ROOM 666 - Day 3, entry 1, part 2

We roll on the floor and now Marie’s sitting astride of me, holding my wrists, pinning my arms on the carpet.
She comes closer, her eyes in mine, her lips pouting, the nose ring twinkling. “So cheeky,” she says.
“Pride is a mortal sin, isn’t it?” I ask.
She grins. “So is lust…”
“I’m good at lust, thanks to you.”
“Oh, sweet child, you had it in you from the start, believe me.”
Our nipples are caressing.
She moves, gets up on her knees, straightens her back. I don’t believe my eyes.
There is a cock where her delicious twat was. Two hard spans of ribbed muscle, as thick as my wrist, standing proudly. Its head glistens with precum as she slowly leans forward, pushing it between my tits. I grab them and squeeze them together, enjoying the roughness on my skin.
“Are you ready for our wedding, sweetheart?” Marie growls, her eyes sparkling. She rocks her hips gently, rubbing her monstrous tool in the valley between my bowling balls. I strain my neck, trying to keep my eyes on this wonder.
“Yes!” I gasp.

She pushes back and sits on the bed, her mighty cock rearing like a snake. I never saw anything more beautiful.
I crawl on all fours to her, and we exchange a knowing smile. Then I take it in my lips, tasting the salt of the head. My hands run down the shaft. I grab her balls, and start squeezing gently. I push more of the tool in my mouth. It's hot and throbbing. The veins are pulsating as my tongue rubs against them.
Marie leans back, supporting herself on her elbows. I increase my tempo. I let go of her prick and I lick its length, the glistening head caressing my cheek.
She grabs my hair and pulls me up.
I straddle her, my hands on her shoulders, my lips on her lips.
She is hot and well lubricated as she enters me, taking my virginity in a single stroke. Pain shots through my body and then melts into a wave of pleasure as I grind on her huge cock, gripping it with my inner muscles, as our boobs rub together and I push my tongue down her throat. She holds my hips, helping me move up and down, rhythmically.
And then with a grunt and a shudder Marie comes inside me, filling me up to my throat with fire and delirium, as the best orgasm in my short sexual life rocks me like an earthquake.
I crumble limply against her body, my head resting on her shoulder, my heart thundering in my ears. She kisses my wet skin, teases me gently and then looks for my mouth. Our lips lock together. A thrill of anticipation runs down my spine.
And then she sucks what’s left of my soul out of my mouth, leaving me without conscience, without morality, without shame.
Marie smiles, and pushes me on the bed, my head resting on the naked buttock of the sleeping girl.
Marie holds a ring in her hand, in the shape of two ruby-eyed snakes of black iron, intertwined. I offer her my hand, and she fits it on my ring finger.
The deed is done.
I am the bride of my god.
I am perfect.

I wake up and the girl is sleeping against my side, her head resting on my rack, a beatific smile on her face, the vibrator still buzzing in her sweet asshole.
I stare at myself in the hanging mirror, I light up a cigarette.
And I know, dear diary, what you are thinking: it was all a dream, fueled by the booze and the sex. The obscene product of a depraved mind. Nothing ca be more narcissistic and kinky than dreaming of being fucked by myself.
A dream, yes. No matter the aching holes, the wonderful taste in my mouth, the bruises and the scratches.
But then what about this ring on my finger?