Power of Suggestion

POS CHAPTER 2

Mike awakened slowly as he did most mornings, blinking his eyes in the early morning light. He looked down his body to see Queenie had pulled back the covers only far enough for her to get at his cock. She was busily sucking it, dressed in her expensive work clothes – tailored suit, panty-hose, high heels, wire-framed glasses, and conservative makeup, which she always had to redo after waking him up.

He'd met her at a Starbucks one day, where she'd rudely brushed him off when he tried to make conversation. That hadn't worked at all. He learned she was married to a lawyer named Kurt and had a daughter, Ellie, aged four. As penance for her unwarranted rudeness she now stopped at his house on her way to work every day and woke him with her mouth. She thought it was her idea, and it got her so hot that she always begged him to fuck her, and he always said no. He'd actually told her it would get her really horny, just like he'd told her to always swallow both his and her husband's come – Mike wasn't against spreading the wealth, so to speak.

Mike always held off as long as he could, hoping to make her late for work, but after eighteen months Queenie had become a virtuoso cocksucker and before he was even fully alert he came with a grunt. She sucked the last drops out of him then quickly stood up, smoothing her skirt.

"I'm going to be late," she said hurriedly, producing a tube of lipstick.

"How's your love life, cunt?" he asked warmly.

"Fine, I guess," she said, touching up her lipstick.

"Fine? He fuck you in the ass much?"

She looked at him with an expression resembling horror. "Oh no, that'd hurt." She finished with her lipstick and checked her hair with her hands.

"Buy some good lube at an adult bookstore," he told her. "Astroglide, or something like it. If you can't find it, ask for help, and make sure you tell them exactly what you need it for. Next time you know you're going to have sex lube yourself up and put him in your ass without telling him first. You'll come every time."

"Okay," she said. She grabbed her purse. "Gotta run." She disappeared and he heard her making her way downstairs. He heard the front door, which she locked with her key.

That prick lawyer will never know who melted his ice princess for him , Mike thought. You're welcome, bastard . He got up and headed for the bathroom.

The fat teenage runaway he'd spotted in the mall was sitting on the toilet shaving her pussy. She wasn't fat after two months of eating only what he authorized, only slightly chubby, and he was happy to see her tits had only lost a fraction of their former impressive size. The girl had very fair skin and blonde hair, and smelled much better now that she took a shower each morning.

"Morning, Tits," he said, stopping before her. She stopped shaving and put her mouth around his still half-hard cock. With a sigh he released his full bladder into her waiting orifice and she began gulping down his urine. He bent over and played with her huge soft breasts as she drank, squeezing and kneading her pale flesh like dough. He heard splashing in the bowl as she released her own bladder. That day he'd noticed her at the mall she'd acted like a dog that'd been beaten too much and smelled like she hadn't bathed in a month. He hoped she'd come away from her time with him with some sense and manners, not to mention proper hygiene. Mike told her not to leave the house or talk to anyone without his permission, but that was it, and so far things seemed to have worked out. Sometimes he wondered what she thought of him, but she'd been told not to speak unless spoken to so he'd never know unless he asked, and he didn't care that much. Since the women he gave instructions to seemed to think things were their idea he supposed the chubby girl was at least satisfied with the situation. In a week or two he'd send her back to her parents, thinner and wiser and better behaved.

He took a long, hot shower while Tits finished shaving, then shaved in front of the sink while she crouched on the floor and shaved his balls. She sucked on them while he brushed his teeth, staring up at him with big eyes, his cock laying across her forehead. She was so pale her body was almost white, and her curves always made him think of the Pilsbury Dough Boy even though she wasn't fat anymore. Her body was either white or pink. White face, pink lips, pink tongue. Pink nipples, white tits. White pussy, but inside it was all pink. Pink little asshole. She hadn't worn clothes since he'd brought her into the house and he wondered idly how long it'd take her to get used to them again once he sent her off.

Tits couldn't cook worth a damn but she was trying. Mike read the paper while she bustled around in the kitchen, big tits flopping around. It was French toast this morning, which she overdid as usual, but he could eat anything if it had syrup on it. She knelt on the floor under the table while he ate, ready to service him if he gave her the signal. When he was finished he set the plate on the floor so she could lick up the syrup, which was all the breakfast she was allowed.

Her big white tits puddled on the cold floor next to the plate as she lapped at the porcelain. Mike stuck the handles of his knife and fork deep into the pink gash of the kneeling teen and stood up from the table. He went upstairs to get dressed. Tits finished licking the plate clean and then reached around to pull the utensils from her pussy. She brought both them and the plate to the sink and began washing and drying all the dishes by hand even though there was a new electronic dishwasher just a few feet away.

Mike had been thinking a lot about Darla's comments to him the night before. Her mentioning how his power of suggestion was a lot like what a hypnotist did had a lot of new ideas swirling around inside his head. He grabbed his gym bag, filled it with his workout clothes, and headed back downstairs.

"When you finish the dishes you need to vacuum and dust the whole downstairs," he told Tits, still washing dishes. "Do a good job. Then if I'm not home yet I want you to do the upstairs. If I'm still not home I want you to stick that big dildo with the suction cup on the bottom on the edge of the bathtub and fuck it like you're mad at it. It'll be good exercise for your ass and thighs and your stomach muscles. Enjoy yourself, but I don't want you coming."

"Okay," she said lightly, not turning from the sink. He smacked her ass playfully, leaving a pink handprint on her white cheek, and headed out.

Darla sat in his driveway, her headlights off, and stared up at the house.

Jesus Christ , she thought. The place was huge, with big bay windows and a fabulous chandelier visible inside the foyer lit up like a Christmas tree. Four car garage, walkway lighting, landscaping that probably cost more than her house. And her in a piece of crap Buick with a transmission she still didn't think was fixed. There was a maroon minivan parked up near the garage doors with the logo of a gourmet catering service on its doors. This is crazy .

She quickly checked her makeup in the rearview mirror – hardly any, compared to what she normally put on. She felt naked. Just a little highlight around her eyes and some dark red lipstick, plus some strategic dabs of perfume.

She was nervous and excited, and soaking wet, again wondering just what the hell she was doing and if this was all a big scam by some psycho. She stared up at the house again. Well, he was a rich psycho, if nothing else. She'd done crazier shit with guys that didn't have a pot to piss in, although there'd usually been alcohol involved.

She climbed out of the car and smoothed the wrinkles in her outfit, wondering once again if she'd chosen right. The night air felt cool on her wet pussy, and she surreptitiously squeezed her thighs together. Her nipples were so hard they ached. Well, too late now if he didn't like what she had on. At least this time she'd been able to go home, clean up, and change first. He'd told her to – no, that wasn't right. He hadn't told her anything. He'd asked how late she'd be working, then given her his address. It was nearly seven, but she'd gotten ready as fast as she could. She had no idea if he'd think she was late. She had no idea if he'd like her outfit, or makeup. She hardly knew the man, which had her scared and excited in a way she'd never been before, and she'd seen a lot of shit in her day.

She made her way up the wide flagstone steps, her five-inch heels clicking loudly, and pushed the illuminated doorbell. She took a deep breath, checked her hair with her hands, then quickly sucked in her stomach and stuck out her chest as she heard footsteps on the other side of the thick oaken door.

Mike pulled open the heavy door and leaned on it. He looked her over with appraising eyes. He'd wondered a lot about what she might wear. Would she go slutty, or classy, or white trash formal? And what, exactly, met her definition of slutty, or classy?

Darla wore a two-piece outfit of black stretch velvet, a sleeveless midriff-baring top over snug, low-waisted tights. A silvery dangle shone from her pierced navel. He hadn't noticed jewelry there before – maybe the grocery store wouldn't let her wear it. On her feet were shiny black pumps with heels that had to be close to five inches. Between the muted porchlight and the fuzzy velvet it was hard to tell, but he was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra. The ensemble looked like something out of a Frederick's of Hollywood catalog, both cheap and slutty. While she did have a great body for someone her age, she didn't have the rail-thin arms of a teenager or the six-pack abs of an aerobics junkie. Her bare stomach had a little jiggle to it, not much, but more than Mike expected to see on someone wearing that outfit. Her gut bulged ever so slightly over the waistband of the tights, which for some reason got him hot as hell. He imagined nibbling at that curve of skin, pulling on that silver bauble at her bellybutton with his teeth.

She rubbed her palms nervously on her hips. "I wasn't sure what to wear."

Mike smiled. "It's perfect." He moved aside and she stepped in past him, staring at him nervously for just a second before looking away.

"Wow," she said, staring upward at the chandelier. Mike shut the door and checked out her ass. Firm and heart-shaped underneath the stretch velvet. Nice. She caught him looking but he didn't look away, instead meeting her gaze squarely. She took a deep breath.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," she said with conviction, almost pleading with him. He just smiled at her, noticing not just the tattoo of Minnie Mouse on her left shoulder but the tongue piercing. Total white trash. She was perfect.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," he said pointedly. "You hungry?

She realized that her stomach was gurgling, and that something smelled delicious. "I saw the van outside," she told him. "Did you cater dinner?"

Mike smiled at her. "Sort of. C'Mon."

She followed him across the hardwood floor, around the big staircase, and through a wide doorway. She found herself in his kitchen, and they weren't alone. Her mouth opened in surprise but she really had no idea what to say.

"Darla, this is Michelle, that was her van you saw outside. She owns the catering company, actually. She's an excellent chef, but she doesn't get to cook as much as she used to, so I ask her to come over now and then and cook for me. Michelle, this is Darla."

Michelle was at the sink, washing some greens. She turned halfway around and smiled at Darla. "Nice to meet you," she said warmly. "You're going to love what I've prepared," she assured her guest.

"Um, you too," Darla said. "Er . . . when are you due?"

Michelle looked down at her swollen belly and smiled happily. "Two weeks," she said. "It'll be our second." She turned back to the sink.

" Our ?" Darla asked, looking at Mike. He tried not to laugh.

"Michelle's married to an engineer, works for General Dynamics," Mike said. "They're practically newlyweds."

Michelle looked over her shoulder at them. "He's such a teaser," she told Darla. "We've been married almost four years already, he just likes to make fun." Michelle was a cute brunette with her hair cut in a short pageboy. Darla guessed she was in her early thirties.

Darla's eyebrows went up. "Oh." Her head was spinning. The whole situation was surreal – here they were, three adults, having a normal, relaxed conversation, and the whole time Michelle was completely nude. And neither she nor Mike seemed to think anything of it.

The pregnant chef's belly was hugely swollen, but showing only a few stretchmarks. Her breasts looked engorged and shiny with milk, her nipples big and dark. Darla had seen plenty of pregnant women nude in her life, friends or women at the gym, but she hadn't expected to see one making her dinner. She turned to Mike, who was enjoying her reaction. She looked back to Michelle.

"You like cooking in the nude?" she asked the chef.

"Very much so," she answered, not turning around as she chopped carrots. "I don't get to do it nearly as often as I'd like. It's Mike and my little secret."

"I bet."

"Would you like something to drink?" Mike asked Darla.

She gave a little laugh. "Yeah, but I don't know if I should."

Just then Tits walked into the kitchen and began setting the table. At first Darla could only stare in astonishment at the nude young girl, then finally the hilarious absurdity of the situation revealed itself to her and she had to laugh. "So who's this?" she asked.

"Tits," Mike said, with no further explanation.

"Well, no shit," Darla blurted, unable to take her eyes off the chubby girl's giant juddering breasts. That surprised Mike, and he laughed and laughed. Tits ignored them both and continued setting the table with the good china and silverware.

"How many other women you got hidden around this house?" Darla asked him. They were sitting on the huge leather couch in the family room, waiting for the dinner to finish cooking. She sat on the opposite curve so she could see his face. Between sips of her whiskey she kept glancing at Tits, who was kneeling beside the arm of the couch, staring up at him.

"Tonight it's just you. Michelle will be taking off just as soon as the food's on the table and she can get her clothes on."

"Just me?" she asked, nodding at Tits.

"I forget about her sometimes."

Darla stared at the teenager, whose pillow-like tits hung almost to her thighs as she knelt on the thick carpet. She threw back the rest of her drink and looked for a place to put the glass.

"Want to see the rest of the house?" Mike asked her.

"Sure, what the fuck."

"This looks spectacular," Mike told the pregnant chef, who was standing next to the table. She blushed with pride and rubbed her round belly unconsciously. Mike looked at . . . "Tits?" The girl was behind him and he pointed her at Michelle.

Michelle had made enough food for six people but Mike liked it that way; he always had leftovers if he needed them. He and Darla sat down at the polished table and stared at the steaming bowls of food. He lifted up lids, peeking and sniffing.

"I think we've got French and Chinese," he told his date.

Darla barely heard him. She was staring at Michelle, who stood in the dining room doorway moaning. At Mike's command Tits had dropped to her knees and buried her face between the pregnant woman's buttocks. Michelle gasped and moaned as Tits vigorously tongued her asshole. Tits wormed her face deeper and deeper into the chef's crack, then Michelle reached back with her hands and spread her cheeks apart to give Tits easier access. She gasped louder and pushed her ass back into Tits' burrowing tongue.

"You ever been with a woman?" Mike asked her, serving them both food.

Darla answered without taking her eyes off the women. "I'm not a dyke," she said.

Mike smiled. "Neither are they."

Darla looked back at him. Behind her she could hear moaning and wet slurps. She felt herself getting wet all over again. She shrugged. "Sometimes you get tired of guys. I've done a lot of crazy shit when I was drunk."

Mike grinned at her. "Sure." He set her filled plate down in front of her. The sounds behind Darla changed and she turned around again. Michelle was slouched in a big oak chair, her back to the dining room, legs hooked over the padded arms. Tits had her face buried under the pregnant woman's distended belly. The pretty chef sounded like a mewling kitten as Tits' lapping tongue drew her closer and closer to the edge. Michelle was pinching her dark nipples and rolling them between thumb and forefinger. Darla could see Tits' spread thighs through the chair legs. The girl was furiously masturbating as she licked at the pregnant beauty. The smell of pussy filled the room.

Mike saw the flush on Darla's neck, could see her breathing more rapidly. It was definitely going to be a hell of a night, and things had just started.

Tits wet her index finger and pressed it against Michelle's spit-slick asshole. The woman groaned. When the chubby girl slid the length of her finger into Michelle's ass in one slow push the woman cried out in tiny voice and came with a shudder.

Darla turned back to Mike, who regarded her with a smirk. "Is it like this around here a lot?" she asked him.

His face split in a huge smile. "All the time."

"So, what'd you think?" Mike asked his guest.

Darla leaned against the back of her chair and lit another cigarette. She looked at her empty plate, then at Tits, kneeling on the area rug next to the table. Michelle had dressed and left about twenty minutes earlier.

"About the food, or the show?"

He smiled. "The food."

"It was really good."

"Yeah, Michelle's great." He sipped at his water, then looked down at Tits kneeling on the floor beside the table. He pursed his lips, then looked up at Darla, who was watching him carefully.

"You want to see a show?" he asked her.

"What kind?"

Mike had to chuckle. "I've been thinking about what you said, how I was like a hypnotist. I never thought of it that way, but you're sort of right. I started thinking about the kind of things hypnotists do and thought I'd try a few things out. Lately I've been kinda bored and thought it'd be fun. You game?"

Darla took a long drag on her cigarette, then stubbed it out on her plate. "Sure, what the fuck."

Mike wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Don't know if this'll work," he admitted. He looked over. "Tits!"

The chubby girl looked up at him. "Spread your legs," he told her. She spread her knees apart on the rug until both Mike and Darla could see her smooth pale mound with its underside cleft. "Lift your arms up, pull your forearms behind your neck. I like the way your tits look when you do that. Yeah."

"You can't move," he told her. "You're frozen in place. All you can do is blink. Look right at Darla, look her in the eyes. You're really horny now. You're getting just sopping wet."

The chubby girl didn't move, but Darla saw her breathing quicken. "I know you really want to play with yourself. It's too bad you can't move. Lucky thing I installed a small trapdoor in the floor underneath you. It's opening now. You know what I've got down there? A huge dildo, the biggest one you've ever seen. Long as my arm to the elbow and thick as my forearm. I've got it attached to a hydraulic fucking machine down there." Mike looked at Darla, his eyes twinkling.

"It's sliding up right now. Can you feel it spreading your pussy lips?"

Tits groaned. "Yessss," she breathed.

"It's going in, all the way in, can you feel it?"

"Oh God," Tits moaned, "it's huge." She was panting now, still staring right at Darla. Darla shifted in her seat.

Mike looked between her spread thighs. "That thing's got to be a foot and a half long," he marveled, staring at nothing. "And you took the whole thing. It's got thick veins on it, like ropes or something, can you feel them? It's sliding out now. Back in, out, in, out, wow, that's fast, look at that go. How's that feel?"

Tits' eyes were wide, her mouth open and panting. Her nipples were hard and pointing. "Oh God, Oh God."

"I'm going to leave it turned on for a while, okay?" He sat back and watched her for a while. This was working out perfectly. He'd thought it would, but every once in a while he had his doubts. Maybe one day he'd lose the power. Maybe that day was today. Nope, not today. He looked across the table at his white trash slut houseguest. Even with the fuzzy black velvet he could see her nipples were hard, and she was panting nearly as hard as Tits.

"But you can't come," he told Tits. "I know it feels good, but the only way you can come is if Darla calls you a cunt. Every time she calls you a cunt it'll make you come. Every time." Tits' body was vibrating now, and she was moaning, staring unflinchingly into Darla's eyes. Darla looked over at Mike.

He shrugged at her, and nodded at Tits. He didn't know if this would work or not, he'd never done anything like it, using a third party.

Darla sat in her chair for a few seconds, then slowly got up. It was but two steps to Tits. The chubby girl kept her eyes on Darla the whole time. Darla squatted down and put her face just inches away from the panting girl's. Carefully, Darla reached her hands out and cupped the girl's big breasts, squeezing them softly. The girl moaned louder, and cried out in pleasure as Darla pinched and rolled her nipples between her fingers.

A twisted smile on her face, one of Darla's hands dropped down, sliding over Tits' soft round stomach, across her smooth mound, and between her legs. The girl was so wet her juices were running down the inside of her thighs. Darla found her hard little clit and rubbed it a little.

Tits' gasped and moaned fiercely as Darla played with her clit, but she remained frozen in place. Darla didn't want to spoil the idea of a giant dildo filling the girl and so restrained herself from sliding a finger or two into her throbbing folds.

She brought her fingers, slick with the young girl's juices, back to her mouth and sucked on them. She could hear Mike, behind her, breathing, as she sucked at her fingers while staring into the young girl's eyes. An evil smile stretched Darla's features.

"Cunt," she said softly.

Tits cried out, her pelvis shaking, and Darla was right there, watching everything. Tits made little chipmunk sounds and gasped as the contractions rippled through her flesh for almost ten seconds. This was real, it was really happening. This girl wasn't faking, she'd really just had an orgasm. And Darla had given it to her using only the sound of her voice. Jesus fucking Christ. She looked at Mike, who was licking his lips.

"I guess it works."

The crotch of his jeans was swollen with an obvious hard-on. Darla flashed her evil grin at him, then looked back at Tits. The girl was still panting harshly, her breasts moving up and down, quivering ever so slightly, and for a second Darla couldn't figure out why, since she'd stopped coming. Then she remembered about the dildo. Darla leaned close, putting her lips almost against Tits' ear.

"Cunt," she whispered, and sat back to watch the effect. Tits' second climax was identical to her first, and by the end the girl was panting like she'd just sprinted a mile. Darla found she was rubbing herself through her velvet tights, which were soaked through. She stood up and peeled them off quickly, bending to pull them over her pumps. Mike saw her pussy was smooth shaven with dangling, dark pink lips. There was a tattoo of a thorny rose on her right ass cheek, old enough to have started to blur. Darla rubbed her pussy lips, feeling the slick folds squirt in-between her fingers.

"Cunt," she said again. She felt a hand on her ass as Tits grunted and quivered, gasping like a fish out of water. Mike's chair squeaked as he turned it away from the table, and she heard him fumbling with his belt. She kept staring at Tits, who couldn't look away.

"Cunt," she said once more, almost before Tits' last orgasm had ended. She pulled her top over her head as she heard Mike's zipper come down. Darla got down on her hands and knees, her face inches from Tits' heaving chest, her ass pointed right at Mike. She arched her back so her pussy would stick out at him -- guys loved that. She reached a hand between Tits' legs and found her pussy was gaping open and fluttering with orgasmic contractions. Darla's hand came away dripping with juices and she sucked at her fingers as Mike knelt down behind her. She felt the head of his cock press against her own slobbery pussylips and begin sliding in.

"Oh Fuck!" she growled, coming just like that. The veins on her neck stood out and her face turned dark red as her pussy clenched around Mike's penetrating organ.

"Nnnnnnnngggggg cunt! " she finally managed to grunt out through clenched teeth. She gasped, and caught her breath, then sucked one of Tits' pink nipples into her mouth as the girl shuddered through her fifth orgasm in as many minutes. As soon as he was all the way into her hot depths Mike started banging his hips into Darla as hard as he could. She could feel his balls slapping her clit at the end of each stroke.

She sucked on Tits' big fat namesakes for a while, switching back and forth between the two, while Mike gripped her hips and fucked her for all he was worth.

Darla let Tits' nipple finally pop out of her mouth. "Yeah!" she urged Mike. He was slamming into her so hard each impact made her grunt. "Fuck that pussy! You like it?" She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Mike grunted between thrusts. She had a decent amount of muscle on her, he could feel it under his fingers.

"Yeah, you like fucking my pussy. You feel my cunt muscles squeezing you?" Tits began grunting again at the magic word. Neither of them noticed. Darla was still looking over her shoulder.

"Fuck. Yeah."

"I'm milking your cock. I'm milking your cock with my cunt. You feel how wet I am? My cunt's a fucking swamp. Oh, Jesus. Ah, fuck." She let her head drop down between her arms and watched upside down her tits swinging and his balls battering her clit with each thrust.

"Fuck!" Her pussy went from barely snug to handcuff tight every time she clenched her well-trained muscles. Darla laughed and pushed her ass back at him, loving the feel of his cock pounding deep into her guts. There was nothing like getting it doggy. She glanced up and saw Tits was stiff as a board, teeth bared in a grimace of excrutiating pleasure as her body was rocked by three nearly simultaneous orgasms. Darla couldn't concentrate on the young girl for long as Mike speeded up his thrusts.

"I'm gonna come," he said warningly.

"Yeah, fuck yeah," Darla told him, thrusting her hips back to meet his every stroke. "Cum in my cunt. Fuck my big-lipped hole. You like it when I talk dirty?" She hoped so; she'd been talking dirty to guys since before she really understood what sex was. That had been one of her first sexual discoveries – guys liked a girl who'd talk about it almost as much as one who'd do it.

"Ah, Christ," Mike gasped, right on the edge, his hips moving as fast as he could make them. "Yeah."

She lifted her head again and looked back at him over her shoulder. "Dump your come into my sloppy cunt," she told him. "Fuck me like a rag doll. Fuck my cunt raw. I'm just a big-titted cum-slut who thinks with her cunt."

"Uhhh!" Mike came hard, banging hard into her. She could feel him spurting inside her and she rocked back against him. His squeezing hands were hurting her hips but she ignored the pain, focusing only on his throbbing, spitting cock buried in her pussy.

He leaned against her for a few seconds, catching his breath. "Jesus," he said. He hadn't come like that in a while. Darla smiled back at him, feeling his cock start to shrink inside her. She looked up at Tits with a smile, hoping she'd enjoyed herself. She was surprised to see the girl's eyes rolled back into her head, only the whites showing. She was shaking, and as Darla watched the girl fell over with a thud and rolled onto her back, still quivering. Darla suddenly realized during her foulmouthed tirade she'd said the magic word. A whole bunch of times, more than she could remember.

"What's the matter? She okay?" Mike asked. He pulled out and sat back with a grunt.

"She's coming," Darla told him. She watched Tits for a few seconds in fascination. Still on hands and knees she crawled over to the shaking teen. Tits still had her arms behind her head, her face framed by the backsides of her upper arms. With her mouth hanging open and her eyes rolled back it looked as if she was having a seizure.

"Ooh, baby," Darla purred, staring at the soft-bodied teen as her body quivered and shook. She ran her hands all over Tits' body, squeezing her flopping breasts, stroking her clit.

"Coming?" Mike asked.

"She's got a few to catch up on," Darla told him with a laugh.

Mike studied the older woman watching the shuddering, near-unconscious teen, her face lit up with excitement and the realization of the true, awesome power she had over another person. He got up and stood beside Darla, both of them looking down at Tits.

"With true power comes responsibility," he told her. "I was in high school when this happened to me. I did a lot of shit I regret, ruined people's lives just because they pissed me off. It's still tough, but I do my best not to be an asshole. It's too easy, and I don't need to be that way. You understand what I'm saying?"

Darla looked up at him. His cock was right in front of her face, slimy with come and pussy juice. She could see how he couldn't take his eyes off the shuddering big-titted teen even while he lectured her. While she watched his cock started to get hard again. Responsibility my ass.

Keeping her eyes on him, Darla leaned down toward Tits, until she could hear the girl's stuttering pants in her ear.

"Cunt, cunt, cunt," she said very clearly, staring at Mike. Eyes still locked on his, she straightened up and slid her mouth over his suddenly rock-hard cock, deep-throating him to the base in one smooth motion. Mike let out a harsh exclamation of breath as Darla's head began pistoning back and forth and Tits began flopping and grunting on the floor, drool running out of her mouth.