Chapter 23 – Part 3, The Swinging Fuck/Suck

This is chapter 23, part 3 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.

Chapter 23 – Part 3, The Swinging Fuck/Suck

I needed to get back to Guatemala City as soon as I settled in the new apartment. I had to see my lawyer to get the writ of divorce. That would be easy: two days to write it, I’d send it to María for signing, and we’d bribe a judge to approve it immediately.

I also wanted to earn some quick cash. I emailed the medical Prof, and said I’d accept his offer. He immediately responded, full of enthusiasm and big plans for my visit. He had done extensive research on male bondage, and he sent me dozens of web links where I could see how I’d be tied-up and fucked. Some of the positions were outrageous, others interesting.

One of the positions showed a guy tightly bound, arms and legs, in a straight position, suspended horizontally from the ceiling, his partner rocked him back and forth a few inches while the bound guy slid his mouth over the other’s penis. I knew I’d have to kiss him and kiss his body, activities that were still repugnant, but I could bear it for the sum of money he offered – I was a prostitute. I replied with acceptance, same rules, and told him I’d be ready to pickup in a week. The Prof responded immediately again, pleased I hadn’t tried to renegotiate either money or activities. Maybe he thought I was crossing over completely.

He made me a better offer – I would stay permanently in his second house and be his submissive lover. I wouldn’t have to work or do anything other than suck and fuck him as he wished, bound up as he wanted. The Prof was an older guy (like me), not attractive (like me), and he offered a generous weekly payment, clothes budget, use of a car, etc.

I thought seriously about the situation for a while, wondering if male companionship could ever replace female companionship for me. It would be just sex, probably never affection on my side. Could the pleasure of male sex replace the desire for female affection? Would I be able to get used to that? Could I be an old queer? I remembered something María said to me many years back, she wanted a penis inside her, mouth or vagina, every day, that was her addiction. I remembered the Prof told me at the previous visit his students often offered him sex for grades, more often the girls than boys, and a little light bulb went off in my head. I had fantasies of fresh, tender vulvae and vaginae, one per day, and fresh, rock-solid penises.

I replied back we would start with the five days already agreed. If at the end of five days, everything went well, we would take a shot at being lovers. I suggested it would convenient if some of his students, boys and girls, came to participate. He replied with greater enthusiasm that student partners would be no problem. And if we became permanent lovers, he would come out of the closet, divorce his wife, and we would go to Mexico City to get married. I simply replied, “See you in seven days.” I now had a viable option for a future life, one that required no changes to my body. I was pleased.

I moved to the new apartment three days later, taking my few belongings, and some tools and supplies from the hobby room. I also brought the box with the snakes. I noticed the apartment had ‘smoke detectors’ in each room and an intercom. I never saw the main house again. I had my own separate entrance on a different street, and I started taking walks out in the country away from the town people. Stories about me had proliferated in the town, and I would be hounded if I went into the town.

Four days later, the Prof. came to get me in the afternoon. I carried only a small bag of clothes and my laptop. I left the zip-lock bag with María’s panty – it was sacred and could never touch that profane queer’s house. He was so excited to see me, and it did feel good to have someone that really seemed to like me, even if it was an old, leftist, closet homosexual. Once in the car, he asked me to open my zipper, he inserted his hand and found my bangles and testicles. He fondled me all the way to Guatemala City, and when we arrived, he took me to his newly installed bondage room. He had installed a system of rails across the ceiling, rings and hooks around the walls, and new ropes, cords, and chains stacked on a table. A large round bed dominated the room center, and there was a variety of other paraphernalia scattered around. It looked more like a chamber for an inquisition than a sexual playground. He installed all this since my last visit, and everything was unused.

Already installed in the room were three slings in-line at the height of his hips – the swinging penis suck position. He wanted to try it immediately, and I looked at it with engineer’s eyes. I told him I doubted it would work, but I undressed and climbed unbound into the slings with difficulty. I positioned my arms and legs as they would be when bound. The Prof stood in front of me, grabbed my head, and tried to swing me back and forth. As I suspected, it didn’t work. My weight and inertia were too great and my body swung where it wanted, not where he intended. Furthermore, my head was in the wrong position, my head was tilted back in an impossible position to maintain for more than a few seconds.

The Prof declined my suggestion that he sit, so I suggested several changes: my body would hang at an angle, my feet almost touching the floor with my head at his penis level. We would relocate the slings close to the wall, where I could use my feet to propel my forward motion; gravity and the hanging angle would bring me back. We made the adjustments, tried it out, and adjusted again several times. The Prof removed his clothes and we made a trial run – it would work!

The next problem was tying me up. If tied on the bed, I could never get into the slings – the Internet illustration of the position was bogus. So I had to lay in the slings and he bound me there. As expected, he tied me to protrude my breasts. He left my bangles and testicles hanging to swing freely and tied my penis up against my body. I was totally immobile except for my feet.

I started to swing back and forth, pushing with my feet. He stood in front of me with a decent erection, and I managed to capture his penis in my mouth. On the outward swing, my face bumped his abdomen, and I reduced the length of the swing so I wouldn’t lose his penis on the return swing. He guided my head, and I slid his penis in and out of my mouth, tonguing and sucking as I went. He got hard quickly. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensation of his penis sliding in my mouth. I imagined it was PP’s penis, I became aroused and I begin to suck him seriously. It worked, his penis engorged and began to pulsate. He grabbed my head, wanting to plunge his penis deep into my mouth for the ejaculation, and of course, my inertia pulled him with me as I swung. His body rocked back and forth for a moment and I stopped pushing with my feet He stayed deep in my mouth and ejaculated.

I tasted the semen in the back of my mouth and for some bizarre reason, I remembered María’s warning that sucking penis would be dangerous for me. She knew I’d like it too much, just as she did, and at this moment, I did like it very much, I loved it. I loved the taste and texture of the semen, I loved my A-cup breasts sticking out, I loved being naked, tied and immobile, I loved my fake testicles swinging below me. I loved the potential of my new life.

The Prof was shaken by the intensity of his climax, and he sat in the chair and watched me swinging gently in the sling. He wanted to fuck me, so he began to untie me. Half an hour or so later, I was laying on the bed, tied in a new position, my anus exposed waiting for his penis. I told him to fuck me slowly, to explore my groin, to make it last, and to talk to me as he stroked me. He still hadn’t tried to kiss me, so all was well up to that point. He lay down behind me, penetrated my anus, and we started to talk. His penis was smaller than PP’s, so I never got that fullness feeling I had with PP.

The first question I asked him was, “Why me?” He was totally candid – he loved my breasts, my bangles and hanging testicles, they were exotic. More importantly, his father had been ‘disappeared’ in the 1954 CIA overthrow of Guatemala’s leftist government. His father’s body was later found rotting in an open sewer at the bottom of a ravine, identifiable only by an inscription on the back of a crushed watch. The Prof hated Americans. He wanted to humiliate me and degrade me sexually. He would get a lot of points with his colleagues for having an American eunuch as his lover. He dreamed he’d be able to fuck me to death literally but thought that was just a fantasy. He was pleased a fellow Guatemalan had destroyed me sexually, stolen my wife, one of the outstandingly beautiful women in the country, and prostituted me. I was light skin, he was dark. He prattled through a long list of trivial (to me) reasons, none of which changed my mind about being there.

Then I asked him about my broken penis, I would never be able to fuck his anus or mouth. “Why me?” His answer was crisp and direct. He had hemorrhoids. He might suck my flaccid penis occasionally – the Prof was the only man to suck my penis at the parties, and I rewarded him with a feeble ejaculation. Maybe he liked the taste. He was otherwise indifferent to my crooked penis but thought together with my bangle’d testicles, it made an interesting decoration. I momentarily flashed on the image of my genitals stuffed and mounted on his wall, and wondered if that’s what he meant!

End of book content.

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