![]() Joy James divides her time between New York City and Washington, DC. Her erotica frequently appears on websites, such as Cleansheets and Wickedvelvet, as well as in print anthologies, e.g., Best Fetish Erotica, Erotic Travel Tales 2, and Naughty Stories 2. Email
Joy James.
Dr. Atkins should approve. But I wonder how
many others would endorse it. Would you? Would you try it with me? I’m talking about the new all-protein, low-calorie,
cum-only diet I’ve just discovered.
Like many amazing discoveries, it happened purely
by chance. At the time I was giving throatpussy. That’s what my boyfriend of the moment liked to call it - and he liked it a
lot. Sometimes I think he enjoyed just saying the word, like one of those impossible but delightful German compounds of
strung together, otherwise unrelated, words - throatpussy - as much as the act itself.
“Okay, baby, get up off your knees, lie back on
the bed, tilt your head back, and give me some throatpussy,” he would say. “You love to give me throatpussy, don’t you,
baby?” And I would smile and nod. And then he would say it again with gusto: “Throatpussy.” We were in a beautiful, antique sleigh bed at in a romantic,
cozy country inn. My head was nestled in a pile of pillows stacked against the headboard, which my hands clasped for dear
life as if the bed was indeed a sleigh plowing down the steepest of slopes. With his knees straddling my shoulders, his cock
sliding into my mouth, and his hands on the headboard to steady himself, the slippery ride began. But no sooner had it begun,
then it was over, alas. Just a few forceful pumps and vigorous thrusts deep down my throat, his cock unloaded a huge, huge
wad. He must have been saving up just for me.
And he must have been as surprised as I was at the
quickness of the climax, for he let his cock linger in my mouth. I could feel it getting limp. When he finally pulled out, the
rubber slipped off, and my tongue was suddenly coated with cum. “Whoops. I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay.” I smiled. “It tastes really good
actually.” That totally surprised me. In the past, with other guys, I never particularly relished the taste of cum; I didn’t spit it
out or anything, but it certainly wasn’t a taste I found savory, like chocolate, for instance. That hackneyed porno teaser -
“Hot, Horny Babes Crave Your Cum” - always made me laugh. For me, the occasional taste of cum was just the cost of
doing business, for I did so love giving good head. Everything was soon to change.
“Mmmm…yummy,” I said and took my fingers to
wipe the dribbled cum from the edges of my lips. Then, deliberately and slowly, I licked each finger, all the while staring into
his eyes.
This brought a smile, then grin, that captured his
whole face. He reached for the spent condom now lying on the bed and still filled with most of his load. He hung it directly
over my mouth, turned it upside down, and then began to squeeze as if it were a tube of toothpaste.
“Here, baby, stick out your tongue and get every
last drop,” he said. “We don’t want to waste any of my precious essence, do we, honey?” I did as he said. The creamy
texture coated and lingered on my tongue, even long after I had swallowed every drop. Despite the metallic aftertaste, I
wanted more. Was this simply because I had hardly eaten all day? I was on one of my sporadic, but seemingly
never-ending, diets, and I had managed to curb my appetite that particular day in anticipation of a lavish, five-course dinner at
the country inn. It was now well past dinner time, and I was starving.
“So is your cum the appetizer for the fancy
dinner you promised me?” I laughed.
“How about a second serving?” I could
see he was good and plenty hard again.
This time dispensing with the need for a rubber, I
took the cock plain, au naturel. And before my mouth was once again full, my tongue darted out to greet and welcome the
cock, to lick the glaze from the previous ejaculation, like icing on a cake.
“Mmmm…just like desert,” I said. “The
last course first. Sinfully delicious.”
Of course, the throatpussy lasted longer this time --
so long I worried I was getting pubic hair burn on my nose and chin. But it was especially fun, as my banged brain
entertained not simply the usual oral sensations of pleasure, with no meaning beyond the sensations themselves, but the notion
of nourishment. I was hungry, and his pounding cock was the chef preparing a delicacy.
When he finally did unload, he expertly
pulled his cock from deep down my throat to my palate, so I could savor before swallowing. Although the volume seemed
substantially smaller than the first offering, the taste was even better than before -- a finer consistency and texture with a
decidedly more delicate flavor. Delightfully bittersweet, not so salty as the first helping, and not at all sour. I was becoming a
cum connoisseur.
Though famished, I didn’t gulp it down all
at once. I felt like a squirrel or chipmunk with cheeks puffed out full of nuts, food to cherish and store for the cold winter
months. I swallowed slowly, a bit at a time, as if at a fancy dinner party nibbling the daintiest of bites. Then, on his now limp
penis, I sucked and I sucked, to get every last drop.
“Wow, baby,” he proclaimed, finally
removing his cock from my mouth and lying down beside me on the antique sleigh bed, exhausted. “You’ve become a real
cumslut! I like that.”
“And I’m suddenly not hungry anymore.” I
announced, genuinely surprised. “Let’s just skip dinner, okay? I’m trying to lose a dress size, you
know.”
“Well, that may be fine and well for you,
but you’ve worn me out. I’m starving.” He paused and smiled. “Besides, I’ve got to replenish my bodily fluids if I’m to be
the deli for your all-cum diet.” He laughed.
“All-cum diet…hmmm. Maybe we’re on to
something really big here, sweetie. The revolutionary, new diet that will change women’s lives forever.” “Okay, babe, let’s talk about it at dinner.” He started getting
dressed. “You can just sit there while I eat, if you insist. At least we can share some wine.”
“I think a nice, chilled Chardonnay would go well
with the cum.” I laughed, but I had never been more serious.
I redid my makeup, adding extra coverage over the
post-throatpussy redness on my chin and nose, and slipped on my little black dress. Astonishingly, it seemed less snug than
the last time I’d worn it. I didn’t even need his help with the zipper. I didn’t have that bloated feeling after snacking all day. I
know it must have been my imagination, but, yes, I suddenly felt slimmer, trimmer, more youthful, toned, and athletic. Then,
in the dining room while scanning the menu, I realized that’s where all diets must start - in the imagination, picturing your new,
sexy body in the post-diet mind’s eye, a la a Jenny Craig motivational tape:
“The lobster thermidor jumps out from the menu.
It is so, so enticing. But stop and think a minute. Which would you rather have, which is more important? The lobster? Or
your body looking fantastic in snug jeans and that new bikini? So forget the lobster. Replace it with a mouth-watering image
of your new self as size six. Cum will provide nourishment in a never-ending, self-sustainable, environmentally-correct cycle.”
I sipped wine and picked at my salad. Yes, a
salad: “It would look funny if you didn’t order something,” my dinner partner and had insisted. And we talked about food. I
had always heard the key variable determining the taste of cum was the man’s diet.
“Tell me, sweetie,” I asked, “what have you
had to eat in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Not much really. That’s why I feel like
ordering everything on the menu right now.”
“Yes, you have to eat. Lots and lots of calories!
We have to maintain your energy level. Otherwise, I’ll starve. So graze like a milk cow. Whoops. Wrong image. How
about a bull being fattened for slaughter? Whoops, again.” No metaphor worked; my new diet was truly unique,
unprecedented, revolutionary even.
He told me he had eaten mostly fruit for
breakfast and only a turkey sandwich for lunch. Plus, he had taken an early-morning jog, and gulped down several glasses of
water. Was that why his cum had tasted so yummy? I had always heard that pineapple juice and celery also produced
especially flavorful jizz. On the other hand, coffee, too much alcohol, smoking, and a sedentary lifestyle were supposedly
what made you want to spit out the cum. Just old cocksuckers’ tales?
I took scrupulous mental notes of everything he
ingested at dinner. The fun part, of course, would be correlating these empirical observations with the comparative cum taste
test. I was now embarked on a true scientific inquiry. The possibilities were endless. Maybe my study could be published in
a prestigious medical journal? Maybe there was even a best-selling book here, and I would become rich and famous, a
talk-show celebrity, espousing the very latest, hippest diet fad. Men would tune in, too - their fantasy come true. Starving
women would be begging to suck cock. The continual positive reinforcement of a quick jizzy snack would transform them
into cum-hungry experts at giving good head.
And think of all the money everyone would
save. A couple really could live as cheaply as one, in regard to groceries anyway. Men would no longer pay prostitutes to
do all the oral tricks that wives refused to do. And women would have no need to pay fitness trainers, since any man with a
hard cock can keep them in shape. For a vigorous, five-minute blowjob burns at least a hundred calories, I calculate, while
the calorie intake from an average load of cum is only twenty to thirty calories-- a fact I learned among the findings of my
subsequent research, which also revealed cum is nutritionally good for you. A teaspoon of cum (the average load) contains
more protein than a pork chop. In addition, there’s fructose, citric acid, alkaline, as well as other sugars and minerals. Plus -
would you believe? A recent medical study indicates semen may be an antidepressant. And there’s anecdotal evidence that
its ingestion can lead to healthier hair. A girl could get addicted.
But, alas, it turns out I’m not the
revolutionary pathfinder. After a bit more investigative legwork, I discovered: A little old lady who solicits cum donors on the
internet; she’s not interested in cock - just the cum; “sperm treats,” she calls the cookies she makes from the Fed-Exed cum.
A would-be doctor soliciting BBW (big, beautiful women) volunteers for “a medical trial” of an all-cum diet - the bastard
stole my idea! Then the dietary supplements called Cum D’Licious by Sweet Secretions and Semenex: “Designed to treat
your lady, making your spunk palatable, if not scrumptious…. Guys who use it know how important it is prime the pump
before having a lusty lass suck down the suds…. Finally, an answer to the ‘I don’t like the taste’ argument.”
Instead of the lone visionary proselytizing
others, sadly I now have to begin worrying whether there’s really enough cum to go around.
Copyright ©
2003 Joy James. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.
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