Poppy's Dream

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Spoilt young blonde learns the benefit of taking cock.
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OpenMouth
OpenMouth
202 Followers

"'Night, Kerry; 'night Bex..." said Poppy, extricating herself from the taxi.

As her platform heels clomped on the driveway, her friends giggled, and chorused "'Night, Poppy!"

Poppy felt her lovely 36D breasts jiggle in her push-up bra as she walked to the front door. Her silky blonde hair fell across her face as she looked in her tiny handbag, taking out her keys and letting herself in to the bungalow. Her bag was barely big enough for the keys, her lighter and her purse, so she clutched her Silk Cuts in her other hand, placing them next to her bag on the table in the hall. She could almost have dispensed with the lighter; virtually every time she placed a cigarette between her glossy lips, some guy would appear with a flame.

'Best not wake me mum, she's got to be up in three hours,' she thought, taking off her shoes and stripping down to her underwear. She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror in the hallway, the flimsy pink knickers and bra complimenting her lithe 18-year-old body to perfection.

In the bathroom, she put her tiny, smoke drenched skirt and top into the wicker laundry basket, and started to remove her makeup. Her pert boobs spilled out of the bra as she leaned forward to the mirror, and she shook them, thinking 'you little teasing bitch! They all want you, but they can't have you, not unless they're fucking loaded, anyway...'

She giggled at that last bit, but it was true. Her friends, very pretty themselves, were nevertheless in awe of her, her perfect body and face, and cool, aloof attitude. When she danced in the club, pouting outrageously, the guys would dance around her, mouths agape. They usually had to make do with a frosty reception and a face full of cigarette smoke.

'Better hide me ciggies,' she thought as she disposed of the makeup-soaked cotton wool pads in the bathroom bin. 'Don't want Mum finding them...' Of course, Poppy suspected her mother knew she smoked; twenty a day, maybe thirty on a Friday like today, was difficult to conceal from a mother. 'So what,' she thought, 'she's just as bad...' She hid them in her knicker drawer anyway, to save the hassle.

She took off her bra and dropped it onto the floor, enjoying the feel of her firm young tits escaping. Finally, taking off her earrings, she climbed into bed.

Lying in the dark, she thought of her boyfriends. Mark was OK, he'd had a BMW and everything until the useless tosser went & lost his job and she'd had to dump him. Her current boyfriend was ten years older than Poppy, and had his own business. She wondered where he was now, in bed with his wife, probably.

All her life, everyone had been telling her how special she was, how gorgeous, that she'd never have to work, some rich man would take care of her. She'd make sure of it, she thought. 'There's no way I'm working at a garage like me mum.' Young guys would chat her up & get nowhere; she was only interested in their money. She was determined to develop expensive tastes, and someone else would be paying. Although not a virgin, she didn't put it about much, preferring to tease and cajole. She'd occasionally let mark fuck her in his BM, but she made sure he paid, with a new pair of shoes, a jacket, or some piece of jewellery she liked.

Fairly soon, Poppy drifted off to sleep. Maybe it was the chemicals in her last cocktail, or the thoughts of sex as she fell asleep, but she soon became restless. Had there been a video camera available in the half light, the owner would undoubtedly have become very rich in a short time; videos of young women, as photogenic as Poppy, so plainly abandoned to the eroticism of heated dreams would always have a premium attached. Beads of perspiration appeared on her brow, her cheeks flushed, her naturally red lips parted in a series of gasps, her firm young nipples hardened and her back arched as her unconscious fingers strayed down past her tiny, trimmed pubic triangle, towards the damp, engorged promise below.

In her dream, Poppy sat in a swivel chair in the hairdressing salon where she worked. A cigarette burned, with the unmistakeable scent of Silk Cut, in the ashtray beside her, and a dark, almost transparent figure knelt in front of her, as she held her swollen labia apart. The scene shifted, and she was leaning on the sink, facing the mirror, and the figure seemed to be saying 'it's yours,' or 'all yours,' and she felt a very obvious erection pressing against her buttocks.

The scene shifted again, and she sensed a malevolent atmosphere; she was in her bed, naked and unable to move, her legs spread wide. She could feel a strange, unearthly sensation in her pubic area, and looked down in an open-mouthed, silent scream, to see the unmistakeable shape of a penis growing there. It grew alarmingly, several inches every second, becoming thicker, more brutal and distended as it approached her pretty face. It bulged grotesquely, the veins throbbed; it was one minute glowing red, the next a natural Caucasian flesh tone, then a rich African ebony as it swelled and grew.

She succeeded in raising her hands to it, but was unable to halt or even slow it's progress, unable to even get her hands around it's gnarled girth. It's target became apparent, and as it approached two feet long and almost six inches in diameter, Poppy attempted to resist, turning her head left and right, fighting this monstrosity in vain as she felt her wet lips forced apart and the huge, hot head flowing organically into her mouth. She had no choice but to yield, as the brutal erection, seeming to sense the beauty of her unblemished 18-year-old face, swelled to gigantic proportions, forcing her jaw open. She moaned a pathetic 'no...' and attempted to pull the shaft downwards, but the result was the foreskin releasing the mighty helmet with a pop, and she felt the folds of the skin ripple out through her lips as the head penetrated her throat deeper, it's weight pressing on her tongue.

She pulled again and again; the thing twitched and thrusted several inches in and out with each attempt, until it became apparent to Poppy that her mouth was being fucked by this enormous black member; at that point she also realised what the inevitable outcome was going to be. She was straining to take in enough oxygen through her dainty, turned-up nose, as her pretty lips, stretched to their limit, formed an airtight seal around it's shaft, in the groove below the glans.

Still, she attempted to pull the thing out, knowing the effect it was having but unable to stop herself, the enormous weight, presence and beauty of the thing compelling her to stroke. As she pulled, she glanced down, seeing a scrotum and enormous pair of testicles for the first time, with the floaty fabric of her almost transparent, pink French knickers stretched comically across them. She realised that her own slim hips were thrusting in response to her strokes, propelling the mighty cock on it's irresistible mission.

She felt a surge, and coughed as a teacupful of sweet, sticky liquid, unmistakeably precum, deposited itself at the back of her throat.

Oh no, she thought, and as the enormity of her situation dawned on her, she imagined the volume of the pre-ejaculate compared with what was surely just seconds away. She'd never allow a boy to cum in her mouth- why her? Still she tugged at the cock, the spread fingers of both hands a foot apart. Her youthful, sweat-soaked breasts pressed against the shaft as it rhythmically slid between them, surely increasing it's arousal. Poppy realised that the sensation of approaching orgasm was in fact hers, and looked down again, seeing her hips thrust obscenely and the testicles swelling visibly to the size of footballs, the flimsy pants now in tatters.

Deep within her bowels, she felt and heard a rushing, surging sound, like a waterfall getting louder. Her heart hammered and she moaned and sobbed, first in shame and violation, turning to lust, pleasure and submission as she realised that glorious shaft owned her completely; that she was totally in love with it.

She stroked and thrusted, stroked and thrusted. Oh god, she thought as orgasm approached. Is this what a man feels like when he cums? The waves of pleasure engulfed her; she didn't want this to end. She didn't need to breathe any more, all she needed was that enormous, black cock in her hungry young mouth.

It swelled and bucked, forcing itself harder and harder into her. The testicles jerked, and waves rippled almost cartoon-like up the underside of the length.

The orgasm hit.

Poppy's whole body went into spasms lasting seconds at a time, as jet after jet of thick, hot, aromatic spunk erupted into her mouth. Each spurt must have been half a litre, and Poppy had no choice but to swallow and swallow.

Her pleasure was absolute. The spunk flowed and flowed; after a while, she managed to disengage her mouth briefly, gasping for air, as jet after jet splashed onto her exquisite face. She arched her back, seeing the thing in it's entirety at last as it pointed vertically upwards, three feet of beautiful ebony cock still shooting it's delicious semen into the air.

Poppy pulled it back towards her, and it found it's way back into her mouth. She kept swallowing, gagging but relishing the feeling of being completely unable to contain the sheer quantity of sperm. She squeezed the shaft between her tits, running the palm of her hand slowly up and down the length, stroking & fondling the balls as they slowly emptied themselves.

She couldn't possibly take any more; her stomach was completely full of the thick, white jizz, and she felt it run from her mouth, soaking her and her bed. Gradually, after what seemed like several minutes, the spurts subsided and stopped. Poppy pulled the helmet from her mouth and turned her head to the side. A litre of spunk flowed from her mouth, and she coughed, hyperventilating almost to the point of fainting. She lay there, unable to move, coated in hot sticky cum; there was almost certainly a bathful in volume, and it soaked her, the bed and the carpet, it dripped from the ceiling onto her. She never believed sexual debauchery could feel this complete, this wonderful.

The curtain fluttered and she opened her eyes. Her naked, sweat-soaked chest heaved in post-orgasmic bliss. Her head swam with conflicting emotions; could that really all have been just a dream?

"fuck it," she whispered to herself. "I've got to have a cigarette..."

In a half slumber she put on her bedside lamp, and walked over to her knicker drawer, taking out a silk cut and lighting it. She dragged deeply as she strutted over to the window, cheeks hollowing and eyes narrowing, becoming aware of her girl juice soaked panties. 'Oh, yeah,' she thought as her lips parted luxuriously to allow her to inhale the wonderful, thick smoke. The nicotine hit her, washing her still-buzzing nerve endings with pleasure, which she savoured for a moment before exhaling with a glorious, creamy, audible sigh of luxury. At the dressing table mirror, she couldn't resist her customary eyeball. 'Is smoking cool? Is it fucking ever...' she thought.

Then it hit her with a jolt; the unmistakeable sight of spunk splashed around her mouth, chin and throat.

Stunned, she sat on the bed, looked at the open window, and started to sob quietly.

Poor Poppy was never the same again. She couldn't report the incident; how could she ever explain the dream, even put it into words? Who was the guy, or guys, maybe someone she knew, who had violated her mouth while she slept, inspiring such a wonderful, filthy dream? How could she possibly remain aloof, after this?

She tried and tried again to approach the way she had felt that night; She lost her job at the salon, when the manager found her sucking a customer's cock in the storeroom. Her married boyfriend lost interest in her as she became more keen on active, experimental sex, threatening his delicate ego. She became very popular on the internet dating circuit, hosting drug fuelled romps with three or more men at a time, cocaine heightening her pleasure, but hallucinogens failed to manifest that enormous, spurting cock she craved so desperately. She appeared in low-budget pornographic films, a little, blonde thing having her arse stretched by tattooed studs, or soaked in cum from a dozen different cocks. The money either disappeared, or never materialised in the first place; Poppy didn't care.

Poppy ached to be violated again. She slept with her window and curtains open, occasionally leaving the bedside lamp on. A potential intruder at the bungalow window would surely have been unable to resist at least masturbating at the sight of this exotic sleeping teenage beauty with the most inviting, available, lip-glossed mouth imaginable. She owned several enormous, black dildos, which she used, vaginally and anally, on a nightly basis; sleeping in lingerie and makeup, surrounded by these huge toys, usually produced the best results. If she fell asleep with one in her mouth, vivid dreams of debauchery would often follow, but that monstrous shaft that had invaded her so completely never came back. As she knew she could never love another, she decided to devote her life to it's eventual return.

She now works in the same garage as her mother; she's put on a few pounds, but if you ever see her, smoking languidly in the kiosk at 3am, you'll wonder how such a stunningly beautiful young woman came to be working in a petrol station at all.

Now you know.

OpenMouth
OpenMouth
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drobert44drobert44over 2 years ago

How she came to love sucking cock!

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