GITJ Post 298: Painting His Apartment, p4 (conclusion)

“Omigod…” Melissa Monroe, new Office Manager of what was at the time Far Horizons Medical Associates, was finally able to manage, her voice throaty and laden with the thick seed of her erstwhile employer and boyfriend. With one finger she wiped from the corner of her full mouth the last of his molten offering as she pulled her head, hair draping like a curtain from the Sargasso, out from his lap. “Omigod omigod omigod.”

She looked up, up and down the expanse of his deliciously meager little male body, to see his head back, lolled to his right. He was not moving. His arms lay at his sides, one draped out to the right and half-off the table. She lowered him, gently, returning his legs and butt down to the table’s surface as in her passion she’d held him aloft by the ankles while her mouth and throat had taken him. She was slowly coming back down to earth herself from the state of fervor she’d been worked up into - so much, so much had happened in this past…hour? Two? Six? In one of her many displays of dominance she’d painted his body pink (sorry, mauve), she’d squashed him three-ways-to-Thursday, she’d swollen up huge and muscular, tearing out of her jeans. She’d carried him around the room like her child, she’d given him a handjob and this latest blowjob…and she’d told him she loved him.

Omigod.

She flushed, as she tenderly released his legs to lay them down. His feet and lower legs hung off the table, knees bent, and he was still not moving. She stood herself to full height and looked again down at him, his cock gone flaccid and spent like a deflated balloon. He was definitely asleep, passed out…the poor little thing. Maybe I pushed him a smidge too hard haha, she considered, still tasting his delicious brine in her mouth, her right hand still sticky with his semen. Had she heard the wood surface of the table <crack> when she’d thrown him onto it? Did I hurt him? Was I too rough? Maybe I was a little rough…but he didn’t seem to complain though, she thought with a private giggle, as she stepped around to the side of the table. She folded his right arm tenderly back up, across his skinny chest and surveyed the damage. I hope I didn’t break anything on him, she mused as she traced the curve of his left cheek with a single finger, though I might have to buy him a new kitchen table.

She regarded him, thoughtfully, the moment quiet. I told him I loved him, she said again to herself as she watched his chest slowly rise and fall in his slumber. His mouth was half agape. She smiled fondly, gazing down at this man she adored. I do love him, I do, she realized, I love him so much.

Melissa stood there, watching him, just watching him sleep. She stood there in her bra and panties, as her body relaxed, the strength which had filled her musculature now recentering itself inside her chest, steadying her heart, resolving her mind. She was going to love this man with all her being. She was going to love him, protect him, take care of him. She was going to make his life as wonderful as she could, and in turn she knew he could fill a hole that she’d only now realized had been empty inside her for a long time. He was perfect for her, and she knew she could become perfect for him. That’s what I do, she laughed silently to herself, a bit wistfully. She felt the warmth in her chest and tits already; it had become familiar, these days.

She found herself sitting, having pulled up a chair. Still she watched him sleep, still she caressed his face. Though so engrossed with her little charge that she barely heard it, the TV was still on, coverage of the national women’s rallies. Rain still pit-pattered the single window and darkness was falling. “You are out, hm sweetie?” she asked his slumbering self, smiling down at him munificently but eyeing his exhausted member dreamily. Had another hour passed, she here at his side? The room was dark, the only light coming from the single overhead can, the television, and the fading sun outside. The room was partially painted, she saw, as she looked around, nearly finished.

There’s really only a little bit left to do, she saw, and before she knew it she’d stood, pulled her softly ribbed pink sweater back on and was rolling ‘Twilight Blush’ over the last expanses of beige on the walls (and haha a surprise on the ceiling), then putting away brushes and cleaning trays, folding dropcloths. Every once in a while she would glance over to him, hoping maybe she’d see him starting to swell again from the pheromones - which she’d begun to allow to slowly wisp more strongly off her body - no doubt filling the room. She’d turned on some more lights but still he slept…though maybe a bit fitful.

“Tuckered out still, huh?” she asked, drying her hands as she returned to sit at the table at his right side again, watching his eyelids flutter, “Are you having a dream?” His head still lolled to his right; he hadn’t moved a bit. She’d been talking to him, casually, brightly and cheerfully, this whole time as he slept, and she worked. She knew if anyone had been watching she’d probably looked crazy haha - painting away and talking to herself with her naked boss sleeping on a half-cracked kitchen table - so she was glad she’d turned off the security camera that secretly spied down from up over the kitchen cabinets. She returned her hand tenderly to his cheek and began to stroke him again. “You must be dreaming,” she told him, taking a moment to glance down at his still-flaccid cock, slack and motionless on his belly. Despite herself, she bit her lower lip hungrily. “Look at those little cheeks twitching,” she said, returning her gaze to his face but feeling the definite urge to pleasure him again. He smelled so good, too.

Behind closed eyes he was in a different place, a deep hole not unlike the office, or his old home. This was a dream he’d had before, many times, but only faintly recalled. There had always been bodies - just one at first, but now there were many. Women, female bodies, atop him. No faces, no voices, just flesh. Pinning him down, down to the bottom of the hole. All was dark, shadows and curves. Breasts, hips, thighs. Nipples and somehow lips but no faces. Soft and slowly suffocating.

“Are you awake, hm sweetie?” she cooed, pushing some thick locks of hair off of his forehead. He looked, and felt, a bit clammy. The dream, whatever he was having (hopefully about me haha) was making him squirm and tremble, and he really looked like he needed some help.

“Is that what you need?” she asked his sleeping form, “Do you need help. Do you need me?” She knew the poor thing had come not once but twice since she’d been here today, and both orgasms seemed to take quite a bit out of him. He must be exhausted, his boy-parts all over-worked. But…haha…it might make him, y’know, feel better if…she were to give him some extra comfort. “Yeah, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” she said aloud.

Plus, she could already feel the little stirring inside her again. That mushy little man between his legs just needs to cooperate.

With that thought, she took his soft, pendulous member into her right hand and began to fondle it gently with her thumb and fingers, hoping to stimulate it to life, even as he slept. Boy, he was really out! But…there was a soft, barely audible moan from him that Melissa chose to interpret as encouragement. Maybe it would make his dream nicer, at the very least haha. And besides she suddenly reeeeeeally needed to…

In the dark pit the female bodies slithered and squeezed over him, drowning him, and he felt a pain between his legs.

…But he didn’t seem to be waking up! And he was still pretty squishy. Boo! She had never really had to deal with this before, a guy not being suddenly hard in her presence. The nerve haha! she laughed to herself, appreciating the irony: she had done this to him, she had worn him out, drained him. She shouldn’t expect him to be able to just, y’know, spring back to life anytime she wanted. Thinking of how he would look at her, what really seemed to be turn-ons for him during their most recent intimate moments, she began to get an idea. He definitely liked her breasts, and it was when he was faced with them that he seemed the most captivated. Maybe even if he is still sleeping, maybe somehow I can still get him to…

In her seat, sitting up a bit straighter in the undersized, wooden kitchen chair, she dropped him for the moment from her hand, letting him flop wetly back onto his belly…

The women were still here, they were still everywhere. He couldn’t count, he couldn’t imagine how many there were. Three? Thirty? Three Thousand? Their weight was crushing, as they writhed over him with smooth skin, but suddenly the pain in his organ was gone.

She’d watched his face the whole time as she’d reached under her sweater, behind herself, unclasping the four hooks of her bra and pulling it off, sneaking her arms out from under the straps without having to remove her pink top. Neat trick, and it comes in useful haha! She pulled the bra off now down from her torso and - catching herself before dropping it, to the side - giggled with a little moment of inspiration. She picked him up, floppy, from his belly with her right hand again but with her left she held her bra, the inner surface of one of the huge cups of her black, custom-made brassiere, up to his face. His entire face fit in it easy haha. “There you go…” she cooed, as she covered his mouth and nose like it was a face mask, smiling mischievously the whole time, making him breathe from it, “take a deep breath, baby.” It would smell like her, she was sure! And the shudder that ran through him with his first inspiration made her giggle again. “Ooooo you like that do you?” she asked her sleeping little boyfriend, feeling a little bad but hey he was asleep, “You like how mama smells? Mmmm…take another few breaths.” She could feel him, now, starting to firm up in her hand. Pheromones, pheromones, it must be ripe and saturated with my pheromones! Each breath brought a new little whimper from him, in his sleep. “Well, sweetie, if you like that…” she offered, leaning in a bit and rotating her torso a touch towards him, towards his face, removing the bra cup from him, ”...you should really like this, then…”

At that, Melissa pressed her big left boob - bare beneath her thin sweater - gently into his face. She shuddered herself, now, with the feeling of his little features mushing into her large breast. Ooooo that feels so nice!  And it really was bigger than his head. She took the moment to turn some more, tenderly laying her heavy right breast on the side of his face. Her nipples hardened immediately, and just rubbing them over his nose and mouth and chin and eyes was making her toes curl. So sensitive, through the sweater, rubbing against the soft material and his little sleepy features! “Oh wow, haha honey…” she purred, laughing again and continuing her fondling of his spongy penis, “that feels really good...how’s it feel for you?”

In his dream, the pile of female bodies, now all dark of hair, seemed to shift for a moment. He felt a glimmer of hope that maybe he might be able to free himself, at least partially from the mass. But then the upper body of one naked women, huger by far than the rest, had fallen directly onto his face. He could feel her big, firm breasts pinning him down and a small part of his mind responded to the eroticism of the moment. That response seemed to bring pain from his groin, but when he tried to look and see why, his view was completely filled by the same large ripe mounds, now swathed in a soft pink fabric, that were holding him down.

Slowly, languidly, Melissa dragged her hardening nipples across his cheeks. Though he had not shaved in days, his cheeks were not rough, and her body in her tight sweater slid smoothly over his skin. It just felt great! She began to press herself into him more firmly as she rubbed her more-than-generous curves over his features, noticing that the warm, spongy flesh in her hand was becoming more swollen and less flexible as she did so. Her fingers began to work his shaft with an unhurried rhythm, now, and he began to groan, long and piteously like a desperate, exhausted, badly wounded animal. But to her ears, it was music.

“Oh it sounds like you enjoy this, huh baby?” Melissa giggled, biting her lower lip again and relishing the feel of her bare breasts in her sweater rubbing themselves over his face. Oooo this was so bad! Using the poor man like this but haha momma’s got neeeeeeeds….

At that, Melissa adjusted her position, sitting up a bit more without breaking the contact  between her breasts and his face. Now she could slip her free left hand behind the back of his head, which was still resting right-cheek-downward on the table on which he was passed out.. She used that hand to pull him towards her, holding him tight as she massaged his face now with her left breast, at times squeezing his face into her cleavage. She felt the weakness of his moans as they were exhaled in between her tits and it made her shudder with desire. He was fully hard, now, in her hand, even though he was still asleep and dreaming…

Despite his panic, he couldn't help himself. The feeling of those huge, faceless breasts turned him on. But the more aroused he became, the more the mysterious pain between his legs increased. At the same time, the chest pinning him was pushing more and more intently against him, pressing him harder and harder into the ground which now felt like a table.

He felt his head being forced into the dark crevice of cleavage between the two enormous breasts, his face becoming lost in their valley as cascades of luxurious, raven hair enveloped him. He couldn't breathe! He was being suffocated by enveloping, femininity, soft but all-consuming, all-eclipsing. He was powerless to resist or to escape from the overpowering flesh and the agonizing arousal it was causing. And then, just as he believed he was about to die, he could gulp air. An instant later, an explosive sharp pain in his organ forced him, briefly, awake.

“Good boyyyyyyyyy…” she cooed, finally satisfied, finally gratified as he’d burst again in her hand, up onto his belly, “Gooooood boyyyyyy…….”

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And that finishes our rainy Sunday in his apartment. Thanks to Joshua67 for feeding me the nightmare fuel of AI pulchritude for this post's image