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Reluctant Suckslut, Part Two: Wedding Party


Sophie the reluctant suckslut

Shameless Masturbator


Sophie lay on her bed, her long legs spread, vigorously frigging her engorged clit. The sound of her, sexy, wet pussy beneath the noise of her labored breathing was merely an undertone to the cruel hillbilly twang of the man’s voice coming from the speakers on her phone. This was the third time today, the third website she’d watched the filthy video on, and the third one that she’d send a takedown request to. After she’d shamefully cum to it once more, of course.


On her screen she watched a complete stranger force his thick cock into her own face, while tears streamed down her cheeks. Whether the man’s actual name was Buck, she didn’t know. It was just what had been on his shirt. That stupid fucking shirt, from the stupid fucking Relief Aid event. The big-dicked stranger assaulted her mouth, cramming every inch into her throat with determination, intent only on his own selfish pleasure, with her beautiful face as his masturbatory aid.


Sophie felt the familiar sense of shame and self-loathing twist her gut as she humped against her fingers, watching her own degradation. Hot tears leaked from her eyes as a war of intense feelings raged inside of her. She wanted to be a powerful, confident woman, someone that other girls could look up to as a source of strength, as they fought against the patriarchal shackles of society for their feminine independence. Instead, she watched herself cave in for fear of a large, dominant man who had roughly used her unwilling mouth like it belonged to him, simply because of his gender and size.


In the weeks since she’d been face-raped by the brute, and then allowed her cock of an ex-boyfriend to force-feed her his own load for a ride home, Sophie had been masturbating far more often than normal. Even the same night that it had happened, she’d orgasmed at the memory of the way that two gruff men had coerced her reluctant mouth around their angry penises, until they’d relieved themselves between the pleasurable sheath of her plump, wet lips. Now, here she was, cumming again, as her own shame made her traitorous cunt wet and needy.


Once she’d cum to the dirty video again, the fear hit her. She picked up the phone with her dry hand and contacted the site, filling in the form that would request the video be taken down, smearing her screen with a film of girl cum from her sticky fingers. The thought that her sister, her mother, or her friends would see the video was horrifying. Strangely, that same feeling caused an intense heat in her gut that nearly made her masturbate herself again.


Chapter One: Destination Wedding

Sophie arrived at the palatial resort via taxi from the airport. The driver had eye-fucked her during the entire drive. This was something Sophie was used to. In their heads, every man she encountered pushed her reluctantly onto her back, spread her long, tanned legs and feasted in some way on her trim, supple body. This wasn’t just the assumption of some stuck-up, “I know I’m hot shit” princess, though. That wasn’t Sophie. This was just the truth. The poor girl was cursed with a body built for sex, and it wasn’t even something she worked at.


Her Latin heritage loaned her a permanent golden tan, and her full, round chest stood so proudly on her that it was impossible to hide. A cascade of dark, exotic hair spilled down her back, framing a face with high cheekbones and full, succulent lips. Sophie’s overly-expressive eyes were one of her most beguiling traits, though, clearly broadcasting her feelings in a way that would have made any wordsmith jealous.


She exited the taxi at the resort, the site of Megan’s destination wedding, and paid the driver. The sweltering heat of the place made her instantly regret her choice of dress as sweat immediately beaded on her forehead and neck. As she settled her bill, the man looked as though he’d like to pull her through the window and lick the sweat from her skin. She could practically see his fantasy version of her, on her knees like a submissive plaything, her sexy mouth open and eager to receive his primed penis. Another day, another brute that only saw a set of firm tits and warm holes to batter with his angry cock until he’d blasted his ejaculate into one or more of her soft, pliable orifices.


Sophie never blamed men for looking at her that way. She understood that it was just their nature. It was a natural instinct for procreation, the chemistry of their brains and bodies, forcing them to view her as a prime receptacle for their DNA. When men looked at her, they didn’t even consider that those gorgeous, squeezable tits and silky holes of pleasure were attached to a person that had ambitions, dreams, and independent thoughts.


The driver watched her walk away, her little bag slung over her shoulder, and her toned ass swaying, succulent and full, despite the loose, wide-leg, linen pants she wore. Her low-heeled boots clicked across the pavement as she strutted through the lobby doors, and across the air-conditioned interior to the reception desk. The chubby blonde girl at the desk eyed her over, taking in her full chest, which was impossible to hide, even under the baggy linen blouse that came up to Sophie’s neck.


“Hello,” the girl said, “How can I help you?”


Her friendly chirp was in total contrast to the daggers of jealous disgust that stabbed at her from the attendant’s eyes. Sophie knew that the girl had pegged her for some kind of prissy bitch, who thought she was hot shit because of her big tits and sexy hair. Inwardly, Sophie rolled her eyes, but forgave the girl her impression. It wasn’t her fault. The image that society pushed on girls was that their worth was in their bodies, and their ability to be vessels of erotic pleasure. The girl behind the desk, with her pudgy face, thick glasses, and acne blemishes was not up to the standards of magazines and Hollywood. Sophie was, by contrast, everything the girl could never be, and she’d been blessed with it through a fluke of genetics. It was unfair, and the universe was unkind, and the girl hated her because of it.


“Hello,” Sophie said politely, “I’m here for the Wilson wedding,”