The Hung Games Pt. 02

The force of my plunges was considerable and the whole bed was rocking with every bounce. To add insult to injury I leaned down, letting my tits dance right in his face while I worked, wriggling a little so the girls slapped back and forth at his face, asserting my dominance in this contest with my superior size and sexiness.

It was working! I could feel his cock quiver and his balls drawing tighter where my ass pounded against them at each plunge back. I had to admit his cock felt pretty good and I was working through a couple of orgasms as I rode it, but it was such a sad followup act to his talented tongue the poor thing didn't stand a chance of really impressing me at this time.

"Is that all you've got, Mikey? If I remember my anatomy lessons, men have DICKS. What do you call that thing!?"

I kept underestimating Mike because of his size, he had been right about that. I cringed as I suddenly realized the ref had moved in, and even with my hard-riding attempts to keep him distracted with my big boobs jiggling in his face he was ready for it and signaled his choice to change position to doggystyle.

Now Mike had screwed up. As I moved into the all-four position for him, perched precariously towards the edge of the big bed I looked back at him over a shoulder, tits sweeping the comforter they hung so pendulous in this pose. Mike was probably thinking that he'd be able to get deeper penetration and make better use of his smaller prick, little did he suspect that I was just never all that affected by doggy, though whether that was the particulars of my cunt's anatomy or that I was so used to deep deep dicking from my family I couldn't say.

Damnit Jasmine, what did I just say about underestimating him? I cringed with horror as I felt not the tease of his cock at my pussy lips, but that insane tongue again. Now in this new position I was so much more exposed, he had a direct route to my g-spot just by stabbing straight in and he could flutter the base of his tongue against my clit at the same time in skillful undulating waves. I whimpered and buried my face in the mattress, biting the material to try and hang on, cunt feeling like it was about to vibrate out of my body as it began a steady, showering spray of juice into his face, ebbing and flowing but never quite stopping as he plied his trade, giving my ass a victorious spank with every orgasm he produced from me.

As he turned his head, this way and that, tasting me from new angles, carving increasingly intricate shapes into my flesh with his tongue, working back and forth to play with just how deep his oral penetration could get I began to get lightheaded, cumming over and over again, I'd long lost count in this fight, but I think I must have shuddered through over sixty climaxes at this point, almost more than I'd sustained in the whole of my fuck-fighting career just in this one battle.

As usual, I tried to defend myself with my mouth, "Oooo yeah, come on Mikey baby, you said my cunt was food, so yeah, why don't you fucking eat it? Eat my cunt! I want my pussy so full of your fucking tongue we can french kiss from here!"

As my head swam in a sea of dizzying sparks, it only became a question of how I would lose this fight, not if. On the one hand, I was exhausted, every time I finished one cluster of climaxes to feel another begin, I was just filled with dread at the prospect of having to go on. Signaling to stop would free me. I wanted to. But even if by some miracle I was able to hold on, I was nearing la petit mort, enough of these overwhelming climaxes and I was sure to simply pass out. I couldn't imagine what the man must do with his tongue to keep it in this kind of shape, if I'd kept up this pace I'd be dying.

I concentrated hard despite the sweat rolling down to sting my eyes, focusing completely. Was he slower than he had been before? Was he flagging at all? I thought maybe he was missing a few beats here and there. Hope for that was all that kept me clinging to consciousness and kept me from tapping out in surrender. He couldn't keep this up, could he? Could he? Could he?

Oh but he could, at least for a long, long time.

Still, somehow I managed to hang on. When I wasn't biting the mattress for a moment I caught sight of myself on the big monitor, I was a MESS.

My skin was a glistening sloppy canvas of sweat by now and I could feel more beaded droplets rolling down my tits like they'd been oiled. The insides of my thighs were insanely streaked by my own cream, off-color from the rest of my sweaty skin. My eyes looked beyond exhausted, huge bags were beneath them and I was so worn down they looked dark too.

I looked back at him with a defiant grin despite my near defeat, "Hey cunt-eater, I bet you're gonna be tasting me for a fucking year."

He surprised me with a spank and a horny wink back, "I hope so, sugar-tits. Now shut up and cum for me some more!"

I braced for impact as my words seemed to give him a second wind, but he'd just begun to suck on my clit when the ref gave me the go-ahead.

"Change!" I called for. "Oral!"

Mike cursed as I finally squirmed into a sitting position. He lay against the headboard, legs spread, his cock still iron hard where it jutted up above his ping-pong balls nestled in their smooth scrotum.

I dived in for the kill, easily throating the tiny eight inches without even a gag, but I didn't want to deprive him of that clenching sensation men love, so I swallowed on him, letting my throat go "GLORK" on it as I worked it in and out of my deepest orifice. My hand moved to cup those balls, they were tight but he was still somehow holding out on me. I looked up, locking my eyes to his as that cock disappeared into my throat again and again, making sure he was watching the drool that spilled from my lips and made his nuts and shaft glisten, made she he saw the lust in my eyes, made sure he knew that even though I was tired he could never defeat me.

It was while I was looking up I saw his tongue unconsciously working around inside his mouth and I put it all together, how he could be so good at it, how he was relentless, how this was his speciality. The man had a fetish! His whole sexual context was for eating me out. A dangerous idea burst into my brain and I realized that if I could just treat him like he'd treated me, he would be my bitch. I pulled back, licking down his cock, pausing long enough at his balls to give each a big-lipped kisses, then I was working even lower.

My tongue striped down the flesh of his taint, bringing a loud and startled moan from him, and then I was between his ass-cheeks, finding his tight rim there. Now I was merciless. Every trick I'd felt him pull on me, I pulled on him, flickering my tongue, stabbing it deep, so deep I almost thought I could feel his prostate, I squirmed and rolled my head, making such a meal of his ass that there was no way for him to escape the mental connection to how thoroughly his tongue had been digging me out.

For the coup-de-gras my hands leapt up and seized his dick, pumping it savagely in big, skilfull two-fisted strokes. I pulled up from his ass long enough to wrap my mouth around his balls, almost pushing them into the firing position with my tongue as I jacked and jerked away. With a strangled cry of despair he blew, hitting himself in the face with his first gigantic blast of cum, then shuddering as I locked my lips onto his cockhead, sucking the jizz up, using the open valves to pull more from his ballsack then he normally would cum in one go. My hands kept massaging those nuts, working them all over to make sure I was draining every drop of cum right out of them, one hand still milking him right into my hungry, horny mouth.

I grinned and pulled back, triumphant.

"We're still in the Oral round, Mikey, I'll let you finish it!"

I pushed him gently onto his back and straddled his face, now stuffing him with the cunt he was once taking from me, force-feeding him my still engorged clit, grinding against him, doing all the work myself as I fed him wave after wave of my cream, I could hear him gargling and sputtering, and finally he lifted a hand helplessly in the universal symbol of defeat.

Instead of rolling off of him, I stood, letting the crowd see as my still flowing juices spewed out in one final, big squirty orgasm, marking him as owned, showing him who boss-bitch was as I gave him a pearl shower. "Mm you sure look pretty in all that cream, Mike. Does it taste as good as it looks? You fucking tell me!" I smeared my hand through some of the liquid, then crammed four fingers into his mouth, making him choke on them before standing up to the roar of the crowd.

Have I mentioned yet that I'm fucking magnificent?