gay quest part4
by Porn Review Bloginto his mouth. He swallowed it all like the slut he really was, and his head
fell forward, and he fell asleep with his cheek snugged up against my mound. He
looked so sweet, his hair still almost perfect, his eyes closed but each still
beautifully made up, his lipstick smeared in a good cause.
I took him home and put him to bed and kept him in a kind of twilight zone for
nearly a month, Loretta. The “Sleep Cure” is what the French called it a hundred
years ago, when they’d drug mental patients for weeks on end to cure them of
their delusions. I was doing it to induce in Jim a delusion that would become his
reality, that he was a woman, that he had always been a woman, and that he loved
performing his chief obligation as a woman, looking pretty and giving head to
men.
Two more of those special pills the moment he woke up. Prozac in between, double
the dose more often than not. When he opened his eyes, sometimes he’d see a
woman who looked like his wife looking down on him lovingly, and sometimes –
after he’d recognized he was home in his own bed — he’d see his Mistress telling
him “Suck!” Followed immediately by cocks, one after another, because he’d then
be back in a chamber in Hospitality House dressed like a cheap slut stationed at
a waiting-room glory hole, taking on whatever cock came through it. Then dressed
in his silver mini with his hair piled high, he’d spend hours making love to
Brian’s cock. Or someone’s cock, someone wearing the Bimbo mask, someone whose
cock was fatter than Brian’s though nowhere near as long, or was longer, until it
no longer mattered whose. At home in his own bed, he sucked for hours on his
wife’s cock, while she wore the Bimbo mask, ordered and encouraged by his
Mistress sitting in a chair and watching them.
Hallucinated realities gradually gave way to realities that were not much
different. My five Rotarians earned their way back into my good graces by making
their pricks available to Jim’s mouth any time on short notice, whenever I called
their 800 number, and during the next weeks they gathered to gang rape his face
repeatedly. Brian’s cock was of course available almost any time for more
servicing, now that he knew how talented a cock sucker Jim was. In my gratitude
I whipped him far more severely than I ever usually whip a client, then fucked
him far more vigorously and joyously. He’d cum like a fountain into me, and when
I brought it home to Jim still warm and woke Jim up by sitting on his face, he’d
begin drinking and lapping as if he’d not stopped from the previous time.
During the next few weeks Jim learned to take any long, hard, warm, soft object
into his throat unquestioningly, and to tongue and head fuck it until it spurted
directly into his belly, if it could. A carrot, a banana, a frankfurter, a
dildo, a real cock, they were all the same. Toward the end of this Twilight
Training period I’d lighten up on his drugs so he could at least walk and talk
like some zonked out little girl, dress him up like a pretty coed, and rent his
pretty mouth out to fraternity parties for the weekend. While in college I’d done
it once on a dare and had OD’d on all the cum I swallowed the first night, so
they had to put me out on the lawn still retching until my date came to claim me.
Not Jim! He had a cast iron stomach it seemed. He couldn’t swallow enough of
it! But boys that age are the same way they always were, Loretta. You remember.
You can’t trust them. Whatever they’d promised, no matter how many times they’d
use Jim’s mouth, some of them were always trying to get into Jim’s pants too. So
I’d always have to stay and watch, and warn them, and finally bring Jim home
before the weekend was over.
While Jim was still home sleeping, or learning womanly skills, or wandering dazed
from cock to cock, Brian’s audit was completed. As I’d suspected, there was no
way Jim had been paying for my services out of pocket. Our joint savings account
had gone before Jim had filled his bureau with bras and panties. A month or so
after his first visit Jim had paid out to me our entire life savings — many
thousands of dollars. Then for additional month after month he’d continued to
hand my receptionist $1500 of the bank’s money weekly, sometimes borrowed on his
signature with no hope he could ever pay it back, sometimes just stolen.
I’d deposited the money in my own account and said nothing, of course. By the
end of the time Jim spent as a slut who woke in the morning, selected his outfit,
painted his face, fixed his hair, and then sucked cock all day, more than $55,000
had changed hands. He’d increased his capital debt to the accounts in his charge
by $1,500 each week in return for the privilege of masturbating into a panty or
kotex in my presence. His wardrobe costs rose many thousands more.
…End of the part4. To be continued..