“You look like you’re on fire!” she argued.“Go away,” I said.“Kylie!” yelled Uncle Bob.His hands were just lying on my breasts. That was...’t the idea. I tried to make his fingers play with my nipples.“Kylie! Get off!” growled Uncle Bob.“I don’t want to,” I whined.He had been moving. It was kind of spastic moving, with no discernible purpose, but now he went still. His hands gripped my breasts, but still didn’t move around. I think I saw that as a good sign.“I like this,” I whispered.“What are. Nothing mattered anymore. I was sucking his cock again, and it felt good. I could feel my throat relax as his cock stretched me deep, gagging me... but I didn't care. I wanted to be used. "Ya, that's it bitch boi," he chuckled... there it was, my favourite nickname... He fucked my face, going deeper and harder when he realised his fag boy wasn't putting up a fight. He had won, dominated me. And I was accepting. It felt good to be used; to be treated like a whore. I wanted more. I wanted to. More

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