"Jeez, Dude!" Rick exclaimed. "Give her a break before you choke her to death!"
Lon stopped halfway in and eyed Beth critically. "You all right?"
"Uhm huhm," Beth got out around his shaft.
"Grab my arm if it gets too bad," Lon directed. "I’ve got something going here…" He went back to throat-fucking Beth, controlling her head and dragging her onto him while simultaneously snapping his hips to sink his log in her throat.
Beth’s eyes watered. Spit was pouring from her and her lips were taking a beating — but a lot of that was familiar, except perhaps for intensity. This was just like the good old days with Roy … Her throat was taking a beating, too, and she’d probably be hoarse, afterward — but she was wet between the legs. It wasn’t pleasant, but then Beth knew that fellatio wasn’t about GETTING pleasure — it was about GIVING pleasure; the primary rewards were a sense of accomplishment, the happiness of reflected joy, and a mouthful of semen…
Fortunately, Lon was in the fast lane; maybe thirty seconds elapsed before he hunched over her, locking up, grunted, "HUUUUUNNNGH!!!" and started pouring semen down her throat. Beth missed the first blast — Lon was buried deep for it — but managed to get him to back off and pour successive pulses into her mouth, rather than straight down her gullet. "Uh, yeah, sorry…" he gasped when he got the hint she provided by pushing at his thighs with both hands. Still, she nearly choked on the wonderful stuff before she got control of her mouth and throat.
Rick, watching her, observed, "She likes cum, Man. I’m sure THAT’s important…"
"Yeah…" Lon was busy recovering; the throat fuck had been STUPENDOUS! As to whether Beth gave better head than Mama — so what? He kind of hoped she did, since he wasn’t going to be getting head from Mama… "Let’s go get comfortable — I don’t want to fuck in the kitchen."
Candace and Toby were in Candace’s car, headed for Beth’s. Once the conversation was over, Toby had proven to be superb as a lover — but Candace was bothered that he had never granted control to her — and she had perversely enjoyed it that way. Normally, when she had sex, things got done her way; if she felt like it, she would grant requests, but in general she said who, she said where, she said how … Toby hadn’t allowed that. From the moment she’d inexplicably started trying to deep-throat him, Toby ran things, directing her to do whatever he wanted and brooking no arguments. And it had been just fine — good, in fact!
Previously, Candace had understood dominance intuitively and submission only in theory, the operative thought process any time she was presented with submissive behavior being, You won’t get ME to do THAT! Her few forays into BDSM culture had been under the tutelage of a male Dominant and operating on a female submissive, and the Dom had never sought to control her — or had he? Had she been a Domme in training, or first slave? No, the Dom had directed her activities, but he had never challenged her directly. So what was up with Toby? Why did she, well, submit to him? Was it just the fact that she needed his support and approval to control Beth? Her gut said no…
They’d had missionary-style sex — okay, maybe not quite, since Toby was standing up beside the bed and she was lying on it, but it was close. Candace didn’t do missionary much — she preferred to be on top. But Toby had made it good — oddly, by refusing to respond to her various bouts of begging and pleading and cajoling, and doing his own thing instead. He’d frustrated her to death at some points, slowing down or shifting his stance so he impacted her differently at the last moment before she was to get her cum — but the virtual insanity of her frustration had made the peaks he DID allow her even more intense, and she’d gotten three that exhausted her so much that she’d barely been able to hold it together so he could cum in her before she collapsed. Maybe the worst thing was the psychological warfare — when he did those things that denied her orgasm, he added to her frustration by making it clear that he was doing it deliberately! Candace figured that Rick was going to catch Hell the next time they had sex — she was going to need some self-validation. But for now, Toby — cute, myopic, quiet little Toby — was in charge. Actually, that description didn’t really reflect the creature sitting beside her; she suspected that sometime that afternoon, the real Toby had come out of his cocoon and the Toby everyone thought they knew was gone forever.
Toby wasn’t so sure; the afternoon had been just — weird. The patina of confident control he was exuding was a thin shell over a LOT of uncertainty; Toby was winging it. Having observed Pa lording it over Ma on numerous occasions, he had a gist of what he was supposed to be doing, but it was more of a gut feeling than anything else — besides, Pa hadn’t always done things right, and it was up to Toby to figure out where he slipped up — by guessing, apparently.
Candace had set him off but good, asking those questions about Pa and his methods — Toby had watched his father put his mother through those hoops, impotent to do anything about the massive injustice of the whole situation. That had made it easy to hate and dismiss his father when he left, which had perhaps eased his childhood somewhat. When Candace took the blinders off, however, that was when things got strange. Suddenly, all manner of odd things began to make sense — particularly Ma’s odd behavior. But there were other things, like his odd connection with Jean and Candace’s odd reaction to him when he got angry. Now, of course, that anger was gone — but it left behind a whole new set of imperatives. Toby didn’t know what he was going to do about his friends, but the paths to dealing with Candace and Ma were clear — and the path to dealing with Jean was, too, basically. Candace, he would control — and Ma, too, through Candace. Jean was another matter — maybe. He had no intention of CONTROLLING Jean, but he WOULD break down her defenses…
The upcoming confrontation was something he didn’t have detailed plans for — but he knew generally how he was going to handle it. Candace probably thought she had a handle on what he was going to do, too — and that was a bad thing, so he was going to have to be sure to do something unpredictable…
Candace glanced at Toby sidelong, wondering just what kind of monster she had created. He hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten into the car … What do you do about someone who was less experienced, but arguably smarter than yourself? Once you’re in the net, how do you get back out? That would have to wait; things were moving too quickly to be playing chess in your head… "There is a camera in the glovebox," she murmured.
Toby nodded, turning his attention to her. "You need pictures?"
"It will make things easier," she replied.
"It will also be visible evidence that could fall into the wrong hands," Toby pointed out.
"Yes." Candace thought furiously. "Well, I don’t have to keep them — we can erase them, after, as long as Beth doesn’t know."
"Yes…" 'Not just Ma, though, ' thought Toby. Others should be incriminated, too, to make it all effective. Since she was planning to delete the pictures, it should be simple to get Candace to agree to have other pictures taken, too … Perfect. Toby made a show of taking out the camera, slipping the memory card out of it, and tossing the card into the glovebox before reassembling the camera; what Candace DIDN’T see, since she was driving, was that he palmed the memory card and tossed something ELSE — an ink pen cap — into the glovebox and reassembled the camera with the memory card installed after all. "We’ll just take a lot of pics with an empty camera and let everyone draw their own conclusions," Toby chuckled.