What's In A Name? - Sex Stories

What's In A Name?

... ignore.

“Don’t ask too much of her,” Lola told Linda while pinching one of Kumin’s cheeks. “She’s basically just here as a diversity hire.”

Kumin widened her smile, pretending to appreciate the hilarious joke, but the rest of her face darkened as if a neon light above her cubicle had just gone out.

That’s all I am, am I? It would explain why no one seems to care what I do during office hours.

“One girl that checks all of the boxes. She’s a biracial, cockless girl, like half-Chinese or something.”

“I’m half-Japanese, and half-German,” Kumin specified for Linda’s sake. She doubted Lola would remember once two seconds had passed.

“Right, right... And what’s your name again?”

Kumin sighed, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. “You know my name, Lola.”

“I can never seem to remember... Is it JizzDown MyNeck? Or... CreamUp MyBelly?”

Linda didn’t know what was happening but looked thoroughly amused and eager to see where this running gag was going. Perhaps she wasn’t a future work buddy after all.

“It’s Kumin.”

“Kumin what?”

“You can just call me Kumin.”

“But what’s your full name?”

Lola was a dog on a bone. She wouldn’t let go until Kumin said the two words she wanted to hear. So, she said them: “Kumin Mytrott.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Since Lola’s hand was already on her hapless coworker’s shoulder, grabbing the back of her head and pushing the glans of her flaccid cock against her mouth happened faster than Kumin could say no. Then, ...

... with her lips pursed tight to prevent seepage of precum between them, Kumin couldn’t say much more than “mhhhphh.” Even shaking her head was useless against Lola’s iron grip on her hair.

Pushing away a horny futa’s crotch was futile in Kumin’s experience, but she always felt like she had to try, at least to show Linda or anyone else who might be passing by that this was Lola being Lola and that the unfortunate name she had been given at birth and mocked for her whole life was not an invitation for people to ‘Cum-In Her-Throat.’ Her jaw muscles could fend off a soft futa cock, but not a rock-hard one, and Lola’s cock didn’t take long to swell to its full length and girth. A single consonant escaped Kumin’s mouth before its corners were stretched by a fat plug: “N...” for no.

Slurps, slaps, gags, and wet throat farts... Kumin’s guttural symphony resonated in the quiet office like a broken espresso machine. Lola’s cock had her esophagus stretched all the way down to her stomach, fucking the entrance with the last six inches and squishing her button nose with her rolled-up skirt at every thrust. Her fingers had gathered two bundles of hair and were using those pigtails as throat-fucking handles. Kumin was a squeaky gym machine giving her most dedicated member her morning sweat.

An eternity later, in Kumin’s oxygen-deprived mind, Lola pressed her smooth, twitching scrotum on her cocksleeve’s chin. Everything was quiet for a long second until the disturbing sound of cum being ...