My eyes sting from the ropes of deepthroat spit pouring into them as I twist my head upside down to absorb as much of this man’s meat as I can down my neck and into my windpipe.
I don’t even know his name. Yet here I am, utterly degrading myself to pleasure his fuck meat that has no doubt been stuffed in more cheap whores than I can even count.
But am I doing it to please him alone? No. I do it to serve porn and emulate my idols, who have played a pivotal role in putting me into the privileged position I’ve found myself in today.
”few forms of extreme oral sex beat the rush of having the sweet taste of my own cunny or the debauched cocktail of bowel and lube pushed deep down my throat.”
”Time to breed this throatcunt!” I hear him snarl above me, his eyes burning down on me as if he’s looking at dogshit on his shoe. And breed me, he does. Oh, how my throat was bred.
And that, my darlings, was the trigger of the next installment of the Goon Whore Mindset series. You can read part I here if you haven’t already done so. Otherwise, push deep.
Table of Contents
The Origins of My Throatcunt
I, like many Goonettes and Gooners, have suffered a lot in coming to terms with my Pornosexuality, especially during the era when it was nowhere near as recognized as it is now.
After all, I was raised in a very conservative corner of Belfast, and it was accepted that your pussy only be handed over to a man once you’d been married. Yeah, I kinda fucked that up.
I chased cock like an addict and craved degeneracy and orgasm as my life depended on it. Yet still, I was often overcome with guilt whenever I’d cum, as if I really shouldn’t be doing this.
But like any ingenious whore, I found a workaround. I was terrified of the consequences of being a single mum, as they were rarely pretty in West Belfast.
And before you say, ”Why didn’t you take it in your bowels like a good whore?” I also hadn’t perfected anal at this point, either. After all, good things come to those who wait, right?
I knew I had a fertile cunt between my legs and not much easy access to birth control, so I’d offer men my throat instead. And, oh my, what a compromise it turned out to be.
”Are You Sure You Don’t Have a Clit in the Back of Your Throat?”
That was what a mid-sixties man quipped to 18-year-old me after he’d just brutally used my throat like a pussy, cum down it, and left me trembling in a pool of my spit, squirt, and tears.
I didn’t get a kick out of sucking cock; I got a thrill from men hammering my neck like it was a cunt and, ideally, grunting their wive’s name as they did. It never failed to make me cum.
I adored dropping into a split-leg squat, leaning with my back flush against a wall, and letting some hung pervert slide between my lips, ensuring my head would go nowhere.
With my legs spread and my abandoned cunt on show, it made me feel brutally exposed, especially when my top was torn open to reveal my tits.
And the feeling of relentless rivers of spit and tears pouring down onto my udders below was the finishing blow.
The sounds of my violent gagging and the moans of the man whose dick was in my neck would soon be joined by one that sounded similar to fried chicken in a pan.
My slit would give way, spurting cheap gush between my thighs to complement the already sordid cocktail or spit and tears gathering at my bare feet or pleaser heels.
The World Turned Upside Down
And just as I’d earned a reputation for having a phantom clitoris in the back of my neck that made me squirt, I’d discovered a new way to put my throatcunt into action.
I adored the feeling of a man’s balls being flush with my face, but I’m a small girl, and the latter position often didn’t allow it because, you know, anatomy and all that!
”Lay on the bed and hang your head upside down off the side,” one quite viscous black Bull ordered me to do one night when I was 19. I obliged, unlocking a new era of throat fucking.
It was a position that created one long passage between the opening of my mouth and straight down my windpipe, allowing a fuck stick to slide (dis)gracefully down it with no obstacles.
Fuck, I was in love. I could choke myself and feel the fuck meat through my neck. It literally made me feel like a walking sex toy. A cheap hole for men to empty their surplus seed into.
The feeling of his fertile balls smashing into my nose, his freshly trimmed pubes stinging my eyes as they popped out of my head from the overwhelming gagging, it drove me wild.
Nothing Beats the Taste of Your Own Porn Brew
Long gone are the days when birth control was hard for a whore to get, and my slit is bred on the regular these days. Thus, my throatcunt isn’t deployed with the same intensity as it was.
But when it is, it’s all the more better than back in the day. Nowadays, I’m rewarded with the taste of my own slit or my own bowels whenever someone decides to use my throat.
For me, few forms of extreme oral sex beat the rush of having the sweet taste of my own cunny or the debauched cocktail of bowel and lube pushed deep down my throat.
It’s enough to make me feel as though I’m high. Even more so if the cock has just been pulled out of the asshole or slit of a fellow Goonette who is just as debauched as I am.
Aftermath
Some girls complain about the after-effect of extreme throat fucking, but not me. Those girls don’t deserve to call their neck a throatcunt.
From the spit-blocked nose to the taste of pre-cum and sex clinging to the roof of my mouth like cream cheese, it’s the sexual cherry on the cake for me.
And the next time you look at a woman’s neck, I hope I’ve warped your mind enough to see it as a fuck hole for you to empty your excess sperm into, should she let you.
After all, what else is a throatcunt good for?
