Life in the Nasal Reserve
Joanna called me this afternoon, and invited me over.
Before I left, I stood in front of the mirror and wondered how far I'd let her go, and why I even let her do these weird things to me. I wanted to please her, even though nothing I did actually pleased her. I did whatever she asked me to, but that only seemed to make things worse. I was a fool, was the basic problem, I decided.
Joanna is five feet tall and has long, thick black hair. She's voluptuous, with good- sized knockers and wide hips. She's not a stunner, but she's got something between her legs that should probably be kept in a cage with armed guards around it. It would warrant an entire episode of "Wild Kingdom."
For one thing, it's hairy, and I don't mean she doesn't spend much time trimming her pubic hair. We're talking sasquatch. Her bush starts at the top of her thighs and runs all the way to her naval. You couldn't cover it with a dinner plate.
When she's excited, her labia swell and spread open like an enormous flower, revealing a big, cock-shaped clitoris. She can have more clitoral orgasms in a single session than you can even count. Her cunt oozes copious paste and she can have squirting orgasms that soak the bed, and I don't mean soak the sheets. I mean soak the mattress.
I've read that all men and women have in them both male and female hormones. A woman who has more male hormones than average is likely to have several characteristics: hairiness, a big clitoris, and aggressive behavior. If you've ever met a loud, pushy woman and wondered if she had a cock, you were probably right. Joanna used to make me get down on my knees and give her blowjobs. Her clit will rise up and stand at attention and she loves having it sucked on. She probably has more male hormones than I do.
I had been her boyfriend for a while, which had been difficult, partly because of the way she insisted on controlling things. The sex was great, but it consisted mostly of me trying to satisfy that hairy beast of hers, and rarely succeeding.
Also, I like a woman to be creative and fanciful, but when it gets to the point where you haven't a clue what she's going to do next, that's too much. It's unnerving.
An example of that occurred about three months ago, when she simply told me one day that I was no longer her boyfriend and that she wasn't going to have sex with me anymore. She said I was just the kind of man she liked, big and dumb, but that she wasn't satisfied in the relationship. I stood there, in her kitchen, more or less in a state of shock. Five minutes later, she was fucking my face, and I was letting her.
After giving me the bad news, she had just looked at me for a minute, and then smiled and reached up and touched me.
"You do have a sexy nose, though," she said. (I have a rather prominent, Roman- type nose. It's not huge, but it does stick out pretty good from my face.)
She stood in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders. I didn't understand what she was doing but I felt her pressing down with her hands, so I lowered myself until I was all the way down on my knees. She gently pushed me until my back was against the wall, and then told me to sit on the floor. She stood facing me, very close, looking down at me, and then pressed her crotch into my face.
She leaned back and pulled up her denim skirt and then thrust her hips forward and began rubbing her damp panties against me. They were soaked in no time, and I was lost in the intoxicating fragrance of her cunt. She slowly rubbed the wet cotton all over my face.
She leaned back again and looked down at me and said in a breathy voice "You just hold still now, baby." Holding her skirt up with one hand, she used the other hand to pull down her panties to mid-thigh. When she pushed herself against me again, I felt the wet lips of her cunt fold around my nose. She slowly began to gyrate, rubbing her clit against it.
The paste began flowing out of her, as she stood there panting, pushing her cunt up and down against my nose. After a couple of minutes she let go of her skirt. It fell down on my face, and she pulled it behind my head and held the sides of my head with both hands, over the skirt. My head was trapped in that hot dark space, trapped with that furry, spewing animal of hers. She brought herself off again and again, sometimes thrusting so hard that my head banged against the wall.
By the time she had satisfied herself, my nose was sore and my face was covered with her paste, which had also soaked the entire front of my shirt. She laughed at what a mess I was, as she pulled her panties back up. Then she told me to leave.
I didn't know if I'd ever hear from her again, but about three weeks later, she called and asked if I'd stop by. She told me to dress up and look my best, and to be sure to bring my nose with me, as if I had a choice about that.
I don't know why I even went, knowing that she probably just wanted to jerk off against my face again. I wore my best clothes, with a silk shirt and tie, and was all clean and neat as a pin when I arrived. She looked pleased at my appearance, but proceeded to sit me down on the floor against the wall right away.
She stripped off all of her clothing and then, holding a vibrator in her hand, she pushed herself against me and smeared her cunt all over my face. She masturbated herself against my nose at considerable length, but several times during the session she pulled back and shoved the vibrator up inside her and pushed it against her g- spot. I know what happens when she does that, having seen it before. Her cunt lets loose with a gushing orgasm. After blasting about a half cup of watery come into my face, she'd lean forward and resume jacking her clit against my nose.
When she was done, my entire head was plastered with her paste, and my clothes were drenched. She had wanted me to wear my best clothes just to soak them. She looked angrily at me as she got dressed. All she said was "God! You're such a mess! Get Out!"
It was obvious she enjoyed humiliating me, but it took me a while to figure out why she was angry after she did it. I decided her anger was born of contempt that I would let myself be humiliated that way.
She rode my face one more time, after that, about a month later. On that occasion, she didn't hide her feelings. She pushed me against the wall and grabbed a handful of my hair and held it the whole time, yanking my head around and banging it against the wall as she thrust against me. Worse than that, every now and again she'd pull back and slap my face, hard, and then shove her cunt against it again. My nose hurt so bad I thought she'd broken it.
Then I didn't hear from her for six weeks, until this afternoon. She was her old sweet self, and simply asked if I'd come over and visit her. I figured it would probably be a mistake to go, but the truth is, I missed her and wanted to see her again.
She greeted me at the door wearing just a white tee-shirt. She motioned with a crook of her finger that I should follow her. There was a pillow on the floor of her bedroom, and she told me it was for my head. She had me lie on the floor, face up.
She sat down beside me and held up a vibrator. "I just got this," she explained, "and I want you to help me break it in."
The next thing I saw was a Q-tip, with a blob of petroleum jelly on it. She proceeded to wipe the Q-tip over my nose, coating it thoroughly.
She rose to her knees, and then swung one leg over my face. She reached down and gently pulled her butt cheeks apart and lowered herself until the tip of my nose touched her anus. She wiggled herself down with tiny motions, pushing my nose into her rectum until the outer ring of her asshole was stretched around the base of my nose.
Then she turned on the vibrator and began to pleasure herself with it. My task, I quickly figured out, was to remain motionless so that my face could be used as a butt plug while she jerked off. She moaned with pleasure as she began working the vibrator on her fat clit. Her juices flowed out and I wanted desperately to taste them, but they drooled over my eyes and forehead and down the sides of my head into the pillow.
Suddenly, she let loose a thunderous fart. "Oops!" she giggled, and resumed masturbating. Just for the record, let me tell you that having hot, foul methane forced up your nostrils is not a picnic. If flows over your tongue on its way out, and you end up tasting as well as smelling it. In the fifteen minutes she sat on my face, she farted at least ten times. "Goodness! I shouldn't have eaten all those beans!" is all she said.
When she had satisfied herself, she rolled off my face, and was at once angrier than ever. She slapped my face really hard and called me a disgusting pig. She told me that if she ever invited me over again, it would be for the sole purpose of having me lick the shit off her asshole after she'd taken a dump. She might have me lick the inside of her toilet, too, if there was any shit stuck to the sides. She told me I would enjoy eating her shit even more than I had enjoyed snorting her farts.
As I walked toward the doorway out of her house, she grabbed my arm and turned me back toward her. The anger was gone from her voice, and she said "Oh wait, there's one more thing. Look down." I looked down and watched her knee snap into my crotch. I crumpled and fell to the floor and laid there curled up, clutching my aching nuts.
She stood looking down at me, and her anger returned. She stomped her bare heel into the side of my head.
"Now, thank me for kicking you in the balls," she insisted. She started kicking and stomping me with her feet, until I managed to thank her.
"You're welcome," she said, "and remember this, too. Next time you come over I'll make you lower your pants and hold out your nuts so I can kick them harder. Now get the fuck out of my sight."
I think that was her way of telling me that we were through for good. At least, I hope that's what she meant. Because I'm not altogether positive that if she calls and invites me over again, I will do the right thing and tell her to go to hell.
I probably will, you know, but I'm not a hundred percent sure.
++++++++++++
Part 2
Joanna called me again and invited me over.
I remembered all too well that she had kicked me in the balls the last time I'd seen her, and had threatened to kick them even harder if I ever came back. I mustered all my courage and told her I didn't think I could see her again.
"Why not?" she asked, as though she had no idea.
"Because kicking a man in the balls can rupture them. It can ruin them. I'm sorry but I might need my balls some day. You understand."
"Jesus! Forget that! I won't kick you in the balls. Okay?"
I was leery of that promise.
"You won't punch me in the balls, either? You won't hit me in the balls with a two by four? You won't drop a cement block on them?"
"No! Your balls will be fine. Forget I said that, before. Would you like to lick my pussy? Because that's what I want. Come on over. You'll have a nice orgasm if you do. Maybe more than one. Now are you coming over?"
I thought about it. I should have said no, of course, but she sounded as though maybe she had changed her mind about me. She hadn't let me lick her for a long time, and I did want to do that. Maybe she was going to let me fuck her, too. In the back of my mind there still lingered a faint hope that we might yet patch things up.
When I knocked on her door, instead of inviting me in, she stepped out the doorway and led me across her backyard to her garage.
We stood in her cluttered garage and she explained that before we did the fun stuff, she needed me to clean up the garage for her. I was to tear apart the cardboard boxes for recycling, get rid of the old sofa and the worn-out automobile tires, and sweep up the place. The tires and the sofa would have to be chopped down to small pieces and put in trash bags. When I complained that it would take me all day, she just patted me on the top of my head and told me not to worry about that, because she had plenty of time.
She left me alone in the garage and I just shrugged went to work. As the afternoon wore on, I repeatedly found myself asking "What am I doing? Why am I doing all this work?" It was hard work, too. Cutting a steel-belted radial tire into pieces with an old hack saw will wear a person out, trust me on that.
After almost three hours in the garage, I had it nearly cleaned up when I heard a car pull into the driveway, which is next to the garage. I looked out the window and saw a man I didn't know get out of the car, walk up to her house, and walk in the back door.
Two minutes later he was standing in the doorway of the garage.
"Are you 'Bozo'?" he asked.
I just stared at him. "I'm the only person here," I finally said.
"Okay, well, Joanna says you're supposed to wash my car. Right now."
He turned and went back into the house. As I dragged the hose out of the garage and hooked it up, a new phrase began to echo in my head. "You are an idiot, you know that? A complete idiot for doing this." I hosed off his car and started wiping it down with old sponge. About the time I was done, maybe 20 minutes later, he came out, got in the car, and drove off.
I looked at Joanna's house and saw her arm extended out the kitchen window. She pointed at me with her index finger and then turned her hand palm up and curled up the finger, to signal that she wanted me.
She was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and smoking a cigarette. She pointed to the floor in front of her.
"On your knees, baby. I want you to lick my pussy real good."
I got down on my knees in front of her and she pulled up her long, tie-dyed skirt. I stared at her cunt.
"I don't suppose you'd consider wiping it first?"
"Don't be silly."
She reached down and grabbed my hair and pulled my face into the wet mess between her legs. I began to lap at the paste that covered her labia.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "You're wondering how one guy could come so much. The truth is, Jeff gave me a quickie, and I let him come in me. But he was still a little bit horny, so before he left, I jerked him off on my pussy."
It wasn't humiliating enough for me to eat her out after some other guy had just got done fucking her. Oh, no. She had to enhance the experience by talking to me the whole time.
"Ooh, lick his come off my hair. Get that big blob right there. Does his sperm taste good? Do you like having his come in your mouth? Can you taste his cock?" The fact was, her cunt juice had a much stronger flavor and that's pretty much all I could actually taste, but she started slapping me if I gave the wrong answers. So, I had to tell her that yes, I could taste his cock and that his come was delicious, etc.
When I had finally licked and sucked her cunt until it was clean to her satisfaction, she pushed my head back, slapped me a couple more times, and told me to go sit on the floor of her bathroom and wait for her.
About an hour later she came into the bathroom, took off her skirt, and sat down on the toilet. She told me to get on my hands and knees and lick her feet. I continued to lick her feet while she had a leisurely bowel movement.
She talked to me from time to time during it, too.
"You know you're going to lick my shithole clean, don't you? When you lick my shit into your mouth, be sure to taste it before you swallow it. I know you'll like it."
When she was done, she flushed the toilet and then stood up and turned around. She leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. "Get busy," is all she said. I did it. I spread open her butt cheeks and licked her asshole clean. There was only a small amount of shit on it, but it was enough to taste the bitter, foul stuff. She made me push my tongue up inside her and lick all around the inside of her anus, too, to make sure it was clean on the inside as well as the outside.
When I was done, she stood facing me. I was still on my knees, and she held the sides of my face in her hands. She looked down at me and asked me if I had enjoyed licking her shithole. I remember wishing she would call it something else. I could sense that she was all ready to slap my face as hard as she could if I said the wrong thing, so of course, I told her that yes, I had enjoyed it and that yes, I hoped I could lick her shit again some day, and that her shit was the best tasting thing I'd ever eaten.
"Oh, I'm so glad you liked it," she said. She opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink and took out a small medicine cup. She handed it to me and told me to jerk off into it, and not to spill any. I was to bring it to her when I was done. She left me alone in the bathroom.
About ten minutes later, I carried the half-full container to her in the living room, where she was sitting in a chair, reading. She looked at it, shook her head in disgust, and told me to go ahead and drink it.
When I had done that, and licked the inside of the cup, she took me out to the garage to inspect my progress. I had done everything except the sweeping. She told me to finish the job and then to spread some newspapers on the floor in the middle of the garage. I was to put the lawn chair on the newspapers in its reclined position, get on it, and wait for her.
The lawn chair reclined to a fully horizontal position, and I laid on it for about 15 minutes before Joanna came out. She walked over to me and stood above me, with her legs open. I looked straight up her skirt at her cunt, which was right over my head. She raised her skirt.
I had one thought, at that moment. "Don't piss on me, Joanna. Please. For God's sake, whatever you do, don't..." It was about then that a stream of hot urine struck me in the face. She calmly stood and emptied her bladder, moving the stream slowly up and down my face. When she finished, she told me to hose off the lawn chair and put it away, wad up the newspapers and put them in my car, put myself in my car, and get the fuck away from her.
When I finally got in my car, I had just put the key in the ignition when Joanna appeared, standing at the open driver's side window.
"I almost forgot something. Pull your pants down."
"No. Joanna, please. Don't. You promised."
"Pull your pants down! I told you your balls would be fine, and they will be."
Of all the stupid things I did that day, of all the things I was later kicking myself in the ass over, pulling my pants down for her was the worst. By far.
She reached into the car and slid her fingers under my scrotum. She spread her fingers so that her index and middle fingers came up along one side of my sack, and her ring and little fingers came up along side the other. Then she closed her fingers and raised her hand. My balls were now resting snugly in the palm of her hand. I remember thinking "This is not good."
"Joanna..."
"Shush! Your balls will be just fine." Then she smiled, and added, "Eventually."
She closed her fingers and began to squeeze. I gasped and instinctively grabbed her wrists. She hissed "Let go of me or I'll pop 'em!"
I let go and dropped my arms to my sides. She squeezed down harder and harder until I was moaning in pain and tears were rolling down my face. She held me like that for a long time. I was dimly aware that she was talking to me but the pain was so excruciating that I couldn't concentrate on what she was saying.
I do remember a few things. If I ever came to see her again, she would piss down my throat, make me eat her shit with a fork, and force me give blowjobs to some gay friends of hers, and to their friends. She said some other things too, and called me names. Then she let go of me and walked back into her house.
It took me a half hour to recover enough to drive away. It took me a week to get my phone number changed and to get the new number unlisted. It was time well spent. I'm considering moving to a different city, though, just to be on the safe side.
It's not that I don't like Joanna, you understand. But I have finally come to the conclusion that things are definitely not going to work out for us. The relationship we once had is simply not going to get patched up, and that's all there is to it. For one thing, and I feel strongly about this even though some people might disagree, I believe she just plain doesn't respect me, as a person.
And another thing-I didn't like that "Bozo" crack, either. I have my pride, after all.