say giving birth feels like pulling
your lips over your head; Mara tried the opposite -- getting Mike’s
entire head into her pussy. It didn’t work, but it was fun
trying.
    When she let him go, she ordered him around
with an authority that thrilled her: “Get on your fucking knees and
suck his throbbing cock!”
    It amazed her that he did. Naked, kneeling,
Mike opened his mouth and took that large penis like a lollipop.
And he didn’t stop, either. Once given the green light, he floored
it. His lips pressed against the rim of the head every time he
bobbed back and forth, thrilling him. Still, she grabbed his head
and forced it up and down, laughing when his gag reflex acted
up.
    “I got this,” Moody said, afraid she would
fuck up his blowjob. He couldn’t believe he was getting paid for
getting stoned, drunk, and blown. And not a bad blowjob, either. He
gripped Mike’s head, but helped establish his rhythm. Gently, he
made his customer suck deeper and faster. “Stick a finger up his
ass,” he begged Mara, who rushed to obey.
    When Mike moaned at the first finger up his
ass, Moody smiled at Mara: “I knew this boy had a lot of girl in
him. He didn’t even try to use a hand to jerk me off like most
girls.”
    “Isn’t he fucking adorable?” Mara asked
rhetorically.
    “He’s so damn cute I beat off thinking of him
last night.”
    “Take that camera and record my husband when
you cum in his mouth. I want to masturbate to it later.”
    “Shhhheeet, girl, we’ll masturbate to it
together.”
    “I wish I had a strap-on,” she told him. “Oh,
wait! I have vibrators.”
    She ran out, but soon returned with a leather
bag. She lubed up the smallest one and forced it in.
    “Go slow at first,” the fag counseled her.
“Let his muscles get used to it, then try bigger sizes. Finally,
you can fuck him fast and hard and he’ll beg you for more -- I
don’t care how straight he is.”
    “Damn, that sounds good. Mikey, after this
nice man cums down your throat, I want you to fuck me up the ass.
If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing it right.”
    Michael never dreamed he would suck cock, but
it wasn’t all that bad. It tasted like flesh, but at least it was
clean. He could see how some women liked it. He once asked his dad
why he married his mom, other than for her beauty.
    “Son, there are three types of women: those
who suck cock as little as possible; those who only do it when
horny, coerced, or rewarded for it; and then there’s the rare gem
who fucking loves a throbbing cock exploding in her mouth. If you
find someone in category three, fucking marry her!”
    He could still remember his father laughing
hysterically in the hospital bed, knowing he would soon die, but
not letting death win. That man lived his last day as if it was his
last, flirting with the nurses, cheering up the other patients, and
make the entire ICU unit miss him when he died.
    His mother didn’t become a freaked out bitch
until diagnosed with cancer. It just felt so unjust, being so
young, beautiful, and finally rich, only to die before she could
enjoy herself. Michael remembered her telling him through tears
that her biggest regret was not being able to see him grow up, not
being there for him.
    “Every male needs a mom,” his mother told
him. “I don’t care how old or young, how rich or poor, how healthy
or sick. If their wife doesn’t take care of them, they’ll find
someone who will.”
    Since his mother’s mother already died,
Michael took her place -- taking care of