Page 89 of Cheap Heat

I shuddered out a breath, deciding I didn’t care what was happening.

Yeah, this wouldn’t take long at all.

Slouching back against the headboard, I dug my heels into the mattress so my hips could thrust up into every downward plunge of the toy. My toes curled, breaths quickening until I was panting. The sleeve—mouth? Whatever—was sucking me so hard now, squeezing tight around my dick. So tight it was almost getting difficult to keep sliding it up and down.

A few seconds later, it actually started feeling a little too tight. Breathing hard, I looked down and realised I could only move the pumpkin head up and down about an inch now.

I winced when the sleeve tightened even more, and suddenly I couldn’t move it at all.

“Wh-what?” I stared down at it in a daze. The pumpkin head’s grinning mouth was pressed up against my pubic mound, my cock fully embedded in the sleeve. It was still sucking, massaging my dick and making me twitch, even as my heart started to pound for a different reason.

I tightened my grip on the fingerholds and gently tugged. It didn’t move.

Panic started creeping in. I tugged again, a little harder this time, and immediately gasped in pain when the pumpkin head resisted. In fact, it seemed like the sleeve tightened up even more in defiance, making me shudder with a disconcerting blend of pain and pleasure. It felt like it was going to rip my fucking cock off.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, too scared to try again. I sat up, letting out an undignified noise as the sleeve kept sucking and massaging.

Clambering up onto my trembling knees, I got on all fours on the bed and looked down, hoping gravity would help me out and the weight of the toy would make it slide right off.

It didn’t.

Starting to sweat, I shook my hips to try and wiggle it loose. When that didn’t work, I bounced on my hands and knees a few times, hoping the motion would jerk it off my dick. All it did was send another sharp flare of pain through my pubic mound and up my shaft, so I quickly stopped.

“Fuuuck.” I scrambled—very carefully—off the bed and stared down in horror at the pumpkin head stuck on my dick. It was still sucking me, but I was too panicked to even register the sensations now.

I looked around my bedroom wildly. For anything. Anything that might help. Spotting the lube on my nightstand, I lunged for it and squeaked when my thigh knocked the pumpkin head.

Lube. More lube would help loosen things up. With trembling fingers, I aimed for the pumpkin head’s mouth and squirted out half the tube, trying to coat the minuscule sliver of the base of my cock that was still just barely visible.

“Come on,” I muttered, heart hammering in my chest. “Come on, come on, come on.”

All I managed to achieve was coating my pubes, the rest of the lube dripping down my thighs and onto the floor. Still, I dropped the tube and gently tried to slide the toy free again, wanting to cry when it didn’t move an inch.

“Fuck,” I barked, my chest heaving as I stared down at it.

I’d accidentally triggered some setting that was cranked up to the max. That had to be it. There had to be a switch or something on this thing. Wincing, I doubled over and tried to spot a switch or a button or a dial anywhere on the pumpkin. I frantically felt along the bottom, but there was only the second neck hole sleeve.

“Why?” I moaned, resisting the urge to punch the fucking thing. Definitely not a good idea.

The box. I shot back up as the thought popped into my head, shuddering with horror when the sleeve tugged on my dick. It had stopped moving, at least, but grown even tighter.

This was definitely not good.

Maybe the box would tell me what the fuck was happening. There was probably an instruction manual or something.

Please, god, let there be an instruction manual.

I spun for the door and squawked in shock and pain when the pumpkin head smacked into my bedside lamp and sent it crashing to the ground. I didn’t have the mental capacity to care at this point, so I ignored it and headed for the door, but I’d forgotten about the puddle of lube on the floor at my feet. My heel slipped, sending my leg flying out in front of me. I yelped and flung my arm out to grab for the nightstand as I went down, my shoulder blades bouncing off the edge of the mattress and cushioning my fall.

I hissed as the pumpkin head bounced between my hips, smacking into my stomach. My legs were shaking even worse as I struggled back to my feet, practically snorting through my nose like an angry bull.

“Fuck you,” I yelled in the general direction of my nightstand. At what, I didn’t even know. The lube. The lamp. I was angry at all of it.

Hunching over and cradling the pumpkin head in my hand, I carefully waddled down the stairs and into the kitchen, my legs quaking wildly. Tearing the bag off the box, I stared down at it with frantic eyes.

‘Doctor Otticker Sexlie Richard-Regina’s Headless Horseman Cocksucker’ it declared in a whimsical font above a picture of the grinning pumpkin head. Below it, in smaller letters, were the words ‘This Headless Horseman is hungry for dick!’

In the corner was a small photo of a fae woman with enormous breasts straining above the low-cut neckline of her sexy fairy costume. She was wearing black-framed glasses and holding a wand to her pouting mouth, as if she was deep in thought.