My wife (Alice) has told me not to omit even the smallest detail of my complex odyssey into teen sissification, no matter how odd or embarrassing it may be. And I hope that you're equally interested in hearing it all. But I really can't go on this way with extended, play-by-play descriptions of every single party and conversation. My memories have blurred after 13 years, and I suspect you would eventually get bored. But please understand that I remained the same eager, inebriated, cumpliant little suck slut for my entire senior year. Everything mom had predicted about my true nature and what I really needed from life turned out to be true. I'll leave it at that. But I have more to add on three particular topics, before describing one more fateful spring evening that changed everything.
Susan's conditioning program was so effective that supplying oral pleasures and relief for horny men and boys soon became my most dependable source of sexual arousal. My clit would begin to swell as soon as I started sucking cock, and would stay hard just as long as I continued. It was how I edged. Eventually it would happen spontaneously, even without any verbal or physical teasing. And my response to cocks wasn't limited to how my little girl reacted physically to these triggers and stimuli. Susan had implanted an urge to worship cock in me that was something like a hypnotic suggestion--one after another, over and over, all evening long until every available male was fully drained and satisfied.
I'll admit that I was inclined this way from the start and had plenty of prior experience. But Susan reinforced my natural tendencies until I genuinely couldn't help myself anymore.
Some people called me a cock addict. I heard that phrase repeatedly at parties, typically with someone's cock in my mouth and/or cum dripping down my face. It's true my cravings really had become irresistible, but that's not to say they were a genuine addiction. Let me explain.
Honestly, I don't believe that I sucked cock more than about an hour a day on average between the parties, my time at the park, and the near-nightly feedings from dad. That was less time than I spent studying, or jocks devoted to football practice. Other kids went to parties, too, just not the same kind. It wasn't as if giving head was my entire life: it was just something I did with my free time. I guess my "habit" worked out to about twenty or thirty loads a week, although it was more or less depending on whether or not we had a party. Just think of my years in high school as something like an extended honeymoon, except that I was still in my mid-teens and wasn't exactly faithful to one man.
People call it being "addicted to cock" since they don't see many people behaving this way and they don't understand it. But I say it's only right to find time in your life for anything that's so important and rewarding for you, and brings so much happiness to others. It's a form of volunteer work, really.
But back to my clit. It also popped up in all sorts of other situations that weren't so appropriate. At sixteen I'd get hard at school just thinking about sucking cock, dressing up, or anticipating the next party. I'd try to hold my books so it wasn't so obvious walking between classes. But I'd be fully exposed when it happened in the gym shower, standing next to some guy I'd sucked off a few days earlier with both of us completely nude. And lots of other hot cocks I wanted to suck out there in plain sight, too. My little clit couldn't help but notice, and it would be sticking up straight in no time.
Kids would laugh and call me a faggot, pointing at my fully shaved body and the red nail polish that decorated my toes. I'd look embarrassed and protest as part of the game, but everyone knew it was true. Gym was my last class, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays I was basically advertising that I was ready to start sucking cocks again over at the park in only a few more minutes.
Our coaches couldn't help but notice all of that verbal foreplay in the showers. One had me suck him off in his office at lunchtime in return for raising my grade from a courtesy C to a B. That was my best grade in gym, ever. It was the only time I needed an arrangement like that since my grades were pretty good in academic classes. That, plus the fact that sixty-year-old female English teachers don't need blow jobs.
Susan sometimes took on the challenge of getting me hard with just a few verbal triggers. She'd sit across the room from me after we arrived at the party and commence with the teasing and abuse:
"That's a new baby doll and panty set you're wearing tonight, isn't it, Dawn? You look so sweet in pink. Is it another present from mommy?" I'd nod, grin, and start blushing, knowing that I was about to be betrayed yet again by my clit.
"I like the new perfume, too. Mommy obviously enjoys having a little fairy like you for her daughter. Why would she make such an effort sissifying you for these parties you if she didn't enjoy the thought of you sucking all these cocks? She does a marvelous job with your hair now that it's grown out to your shoulders. You wouldn't ever need to borrow John's wigs anymore if you just got a haircut with bangs and dyed it blonde."
"I think this will be another busy night for you, Dawn. Will you like that? Look at all these big guys...oh, your little clitty's getting hard again already, isn't it? It's so cute when it sticks up that way through the crotchless panties. It's like your little sissy-meter, telling us all when you're ready to suck cock!"
And then we'd proceed to the throat fucking. My clit was something like her little pet that she had trained to do tricks. Which it really was, in a way.
My throating skills also continued improving with further practice and Susan's encouragement. There was plenty of both as I took on increasing numbers of guys this way at the start of each party, when they were at their horniest and I was still fresh. I eventually developed enough stamina to satisfy everybody who was interested, which was pretty much everyone. It would take some time and several doses of throat spray, but before long my gag reflex was simply gone. At that point I could even accommodate Ryan's nine-incher without spasming.
I even learned to use my throat muscles voluntarily, just like kid #5 had suggested back when I still had some trouble with gagging. It wasn't very easy, but it got better with practice until I had a reasonable amount of control over how and where I applied pressure. It was something like swallowing, except that hard cocks are much bigger and stiffer than bites of food.
Guys said it was something like a cross between a good hand job and being grasped by a tight pussy. It was a form of exercise, and eventually I had sufficient endurance to keep on going until I had given everyone a turn. Some boys would cum from the squeezing alone if they were sufficiently horny.
By then I was throating absolutely EVERYONE at every party. Fucking my face went from being a fun, fairly unusual way to deposit your load inside a submissive teen sissy to something completely unique. Guys said they had never felt anything quite like it. Many couldn't keep from moaning or going weak in the knees when they came.
John took some pictures occasionally, but I enjoyed the added exposure and didn't object. The images must still be out there somewhere. Guys even started bringing their girlfriends along to watch me—I knew some of them had reputations, but others were something of a surprise. They had to see me doing it to believe it, and a few were curious about trying it themselves. They would sit next to me on the couch to get a good look and sometimes reach over to feel their boyfriend's cock bulging in my throat. Or Susan would have them stroke my clit to feel how excited I was. By then I was so well trained that none of it bothered me at all.
They'd often want to talk with me afterwards, intrigued by what they'd seen but still shy. And there was this one girl named Barbara who was confident enough to grill me about it openly right in front of everyone:
"That was really something, Dawn. Phil told me you could throat him, but how'd you get so fuckin' good at it? He always makes me gag. I guess you've had plenty of practice."
"Yeah, it took five or six sessions before my throat could really relax, and more than that until I got good at squeezing cocks. I still practice at home with the jelly between parties to keep in shape."
"It sounds like lots of work. What's in it for you? You don't cum this way, and it's not like any of these guys are really your boyfriends. Don't you see you're just a worthless cum dump for them?"
"I've always enjoyed pleasuring cocks, Barbara, right from my very first blowjob. It's so much better now that I'm sissified and Susan's trained me to get hard automatically from deep throat. I may not cum, but I still get pretty excited. And it's my best way to attract guys without a real pussy like yours."
"I still don't get it. I'm used to getting something in return for letting someone fuck me. I get to cum myself, or at least enjoy a dinner and a movie. I guess that's one of the big differences between real girls and sissy faggots like you." She said "faggot" like an insult, the same way Susan did.
"Don't be so harsh, Barbara." Her boyfriend Phil interrupted. "Dawn's special, and we really do respect her as a person. It's not merely physical. Right, Dawn?" He was sticking up for me in front of his girlfriend. His words were cliches, but I didn't think that meant they had to be total BS.
"Uhhh... right. I know it's mostly that you're just really horny and I'm a convenient pussy mouth, but I still sense something resembling affection when you cum in my throat. I can tell that you appreciate me, maybe even like me a little." What guys actually felt about me remained a mystery, but that was honestly my best guess. And it seemed to be what Paul wanted Barbara to hear from me, although I didn't understand why.
"I really do, Dawn. Please don't misunderstand, Barbara, cumming in your throat would mean so much more to me. Can't we get you a starter jelly so you can practice?" Now I saw where Paul was (literally) trying to go.
"It's fine, dear, really. Dawn can do you better this way than I ever could. Have your fun with her now and then at these parties. But don't you even think about getting lucky with some other girl in any one of her holes, ever."
They left together shortly after that. It was an interesting conversation and helped me understand what at least some girls really thought about sex. Barbara certainly wasn't romantic or naïve—much less so than I was, in fact. I think many other girls' calculations were fairly similar, even if they weren't so transparent about it as Barbara was. It wasn't very different from how mom managed dad, frankly.
Some of these dynamics were pretty complex. Girls knew they couldn't necessarily demand absolute fidelity, but many weren't all that enthusiastic about sucking cocks, anyway. So, they gave their guys hall passes to satisfy such urges with sissies like me. Guys often told me how much better I was at giving head, even if their girlfriend made an honest effort. They just wouldn't put in the practice. But guys also said they were getting laid more often because of the competition from me, and that girls were exercising their pussies to be tighter and better at squeezing cocks. I couldn't compete with that.
The real winners in this arms race were the boys (and men) who got to cum inside all of more often with fewer expectations in return. I enjoyed that more than most of the girls did, so it may have caused a little resentment. It wasn't an issue with Susan, though, since we were such good friends and she didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't understand why not, since she was so hot that she could have easily had anyone she wanted.
[To be continued. Send comments to laceyfemme@yahoo.com, and please consider making a donation to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ .]