Aspiring ballerina Emily doesn't like her job as a backup dancer on the "Dongo the Puppet" show. When she stays late to get a wardrobe malfunction repaired, Dongo catches her ballet dancing, and Emily finds out what it's like to dance on puppet strings!
Warning: Explicit sexual content. Puppet sex, bondage, domination, and a big green monster who knows how to please a woman! 4000 words.
Dongo's hands slipped around my waist, but suddenly I was tense again, trembling. "What the hell are you?" My voice came out in a whimper.
"It's not what I am, or where I'm from, but just how much I can make you come! Uh-hoo! Uh-hoo!" Dongo pulled me against his bulky, shapeless form. Its warmth and firmness confirmed what I'd felt in his mouth - Dongo wasn't just a costume. That huge mouth closed and nibbled at my ear, and I could feel hot breath on my skin. Despite my fear, it felt shockingly good, and moist warmth bloomed between my legs, soaking my panties and heating the insides of my thighs. Putting aside my anger at Dongo, I relaxed a bit.
Dongo's big hands pressed against my flat tummy, then slid up to my chest. With surprising dexterity for such clumsy-looking fingers, he unfastened my bra's front clasp and cupped my breasts. His palms felt soft and warm, and the shaggy hair tickled and teased at my nipples. My pulse quickened as they swelled and reddened until they stuck out boldly, betraying my outrage.
The puppet's fingers moved in smooth circles, and when he heard me gasping for breath, he chuckled again. "Uh-hoo! Your boobies feel good, like Dongo knew they would!" His hands squeezed my breasts until they ached, but I found myself wanting more. The puppet seemed to sense my need, and one of those hairy hands slipped down my tummy and into my panties. The shaggy fur tangled with my own neatly-trimmed bush, then two thick fingers spread me apart.
"Mmm," I said as Dongo slid his third finger over my smooth, wet clit. I felt my resolve melting away beneath the puppet's touch; he knew how to please a woman, but part of my brain rejected the idea that Dongo the Puppet - not the actor in a costume, but the character himself - was trying to fuck me."That feels so good, but... we can't keep doing this - not here."
Dongo's only response was to press harder against me. Two of his fingers curled deeper into my crotch and slid up inside me, and my eyes became almost as wide as Dongo's. I let out a little squeal of surprise - and delight.
"Uh-hoo! Pretty lady likes my hand down south! Perhaps she'd like me in her mouth!" Dongo the Puppet danced around in front of me. The big, green puppet's shapeless anatomy wasn't precise enough to need clothes for his syndicated television show, but he needed them now.
Instead of a smooth, fuzzy nothing where Dong's stubby green legs came together, he now had a long, green cock. It was thick and covered in the same shag carpet fur as the rest of him. It reminded me of a cat's scratching post.
Suddenly, the ropes attached to my ankles jerked and pulled my feet behind me and up. At the same time, the ropes holding my arms loosened and lowered me gently to my knees. I squinted up at the catwalks above the stage and wondered who was pulling my strings, or how Dongo was doing it. For the first time, I began to seriously wonder whether I'd experienced some kind of mental breakdown.
The puppet grinned down at me as I knelt before him, that gaping mouth open in a joyous grin. His monster cock bobbed to the same jaunty rhythm as his body, and he urged it closer to my face. Well, it's not every day you get to fuck an imaginary puppet, may as well give him head.
About Fannie Tucker
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Published July 11, 2012
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.