Dark Fantasies

by T West

  That was when she noticed something different. She wondered briefly if it was just her imagination, but it didn't feel like the toy was made out of plastic. It felt very real, and very fleshy. In fact, she could feel the veins pulse against her inner walls.

  Brooks snatched the blindfold off her head, and the young woman blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings back. She swiveled her head around as far as she could, her pulse throbbing in her neck as she tried her best to catch sight of what the boss was actually doing to her.

  Her eyes widened. Protruding from Brooks’ waist, where his slacks were unzipped, was his enormous, thick cock. The first few inches were buried deep inside her pussy, as the boss’s huge balls twitched and throbbed. Unbelievably, it was indeed way bigger than the black dildo.

  The boss stood tall on the floor and pumped his hips back and forth like a true stud, slamming her good and hard. Trish’s eyes started to water. The vast head of Brooks’ cock was caressing her g-spot perfectly, and although it hurt somewhat, the pain started to blend into remarkable pleasure.

  The boss slapped her ass cheeks repeatedly, making them sting. Trish wouldn’t have been able to stop him even if she’d wanted to, because he had grabbed a handful of her hair and was now pounding her like the fertile slut she was. “Good girl. Take what I give. Every last inch.”

  Trish looked straight ahead, and couldn’t believe her eyes, for there right before her, attached to an old-looking painting of a knight in armor, was the big black dildo. But she didn’t have time to think for long, as Brooks withdrew his cock and said, “Turn around, show me what you’re made of. I don’t just give my seed over. You need to earn it, girl.”

  Trish did as she was told. She turned around, and backed her ass up, pressing her pink pussy up against the big black helmet, letting it slip into her now very slick hole. She impaled herself on the toy. She started to bounce off it, her juice drizzling onto the desk in girly bows. Brooks hopped up onto the desk on his knees, and with the huge cock in front of her face, she opened her mouth and tried her best to take it in her oral orifice, whilst at the same time fucking herself on the plastic schlong behind her.

  She just couldn’t believe the situation she had gotten herself into. Here she was, getting spit-roasted by her boss and a fake black dick. After somehow managing to get Brooks' gigantic cock head inside her mouth, she couldn’t help but reach down and work her clit, and it wasn’t long before she felt her pent-up climax start to surface. Her body shook with waves of pleasure, and she came uncontrollably, squirting around the girth and all over Brooks’ office papers.

  “That’s it, that’s it!” Whispered Brooks with his cock head in her mouth. “My seed still needs to be released.” The boss lay back on the carpeted floor, his raging erection pointing up at the ceiling.

  Trish crawled forward, allowing the dildo to slip out of her. She got on the floor and straddled him, enabling the mammoth member to enter her once more. She bounced up and down on the ridiculously big cock, Brooks squeezing her buttocks as she rode. The cock slid into her perfectly with every downward motion, and she reached down to steady herself on the big man’s chest as she rode him like a jockey, keen to win the race.

  She felt the giant sack twitch beneath her, and Brooks moaned loudly, his balls rapidly drawing up. The boss came, pumping blast after blast of rich milk into her pussy, soaking her insides. She felt the hot sperm filling her up, warming her up. She shut her eyes, loving the feel of it swimming inside her.

  The sperm made their journey, as fast as they could. Trish dismounted the softening shaft and closed her legs, but wasn’t quite able to contain all of it. “Jesus...” was all she could manage.

  “Ok, we're almost done. Lie on your back!” The boss instructed her. After being so satisfied, Trish thought there was no harm in seeing what the man had in mind now.

  Fatigued, she lay on her back. She felt used and abused, but had loved every second of it.

  Brooks straddled her upper body. Hovering above her face, he started to descend down onto her. She looked up, and saw the big meaty balls slowly lower themselves into her awaiting mouth. She mumbled into her mouthful of testicle as her boss tea-bagged her, his hips rising and falling with careful motions.

  “Mmmm...” mumbled Trish, gasping for air.

  -----

  PAINTING HER SKILLFULLY

  By

  Tess West

  S usan Watson stood outside the city’s largest art gallery, tapping her foot impatiently. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, and saw that it was exactly 9:50 a.m. The gallery would be opening in ten minutes.

  Today was quite an important day. Her absolute favorite artist, a painter by the name of Latif Akhtar, was in the city. He was doing some sort of touring exhibit with his most notable works, going from gallery to gallery every week. Today was Monday, so it was the first day of the exhibit at this gallery, and Akhtar would most definitely be there in the flesh to welcome admirers and answer questions. Susan had driven two hours for this, from her tiny little town just north of here. She’d stayed in a nearby hotel the previous night, and woken up unreasonably early to arrive on time. As always, she was ten minutes early. She’d even taken work off for this, though her boss thought she was in bed sick with the flu.

  Susan’s brown eyes darted up and down the street. The city had come alive over the past hour, pedestrians emerging from their apartment buildings and setting out on foot for the nearest underground station. Some clutched steaming coffees in hand, thick scarves obscuring their faces. Others hurried along with earbuds plugged into their ears, tuning out the world. It was quite interesting to watch the city life pass her by.

  Susan rubbed one of her wide-set eyes, stifling a yawn. She was a bit shorter than the average woman, capping out at 5’3”. She had a thin body, and was rather pale. Her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were a ruddy shade darker than the rest of her, the result of a slight sunburn. Her hair was light brown, with a few strands of blond, and her nose was small and rounded. She turned her head to scratch at her neck, revealing a small and simple tattoo of a triangle behind her right ear.

  “Damn it, open already,” Susan muttered to herself. She turned and glared at the front door of the gallery, as if that would make its doors open for her faster. She could see the shadows of employees flickering beyond the glass as they walked back and forth, readying the lobby for its daily stream of visitors.

  Finally, the front door clicked as it was unlocked. Susan strode forward eagerly and grasped the door handle, pushing it open. She stepped inside the heated gallery and let out a sigh of relief – she had been beginning to lose feeling in her toes, despite them being enclosed in thick padded boots.

  “Welcome to the Gallery of Modern Art,” a peppy young woman said from behind the counter, beaming at Susan. “You’re right on time.”

  “I know,” Susan said brusquely, frowning at her. “How much to get in?”

  The young woman faltered, her smile dissolving into a thin-lipped grimace. “$10, please.”

  “What a rip off,” Susan muttered, though her heart secretly leapt in excitement as she handed over the money. The woman was still frowning as she handed her back her ticket, and she didn’t bother to say thank you. Instead she rushed into the next room, where a large man was waiting with a security wand in hand. He waved the device all around, over Susan’s front and back and between her legs, before nodding and allowing her to pass.

  At last, she was here. Susan had been waiting for this for three months, since she’d first found out about Akhtar’s gallery tour. It had seemed too good to be true. Akhtar and his paintings were such an inspiration to Susan, he had been the reason that she had wanted to start painting herself. She wasn’t the best at it, but she did enjoy it. It was a stress reliever, a good way to clear her mind at the end of a long day – and so she painted anyways, even if no one else wanted to see what she created.

  She found a map of the gallery and practically ripped it open, peering
down eagerly. There, on the third floor it was clearly marked: Latif Akhtar Portrait Exhibit. She looked up, eyes searching until she found a sign pointing to the nearest elevator. She hurried over to it and jabbed at the button, staring up at the glowing number above her head and tapping her foot impatiently.

  Within minutes, she was stepping off onto the third floor. And there it was, stretched before her, a massive room full of Latif Akhtar’s real and actual paintings. They were absolute works of art, massive portrait paintings of everyday, normal people Akhtar had encountered in his life. Each one was a good six feet tall and four feet wide.

  “Welcome.”

  Susan turned, and stared. The real-life painter was standing there before her, smiling. The man was quite tall and burly, with dark skin and black hair. He stepped forward and held out his hand to shake, which Susan took tentatively.

  “I’m a huge fan,” she blurted out. She had planned this moment out, imagined what it would be like and what she would say – but all of that fled her mind in this moment, and she rambled. “I love all of your work. I do painting myself, as a hobby. Just a hobby.”

  “Really?” Akhtar smiled at her indulgently, inclining his head. “I’m flattered that you’re such a fan of my work.”

  They spoke for a few minutes longer, before he suddenly made a strange offer. “Would you like to come see my studio? I love to show my process off to young, aspiring painters. I’d be more than happy to show you around. Perhaps do a painting of you, as well?”

  Susan was star struck at this offer. She stared at Akhtar, completely and utterly floored, and after a moment managed to nod her head the smallest amount.

  “I... I would be honored.”

  They made the arrangements for that evening, and as Susan drove over to Akhtar’s house, she couldn’t stop the butterflies from forming in her tummy, images of the great man’s work swirling through her mind in glorious oil paint.

  When she arrived at the grand old house, she strode up the long driveway to his front door, and taking a deep breath, bravely knocked three times.

  Akhtar opened the door, and his warm friendly nature instantly put Susan at ease. “Hi, come on in. I was just upstairs in my studio, about to put brush to canvas,” he said jovially.

  Susan followed the tall man along a long corridor, the walls adorned with magnificent works of art. They walked up a wide, red-carpeted staircase, and Susan followed him into a room. Akhtar shut the door behind them.

  “This is my studio!” The artist said.

  “It’s incredible,” said Susan, looking around at the easels and half-finished paintings. It was a dream come true for her to be here.

  They sat down on the comfy sofa, and Akhtar opened a bottle of red and poured them both a glass. They sipped away, and he asked, “You’re not nervous about this, are you?”

  Susan looked at the man, slightly baffled. “Nervous about what?”

  “About posing nude for me,” Akhtar replied, completely straight-faced.

  Susan’s heart began to flutter. She hadn’t agreed to this. Sure, she had briefly entertained the idea of posing for one of his paintings, but this was the first time he had mentioned her taking off her clothes. But she couldn’t deny the arousal that coursed through her, and nor did she want to.

  Suddenly, Akhtar looked even more serious, almost stern. “Take off your clothes. Now.” He ordered.

  As soon as he had said the words, Susan felt her panties getting damp. This was going to happen. She couldn’t leave now.

  Akhtar made the first move, leaning in and tenderly kissing her on the side of the neck. It felt strange to Susan at first, being kissed by her idol that she had admired for so long. Their hands reached out and caressed each other’s bodies, gently touching and roaming. Before she knew it, their tops were off and there they sat, Akhtar bare-chested and Susan in her bra, her upper body looking remarkably skinny compared to the artist’s beefy torso.

  Akhtar unhooked her bra. His mouth went down and began to suck on Susan’s erect nipples, gently nibbling and playfully biting each one in turn, as she felt frustrated need burn deeply from within her. When he was done, she returned the favor by lightly squeezing his chest, knocking the big pecs from side to side, making them wobble and flex.

  Akhtar’s hand reached down and undid Susan’s jeans, which along with her knickers, were pulled down and discarded onto the rug. Susan parted her legs. His hand keenly touched her pussy, his soft fingers expertly working her as his thumb flicked over her clit. He outstretched his middle two fingers and proceeded to tease her pussy, stroking her button as he did so.

  She was more turned-on than she ever had been in her life, and she moaned softly while her tight snatch was being tenderly fingered. Akhtar undid his own jeans and pulled them down along with his silky boxers, which were thrown on top of Susan’s knickers to make a heap on the floor. He sat back on the couch and let the young woman feast her eyes on his huge cock and balls, which throbbed in the soft lighting. His sack looked heavy and full, and Susan keenly reached down to cup them in her hand, whilst her other wrapped around his thick girth. She couldn’t believe she had her hand around such a monumental cock, and she worked her slim wrist up and down the length speedily, it being so thick that she had to jack him half-handed.

  Susan rubbed her thumb over Akhtar’s cock head, making sure to apply the perfect amount of pressure to the pulsating tip. Akhtar stood up, and she was able to take in the full sight of his naked body for the first time.

  His body was hulking and muscular, his thick thighs rippling and flexing. He gave her a cheeky smirk, and his huge cock sprung up in the air, angry and ready. His massive balls hung below, and looked as full as humanly possible, about ready to burst.

  Susan gazed at him in awe, all her inhibitions gone. She dropped to her knees like a hungry college slut, and crawled to where Akhtar stood. She spiritedly sucked on his cock head, so big that she could barely fit her lips on it. She sucked away, before intuitively licking down the length of his shaft to his ridiculously full balls. She worked her way up and down the shaft, using her soft lips to wank him with her mouth, getting the wide length shiny and wet. She traced her tongue round and round the ridge of the head, before focusing her attention to the slit and trying to lick up as much of the pre-cum as she could. The raw, musky taste of it was having an incredible effect on her, and she sucked it down and gulped hard. She continued to suckle on the big dick, opening her mouth as wide as she could to allow the throbbing beast all the way into her throat, almost gagging on it. This was the first cock she’d had in her mouth since college, and she soon realized that she’d been missing out. She closed her lips and vacuumed her cheeks in, bobbing her head up and down like a BobbleHead toy, sucking on it as best she could.

  Susan stuck out her tongue, as the artist wanked himself vigorously over her face, longing to release the pre-cum from his pent-up balls. She flicked her tongue over the shiny helmet, and Akhtar drizzled his pre-cum, sticky ribbons trickling all over her face, painting her with luke-warm snail-trails.

  Now fully taking charge, the artist motioned for the young woman to get on the couch. There they lay, head to toe, Akhtar on the bottom with Susan clambering on top to create a 69. They promptly licked at each other, lapping and swallowing. As Akhtar tongue-probed her tight pink hole, Susan was struggling with the man’s massive cock, which slid right into her mouth, making her choke and splutter. She slid the dick in and out of her mouth, while he flicked his tongue over her clit. The sensation of the artist’s tongue on her nub whilst sucking on the massive dick was almost too much for Susan to take, and she almost came right there and then.

  Akhtar withdrew his tongue from her aching pussy, and as Susan’s climax simmered she buried her face deep into the artist’s sack, panting and kissing him intimately. She dismounted and heard him say, “I’m going to pump you deep.”

  Akhtar got up. It was time. There the artist stood, a vision of true power. Susan watched as his big prick seesa
wed up and down, totally throbbing.

  She got on her hands and knees on the couch, and pushed her perfect ass in the direction of the artist. Akhtar stood to the side of her, and helped her in arching her back, encouraging her to stick out her ass. He gave her twin globes a hearty slap, his manly hand making a big clap as he smacked it down forcefully. “Get ready, girl!”

  The artist didn’t waste any more time. He was eager to plunge his cock deep, so he stood at the side of the couch as Susan backed her ass up. Her tight pussy looked so pink and inviting from behind, and he pressed his cock head up against her. Something deep inside Akhtar’s soul roared, and he drilled his rigid tool deep into her snug orifice, impaling her and making her yell at the top of her lungs. “Fuck yeah! That’s it. Screw me good and hard,” Susan begged, and Akhtar really went for it.

  He thrust his hips back and forth rampantly, deliberately slapping his huge balls against Susan’s clit, causing the young woman to yelp with pleasure. The artist took great pride in watching his thick girth disappear into her folds, as his balls whacked her every time. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, pummeling her with intent and loving the sensation of her slick snatch gripping his shaft so tightly. He held onto her hips as he picked up speed, his muscular thighs rippling as he bucked his hips back and forth, spearing her viciously on his stick. Her moans and wails of pleasure were music to the artist’s ears, who didn’t let up for a second, relishing the sensations and living in the moment. “That’s a great sight,” acknowledged Akhtar.