blistered lips

“Taste it,” she tells you, “it’s sweet; you’ll like it. It’s from the orchard we walked through late last night.”

And so you take the apple from her slender fingers. You wonder at how it can be so shiny, so smooth and deeply crimson. It is the most perfect apple you’ve ever seen. You want to taste it. You want to taste its lush and sugary juices across your tongue. You want to swallow and feel the cool liquid coat your throat.

“Yes, darling, I know you want to,” she whispers at your ear, “I know you need to. You need to bite it. You’re so hungry, and I’m going to feed you. You need to sink your teeth into it. You need to puncture the peel with your teeth. You have to. You have to do it now.”

And so you do. You eagerly open your mouth and even as your teeth pierce its flesh, you smell the aroma of her cunt. She has coated the apple with her malicious juices and you are damned. She is dark, she is evil, she is the greedy, wicked, demanding Femme-Phantasm haunting every Grimm’s Fairy tale. She wants to possess you, debase you, drive your very soul into the dirt, but you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

You have to swallow her poison. Her poison that will finally conquer you, debilitate you, enslave you.

As you begin rabidly gnawing at the apple, you feel your balls — icy and hot at the same time — seize up. Your cock is PDQ hard: rock hard, petrified rock hard, boner than bone hard, steel rod hard. Your ass sphincter is rapidly opening and closing, and you can’t make it stop. She’s in control — not you. Not you, not ever again you. Never ever again.

Your orgasm rises up like a fist pummeling through your body and you are cumming, preternaturally spewing. It weeps from your eyes, gushes from your nose.  It leaks from your ass. You can smell it, your own spunk oozing from your pores, rising up in the back of your throat.

You fall to your knees and you know it is done: She has fucked you.

Tomorrow you will eat her apple. And every day after that.

What matters, what I’m trying to tell you, what I’ve been trying to tell you all night, is that you’re busted.  We can’t go back now.  There is no turning back.  I liked watching you much more than I like fucking you.  Can’t you understand that?  Don’t you get it?

But I thought you liked sex with me.

I do, or I should say that I did.  It’s been changing for a while now.  What, probably for a year?  Yes, at least a year.  It hasn’t been the same and you know it.  I know that you know it.  I mean look what you’ve been doing behind my back.

I … I …

Sush!

But …

I said to shush and I mean it.  There’s no sense in being embarrassed and I really don’t have the patience for any of your silly posing.

No fucking?

No fucking.  Besides the fact that you really have never been that good at it, and besides the fact that I’ve been rather bored with your “breast-grab, spread my legs and mount me” tactics, well, like I said, I’ve rather enjoyed watching you this past month.

You’ve been watching for an entire month?  What the fuck?

Hmph.  Like you have any room to judge me!  Let’s just remember who’s been sitting on a rickety stool in the back of the basement with his pants down around his knees any chance he gets.  Lets not forget who does it in the shower, on the toilet or even off the back deck, when he thinks he can get away with it.

You saw me on the deck?  Jesus!

I sure did.  In fact, tomorrow you are going to go down below the deck and clean off that bird feeder.  Absolutely disgusting.  And if you do something like that again, I’ll make you clean it off with your tongue.  Do you hear me?

Yeah.

Don’t you dare roll your eyes.  Come here; I want to show you something.  I said come here.  Come here right now!

Jesus!  Okay, what?

See this website?

Yeah, what about it.

I built it.  Don’t look so surprised.  I’m not as technically challenged as you think.

Oh fuck!  No, no no.  What the fuck?  What are those?  Oh, honey, you didn’t.

Oh yes I did!  Once I figured out how much you were “going at it,” I started taking pictures.  So let’s see.  Each page holds twelve pictures and so far I’ve got almost six pages.

Honey, baby.  This isn’t right.  What if somebody sees them for Christ’s sake?  You’ve got to get these down.  You’ve got to take this website down.

No.  Look closely.  See how I’ve blurred your face?  Nobody’s going to recognize you.  And, take it from me, even if you’ve cheated on me with hundreds of women?  Your dick just isn’t that memorable.

You bitch!

You have no idea.  Now get your pants down and start jerking that dick of yours.  This time you’re going to do it right in front of me.  No sneaking off like a dirty pervert.  Come on, get them down.

This is crazy.  You’ve gone off the deep end.

Here, let me show you something else.  With a click … here, here and then there.  Do you see that?  That picture is NOT blurred.  And I can do that to every last one of them.  And then, my love?  I can just pop a link into an email and send it out to all your business associates, your friends, even your family.  Like you just said — I’m a bitch.  But guess what?  You’re MY bitch.   Your my masturbating bitch boy from now on.  Whenever, wherever, however —  I tell you to drop your drawers and start pumping, you will do just that.  Do you understand?  Do you get it now?

I, but …

Let’s see, where is that email address to your secretary.  Or, better yet, your sister-in-law.  There they are.  I think I’ll just send it to both of them.

No. Please.

Then get busy.  Get busy now.  That’s a good boy.  Drop them lower.  Drop them down around your knees, you dirty little masturbator.  That’s right.  Now get jerking.  Wrap your grubby paw around that thick, useless cock and start stroking.  Look.  Look how hard your prick is.  You know what you are.  Stroke it.  Stroke it and repeat after me:  I’m a dirty, masturbating bitch.  Go ahead.  Stroke it.  Say it.  Stroke it.  Say it.  Go ahead.

I’m a dirty, masturbating bitch boy.  I’m a dirty, masturbating bitch boy.  I’m a dirty, masturbating bitch boy.  I’m a —

Don’t stop.  I’m just getting the camera.  Got to have fresh content for the website, after all.