Pushing the Limit

I was not finished with his dick. I wanted more, and the yearning turned me into a moaning whore in his lap. The nastiness of what I was doing fogged my senses. The ball of spit and cum inside my mouth coated everything. I let it leak from my lips again and again just to lap it back up into my cheeks. My thighs spread open out of some perverse reflex. My motions in Peter's lap mashed my fake breasts into their cups in my bra. The inner demon I hid everyday had clawed its way completely to the surface, and she gobbled the man's cock and cum as if it were her last meal. Distantly in my mind I hoped it would all be enough to convince Peter.

Maybe it was working. Peter writhed beneath me, groaning again and cupping my skull with his hand. The dick in my mouth had lost a bit of strength, feeling more elastic and chubby between my lips. I glared up at Peter, pulling his cock straight again with my dripping lips. He watched me in awe, jerking when he felt me slide across his glans. I swirled the cum around his tip, swallowing it up as it glided over my tongue. The thickness sat in my throat, while I whipped cum and spit in my mouth, the ball of filth ever growing.

Too many tongue motions across that ultra sensitive tip became too much for Peter. I felt the pain of him tugging my hair once more, only now he was most certainly pulling my lips off of his dick. The spent cock sagged away, with milky globs pooling at his balls. I gasped and wiped at my lips with my thumbs, looking toward Peter to gauge what came next. I was still so worked up. My little cock was trying to poke through my panties now.

For several moments the two of us stared at each other gasping. I couldn't even be sure how long I'd blown him. I'd been so lost in what I was doing. I realized I was tensed like a coiled spring, hoping that there was more and waiting to see. Peter regarded me with different eyes now. I could only wonder if he still saw the girl that I saw earlier in the mirror or if he now saw someone else. He looked weary but in shock.

Peter stood and quickly stepped past me with his dick still dripping. He fetched his shorts, not bothering to dress.

"I... uh, I'll be back... just a sec."

That was all he said. Peter hurried toward the hall at the far side of the room.

I was left on my knees alone, with a tumult of emotions crashing through one another. The silence of the living room was now so evident. I glanced around as though I'd just crash landed on a foreign planet. I was still gasping, and I kept wiping my thumb at the corner of my lips. The film on my tongue never seemed to disappear.

I stared at the hall with the fog of lust still clouding my senses. The adrenaline coursed through me, though my heartbeat started to slow to a jog. Sexual energy was ready to burst in my body, so much that I felt like writhing in the floor and rubbing myself or fingering my long necglected hole. A hopeful, excited part of me thought to climb to my feet and saunter down the hall after Peter, and toss him to the bed.

Even now, I knew better. I knew what he was feeling.

I gathered my bearings and stood, silently lamenting how carried away I'd gotten. That had to be only minutes. I wanted so much more, I wanted to convince him to do so many more things, but... that wouldn't happen today.

Defeated, I collapsed onto the couch. My mind raced in hopes of an idea to keep things going. I stared down at my thighs, which I held together in some attempt to temper my arousal. I didn't need to lift my skirt to feel the bulge in my panties, which begged for attention. My tits swelled out with my every breath, the black bra just visible under my thin white shirt. The energy had nowhere to go. All that preparation and buildup had led to a spectacular face fuck that I still couldn't stop thinking about.

But it would be over now.

It wasn't long before Peter came back into the room, fully dressed again. I tousled my hair and leaned forward, hopeful. I offered him a weak smile, but he stopped short in the middle of the living room and stood there staring at me with his hands on his hips. Peter shook his head.

"Wow," he said.

That drew a grin from me.

"Yeah," I answered.

Peter's eyes swept across my body again, though his gaze was much different than before. Something was gone. He motioned to me with one hand, searching for the words.

"How?" He asked. "How are you able to look so damn incredible?"

I held my smile, feeling warmth from the compliment, but letting my eyes fall away into the distance of my mind.

"Believe me," I said, "it takes a lot of time."

"It pays off," Peter assured me.

There were a few seconds of silence as I waited for something more, anything.

"Um... listen, sorry about... doing that... being so forceful," Peter said. "I didn't... mean to get so carried away."

I looked up at him from the couch and crossed my legs. I scrunched my shoulders into a little shrug.

"I love carried away," I said. "You should... try it more."

Peter nodded. "Uh, and... sorry for getting there so soon. It's just that you're... that was incredible."

I shook my head, feeling my curls bounce on my shoulders. "It's fine. It was great."

Euphoria swirled and mixed with some measure of disappointment. I watched Peter head into the kitchen and fix himself a glass of water. I could only wonder what was next. Maybe I could stay for a while and then try--

"Hey, listen, I've been wanting to ask you something," Peter said.

I looked at him expectantly. Peter stepped back into the living room, sipping from the glass of water.

"Do you... still do Grindr at all? Or no?"

I blinked. "Um, not since I started coming over. Why?"

Peter looked like he was struggling to formulate the words.

"I didn't know... if you still...." Peter sighed. "There's a guy. Um... friend of mine, right? We play poker with some other guys every other Wednesday night. We go way back, he's a pretty cool guy. Name's Brent."

I lifted one of my eyebrows. "Yeah? So?"

Peter pulled the words out, motioning with a single hand as he spoke.

"So, he's been going through a lot lately," Peter went on. "He and his wife are separated. They've been together for like twenty years, their kids are grown, and he's having a hell of a time right now. So... a few weeks ago, we're playing poker, and we're drinking, and his phone goes off, and I recognize the notification sound."

I nodded. "Right."

Peter smiled a bit and continued.

"So I'm the only one that catches it," Peter said. "Later on we're outside, and I'm tipsy. He's drunk. So, I bring it up, right?"

I leaned forward, happy that the small talk was keeping me there at Peter's house. I could only hope Peter wanted to hang out a while longer.

"What did he say?" I asked. "Did he admit to being on Grindr?"

Peter sucked in a breath and blew it out. He nodded.

"Yeah," Peter said. "To say the least. He kinda unloaded everything on me. He's fooled around in the past, had some crazy times back in the day... we talked a lot about how Nina was just like Kathy, so on and so forth."

The connections in my head started firing. I froze up.

"Did you tell him about us?" I blurted.

Peter leaned against a wall at the open threshold of the kitchen. He tilted his head in an odd manner while I held my breath.

"No, not exactly," Peter said.

I relaxed somewhat.

"I did...." Peter trailed away, swirling the ice in his glass. "I uh, I did tell him that I'd been seeing someone, and he acted really interested in... that."

For several seconds, I just blinked, feeling my eyelashes fan the air while I tried to make sense of the whole story. I thought I knew what Peter was asking... I just wasn't sure why.

"I just was wondering how you'd feel about me giving Brent your number," Peter finally said.

I stared at Peter. I was caught so offguard by the idea that all I could do was gawk while my mind turned flips. Peter waited, tapping his shorts and sipping from the glass. He looked as though he might bolt if I gave the reaction he feared. I was still in shock.

"For, what... this?" I said, motioning to the couch.

Peter shrugged. "Well, yeah or... for whatever."

"Did you give it to him?" I asked.

"No, of course not," Peter said quickly. "I wanted to be sure you were okay with it. I didn't know if you still did Grindr and you two were both on there, or if he--"

I held up a hand and shook my head, more to break the fog loose than anything.

"No," I said. "I mean... no, I'm not on Grindr right now. Not since I've been with... coming over here. D-did he ask about me or something?"

"Well, no, he just acted interested when I told him I've been, you know... fooling around." Peter paused. "It was just a thought. I was just curious if you might be interested, too. Maybe I'd give him your number and you could see what happened. I won't... if you don't want that."

I gazed blankly into the living room. I thought of how I'd gotten here, how I met Peter for the first time, and just how terrifying it had been. It had all brought me to this moment, dressed as a girl in another man's home with his cum sticking to my throat. I couldn't deny that Peter and I had so many fun times, but it always seemed to end this way.

The chill that gripped my insides in that moment felt scary. I hadn't felt something like that in so long, not even the times meeting up with Peter in the past year. The lingering excitement of being face fucked just moments ago, and the undeniable thrill of being controlled, still felt so fresh, as well as the let down of finishing so quickly.

That chill seemed so appealing. Scary felt scary all over again.

"Alan?"

I blinked and glanced over at Peter. I stood, stooping to pick up my crop top from the living room floor. When I did, the stiffness of my little cock was constricted by the lace thong under my skirt. I briefly glanced at Peter, my mind still a swarm of emotions and confused thoughts that wouldn't sit still.

"I gotta get back," I told Peter. "There's some places I need to go b-before they close and... I need to go."

Peter said nothing as I shuffled toward the garage door in my heels. It wasn't the way I wanted to leave. It wasn't what I wanted to say. I felt so vulnerable and silly now, dressed the way I was. I swallowed the knot in my throat, feeling the stickiness on my tongue once more. That made me think of Peter's fingers tightening through my hair, jerking my scalp, cramming my face deeper into his naked crotch.

I stopped walking. I crossed my arms, feeling the bulbous silicone in the bra I wore. I shifted my weight to one hip and swept a curl of hair behind my ear. I stared at the garage door, thinking of Vicki, thinking of Peter, and remembering the girl with the big seductive eyes in the mirror.

I turned toward Peter, blinked a few times to feel my lashes fan the air, and offered him a tiny grin.

"Give him my number," I said. "Tell him to text me."

****

Only the light from my TV illuminated my living room. I was sitting on my sofa with a glass in my hand, staring at the characters on the screen, but not really seeing them. I wasn't even sure how late it was. I only knew it was dark out, and that it was comfy to be alone on my couch, not having to worry about waking up for another busy morning shift at work.

I could be myself at last, even though I wasn't sure what exactly that meant.

I was in a pair of thin jogging sweats and the same white tee that I'd worn to Peter's house earlier that day, though I'd removed the fake breasts and bra. The black lacy panties still hugged my crotch snugly, and I could feel the thong peeking out over my sweats as I lounged with my legs curled beneath me. My hair was still down and many of the soft curls remained, but gone was the makeup and the rest of my illusion. Still, it was nice to relax however I wanted to in my own living room.

I felt caught somewhere midway between dressed and not. I was Alan and Alison together and had no idea who I truly was.

I sipped from the wine glass and blankly watched the show that lit up the living room. My little couch and tiny living room were nothing like Peter's, but I felt boxed in and safe in my own cozy home. Normally, a night like this would be just the thing I looked forward to, where I could be alone and be myself. My eyes kept drifting into a cloud of thoughts in the dim room, and my mind would fall into the void while I stared in a daze.

I couldn't stop thinking about Peter's house. I should have felt amazing. It was everything I'd been looking forward to after a long week. I could still feel him in my mouth. I could still feel his fingers gripping me by the hair. It floored me each time that he still called, that he still chose to do that with me. I could taste how worked up he was, even still as I curled on the couch in the dark.

I just felt so empty tonight.

I sipped my wine, conscious that it was making my head start to swim. I thought of long ago when I'd first slipped into a thong like the one I wore now, or the first time I'd done my makeup and gazed at a girl in the mirror. A lot of it was still a thrilling secret that I kept for myself, but each milestone had come and passed. Even Peter. I remembered the way I'd climbed in his lap earlier in the day. I should have taken his perfect dick out right then. I shouldn't have given him a choice. I wanted so much more than handjobs and blowjobs. I'd gotten just the taste of more when he'd forced my head into his lap and fucked my mouth today.

The thought alone caused my own dick to push against the lace that imprisoned them.

Maybe Peter didn't see me that way. The lust had left his eyes when he came, and he'd immediately jumped up to clean himself up. That partially made me feel slutty and vindicated, like I was a call girl or a mistress used only for her mouth.

I just wanted more. Peter had never fucked me. Ever. I once thought I'd never want that. That had apparently changed and become a milestone, too.

I downed the glass of wine and reached for the bottle on my little coffee table. When I sat forward, my joggers slid down my hips while the thong pulled itself tighter through my ass cheeks. I could feel the cool air in my house kissing the tops of my cheeks, and I knew the thong was exposed above the waistband of my sweats. I loved the feeling. Another glass of wine made my girly night feel even better.

But I was using the wine to drown the doubts. Why would he never go further? Maybe it was because Peter was so nervous about it every time. He always let me lead. He would never pull off my panties. He'd never try to bend me over, or slap my ass, or be rough with me in any way.

Maybe he still saw Alan. No matter how sexy or girly I dressed, I was probably still a random guy he hooked up with on Grindr for a blowjob. The fact that I looked like a girl when I did it probably just made the scenario easier for him to stomach. The thought was still kinky but a bit depressing. Maybe I wasn't a sexy girl to him, but a kinky guy who sucked him off and gave him release, that reminded him of his experimental college days or something.

I ran my hand through my long hair. My mind felt stretched thin, pulled in nine different directions and ready to tear. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know why I felt so incomplete. I certainly didn't know why I still dressed like a girl when I wasn't one, or why I was sitting in the dark like I'd been dumped by my boyfriend. It was all so stupid. The doubts began to curl me into a ball of shame. No matter how comfy and pretty I felt on my couch, I was still a freak.

My phone lit up on the coffee table and vibrated loudly on the glass. I sighed. If work was trying to call me in for a shift in the morning on my day off, I vowed to throw the phone across the room. I swiped open the screen to see a text message from a number that I didn't know. I squinted when I saw the length of the message and pulled the phone closer to read.

Hey Alison. i got your number from Peter. We just played poker and he told me about you. i hope its alright to text you. Give me a shout when you get this. If youd rather use the app i get that. Lookin for some one to talk to.

I read the text several times dumbfounded. It was Brent. Of course it was. Poker night was Wednesday. I hadn't expected anything to happen so soon. Peter had already told him. How much did he tell him?

He called me Alison.

I stared into space, trying to swallow down my heartbeat. Familiar terror started to flood my veins as memories of messaging strangers flashed in my mind. I debated on talking with him. He couldn't be much worse than Peter if they were friends. Maybe he was shy and timid, too.

And maybe he wasn't.

I bit my lip as the cascade of worries and excitement fell through me. I glanced at the time on the phone, realizing how late it was. I could easily ignore the message. I could delete it. I took a big gulp of wine and started to realize that I had no intention of putting the phone down. It trembled in my hand. A stranger had reached out to me for... reasons. Reasons Peter had no doubt told him about.

My thumbs darted across the screen.

Hi there! Is this Brent?

I gasped as the message was sent. It was like signing a contract or hitting a giant "accept" button. I curled myself back onto the couch in the dark, with a glass of wine in one hand and my phone in the other. I watched the screen with eyes that were now fully awake and aware, awaiting the response. I didn't have long to wait.

Sure is. What are you up to?

I grinned a bit, which felt more like a grimace. It wasn't the best opening line. But he was talking to me. I curled tighter and my right thumb began hammering out the response.

Being lazy. Getting tipsy. Wyd?

It felt like texting a boyfriend or something. My girly little feelings began spinning back up while I watched for Brent's response.

Just got home. Got pretty tipsy myself at Peters house. He was tipsy too. He told me he had some fun early today

My heart was bouncing around in my chest. I could only imagine a bunch of guys drunk around a poker table. My entire body flushed warm as I wondered if Peter had told all of his friends about me or just this guy.

I kept my reply simple. Yeah? What did he say?

I blushed reading Brent's next message.

He told me a cutie came by and sucked his cock. Said she gives the best head he ever had and like to swallow ever drop.

My next sip of wine ran down my cheek. I couldn't keep my hands still.

I kept playing along and sent, Sounds like he had fun. He could have had so much more. Im better at more than that. ;)

I was dipping my toe into dangerous territory. It was so thrilling though. I wondered if this would even pan out. I'd learned to open up this way in the past just to be ghosted ninety-nine percent of the time.

Brent's response read, What else can you do baby

I chuckled. It was corny and endearing at the same time. I considered my response, but stayed vague.

A little of everything. What you looking for?

Brent's reply was swift. More than Peter got.

My heart sailed and a jolt of electricity shot through my every limb, sending goosebumps across my skin. The bulge behind my joggers was fattening and swelling against its lacy confines. I realized that I'd just gotten the confirmation that I always wanted but had never asked anyone for.

If this guy wasn't leading me on, he wanted to fuck me.

The thought alone had me shaking. I had to make sure this was real.

Did Pete tell you I am special? Im not like other gurls....

Peter said the guy was on Grindr. Surely he knew... how I was. Part of the fear was a stranger finding out that I came with extra parts. I shuddered to think of leading some guy on just for him to find out....