Sugasm #106

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Dark Cold Moons

"I was going to let you tit-fuck me," Ms. Nuit said.

I groaned and kept masturbating.

"I was going to suck your cock till it was slick enough to slide between my tits," my dark tormentor said.

I moaned and stroked faster.

She cupped my balls and squeezed. Nails sharper than tacks threatened my skin.

"Now I am not," she said.

I nodded. It was unfair. It was cruel. It wasn't my fault that the buses ran late today. It wasn't fair that I decided to eat dinner early before coming home. I didn't even know she would be here, sitting in my apartment waiting to give me these wonderful gifts. None of this was my fault but I agreed to her punishment. It was what I deserved.

I don't know how long Ms. Nuit had been inside my apartment waiting for me. When your apartment manager sneaks into your apartment for sex, it seems almost rude to ask her questions about her break-ins. I knew she had been here awhile because when I walked in the door, the apartment was already filled with her spicy perfume.

I also knew she was pissed by the way she tapped her foot but to be honest I wasn't thinking much about that. Ms. Nuit was sitting in the one chair I had in the apartment; a cheap piece of white plastic that seemed far too tawdry a piece of furniture for someone as refined as Ms. Nuit. Funny how she was sitting topless in the chair, but my first concern was that my chair wasn't good enough for her. I thought she was pissed because all I had for her was a chair I bought from IKEA.

"Come here, Dwayne," she said. "Do you like to keep me waiting?"

"No," I said. I almost said something about not knowing she was here but I kept quiet.

She looked at me. Ms. Nuit had to decide if the wait had ruined whatever she wanted to do. I took the chance to look at her. Every time she had sucked me off, she had kept her clothes on. Now she was sitting here with her blouse and bra neatly folded on the table beside her. her red and gold skirt was still on but that was okay. I could see her beautiful dark breasts and that is all I needed. They were perfect black moons and as pissed as she was, they were just as untouchable as the moon.

"Take off your pants," she commanded. Which is how I ended up stroking my cock in front of my merciless landlord. That is why she was slowly crushing my bails in a sharp nailed vise. This is why I was jacking my cock as fast as I could. I was just praying that I would come before she told me to stop.

This is why I was so damn hard.

Her fingers pulsed around my balls and I cried out from the sharp pain. "You could never afford a place like this without my permission," she said.

I nodded. Outside my window I could see the nighttime beauty of Atlantica. My face flushed with shame but I kept stroking.

"You live her because I find you useful," Ms. Nuit said.

"Yes," I groaned. I was so close. Her luscious tits were inches away from me. The dark jewels of her nipples looked as hard as my cock.

"Remember that," Ms. Nuit said although I could tell from her voice that she knew I never forgot it.

My legs shook from standing on the bus and now having to masturbate while standing before her. I stayed on my feet out of pure lust. Well, that and Ms. Nuit still had my balls in her grip. I could have stood there for a hundred years for her.

"Now come," she said.

It took me barely a minute. I cried out as I came. My seed flew from my cock and landed on her breasts. My white stream seemed to glow on her dark skin. I watched in fascination as I kept pumping. I pumped load after load onto her dark skin in a futile attempt to somehow touch those forbidden globes. I only stopped stroking when I knew I was completely finished.

The sharp fingernails dug into my balls and my cock ejected a few more drops.

Ms. Nuit released me. She stood up and her come-covered tits came so close to touching me.

"Help me dress," she said.

My heart leaped. I reached for her brassiere. It was dark red with gold fringe. I couldn't guess how large her lovely breasts were, but I instantly knew that her brassiere was a d-cup. I guess being a clothier does have it's advantages. I picked it up and tried to help her put it on.

Ms. Nuit took it from my hands and put it on herself. She pressed her brassiere to her tits, not bothering at all to wipe herself first. She smeared my come into her body and I felt that once again she was taking something of me away for later use. Ms. Nuit did turn around and let me fasten her clasp for her. My fingers brushed her skin and I was grateful for that little touch.

I next helped her with her blouse but this time I didn't get to touch her at all.

"You have too much space," Ms. Nuit said. "Get some furniture or something."

"I'm planning on buying some stone for a sculpture," I said. "I'll need the space."

Ms. Nuit snorted. The nails, the humiliating words and perpetual teasing didn't hurt me nearly as much as that mocking snort. "I'll beleive it when I see it," she said.

She left my apartment. I sat down in the chair and took a deep breath. Her spicy scent filled me. My cock was still throbbing and my balls were still sore. I was tempted to masturbate again but what she said bothered me. She didn't beleive I was ever going to work on my sculpture. It should have made me angry but I felt like she was right. I would rather look at her tits. I would rather feel her nails on my skin. I would rather be used by her.

This weekend, I swear I am going to go stone shopping.

Panties

I haven't talked about my job much. I work as a clothier, which means I technically work on women's undergarments. I should be repairing brassieres, panties and corsets. I should be mending tears, rebuilding underwires and resizing corsets as the client grows or shrinks.

The reality is far less interesting. Mr. Everett does all the actual repairs. He works in the back with his assistants while I sit out front behind the desk. Mr. Everett says that all of his new assistants do this but I am dubious. I'm not sure what manning the registrar and writing down order forms does for me as a clothier. I shouldn't complain too much I guess. It is a ridiculously high paying job where my only trouble is dealing with women who have damaged underwear.

The one good thing is that I get a tiny amount of work to do. Sometimes we don't have a client come in for hours, so Mr. Everett keeps me busy by giving me panties to mend. At first I used to find it a little boring but after getting yelled at by one client for the really crappy job I did, I take it a lot more seriously. It can be really interesting. You have to get the thread color just right. You have to simulate the stitch or else the fix can look worse than the tear. It's less about repairing panties and more about recreating them. Every pair of panties are different and you really don't appreciate that till you have to find the right shade of crimson lace to go along the edge of a waistband.

I wasn't going to mention my job. I mean, it's sexy and all but I thought I would keep a little but to myself. I'm telling you about how I like it when Ms. Nuit's fingernails grip around my balls so you can forgive me if I want to keep somethings to myself. I had worked out a fake job to tell you about and even researched it a little but now that seems so stupid.

Plus, I really want to tell you about Mrs. Avfyra and her panties.

Mrs. Avfyra is a large woman with golden red hair. There is something just big about her, from her smile, to her rosy cheeks, to her immense bust to her very wide hips. She's so loud and her hair always floats like a halo around her head. It's thick and heavy but there is just so much of it that it fills your vision. I like her a lot. She's always happy and her panties are like nothing else.

The first thing you notice is how sweet they smell. Her panties smell like applesauce. There's nothing else to describe it like. At first I thought it might be perfume, or some sort of detergent scent. If you put them beside other panties, they will start to smell too.


You know how a bad apple spoils the barrel? With Mrs. Avfrra's panties, it's like they are the apple that makes rotten apples edible again.


Mrs. Avfrya is a large woman like I have said, so her biggest problem is in the back where the material strains. They often need to be patched and I have to admit that this kind of repair is my least favorite kind of work to indulge in. With Mrs. Avfrya's panties, I never mind. With the smell of apples filling my senses, it's an honor to repair them. It's like fixing summer.

Yesterday she came by to pick up a pair she left with us. It was a bright green pair of panties with a blue flower pattern. I had to rebuild one flower petal by petal with my thread but I did it. I'm supposed to charge an hourly rate but for Mrs. Avfrya I always cut it by half. I do that because when I work on hers, I take my time soaking in her scent.

When I showed the fixed pair to her, her cheeks got so bright and happy. She leaned across the counter and hugged me so tight to her bountiful breasts. I happily allowed myself to be smothered as the scents of apples enclosed my face.

It took all I had not to open my mouth and lick that beautiful cleavage.

When she released me from her grip, my vision was swimming. Her hair seemed to light the air on fire. It might be November but I was sweating from the heat of essence. I wanted to dive back into her breasts and stay there.

"I have two more pairs for you," she said in that thick accent of hers. "Can they be done by Friday?"

I picked them up. One was pink like a sunset and the other was black lace. Both were torn across the back. The lace one was going to be trouble I could tell.

They both smelled of apples.

"Certainly," I told her. She didn't hug me, but her smile warmed me the rest of the day.

Time Flies When You're Being Sucked

Wow, that was a longer break between posts than I was expecting. I really need to get better at this. I was planning to do a day by day journal but it got a little pointless fast. I mean, should I post every day that I went looking for marble but couldn't find any affordable?

What complicates things is that I haven't been looking every day. I come home from work and Ms. Nuit either leaves a note under my door, or like yesterday, she was in here waiting for me. I know I really need to be looking for materials for my sculpture but my god, I have never been sucked so completely like Ms. Nuit does.

When my cock is in her mouth, I feel like everything wrong with my day is being drained out of me.

When her fingernails cut into my balls, I feel like I am too precious to really harm.

When her hand pumps my cock, I feel like I am being primed for something better than I am.

When I climax down between her dark brown tits, I feel something valuable in me is being stored away.

Afterwards, when she leaves after refusing to let me tough her, I start masturbating. I pump my cock and picture all the things I want to do to her. I think about fucking her cunt that I have never seen. I think about biting her tits while she rides my cock. I think about holding her forbidden body and my second orgasm takes the rest of my strength out of me.

But on the days when she doesn't come by my apartment, I find it hard to leave. One time, she came by an hour after I had gotten home. She pushed me down to my couch and opened my pants. She took everything I had, sending my seed into those perfect tits. She hasn't ambushed me at home again, but she might.

She might.

So most days when I come home, I don't leave. How can I? How can I leave knowing she might arrive and I won't be here?

What if I am gone the day she decides that she wants my cock between her tits? Or between her thighs?

So I come home. Some nights I am sucked. Some nights I masturbate alone.

And I am no closer to buying the stone I need for my sculpture.