Wrong From Right. (male on futa, blowjob, humiliation)

Story by Kuroshio

Wrong From Right

(male on futa, oral, humil)

One of the backlogged stories I developed in the run-up to a pair each of writing contests and paid commissions. It was laid down over the course of six writing days, then I poked and prodded it for another four. One down, two more to go.

I know I’m wrong for this. Dead wrong. I know there isn’t any mitigating circumstance or proper context that would make what I’m about to do right. I know and I don’t care. This isn’t me, I’m not this kind of person, but I’m not a saint either; you can only push me so far before I reach my breaking point. My rationale, as thin as it might be, is that Alessandra hurt me. She hurt me, so I want to hurt her in exchange. And I know an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, but like I said before: I don’t care. And that’s why I’m in an upstairs bedroom with the lights off and the floor thumping to the bass of the party down below. It’s also why I’m on my knees and not alone.

But just to be completely clear: Alessandra made a mistake and that’s the only reason I’m in this position. I’m not some kind of manipulative evil mastermind; I just saw an opportunity and moved to capitalize on it. Maybe I’ll look back on this with shame and regret one day. Maybe I’ll be the better person one day.

Today, however, is not that day.

---

She showed up to the party, sans boyfriend, with a few of her friends and already a little bit tipsy from pre-drinking. Alessandra naturally made quite the entrance, shrieking as she ran into other friends, snapping selfies and keeping a tall drink in her hand at all times. I noticed her walk in and ignored her, no reason to cause a scene, right? So she managed to get the first shot in with a snide remark about my weight when she saw me bent over getting a drink. And of course her bitches’ coven tittered right along with her while I burned with embarrassment.

I hadn’t always hated her, but I’d never actually liked her either. Our relations had started off distantly cordial and had gone downhill like a Jamaican bobsled team, mostly due to her max diva personality not being able to stand the sight of someone… perfectly average…? I didn’t understand it. It would have at least made sense if I was some kind of threat to her social position but we moved in wholly different circles; she was the queen bee on campus, the biggest fish in a small pond, whereas I was just a struggling student; juggling full-time classes with part-time work and (almost) no-time for myself.

Still, I knew there was a non-zero chance of seeing Alessandra at the party, but until she actually mentioned my ass I hadn’t given any thought to what I might say to her. Instead I stood there and burned with helpless fury; unable to come up with a suitable comeback and unwilling to start a brawl. My face was hot, the back of my teeth hurt and my stomach was churning. It wasn’t a very good feeling.

With my buzz thoroughly ruined, I stormed out of the kitchen and sat on the stairs, scrunched up and alone; stewing in my juices for the better part of an hour. It must’ve shown on my face, because no guys approached me in that whole time – which is probably some kind of record – and even my friends mostly steered clear. As the minutes ticked by though, I slowly regained my composure and stood, stretching a bit before heading back to the kitchen where the coolers were. As I rounded the corner, I saw an intriguing spectacle unfolding before me: a very drunk Alessandra arguing with her positively sober boyfriend, Donnie, about her recent alcohol intake. Donnie was trying to be calm and reasonable, but Alessandra was more interested in breaking noise ordinances with her voice and informing Donnie he was not, in fact, her father.

The show didn’t last too long. Donnie realized Alessandra wasn’t interested in his concern and Alessandra was quickly pulled away by her gaggle of harpies. As the two partied company, I saw an opportunity and took it, smoothly approaching from side and offering him a (non-alcoholic) drink, “Bad night out, huh?”

He ignored the drink, pursing his lips and shaking his head in reply. I raised the cup a little higher, “It’s just a Coke, straight. Don’t worry; I know you probably drove here.”

Donnie eyed the drink suspiciously before taking it gently and taking a gulp, “Thanks, uh…”

I saw my chance and poured on the charm with a smile, “Jessica, but I prefer Jess. I take a few classes with Alessandra.”

One of his eyebrows lifted and he went to take another gulp as he asked, “So you’re friends?”

“We talk sometimes,” I answered, giving a small shrug. Telling the truth is always the best way to lie.

Donnie took the cup to his lips and drank, non-verbal acknowledgement. I smiled more broadly and let nature take its course from there.

---

Alessandra’s boyfriend isn’t a horrible

... more on the forums ...