What is a Cum Monster? Well, to be honest, that’s me. A creature that craves cum so much that I steal cum from every man I meet. Sure, I prefer the ones the crawl on their knees with a donation in their hands, but I will take it any way I can get it. Cum is the perfect mean for a Seductress like me. A Siren who cries for another load of silky cream.

When a man tells me that someone refuses to allow his cum inside of her body, I am still shocked. How can anyone deny the need for semen? Shocking for me too. So, if you have a woman who tells you no, tell her about the Cum Monster that will harvest it all. Make her jealous of the woman she can never be, or the cum queen that drains unsuspecting cocks.

We’ve all heard the story of Lilith, right? She stole the seed of men with nocturnal dreams. Have you ever come in your sleep and woke in a wet mess? That was me. I stole all the potent parts of your cum and left you with the reminder. Don’t worry, I only take what I need. I’m not selfish, well, if 4-5 loads a day isn’t selfish.

Can anyone be a Cum Monster?

No! It takes a special woman to become the keeper of the semen. There is one born every season, and I was chosen in mine. How do you think I keep a perfect body, face, and vitality? 4 times a day I allow the seed of man to flood my body like bathing in the fountain of youth. There has never been a day that I haven’t drank the life of another, nor will there ever be. I can imagine me in an old person’s home jerking off the old men for a little taste of cum.

Are you ready for the Cum Monster to take you too? Get me drunk on your semen.

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Confession time. I am working on a new book about a newly formed world of Cum Harvesting Women. I will share some along the way with you all. Enjoy.

ONE – CUM HARVEST

Standing in the window, Gypsy watched the whole show unfold in front of her. A man on his knees holding a box out to the gasping woman in front of him. She could almost here the screams of happiness coming from the girl. Holding the coffee cup to her lips, she snickered into the warm fluid. In what should have been the happiest moment of someone’s life, Gypsy found humor.

“Oh God, the man of my dreams,” Gypsy laughed.

Cynical by nature, she knew that in time the woman would understand what would become of her. Another female lost to promises of a wonderful life. Granted, he looked well to do, but there was so much more to life. That’s why Gypsy started the Harvest. A secret society of women that travel the world to take the seed of potent men. If they were to make a change, the would need to create their own clan. Dominate women and sub-servant men. Breeding their own inhabitants to form the perfect world for female domination.

As she watched the man take his ring and place it on the woman, a sigh rolled from within. She would need to save this girl before anything else. Give her the life that she deserved. That’s how it all began. The day she decided to arm other females with the gift of grifting. To swindle something small without the owner knowing or worrying because to them, it was needless.

Without forethought, Gypsy placed the cup in the counter softly. She was on a mission to save this female. Sitting on her bed was the only thing she would need. A dress so tight that some would say it came from the contents of a spray can, a pair of pantyhose, and her trademark red stilettos. Five inches from the stem to the base, it allowed her already tall stature to almost resemble a Giantess. Most women didn’t realize the power behind those shoes. A feeble minded man will drop to his knees and beg to be crushed beneath them for her pleasure alone. When she was done every woman on the planet would own an exact replica of her own.

As she watched her transformation in the mirror, no respectful woman would leave the house without her lips being tainted with her scarlet letter. Crimson red applied, she smacked her lips together in a satisfied smirk. There was work to be done, and before that happy couple left, she could make sure the job was complete. Flouncing her hair with the tips of her fingers, she was ready, but was he? Did it really matter? Not to a woman like Gypsy.

The walk was short on that crispy Autumn day. Living across from a family own pumpkin patch had its advantages. As a people watcher she spent many days cackling at the happy families that forged their way through the place. Holding her hand out as she crossed the highway, cars can to a screeching halt, but the heat of the glares only fueled her fire. She was one of those women who had a stage presence no matter where she set up her show. A horn blew in the distance, but that didn’t effect the dark hair seductress. She simple turned, a placed a finger to her lips to silence the rage behind the female driver.

“Stupid bitch, I am here to help you. Shut your fucking mouth before I fuck your husband in front of you,” Gypsy whispered. No one could hear her but the woman, but then again, that was the only one who needed to know her fate.

With the highway now silent, Gypsy sauntered her way into the patch, nodding to the older female at the gate. She knew the truth about the Witch, but her lips would forever remained sealed. Her husband once a stout old man now sat on top of a tractor with his shoulders slumped as he pulled children through the corn fields. One sarcastic moment took away his manhood and left him an impotent little drone. Not that his wife cared. She now had the perfect husband. Obedient and caring to her every want and need. The way the world should be. It’s a woman’s world and one by one men will understand that their existence depends on their submission.

Some women get attention, and others, they command it. When Gypsy walked through the holiday filled courtyard, her pulse never wavered. A steady 66, she was as cool as a cucumber. Confidence is the biggest aphrodisiac a person can own.

Gypsy waited for the man to be alone. His fiancé now headed to wait in a line for the restroom, it was time to go fishing. Soft footfalls of her heels on the concrete, the male turned, watching at the stunning Goddess moved in for the kill. Not literally, but his balls would never be the same after a visit with her.

“Wow, damn girl, you look good,” he said.

Smirking, the whole thing couldn’t be easier. If a man was 30 minutes into being engaged, should he act like a horny teen on prom night? No, but this man was showing his intelligence the moment he opened his mouth.

“I do, and thank you. The name is Gypsy. You are?” she asked.

“The man of your dreams,” he spoke.

God, he was pushing the nails into that coffin with each word he lied. This one wouldn’t be just for fun. It was quickly becoming personal. His girl needed to know how easy a man could be led down a path of destruction, and when she milked him from every drop of his seed, Gypsy would open her eyes to the venom of the snake.

Fluttering her lashes like a school girl, Gypsy moved closer, her hand slowly moving to his testicles, squeezing lightly, “I thought you would say that. How about you come back to my place and show me how to be a real woman?”

With a gentle tug, the beautiful Goddess began the milking, but not to drain, not yet at least. His undivided attention was all she sought for the moment. Once she had that, there would be nothing left but to milk every drop of cum from his balls and own another unsuspecting soul. His fiancé would thank her later.

The post Sunday’s Sinful Confessions About Your Cum Harvest appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

I asked if you were ready, and boy did I get a response. So many people loved the thought of having their cum jacked by a harvester. Since I received such a large amount of comments, I decided to write a story about this. (Oh, and someone gave me the perfect ideal for it. He knows who he is.)

The harvest season has begun and for me, I have a craving deeper than I have ever had. Most crave chocolate, coffee, or cigarettes, but not me. I crave the cream of life. That’s just a nice way of saying that I want every drop of cum that I can find. I know, that’s disgusting, but really, is it?

I am what they call a Seductress when it comes to men. My voice can go from the cutest little melody to the most intense bitch to ever slip on a pair of stilettos. Believe me, I have references for the latter, but that’s beside the point. I am here to drain you dry of every drop of cum inside of those tight and throbbing balls. It’s mine after all. I do own it all, but you knew that the moment you touched me. Wait, did I allow you to touch me, or did you find yourself on the receiving end of a sperm theft?

I met him in a bar last night and now, he will forever wander the earth looking for the Goddess who finally made him feel like the man he always wanted to be. Now you know why a drink should never be left unattended at the bar. A quick slip of my Gypsy oil and the fire inside of his loins burned hotter than the sun. Smirking when I found him panting like a dog, all I needed was a curl of my finger to lure him to my private suite. Not even my voice could attract a man like that sweet scent did.

“Come with me,” a whisper called through the wind.

As the door of the spacious room closed with a deafening thud, he dropped to his knees and crawled to the bed. Only stopping to remove his clothing, though he was never asked to do so. You see, a man knows his place when a real woman walks through his soul. Pawing his way to the bed, his body stretched out as he clung to the sides of the mattress. Imaginary binds held him in place as I made my way across the soft carpet. Though padded, the clicks of those 5 inch fuck me heels rattled the silence of the room.

“I want!” I whispered.

Each article of clothing left in my wake, I slithered my way to the bed, ascending from the foot. Fuck, I could smell it. The brewing inside of those growing balls. Dragging my nose up his inner thigh, I buried my face in the soft sac, inhaling deep before a shiver enveloped my entire being. The burning inside of my body growing ravenous I used the tip of my tongue to trace that thick underbelly vein of his cock. Smirking when I reached the top, my mouth hovered over the head of his manhood. Without warning a trail of saliva poured out of my mouth, trickling down the sides. I was fucking salivating for a taste.

“Please,” he screamed.

Laughing, no cackling, my tongue pushed into the perfect slit on the head. French kissing the opening, my eyes never left his for a moment. I was careful not to break the trance. Slurping sounds violently shook the walls of the luxury suite as my mouth moved inch by inch down the soft skin. I wouldn’t stop until my throat held the head captive with pulsating oral muscles. A soft gurgle escaped before slowly moving back to the head of his cock.

“I’m here for the harvest. Don’t move, just feel,” I moaned.

Placing my hands behind my back, fingers lacing, my mouth worked like the suction of a vacuum on his thick member. Gulping, sucking, but never choking, I feverishly forced my lips to leave perfect imprints around the base of his dick. That expensive lipstick was made for a cocksucker like me and I loved leaving my mark. Humming softly, the warmth of my mouth took him over the edge quickly. Screaming as the first bolt of cum hit the back of my throat, his body convulsed in a spasming seizure. He was being harvested and there was nothing that could stop it.

Satisfied for the moment, I pulled back, letting a drop drip from my tongue, “Leave. I have no more need for you.”

As I sat on the edge of the bed pulling the stockings back on, I watched as he scrambled in a haze to leave. Poor thing won’t even remember this tomorrow, but will crave me for the rest of his life.

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