Unintended Consequences of the Lockdowns
Copyright© 2026 by duncan idaho
Chapter 20: Training Her Throat for Friday
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 20: Training Her Throat for Friday - Lilly was sheltered and a bit of loner before the lockdowns, but the lockdowns happened right during her formative sexual growth years. The time when teens get curious and start to experiment, start to date, have their first kiss. Instead Lilly was locked in a house with her parents who continued to see her as a small child.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Coercion Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Humiliation Rough Gang Bang Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration First Facial Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism Water Sports AI Generated
Sunday arrived wrapped in pale grey light, the kind of morning that made the world feel muted and safe.
I opened my eyes and swallowed.
The ache hit immediately, a raw, scorched burn at the back of my throat, like I’d been forced to swallow hot gravel and broken glass. Every nerve ending there felt inflamed, chafed raw from the inside out. I could practically taste the filth that had been rammed down my gullet the night before—the bitter, salty residue of too many cocks, too much abuse. The tender flesh of my tonsils pulsed with a dull, throbbing memory of being stretched, speared, and used as a warm, wet sheath. I whimpered and reached for the water glass on my nightstand, my hand trembling. The cool liquid slid down, a fleeting balm against the ruined tissue, but it did nothing to wash away the stain of what I’d done. The ache wasn’t just in my throat; it was a deep, possessive soreness that radiated from my swollen pussy lips, a constant, sticky reminder that I was no longer the innocent girl who had followed her parents that first night. I was marked.
Three gulps later, I set the glass down and lay back against my pillow.
The two strangers. Their cocks buried in my throat. The way I’d gagged and swallowed and kept going.
My jaw still hummed with the memory of being stretched. My lips felt tender when I pressed them together. I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth and tasted nothing but the ghosts of salt and bitterness.
I pushed myself up. The clock read 8:23.
The house was quiet. My parents weren’t up yet, Sunday morning, their one day to sleep in. I padded to the bathroom and examined my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were clear. My cheeks had color. But my throat felt like I’d been screaming for hours.
I hadn’t been screaming.
I’d been taking.
Two loads. Swallowed. No condoms. No hesitation.
I turned on the tap and drank straight from the faucet, letting the water flood my mouth and slide down the raw passage. It helped. A little.
The day passed in a slow, easy rhythm.
My parents surfaced around ten. My mother made omelets, and we ate on the back porch, the autumn air cool against my skin. My father read the Sunday paper. My mother hummed along to the radio drifting through the kitchen window.
Normal. Peaceful.
I kept swallowing, testing the soreness, feeling it fade with each hour. By dinner it was just a dull reminder, a phantom ache that flared whenever I thought about Friday night.
I thought about it a lot.
The first cock, thick, uncut, the head glistening. The second, cut, veined, with that deep pink head and upward curve. The way they’d both pulsed when they came. The heat flooding my throat. The instinctive swallow that had surprised even me.
You just let anyone fuck your face raw, huh?
My face burned at the memory of those words. But my thighs pressed together under the dinner table.
After dinner we watched a documentary about deep-sea creatures. My father fell asleep in his recliner. My mother nudged him awake around nine, and they shuffled upstairs together.
I waited.
The clock on my nightstand ticked past 10:15. Then 10:22. At 10:27, I opened my laptop and logged into the chat site.
The familiar interface loaded. The main feed scrolled with usernames I didn’t recognize.
And there, in my private messages:
ProfessorPleasure: I was hoping you’d be online tonight.
My heart did a little skip. I typed back.
CuriousBlonde18: I’m here.
ProfessorPleasure: How are you feeling? I’ve been thinking about you all week.
I bit my lip. My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
CuriousBlonde18: My throat is sore. Really raw.
ProfessorPleasure: Sore? That’s interesting. Tell me about it.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. The words came faster than I could type.
CuriousBlonde18: I went to Carl’s on Friday night. I went to the back booths. The gloryhole ones.
ProfessorPleasure: And?
CuriousBlonde18: I did it. I used the gloryhole. I sucked a man’s cock through the wall.
I paused, my heart hammering. Then I kept going.
CuriousBlonde18: Two men. Two cocks. I took them both raw, no condoms, deep in my throat. They came in my mouth and I swallowed everything. Every drop.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
ProfessorPleasure: Good girl. That’s incredible progress. How did it feel?
CuriousBlonde18: Scary at first. But then ... good. Really good. I felt so full. So dirty. But I loved it.
I hit send and immediately felt the heat flood my cheeks. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. I wanted to take it back, to type something cleaner, something that didn’t sound like the confession of a girl who had lost her mind. But the words were already out there, glowing on the screen, and they were true.
Why did I write that? I asked myself, pressing my thighs together under my desk. The ache between them was a dull, insistent pulse, a memory that refused to fade. I could still feel the stretch of my jaw, the weight of that first cock pressing past my lips, the way my throat had instinctively opened to take him deeper. I could still taste the bitterness of the second man’s load, the saltiness that had coated my tongue and slid down my raw esophagus like a dirty secret I couldn’t swallow away.
The shame should have been overwhelming. It was, in a way—a hot, prickling wave that crawled up my neck and made my stomach clench with disgust. What would my parents think? What would my friends say? I was the girl who blushed at racy movie scenes. I was the one who had never even kissed a boy until last spring. And now I was typing confessions to a stranger about letting two men use my throat like a piece of meat.
But underneath the shame, something else hummed. A dark, hungry thing that curled low in my belly and made my nipples tighten against my thin t-shirt. It was the memory of power—of kneeling there, of taking and swallowing, of hearing those men groan and curse through the wall as they emptied themselves into me. I had made that happen. I had taken their lust and consumed it, and for those few minutes I had felt utterly, dangerously alive.
I bit my lip hard enough to sting. The shame and the craving tangled together inside me, a knot I couldn’t unravel. I shouldn’t want this, I thought. I should log off, delete this account, and pretend Friday night never happened.
But my fingers were already typing again, faster than my conscience could stop them.
CuriousBlonde18: The thing is, I keep replaying it in my head. Every detail. I hated it. And I need to do it again.
The confession hung on the screen, and I felt my heart hammering against my ribs, a wild, reckless flutter that felt less like fear and more like a door swinging open inside me, a door I wasn’t sure I could close again.
ProfessorPleasure: And your throat is sore because you took them deep. That’s completely normal. You used muscles you’ve never used before, stretched tissues that aren’t accustomed to being stretched. The soreness is just your body adapting.
CuriousBlonde18: Is it always going to hurt?
ProfessorPleasure: No. The more you practice, the more your throat will get used to it. Eventually you’ll be able to take a cock deep without any discomfort at all. You’ll learn to relax your throat, to breathe through it, to let your body accept what’s being given to it. But you have to be consistent. You have to push through the soreness and keep going. That ache you feel right now? That’s your body being reshaped. It’s a good ache. It means you’re being broken in properly. Maybe let the next guy facefuck you, take control, force you deeper. Let him decide how fast and how deep. Let him own that space in your throat. That will help you build tolerance faster. You’ll learn to submit to the invasion, to surrender your gag reflex. That’s when you’ll really start to enjoy it.
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