Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... delayed. She's going to fuck me while we talk about real things. I'm going to lie here on the bed and accept it.

I hate that this is what I needed. I honestly don't even know if it will take. I'm super fucked up in the head, and I think that that metastasized malady might be able to take this profound experience and stick it in a mental box somewhere.

I have no idea what part of me is me. I have no idea what that part wants.

"You're never happy unless you're having sex," Jack says to me. We both appreciate the irony that I'm a blubbering mess, but she's talking about the big picture, and she's right. I nod, and she kisses my neck, rewarding my cooperation.

"You miss pussy," she says. "You miss girls."

"But I want ass," I whine, and I hear it: I'm a fucking child. I'm a brat. Jack keeps fucking me, waiting for me to get someplace more productive. "It's too hard. I can't handle it anymore."

That gets me more kisses, but they're hardly a relief. Jack's ramping up -- and no, not the fucking. "It's easier to be angry all the time, right? Except you're already slipping."

"Slipping from bullshit," I mumble. Strangely enough, that gets me another kiss.

Jack wraps herself around me. "I know," she says. "I know it's bullshit. It's the price of admission. It's easy jobs, good food, clean places to live, crazy science everywhere, no nasty diseases... that's not just background noise, baby girl. That's not a given. It costs something. We all have to chip ...

... in."

"That's not very punk," I grouse. That earns me a nip to my ear.

"Punk is whatever it needs to be," she says. It's a lecture, and it's piqued. "Right now, it's mostly the music and the company, because things really aren't so bad. There's nothing more exhausting than looking for a cause that isn't there. It's not the oldest con job in the book, but it's definitely in there. Page four, page five maybe."

"You think I'm getting conned," I say. It's childish, again, but even with Jack's cock massaging me towards a second submissive orgasm, I feel an ember of rebellion in my chest.

"No, baby girl," she says. "I think you're conning yourself, and I think you've found a bunch of people who are doing the same thing. The proof is in the pudding. All you're doing is getting drunk and staying angry."

"I'm ready to cum again," I say, immaturely deflecting.

"Okay," she says, and she starts working my nipples again. She shifts her cock so that it's pressing my cum button more directly. She's very good at fucking; in less than a minute, I add a second girly load to the one that's already drying out on the sheets. I don't really want to admit it right now, but I like cumming from my ass like a bitch. It's a short vacation from everything -- most importantly, from that gnawing, clawing demon inside my head that might just be me.

Jack lets me enjoy the afterglow for a while, but then it's back to our talk. She really is the dom. I really am the bitch. I think I'm done ...