Challenge 03 - Monica Unmasked

"Hold steady but I'll take it slow." His hand was holding her in place again but this time he was moving his hips, easing his shaft in and out of her mouth, each movement ending with her nose pressed up against his belly. Each withdrawal offering the opportunity to gain vital oxygen. She wasn't sucking him any more she realised, now he was fucking her mouth. She felt the saliva, warm and thick, lubricating his motions. She felt it and knew he was using her, using her for his pleasure. Her hands unclasped but not to move upwards. Instead she moved one hand round to the front of her body, down inside her skirt and pushed her thong aside. She was warm and wet down there, just as warm and wet as she knew her mouth was for her teacher, for George. Her fingers pushed home into her needy pussy and she wanted to moan but again the effect was stifled somewhat by six inches of hard Black cock.

She gasped as he pulled out of her. She felt exhilarated, relishing the sensations from her body.

"Show me what you can do." His instruction was simple and she obeyed. Taking him back into her mouth and repeating her previous trick. Right to the balls. She held it there a few seconds and then took him all the way in a series of plunges. Only on the last did she miscalculate a little. His cock took a slightly different angle, felt slightly different, triggered the reaction in her throat. She had to pull off him, coughing and spluttering., leaving a heavy trail of saliva.

"Don't waste it. Use yo' hand."

One hand was still busy in her panties but the other came up to smooth the spit over his shaft, lubricating it for her next session. All the time with her eyes on his, all the time smiling because she knew that she had the secret. She might not get it right every time but now she would know where she had gone wrong. It was controlled, it was repeatable or reversible. She pushed her mouth back down onto him, took him deep five times, then moved back to tease his cock head with her tongue, just the way that she knew he loved it. Then it was back to the base of his shaft and she pushed out her tongue to tease his heavy balls.

"Oh you fly fucking slut," was all he said as he pulled his cock back. He was breathing hard and she knew he had been enjoying it. He could have come but he obviously wanted more. Her fingers worked her pussy faster at the knowledge that she was pleasing him.

"Damn. You got it. Any man says you ain't is a damn fool or a damn liar. You can handle any man I'm thinking. But what if you got three all wanting you?"

"I've got my hands," she answered.

"That's right. That's why you got to learn to get a man off hands free. Which you sure as fuck can do. But what about five men, ten men, what about a roomful of Black men all wanting their turn. You up for that?"

She let out a long shuddering breath as her fingers worked her pussy. She had imagined it. On her knees and surrounded. Cock after cock - surrounding her, testing her, enjoying her. It was a vivid fantasy but a fantasy that she knew Harley could make happen. That he might make happen. It would only take one phone call from her. Her fingers explored and teased, her body reacted. She kept her eyes locked on his.

She hadn't answered him verbally but George had seen enough. The young woman in front of him might not know what the future held in store for her but if so it was by choice. She was up for it. No-one was being taken advantage of here who wasn't very ready to be taken advantage of. Who didn't get off on it.

Still - for all that he called her 'Monica' this was Heather Cameron in front of him. That amazing blow job she had been giving him had super-charged his desires a little but now he cooled a touch. At the end of the day he was who he was and she was who she was. Wasn't no way a raggedy-assed old Black man like him should even think about such things.

She sensed his hesitation and remembered what he had said before. She thought she understood.

"The men you were talking about George. The men who get treated like nothing, the men who always get the dirty end of the stick. How would they treat a girl like me?"

He paused a moment, considering it and then he made up his mind.

"You ready to try something else?" His voice had an edge to it and his eyes were on her, intent and powerful. She felt her body react again, knew that she wanted this more than anything.

He led her to the bed and laid her down on it. For a moment she thought that he wanted to fuck her. She knew she wouldn't deny him. She had convinced herself that such things weren't necessary in life but now she wanted it badly. Not just sex but sex like this. With a man who desired her as much as George desired her. Not despite who George was but because of who George was.

However, George had other ideas. He moved her body until her head was hanging down over the end of the bed. His hands roughly pushed her top up and exposed her breasts.

"Open," he said.

She opened her mouth and he pushed his cock home into it. He didn't stop until he was pressing at the back of her throat. The angle was different and she didn't quite get it right. Her throat contracted and she coughed and spluttered round his cock and then after he had pulled out. Her hands didn't move from under her back but she put her head to one side as she tried to spit out the excess saliva. A couple of deep breaths and she took position again with her mouth open. This time she got it right and his cock slid all the way home - filling her and safely passing the area that triggered her reflex. She pushed her tongue out to lick his balls and he responded by carefully pushing his cock in and out of her mouth. It might have been better if he was quicker, have left her less vulnerable to gagging, but she held on in there determined to please him. His hands were on her breasts now and were roughly squeezing them as he fucked her mouth. She felt an amazing maelstrom of responses from all over her body and tried to moan but could only make a gurgling noise between the movements of his shaft in her mouth.

It lasted perhaps a minute and then George stepped back. He looked at the young woman on the bed. The flush in her cheeks, the wideness of her eyes, the stream of drool still dripping off her face. He knew she would let him use her mouth like that as long as he wanted but it was just not his thing.

She looked at him and he pointed down towards his feet. "You know what I want."

She smiled and moved quickly back into her now regular position kneeling in front of him. She took his cock back into her mouth and began to suck him.

She felt her fingers in her hair and heard his low smooth voice. "Yeah, thass what I'm talking about. Ain't just about sucking that Black cock its about worshipping that Black cock. Doing all you can, using all your skills and experience to make your man feel good, to make his cock hard, to make him cum. Every man is different. Some want to use you, some want to be worshipped by you. You match your skills and his desires and you got all it takes girl. They'll be talking about you through the Tri-States. In sixty years time the younger ones will still be remembering the fly white slut who gave them the best blow-job they ever had. Now take it deep, get it sloppy, use them hands so it all gets good and wet and messy. Ain't no others here just now. You can use all your skills to make this old brotha feel good."

She did her best not to disappoint him Alternating her techniques, neglecting no part of his cock. She took him deep again as she grew in confidence. She powered down onto his shaft in a series of swift movements and then pulled off him unable to resist smiling at his expression. George was certainly not being disappointed!

Finally she got her reward. George growled and pulled her mouth off his cock. She knew he was going to cum and her instinct was to close her eyes. However, she also knew just how much she wanted to see him cum, to see the results of all her hard work. George grabbed his cock as if he wanted to hold off but it was way to late. A heavy stream of his cum hit her flush in the forehead followed by another and then a third that edged down and left to hit her in the eye with unerring accuracy.

"Fuck!" She had never been profane as a matter of course but that shit stung bad! She hardly registered a fourth spurt of his cum that hit her nose. All she could feel was the sting in her eye and all she could hear was George laughing. Not in a nasty way but more from amazement. He'd cum pretty hard their first time together but usually not so much as he'd just let fly. Also he was a self-declared 'tittie man' and loved to cum on her breasts. This was the first time he had cum on her face and he had cum a very heavy load. It took some getting used too!

She wasn't used to being laughed at. She started to stand but George just pointed into the bathroom. She turned and with her one remaining good eye saw herself in the wall mirror. My God but she was a mess. There was cum seemingly everywhere. Streaking up into and over her hair, crossing her nose, in one eye of course.

"You done admiring my work then you can come back and clean this cock," said George.

She looked at herself once more and tentatively opened her other eye. It hadn't stopped stinging but it was more a background sensation than the original shock. Maybe it counted as an occupational hazard for hot white sluts. She smiled and then returned to George. A girl's work was never done.

***

"Damn. You see that man!"

"We need you down here baby. Show off them skills. I got something you can work on."

"Grandpa been getting it? That old nigga is one lucky fucker."

"You see her throat. Watch that shit back. She a natural-born bopper."

"One thing for our Monica. She don't never disappoint."

Well it was always nice to get good reviews! The reference to 'our Monica' made her feel particularly good about herself and her performance. Her task had been to 'deep throat a toy' and no-one could deny that she had done it. George's tuition and advice had made it seem very easy. She had even remembered his advice on preparation and had done a little research of her own. She saw advice on chugging water to train the throat to open. It had worked pretty well. Also she had seen a way to rig up a clicker-counter above your toy. That had added a certain something to hear the click every time her nose pressed against the sensor on the mirror. She'd got it turning over pretty rapidly at one point and her Members had clearly loved it.

However, she hadn't quite finished the show yet. She made a last check to ensure the camera was taking the bathroom all in. Then she pulled back her shower screen. There attached to the wall with a new heavy-duty suction cup was her Julius Flint toy. An imposing twelve inches of flexible Black 'cock'. She walked up to it and looked back to her camera. With a finger she gently made it sway in position and then licked her lips.

'OMFG'

'Tell me she ain't gonna try it.'

'Damn - just DAMN!'

'What I say? Our girl go the extra mile.'

'H - You sure about this Monica baby?'

He might just be contributing to the performance but she liked to think that she was impressing even Harley. If you did something then you wanted to be the best or at the very least to do it to the best of your own abilities. The men had seen plenty of her shows but it seemed some of them didn't know her so well. If Monica was angling to stick twelve inches of Black dick down her throat on cam for her Members then it wasn't going to be her first attempt at the rodeo. Like George had said - it was all about the preparation, all about the practice.

She licked her lips and made a little show of easing her jaw muscles. It didn't do to make it look too simple. Then she showed them how a real bopper takes a Big Black Cock. All the way.

***

The Jack of Hearts. It might have seemed a little vanilla after her last adventure but the simple one word challenge was greeted with considerable enthusiasm by the Members.

'Strip'. That was her challenge for her next show.

Hardly a big deal right? Wrong. Everyone knew what a stripper was. It was the beautiful Latina she had seen at Cassius's club. It was the bundle of currency in her garter as men reached out for her tits and ass. It was the sex business and no-one seeing it would doubt that she Monica, Heather Cameron if they only knew it, had become part of that old, old, trade.

Her fun and games with George had all been in private. Her exposure while twerking had been 'accidental'. The show with her toys had been non-nude and might just about pass as performance art. At least in some more liberal neigborhoods.

This was different. She would be taking off her clothes to make men's cocks hard and, so far as anyone knew, she'd be doing it purely for the cold hard cash. Selling herself, selling the image of her young beauty while men jacked off watching her. Absolutely not something she, Heather Cameron, should ever do. Absolutely something the mere idea of which made her heart beat faster and caused adrenaline-laced blood to rush through her body.

Preparation, preparation, preparation.

She arranged her room so that she had a nice clear space, enough room to express herself. That was easy. More difficult was deciding just how to fulfil her assignment. Of course she was perfectly well aware that she could just stand in front of her cam and take her clothes off. Her members and subs certainly wouldn't object. In fact she was pretty sure that they would love it. However, where was the fun in just doing that?

She sat down the next morning and thought about it. Once she had decided she fired up her old clunker and drove over to Philadelphia. What girl worth her salt turned down a chance to go shopping for an outfit?

***

She opened the connection on her camera but left a screen in place in front of it.

"Hi guys - be with you in a moment."

She heard a strange clinking noise and immediately knew what it was. Harley had told her that he liked to turn on that feature for this challenge. It meant someone had made a donation. Maybe only a buck but maybe more.

"Now this may come as a surprise guys - but I've come to a very important realisation as to my vocation." She carefully removed the paper-screen and allowed them to see her face framed in dark material. Then she eased back form the camera so that they could see her fully. A long black dress down to her ankles and a nun's wimple to frame her face and cover her fire-red hair. She was careful not to give in to the urge to giggle. It was just as well no-one at her very Catholic old college knew what she was about to do!

She moved to her speaker, carefully and modestly. "Now I hope that all of my beloved congregation will join me in this hymn." She flicked a switch and the sound of a gently-hit cymbal rang in the room. The song had suggested this little performance to her. The words were from a male perspective but if she worked this right then nobody would be listening too closely to the lyrics. This was all about the visuals baby.

After the third gentle sound of the cymbal a heavy guitar riff crashed in. This wasn't 'urban' or 'ghetto' but it had a really heavy beat. Something a girl could get down to. It had been carefully selected and not least because it was short. She needed to get her challenge done. A long teasing striptease would give her too much time to think about this. It wasn't that she doubted her desire to do it. It was just that any hesitation or doubt would lessen the impact of her performance. When she did this she would do it right.

This had to be a performance of supreme energy and precision because she only had about three minutes to make her mark, to ensure no-one watching would ever forget this moment. She had practised to the second and knew the only real possible moment of disaster came early on.

She moved to the beat and mouthed the lyrics as the vocals came in. Her viewers couldn't see a damned thing under all this dress but that was why she'd made a few minor adjustments featuring small velcro attachments.

On the final word she moved fast. This had to be done right. Once in practise she had caught the dress on her heels and ended up flat on her backside. However to get the effect this had to be done fast. She bent down to grasp the bottom of the dress and then twisted and threw. The velcro did its job and the long dress was whipped away from her and down onto the floor. She heard a noise mixed in the music and for an instant feared her speaker had broken. Then she knew it was the sound of money coming in. Like rain-drops driven against a window-pane. Tonight she was the one making it rain.

She couldn't help finally letting loose and showing the camera what she could no longer hold inside - a smile of pure wicked mischief. She now wasn't looking like any nun in good standing. Stripper heels and stockings in full view as her only other item of clothing, a tight black stretch top, barely even made a pretence of covering her butt. Only her head covering remained demure and chaste.

When you only had so long you couldn't waste time. So with the second verse she made her actions fit the words. She stuck her perfect round ass out and she worked it. The top, as planned, immediately abandoned the struggle and slid up around her waist. A perfect camera view of twerking ass and bare pussy for all of her fans and this time no pretence at it being accidental. She was putting it all out there for them and it felt really good.

Then she had twenty seconds of guitar solo building into a crescendo. There was no time to waste and her fans had been waiting long enough. She swung out of her twerking position and pulled her top up and over her head to send it flying across the room as the crescendo reached its peak.

Now she could repeat the movements she had made at the start of the song. Swaying her body and moving her hips for the camera. Except now there was no long black drape obscuring her. Now she was effectively naked for the camera - now she had given herself to them.

The third verse had been what had stuck with her because this was not usually her style of music. However, once you heard those lyrics you didn't forget them in a hurry and whoever had brought the music to that post-school party had planted a seed. Tonight it was flowering and she heard the chiming sounds intensifying from her speakers. To see the bloom you had to have the rain and by the sounds of it there was a torrential downpour happening!

She used a hand to knock off her nun's headdress. That wasn't fooling anyone by now anyway and she shook her red hair loose. She felt the freedom as she moved, as she expressed herself for the camera, for her members and most of all for herself. She ran her hands over her bare breasts and all the time kept moving to the music. She was in the zone now, expressing and being herself. Stripped of her clothes and also of all the crap that came with being who she was. Out here, on camera, there was no pretence and no limits. She might be exposed and she might be alone but she was truly herself. Truly herself even with her stage name. Not a false name because she now felt herself to be Monica just as much as she felt herself to be Heather. They were just two apects of the same person, two avatars of herself. As she danced there was no fake crap, there was no bullshit. They were seeing her now just as she was and how she wanted to be.

Over half way through now. Now it was all about the energy, the drive, leaving nothing behind. She worked her butt in time to those drumbeats, moved her body with the guitar licks and put her whole heart and soul into it. She was in the zone, taken by the music and barely came out in time to get up close to the camera for the final refrain. The song's title repeated several times and with every one she gave the jerk-off motion while putting on a sexy, well she hoped it was sexy, o-face. Subtle it was not but she thought it got the point across.