CHEATING I INTERRACIAL I CRUSH I SUBMISSIVE
Kendra’s Indiscretions: The Whores Night Out — Part 5
Whoring is not just a kink to her but a necessity. Something she has to do just to survive
This is the fifth and last part of this story. The fourth part is here:
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All my monologue after he fucked me in the ass was my subconscious speaking and leading my sex-crazed brain to this truth, to my deepest desire. Now that the floodgates have opened, kinky images are rushing through my mind: his foot pressing my head on the floor; me on the leash walking on all fours after him; his hand choking me while he fucks me in my home bedroom. Is this what I was looking for all the time? All those glory holes, hundreds of cocks, and gallons of cum pale compared to the delirious excitement I feel while imagining completely submitting to one man.
But it’s not just a simple desire to submit to any man. If that were the case, I could have found a dominant lover a long time ago. It’s the desire to submit to him.
You fell in love, says the voice in my head. And suddenly it dawns on me why all that kinky talk I made after he fucked me in the ass sounded so strange. It wasn’t the voice of the whore craving more perversity. It was Kendra’s voice — my good girl voice — trying to find a way to keep in her life the man she suddenly fell in love with. And of all the possible places, it happened in the glory hole.
It’s even possible that it was Kendra speaking from the moment he showed up.
You are royally fucked; the voice of the whore speaks from within me.
And I don’t even know his name.
“What did you say?” He chuckles. Through all my monologue, he was silently watching me with a look of mild amusement. I know he heard me all right. I look at him with the adoration of a dog. Suddenly, I feel like my life will have no meaning if I never see him again.
“I’ll be only yours. I won’t fuck anyone else. Not even my husband.”
“Why would I want that?” He looks at me in puzzlement. “I have wenches like you all over the place. What makes you so special? We had a good time. We both got what we wanted. It’s time to go our separate ways.”
“No, no, no, no, please listen!” I jump and crawl toward him and between his legs, watching him with total adoration. I am desperate to convince him that I’m worthy of his attention.
“Did any woman do this to you?” I ask and start kissing and licking his left thigh. I keep going down his leg until my nipples scrape the floor, and I passionately kiss his ankles and suck his toes. I am breathing hard and moaning sensually. It’s not an act. I am so aroused by serving the man I’m in love with that I’m sure I could cum in a second if he just touched my pussy.
“You are batshit crazy, you know that”? He says this with a look of disbelief on his beautiful face as he watches me slurp on his foot. I look up and see now that his cock is fully erect, dangling like a mean black snake over me.
“I am deadly serious about the slave thing. Can I worship your divine cock while you think about it? Please?”
“You know what?” He says, his eyes smiling in amusement, “I’m going to take my new smartphone and catch up with my homies. After six years, there are a lot of things I’m out of the loop about. In the meantime, you kneel there and rub your snatch. I want you to be so wet that men can smell your pussy from a mile and dogs from ten.”
He pulls out from his trousers the dark brown belt with a big iron buckle and throws it on the floor.
“Here. Before you start, tie it around your neck.”
“Why?” I blurted out reflexively. The way he looks at me, I know I made a mistake.
“He is going to punish me.” The thought runs through my mind, but there is no fear. I want punishment. Blood immediately rushes into my cunt and nipples.
“You know what? Get dressed and go home. This is not going to work.” He goes back to his phone.
I scramble to pick up his belt and tie it around my neck as fast as I can without uttering another word. “Did I blow it? Panic starts to build up in me. “Stupid bitch, with your stupid questions,” I curse myself.
I prepare to throw myself at him and beg for another chance if he fucks me off when he finally glances at me. It’s the look of the father assessing what to do with his usually obedient child who tried to question his authority. I am tense as a bowstring. The more I wait for his answer, the wetter I get. I don’t touch myself, but still, the warm pleasure builds up between my legs. “Will he be mad if I cum”?
“The belt should be tighter,” he says blankly, then goes back to his phone. I manage to tighten the belt around my neck to the max with one hand, using the last hole in it. My other hand begins rubbing my clit. I can hardly breathe now, but the intense feeling of discomfort just turns me on. More humiliation gives me more pleasure. I keep masturbating. The state of arousal is now constant and never-ending. It feels like I didn’t cum at all. Soon, an intense climax wrecks me, leaving me with weak legs and uncontrollable jaw clenching while my vision darkens. Despite my moaning and whimpering, he remains unaffected, his gaze glued to his phone.
I lie on the floor, catching my breath. He ignores me completely. I still didn't prove myself as a worthy slave.
“Can I pleasure your cock while you watch the phone?” I ask shly, like a schoolgirl asking her father, could she sleep at her friend’s house?
“Yes,” he answers without looking at me.
This is my chance to shine and prove to him that no whore will serve him like me. I crawl between his legs. His cock is still hard. I press it with the palm of my hand to my mouth and suck and lick his shaft all the way down and up, but I skip his head for now. He is as hard as concrete in a matter of seconds, pulsing strongly and steadily. I can’t resist squeezing my sphincter muscles around the buttplug, and I feel it plunging into the pool of his sperm. If he rejects my offer to serve him, at least I will take his cum with me.
I keep gliding my mouth and tongue up and down his pole. I’m in a cock-sucking trance. The whole world is his dick, and I am all mouth, lips, and tongue.
All the while, he keeps texting with his friends, scrolling, and watching social media. There’s no sign whatsoever on his face that I’m sucking his cock and that it’s hard as a steel rod.
“How can you do that?” I can’t resist asking him. “Your cock is stiff as an oak tree, but you don’t moan, you don’t grunt, and your face doesn’t change expression at all. What’s the secret?”
“When you spend six years of your life in prison,” he says without lifting his eyes from his phone, “you learn to hold inside a lot of things.” And then he adds, “Just to let you know, I will be done soon.”
It’s time to show him what I really know. Let’s hope he will like it enough to let me serve him again.
In one continuous move, I take all of his big cock down my throat. It took me yours of sucking cocks to get to the place where I never gag, no matter how big the cock is.
“Oh fuck, where did you hide those skills till now?” he says. I am impaled on his gorgeous, tasty cock, so I can’t lift my head to look at his face, but I think I heard a quiet moan escaping his mouth. New hope rises in me, and I start to bob my head up and down, basically fucking him with my head. And finally, I can hear him moan.
As I’m deepthroating him, he lifts his right leg on the bench. I can get to his butthole now. Is it an invitation? Is it a sign that he wants me to play with it? I lightly put my finger on it to see his reaction. He pushes his ass a little toward me. Is that an approval? I decided to take it as a yes. Slowly, I work my way up with my middle finger until it’s deep in his asshole. He grunts in approval, finally letting go of his stoic self-control.
I expertly find his prostate and massage it with the tip of my finger. I don’t have to be too careful because I keep my middle finger nail short, just in case I meet a man who enjoys this kind of play. He starts moving his hips on my finger as I still deep-throat him. I hear him putting down the phone, and suddenly both of his hands are on my head, pushing me deeper onto his erection. He starts to move his hips up and down, fucking my mouth and throat so savagely that his pelvis crashes into my teeth until they start to hurt.
But I don’t complain. I am not going to stop him when he is about to fill my throat with cum. He is now moaning loudly, totally lost in ecstasy. He thrusts his cock deep in me once more and stays their, shaking and pushing my head down with all his might. Then cum floods my throat. I moan and sink my nails into his meaty cheeks as his sperm ends directly in my tummy, coating its walls. My mouth is satisfyingly stretched to its limits as his cock throbs in it, pumping out strongly its warm cream. I stay glued to his cock like a baby's mouth to her mother's tit.
When he empties himself, he pulls his cock out, followed by ropes of saliva and semen that spill out all over my chin and my silicone mounds. I lick it and smear it as I watch him intently. Did I pass? I wonder, full of hope.
“I never asked your name,” he says while cleaning himself up.
“Kendra,” I answer simply as I wipe cum off my body with my small towel.
“What’s your name?”
“Marcus,” he says.
“Marcus,” I repeat while looking for my clothes and starting to dress. “Nice to meet you, Marcus.”
I am walking toward my car in the parking lot as I hear Marcuse’s car speeding away. His phone number is in my address book. He told me to call him when I was ready. But he didn’t say what to be ready for.
“That will be the surprise,” he tells me, and he slams the door of his car in my face.
My mind races as I slowly drive home.
How many dicks have I blown in the last 10 years?
“Not enough,” comes the swift answer of the whore.
And until tonight, I thought it would never be enough. But I am not so sure anymore. A beautiful stranger turned my dangerous but predictable double life upside down. The whore in me approves. And what's even more surprising is that Kendra also approves.
But maybe I am making a mistake when I say “the whore in me.” Who can say for sure that it’s not the other way around? Maybe there’s more truth in the statements “wife in the whore” and “mother in the whore.”
I will never know, and in the end, it doesn’t matter. The whore, the slut, the black hole, the abyss, or whatever you want to call it, is here to stay. What I know with certainty is that “whore” has to be carefully hidden from my public life and my family.
And now I have one more thing to hide. Marcus. The new variable. The most dangerous one. But it is also the most rewarding one.
“For how long will you pretend to be a role model mother and wife and ignore your real self?” asks the whore.
“For as long as I live,” answers Kendra as I park the car in front of my house, buttplug still holding Marcus’s cum deep in my ass.
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