Forced Fellatio
Having gotten her permission to photograph her, I went on to capture plenty of other sides of Marin through my camera lens.
Looking back over her shoulder shyly with her hips pushed out toward me, or thrusting her chest forward while putting her strength on full display.
She struck whatever pose I asked of her.
With an utterly composed expression devoid of even a trace of shame, she accepted my every command—no man alive could ask for more than that.
A woman who obeyed my every word without a single complaint, which only made her all the more adorable.
And yet I could say with certainty that she wasn't unhappy about it either—a being with a will of her own, not some doll.
That small fragment of honesty made my heart pound all the harder.
Just how far would Marin go to humor me?
Why not raise the stakes a little here and observe her reaction?
"Let's try this pose too."
I pulled up a photo on my phone screen and showed it to Marin.
The image that greeted her eyes was—
"The omangko dance?"
A dance where you stand with your legs spread, place both hands behind your head, and sway your hips.
It carried a few other meanings too, like being a posture of submission, among other things.
But among all the vulgar poses known to the general public(?), as far as I knew, nothing topped this one.
It was one of those poses every man dreamed of getting a woman to do.
"Me? Do this?"
"If you don't want to, you don't have to. It's your call."
I wasn't going to force her into it.
That would ruin the whole aesthetic of the tease.
What mattered was Marin's cooperation.
A woman braving her embarrassment to strike whatever pose a man she likes asks of her.
That's the good stuff, you know?
The only regrettable part being that the word "likes" in that sentence didn't refer to a lover.
Marin didn't see me as a member of the opposite sex.
Before anything else, she didn't even know that this counted as something lewd—that it was a sexual act.
Confessing your feelings, joining your bodies, and at the end of it all bearing the fruit of life.
That uniquely human expression of love that people understand on instinct—she knew nothing of it.
Marin granting my requests was nothing more than her doing as she was told, because I asked.
But the reason she lent me her ear in the first place was because she liked me.
She had devoted body and soul to a mission handed down since the age of gods, yet no one ever acknowledged her for it.
She'd escaped her duty and gained the freedom she'd longed for so desperately—but that was all.
Always lonely, always alone, she endured days that were long and hard.
Even the few people who spoke to her saw her as nothing more than a weapon—no more, no less.
With the priestess, her sole confidant until recently, gone from her side, her loneliness had been deepening when at last she met us at the academy.
She argued over beverages with Eva, studied side by side with Chloe and grew close with her, and passed the time trading idle chatter with me.
A steadfast presence that filled the empty seat beside her—she'd become our friend.
The people Marin could open up to had become the people she liked.
And now a man she'd grown close to was asking her to copy, exactly, the pose in that photo.
They were barely at the friend level, but to Marin, that carried special meaning.
"This is the thing that helps the cock go down, right?"
"Mm-hm. Of course it is."
"Okay. I'll try it."
Marin boldly spread her legs in front of me and set her hands behind her head.
The moment her supple, slender body reproduced the pose from the photo, the gap between her secret petals—sealed shut until now—parted ever so slightly.
With her legs spread as wide as they could go, her skin pulled taut, and there from that narrow, moist crevice peeked the pale-pink flesh that had never once permitted another's touch.
Click-click-click!
Seizing my chance, I hammered the camera shutter like a madman.
Beyond that, she coolly pulled off the jack-o challenge, a pose lying down with her legs spread in a V—a set of motions that would have driven anyone else to bite their tongue in mortification.
God damn, what a spectacle.
Admiration spilled from my mouth of its own accord.
I smacked my lips, scrolling through Marin's photos packed tight in my phone's album.
Storing a woman's lewd photos.
Not something scrounged from the internet, but a handmade craft, shot by my own finger pressing the shutter.
A rare item no one else in the world could ever obtain.
With this, I could squeeze one out anytime, anywhere, no matter the occasion.
This is my limit.
Between Marin's cuteness and that loveliness of hers, armored in pure innocence, my cock was one step from exploding.
Every time she presented her pussy before me, the urge to ram myself into her over and over surged ahead of everything else.
But I held out to the very end.
Why?
Because her service—her fellatio—wasn't finished yet.
I had a routine I followed without exception before penetration: always start by draining once first.
Be it a blowjob, a handjob, or a titfuck.
Only after emptying my balls completely could I savor sex for a long, long time.
"Let's resume what we were doing earlier."
The room where we slept and rested.
We headed to the baby-making factory—the bedroom.
The house's layout was identical to my own place, so I didn't get lost and went straight into that room.
The moment I stepped into the bedroom, I stripped off every stitch of clothing just like Marin had and sat on the edge of the bed.
I didn't forget to hit the record button on my phone camera to keep filming, either.
"Go ahead."
"Okay."
Marin gave a short reply, then knelt down and took my rigid cock in hand.
She wrapped her fingers around the base, put her strength into her grip, and began moving slowly up and down.
Stroking me with a pressure that was soft yet constricting, kneading and squeezing, warming my shaft with the heat of her palms.
The sensation spreading evenly from my dull root to my sensitive head made my hips twitch ever so slightly.
I'd known it for a while now, but her hand technique was simply superb.
"Let's put that mouth to work too. It'll be fun."
"My mouth? Do I suck it?"
"Sucking's fine, licking's fine too. Put your heart into it as much as you can."
While I was at it, I'd have her give me head and capture her cocksucking debut on my phone as well.
At my command, Marin brought her saliva-slick tongue tip to the tip of my urethra—
"Ptui! Tastes bad."
—and immediately spat in rejection, showing her clear distaste.
"It's fishy. And bitter."
"Well, it is a cock? It's only natural for that kind of smell and taste to come from the place you pee from."
"I like sweet things. I don't like bitter stuff, like coffee."
Once every morning, and once after evening exercise.
I kept clean with two showers a day, but that still wasn't enough to erase the foul scent and taste of a cock entirely.
Should I have drizzled chocolate syrup over my junk or something?
"I don't like this. I won't do it."
After going around in circles, Marin went back to fondling my cock with her hand.
She declared she would never put it in her mouth again.
Well, that's a shame, isn't it?
Isn't there some way around this?
Ah. That's it!
"Marin, I have a favor to ask. Could you open your mouth wide for me? Just once?"
"Like this?"
At my sudden request, Marin dropped her jaw as far down as it would go.
I set down the phone in my hand.
"Thanks, Marin."
Then I grabbed her head and shoved my cock roughly into her mouth.
Shlk!
"Uuu-mpf!"
All the way to the base in one stroke.
The sticky warmth of her throat wrapping around my root, and I sank into euphoria.
She won't grant the request?
Then I'll simply make her.
Forgiveness is easier to obtain than permission, as they say—for moments like these, brute force is the perfect answer.
"Ow-ow, I doh't like thih!"
Marin voiced her complaint through muffled, slurred words.
Even as she hammered her fists against my thigh in rapid succession to show how upset she was, she still moderated her strength so she wouldn't hurt me—such a good girl.
And watching her sulk after being force-fed something bitter was adorable in its own right.
Better finish this quickly.
A man's heart when he forces a woman to do something she hates.
I don't particularly like this approach either, but I did want to see Marin with my semen in her mouth.
Let's wrap things up within this moment, while she was indulging my whim.
"Doht stob. Feels good."
Ignoring her words, I worked my hips, driving my cock into her throat and pulling it out over and over.
Thud, thud—the tip of my cock stabbed at the back of her neck.
As the squirming, contracting hole clenched around my shaft, a pleasure that threatened to steal my breath slammed through my whole body.
Unlike with Yupi, I had nothing to hold back for.
Marin took my cock even better than Yupi had.
She wasn't the type to suffer pain from this kind of thing the way others would.
All that showed through her blunt, irritated manner was the grumbling born of being made to do something she disliked.
Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!
I kicked into a sprint.
My shaft, already pushed halfway past its limit, was heated by the slick warmth of that swamp of saliva glands.
A ferocious constriction, like a serpent coiling around its prey.
Her throat clamped down on my cock and released it, again and again—and then the signal came.
Here it comes!
With all my strength, I drove my cock to the very end of her throat.
Spurt! Spurt!
My seminal vesicles convulsed as if to burst, and something hot flooded the depths of her throat.
The crashing wave of release.
Even through that shuddering moment, I never let go of her head, pressing it down to make sure she swallowed every last drop of my seed.
A short while later, I pulled my cock from Marin's mouth.
Pop!
My rigid cock—despite having been in her mouth mere seconds ago—was still perfectly clean.
Her mouth, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.
"Solis, you bad man."
A thick layer of white fluid coated Marin's tongue, stretching in strands like strings of taffy, dripping drop by drop onto the floorboards.