A new game to play.
Many thanks to subbietrouble, who was so kind as to tell me about this game.
And yes, as always, the Rockstar stories are true — more or less.
Other chapters can be found here.
He answered the door wearing a button down shirt and those jeans that make me weak in the knees.
And a Santa hat. Because it was Christmas Eve, after all.
I saw him, perfect, standing there, and I was… speechless. I watched the cute little smirk crawl up his cheek, as he tipped his head to the side to let one utterly flawless curl fall across his forehead. My breath hitched, and I had to close my eyes.
The man fucking undid me.
This man’s every movement was calculated. Designed and practiced especially to turn me into a swooning puddle, helplessly aching to touch him, to get him in my mouth. You’d think, after all these months, I’d be used to it, but every time I saw him, I fawned all over him again. This man was so fucking beautiful.
It just wasn’t fair that he could still do this to me.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ground, as he ushered me into his house. “I really can’t stand it, you know? It’s really not fair that you’re this good looking.”
“Mm hmm.” He ran his hands over my shoulders and down my back, until he cupped my ass. “You don’t have to keep standing.” He gave me a hard smack, and then one more.
I pulled my breath through my teeth and arched my back.
I knew I looked like an eager little slut, but he made me into an eager little slut. Everything he did made me wet and desperate and eager. I turned around and dropped to my knees, daring one more look up at him. It was a trap, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. I was completely defenseless against him. And as I watched him look down at me with those quicksilver eyes, watched him slowly work one button after another through its buttonhole, each an erotic act in itself, I knew he knew it, too.
A needy little noise escaped my throat as he peeled his shirt off, revealing the lines of his chest and the tantalizing trail of dark hair that disappeared, teasingly, into those jeans. I felt the tension seep out of my shoulders as I leaned forward to nuzzle my lips against the bulge of his cock.
He worked a hand through my hair, holding me there for a moment, before tightening his grip and forcing my face up to look at him again. “Eager little thing today, aren’t we?”
“You always do this to me; you know that.”
His smile widened into something I expected to see with sharp teeth curving over those dangerous, kissable lips. “I know.”
I fingered the button on his waistband. “Can I, please?” My voice sounded breathy, and I felt the beginning of a blush. Even after all this time, it still felt slutty to beg for him. “I have… a new game for us to play.”
“Hmm, a game. What kind of game?” He twirled my hair around his fingers and guided my lips back to his jeans. “You know I’m always interested in your ideas.”
The teasing lilt was not lost on me.
My blush grew hotter. “I read about it on the internet.” I dragged my tongue along the stitching of his fly, outlining the bulge of his cock.
“Oh, the internet. My favorite.”
I giggled. “How long have you been training me to be your perfect little suck slut?”
He shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Over a year now,” I said. “And you’ve addicted me to swallowing your cock.”
He undid the button on his jeans with one hand, while still holding onto my hair. “What does this have to do with your game?” He tightened his grasp.
I winced. “It’s a deepthroating game. Two hundred thrusts into my throat, plus two hundred total seconds of you all the way down, all done in ten minutes or less.” I reached my tongue out to trace the wet line I had left on the chainstitching on the denim, a moment before. I just… couldn’t keep away from him. “It sounded so similar to some of the things that we’ve done, I thought we could definitely do it in less than ten minutes.”
“I see. What happens if you don’t make it in ten minutes?”
I smiled up at him. “We repeat, obviously. Until I can.”
He nodded. “Have you tried it yet?”
“Yesterday, with a dildo.” My cheeks burned. “Too bad it wasn’t that dildo that’s shaped like your cock. When can I buy one of those, by the way?”
“I’m thinking about it as a Patreon benefit. A special tier.”
“Of course. Right, of course it would have to be.” I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. It was true, he had a beautiful cock, and I would be first in line to get my hands on a plastic copy. I was pretty sure it was against Patreon terms, but the way he said it made me believe that he’d be able to do it.
A lot of things he said were like that. It was part of his magical voice that made every woman in every bar he played, think he was singing only to her. It was part of his presence that he cultivated so carefully – part of the intoxicating erotic grace that made him so… irresistible.
“How did you do yesterday? Did you make it?”
If I thought I couldn’t blush any hard, I was wrong. “I did ten rounds of twenty thrusts, and on the last one, I held it for twenty seconds.” I paused, embarrassed for what I was about to admit to him, the man who had been so kind as to destroy my gag reflex — I thought. “Umm… I puked, like, eight times. Fourteen minutes total.”
He tsk’d at me, shaking his head. “Guess we’ll have to repeat it, then.”
I nodded. “But, I mean, I know you don’t mind a mess, but…” I paused. “That’s a lot.”
He shrugged. “I’ll put you over the toilet.”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t imagine something more degrading. “You want me to blow you over the toilet?”
“You got a better idea?”
My laugh turned into something that sounded like a choked sob.
I had imagined, maybe, some extra towels. There was a part of me that wanted to say no, but there was also a part of me that admitted that it was so goddamned appropriate for him to violate my throat in the most depraved way possible. My pussy clenched at the thought of it, and I said the only thing I could say, the only thing that I ever had been able to say to him. “Let’s do it.”
He smiled at me, with that angelic face. “Wonderful.”
So that’s how I found myself kneeling over his toilet – this is filthy, I noted, with an odd, perverse pleasure – with his cock jackhammering down my throat, with him still wearing the damned Santa hat. It was so perfectly on brand for him, that I wanted to giggle, but his iron fist in my hair kept his cock down my throat and my reactions to a blessed minimum.
“You can do more than twenty thrusts, though. I’ve taught you better than that.”
All I could do was nod, as he held me there. I watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips.
Good, I thought. At least this is hard on him, too. Although maybe not for the same reason it was for me.
He held me until I ran out of breath, until I started to struggle.
The seconds seemed to take forever, and eventually my gag reflex won out, spilling a copious glob of throat slime all over his cock and into the toilet.
“Let’s see,” he said, seemingly oblivious to my suffering, or the filth that now covered him. But then again, he never seemed to be bothered by the realities of my body in any context.
It was a relief, in a way, to be trained while not being expected to be porn star. I expected that in another year’s time, he’d probably have obliterated my gag reflex entirely, but for today, a sense of gratitude washed over me. He could be the consummate performer, the perfect image of erotic desire. I’d just be a hole for him to fuck.
“I bet you could do fifty thrusts each round. Thirty seconds deep throat.”
Again, there was only one thing to say to this beautiful man who I knelt in front of, strings of saliva dripping from my lips. “So, like, 500 thrusts? 300 seconds all the way down? Please. Fuck, yes.”
His eyes narrowed to happy, translucent crescents, the color so pale as to be no color as all. “You always say that.”
I smiled up at him. “You always make me want to say that.”
He got his phone from his jeans that lay discarded on the floor. “Let’s see, I’m going to need a stopwatch, and a counter. And a timer.” He put his hand on the back of my head, guiding me back onto his cock. “Come on now, nice long strokes while I get this set up for you. You know what I like.”
For me? I wanted to say, but the pleasure of having his perfect cock in my mouth turned the words into a garbled mess, along with any coherent thoughts still bumping around my mind.
The way his cock touched my throat made it feel like I was being caressed from the inside, and I shivered in pleasure.
I was his trained little suck slut, and I reveled in the feeling of it.
“You know, as much as I hate statistics, I kind of want to have a spreadsheet to track your progress,” he said, still with his eyes glued to his phone screen. He let out a shaky breath, as I completed a perfect stroke; all the way in, and all the way out.
“A spreadsheet?” I asked, incredulous, unable to stop myself from giggling. “Is this how you plan to keep from cumming during the ten minutes?”
He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised. “I hope it works.”
In the end, we finished the game in eight and a half minutes, and the only thing left in my stomach was his cum.
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