Tippity-Top-Toppy

Yep, it's becoming basically impossible to deny the accusation that you know is coming. The mountain of evidence breaking the stratosphere, poking at the moon, blocking out the sun. The lies and deceit were fun but justice reigns supreme; you can no longer avoid it. You have to face the music, swallow the burning consequences, make peace with your choices and your current predicament.

"You're mommy's good little slut, aren't you?" Asks Jiu rhetorically because the truth is evident. She has you butt-ass naked, with a painfully hard cock, sheened with a layer of clear fluid mixture and pressed firmly between her tits. It scrambles your brain, turns it to mush, the way she can say the filthiest things while bringing you to the edge, the absolute pinnacle, the tippity-top of what your body can hold all while smiling cutely.

"Yes, Mommy," you admit in a whine because she's kept you here - on your bed, yes, but also blue and wet and nasty - for what feels like forever now. You are a broken man: thighs quivering, lips bleeding from where you've bit them and cock throbbing and leaking precum all over her chest.

She takes a break from stroking you like she had done all the previous times you were about to fly off the summit and lets you take a shaky breath through gritted teeth.

"How 'bout now? Do you regret your little game yet?" She asks as the situation warrants: like she knows the answer - yes, Mommy, please let me cum, Mommy. I'll be good again, Mommy. But Yoohyeon's words play on repeat somewhere in the last bits of fortitude left of your mind: and whatever you do, don't back down.

So you double down:

"No, Mommy." With a smile but too breathy, almost moaned, utterly pathetic and unbelievable. You're fooling no one and playing the fool.

Jiu smiles like this hurts you more than it hurts me, and takes it from the top again.

She lets your cock flop sadly on your stomach; you're so far gone that even this - the little shock of impact, the tiniest friction of your head rubbing against your own skin - spawns a new bead of precum on the slit. You moan and she doesn't care, lifts herself off from the bed, over your legs between which she was positioned and returns to the routine.

Wet cunt on your chin, filth leaking down your neck and spilling into your throat, filling your senses, cutting off the oxygen. Pair of muscular thighs on either side of your head, blacking out the world, denying escape and serving as proof of ownership in their possessive squeeze. Long, slender fingers in your hair, good boy, right there, a little to the left, make Mommy happy, won't ya?

The "Yes, Mommy" gets swallowed by her pussy, it responds with a flutter around your tongue and more honey for your vocal cords, yes, sing for me, pretty boy.

"Eat," orders Jiu with noticeably less warmth than usual; this whole thing's getting to her, and somehow, in some twisted, backwards way, you think you're winning.

You prod your tongue deeper, poke there, add a moan to send vibrations through her flesh (no other reason, surely) and look up at her eyes. Big and glassy and usually filled with adoration, now black and uncharacteristically sporting something that resembles hatred.

You've never seen her like this before.

You're also starting to suspect that maybe Yoohyeon had it right all along.

Jiu grinds on your face again, sets the pace, graciously lets you follow and eat your fill. Amen. She rides you there, moans against the fervid air in the room and flies off her own edge for the n-th time today. That's the result of this experiment: she gets to gush on top of you, flood your face with hot cum, drown you in your own choices as you add a fresh batch of precum on your stomach. She's up at least six to nil, and you still think you're winning.

Jiu comes off your face with shaky thighs and plaps her soaked pussy on your chest. She isn't heavy by any means, but it knocks the wind out of you all the same. Then it's this part of the choreo: rubs it up and down, spreads your own spit on your skin, dowses you in her juices, lets your cock rest so she can work it all back up again.

"Still cocksure, baby?" She tests with the answer sheet tattooed on your expression.

“Yes, Mommy." you circle the wrong answer and here comes the F.

Full drags of her heat, from your sternum all the way to the tip of your cock, teasing the idea of letting you in, allowing you to fill her again, but always denying you the actual pleasure. She lifts her hips on a downstroke and sits at the base of your dick, right above your now certainly blue-hued testicles, and offers you a lifeline again.

"I can do this all day, you know -" and you do know - "You, however, seem to be quite pent up -" to put it laughably lightly - "Just apologise, give me what I want, and you'll get to finally cum for me -" about as enticing as a deal could ever go, frankly.

And you think long and hard here. Truth is, you're at your wits' end and Yoohyeon was always a bit of an airhead anyway. Besides, she and Bora always did things differently than you and Jiu.

But for all her faults the blonde bitch did have a point: bratting fucking rocks.

-

"Play hard to get; tell her no; like, give her some attitude, you know?"
"No, Yoo, I don't know. Why would I want to treat Jiu as if I don't love her when I do?"
"Because the sex will be amazing!"
"We already have good sex, thank you very much."
"Good, sure. But I am talking orgasmic. Toe-curling, eyes-rolling, body-spasming, mind-numbing, world-rocking. Cuckoo-bananas fucking crazy." She pauses for emphasis. "Just give it a shot."

-

And now Jiu's leaking hot body juice, a delightful mixture from a plethora of orifices, down your shrivelled-up balls, full and ready and practically screaming for their release. You pontificate here; let yourself marinate in the communal sex sauce and think back to your friend's advice.

You were always a little cuckoo-bananas anyway.

"No, mommy," you say with the best cheeky smile you can muster under the circumstances of your cock twitching and throbbing under her cunt.

Jiu sighs, gets up, shuffles back and positions her torso in its spot between your legs again; no shred of mercy in her eyes as she takes your slick cock, squeezes it as if it's a near-empty tube of toothpaste and gathers the precum it releases on her tongue. Her hand glides up and down in a crushing grip, twists at the top, teases the head, pulls all the way down to the base - all in slow strokes to drive you maximally insane. Her mouth seals around your tip, and she prods at the slit with her tongue. Those kitten licks, tiny laps that force more and more precum out of there; the combination is too much. Her eyes are right there, locked on yours in a dare to defy her as she works your poor cock to the edge again. You follow her gladly - let her put you on top of that mountain as you moan and cry and white-knuckle the sheets in a hopeless attempt to hold off just a tad longer. She pushes you past the clouds, over the ozone layer, through the swarm of satellites and sits you on the top of the evidence pile. Like, yeah, keep all of this in mind before you respond to my next remark.

And when she feels you twitching at the summit, she pops off your cock, halts her pumps, lets you rest in between her fingers.

"You look like you're about to burst," she coos and is not wrong by any metric. "Just stop playing brat, fucking kiss me, and it will all be over soon, baby." She gives you squeezes, varies the pressure with which she holds you, keeps you right fucking there, just a little more - a whisper of friction, a hair of movement, please.

You don't answer immediately; such dilemmas are better handled with a bestial noise from deep within your throat, something between a growl and a keen, a wordless confession of your conviction that you might just die here (if it wasn't already obvious).

"Mommy," you heave out, "please."

"Please, what?" She's finally won and she knows it. As if it could have turned out any other way.

"Please let me cum." You look at her like a puppy begging for food.

"And you'll be a good boy from now on?" She teases more, prods, squeezes every drop out.

"The best, Mommy, only for you," You lie, literally through your gritted teeth; there is no world in which you don't do this again.

"And you'll give me all the kisses?"

"As many as you want, please!" The plea is pathetic, void of patience or self-respect, betraying the very concept of human dignity. And much to your confusion, she lets go of your cock, lets you flop again.

Before you even get to question, her lips seal around your balls. A tongue laps at them, scoops 'em up, swishes them around in her mouth and lets the pressure build to high fucking heaven. She hollows out her cheeks to form a perfect seal around your skin, which is at this point a complete and utter mess, covered in any and all possible combinations of your fluids: a slough of sweat, slobber and slick; slippery and she's slurping sloppily.

Your balls shift slightly, pull closer to your body in that telltale sign that you are about to bust. Jiu has her mouth full of them, feels every minor twitch and spasm and so she knows to let them go.

You sob out, trying to find a single gulp of air, only to fail miserably before she speaks.

"Did you learn your lesson, baby?" She's gloating, mocking you, her tone a slap to your face.

"Yes, Mommy," you admit defeat in a haze, lost somewhere on the mountain path.

"What will you say when I ask for kisses next time?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"And will you ever deny me anything ever again?"

"No, Mommy," you still have half the mind and some actual self-preservation instincts to answer.

"Good boy."