“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking. Uhhm. Tinder. I was on Tinder for a while.”
I sighed lightly at the sheer joy of having his cock inside of me.
“Sarah had really bad luck on there. All she got was a bunch of creeps.”
He began to powerfuck me, pounding himself as deep as he could and pressing my hips into the edge of the countertop with each thrust of his hips.
“Me…too…” I grunted.
The sound of his hips slapping against my ass echoed throughout the kitchen.
“Am I on speaker?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Cooking. Hands. Are covered. In stuff.”
He continued to pound away, his balls banging against my clit with each powerful stroke. The sheer size of his thick shaft stretched my pussy to a new limit, and as painful as it was at first, it was a pain I was now enjoying. I closed my eyes and bit into the inside of my lower lip. Whoever said size doesn’t matter had never been fucked by a cock the size of Luke’s.
Size was everything.
Size was the difference between simply getting off and having a mind-blowing orgasm.
Now that I had been filled with Luke’s cock and experienced a life altering degree of climax, I realized I was ruined for anyone in the future who had an average-sized dick. If Luke ever stopped fucking me, any future prospects would have to show me the size of their package before I would even agree to let them buy me a drink.
“What’s all that noise?”
“There’s. A lot. Going. On right. Now.”
“I can call you back if you’re busy.”
“No!” I bellowed.
If she hung up, it was all going to end. I calmed myself, inhaled a shallow breath, and continued. “No, I just…”
His pace slowed considerably.
“Sorry, I just had a bad experience on Tinder and I wanted to tell you about it,” I managed to say.
He continued to fuck me ever-so-slowly.
“Oh my God. What happened?”
He pulled out completely. I glanced over my shoulder. He grinned and sauntered around the end of the counter, his stiff cock bouncing up and down with each step. I followed him with narrow eyes, slightly intrigued by what he might be planning. After walking to the opposite edge of the counter, he hopped onto it, got on his knees, and began to inch toward my face.
No. I can’t.
There’s no way.
With his cock now twitching in front of my face, he opened his mouth wide, pointed to it, and then pointed to my face.
I grinned at the thought of what we were doing, shook my head, and opened my mouth.
He guided the head of his cock past my lips, into my throat, and increased pressure until my gag reflex kicked in. I coughed and gagged against the massive shaft until I was on the verge of passing out, and only then did he pull it from my mouth.
“Hello? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I coughed. “I choked on my coffee.”
“Oh, so what happened on Tinder? Sarah’s stories were just creepy.”
With tears rolling down my cheeks, I stared down at the phone.
Huh?
I glanced at his saliva covered cock. I would have never guessed it, but I was so turned on my pussy ached. In a brief moment of clarity, I said what I felt might buy me a few minutes of time.
“Tell me what happened to Sarah while I’m stirring this, then I’ll tell you my story.”
I met his gaze and grinned as I opened my mouth again.
“Okay. So she met this guy, and he was like perfect. He was an architect or something and they started seeing each other, and then they started, you know, having sex. And she was like I think we might even get married or whatever…”
Luke inched his way closer until his cock was pressing against my cheek. I shifted my gaze to the phone. Four minutes and twenty-eight seconds had passed, but it seemed like it had been an hour.
Thwack!
He slapped my face with his cock. I stared back at him, shocked and turned on at the same time.
What the fuck?
He pointed to his mouth.
I opened wide.
He narrowed his eyes and glared as he shoved his cock deep into my throat. My gagging did little to convince him to give me any relief. As the tears ran down my cheeks, he continued to grudge fuck my face.
“…and I was like whatever, bitch, you met his skanky ass on Tinder. But she said he was like this perfect specimen of man. Anyway. So the guy was taking her to the beach, and out to eat and stuff, and they were like going out all the time…”
With my head directly over the phone and Luke’s knees straddling it, he continued to fuck my throat not much differently than he fucked my pussy. I never had anyone fuck my face before, and although I would have guessed it was something I wouldn’t have enjoyed, something about it was a huge turn-on.
Wide-eyed and with a fire burning between my legs, I glanced up at his muscular chest and down along the rippled muscles of his abdomen. The head of his cock banged against the back of my throat as I hoped Chloe would just keep talking long enough for Luke to finish.
“…so it ends up, this guy is married. And I was like, no shit, bitch. They’re all married.”
As much as my mind was enjoying the face fucking, my throat continued to reject it. Luke, however, pounded away as Chloe’s unrelenting blabbing belched out of the phone’s speaker.
“Hello?”
“What’s that noise?”
After a few more strokes, he pulled himself from my mouth. I gasped for air and gazed down at the phone. The screen was covered in saliva.
Oh fuck that’s hot.
“I…uhhm…I had,” I said, trying to catch my breath between words. “I had the same…the uhhm…”
I wiped my mouth and inhaled a choppy breath. “I had the same problem.”
Thwack!
He slapped me with his cock again.
“Is this a bad time? I mean it sounds like you’ve got a lot going on.”
I caught my breath, glared at Luke for a moment, and lowered my head toward the phone. “No, I just. No, I’m sorry, I just really wanted to tell you this.”
“Okay.”
“Sarah’s thing? Basically, it happened to me.”
Thwack!
I glared at him.
You fucker.
I wiped the saliva from my cheek.
He grinned, brushed the hair out of his face, and climbed down from the countertop.
Thank God.
I realized my best option was to talk fast, tell my story, and get her going on another subject before he started whatever he was going to do.
“So, I met like fifty guys, and they were all dicks. And then I met this guy, just like Sarah, and he was perfect, but the prick was married, and I just lost it. I came home, got drunk, and swore to never use that fucking app again,” I blurted.
“That’s it?” She laughed. “That’s your story?”
“Well, yeah. But…” I thought about what to say, and quickly decided to just make something up. “So there was this one guy who wanted me to do this threesome with his roommate, and I was like, are you…”
Luke slowly pushed himself deep inside of me. Not only was it immediately apparent I was ready for him, but my pussy was completely soaked. I opened my mouth wide and exhaled against the screen of the phone as I absorbed the feeling of him filling me with his cock.
Talking on the phone while I was being fucked would have never even entered my mind as an option for sex, but now that I was in the middle of doing it I decided it was the hottest shit I had ever been a part of.
“Hello…”
Oh shit. Come on Liv, you’re going to lose her.
“I was like…are you…fucking serious? I didn’t know if I was going to get out…of his house alive,” I lied. “What was the craziest thing that ever…happened…to…Sarah?”
He pulled half-way out and then shoved himself into me without warning. I coughed out a gasp and all
but collapsed chest-first onto the counter. I glanced over my shoulder and glared.
“I don’t know. I mean, she was dating guys off there for a while. She finally met someone, but not on there.”
He slapped my ass lightly and began to fuck me steadily. With each second or third stroke his hand came down against my butt cheek.
Oh fuck yes. I like that.
I turned, peered over my shoulder, and grinned.
“What are you doing?”
“Cooking,” I breathed.
She didn’t respond.
Come on, bitch. Tell me something.
For what was probably no more than fifteen or twenty seconds, I let Luke fuck me and slap my ass. My otherwise mundane sex life was at an all-time high, and I was enjoying it. Lost in the sexual act, and completely oblivious to the fact I was going to be deprived of his dick if she hung up, a beep from my low battery warning reminded me of my commitment.
“Uhhm. So, if you’re not seeing Mark, who are you seeing?” I rattled the sentence out without so much as taking a breath.
Say something, Chloe. If you ruin this for me, I’ll to hate you forever.
The few seconds of phone silence that followed were far from silent on my end.
“This guy. His name is Kavin. With an ‘A’. He’s kind of a dick, but in a good way. He’s really possessive, and kind of controlling, and whatever, but the sex is good.”
He began to powerfuck me again without any warning. Whether or not he was withholding cock from me earlier I didn’t know, but this time was much different. Each in stroke took the breath from me completely, and a muffled humph burst from my lungs.
About three or four strokes into it, and my eyes fell closed.
I was going to explode.
Fuck yes, keep fucking me just like that.
Just. Like. That.
As I became engrossed in the sheer joy of Luke fucking me senseless, Chloe’s voice caused me to realize it would end and end quickly if I didn’t continue to focus not only on being fucked, but on talking to her.
“Hey, Liv, let me call you back, okay?”
I opened my eyes and stared down at my saliva-covered phone.
“Nooooooo!” I groaned.
“Yeah, I really need to go, and you’re busy…”
My mind had long since surpassed the confused state, I had been fucked to the point I was delirious. I needed Luke to keep doing exactly what he was doing, and although I sure as fuck didn’t need to be talking to Chloe, I realized if I didn’t keep her on the phone he would stop. I couldn’t think properly, couldn’t reason with myself, and damned sure couldn’t speak legibly. I needed to focus on what was happening and what I was feeling.
And I was sick of talking on the phone.
“Don’t hang up,” I begged. “Right now. A guy is fucking me…”
“And. I mean. Like right now. It’s. Like a. Sex. Contest,” I explained as Luke continued to shove his fat cock into my ever-so-eager pussy.
“And. If I hang up. He’s going to. Stop. Just. Stay. Here. Please.”
He pounded himself into me even harder. I felt myself begin to reach climax. It was coming, and it was coming fast.
“Stay here on the phone. Until. I. Come,” I begged.
“Oh my God, Liv. You’re fucking someone? Right now?”
“Uh…huh,” I breathed.
“I fucking knew it!”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on Luke’s massive cock.
“That’s so fucking hot!”
Shut up, bitch.
Luke might have thought I cheated, but I took a big chance in telling her. It worked, and apparently he liked the fact Chloe knew, because he began fucking me like he was trying to kill me. As his balls steadily tapped a rhythmic beat against my clit, I arched my back, craned my neck toward the ceiling, and bellowed out a blood-curdling wail.
Simultaneously, his cock swelled. A few more strokes, and I felt him erupt inside of me. As he came, an orgasm exploded from deep within me, and with it, my entire body was somehow transformed into a sexual bundle of nerves.
The orgasms continued for several seconds, sending electric shocks from the balls of my feet all the way to the back of my skull. Chloe’s voice chattered in the background, but I had no idea what she was saying. I opened my eyes and glanced into the kitchen. Everything seemed so out of place and new to me. The few aftershock orgasms that followed caused my legs to shake violently.
I felt Luke pull out and I collapsed onto the counter. My quivering legs struggled to hold me up. Chloe’s irritating voice continued to babble from the speaker on the phone.
Exhausted, weak, and incapable of thinking clearly, I simply wanted the feeling to linger as long as it possibly could.
As she continued to vomit her ideas and opinions, I reached for the phone and pressed end.
The phone went silent.
I lowered myself to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest, and began to hum.
Size matters.
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE
My home was above my surfboard shop, and the entire building was purchased by my father when I was a small boy. Walking distance from the ocean, my frequent midnight strolls along Mission Beach went unnoticed by almost everyone. Positioned in a high traffic area for the local surfers, the shop could keep me much busier than I chose to be. At the present time, I hand-crafted one surfboard every few weeks, only for the people I really wanted to make them for, and never anyone who was in a rush.
“Mr. Eagan, you got anything today?”
I lowered my file, turned toward the door, and removed my dust mask. “Tell you what. I’ll be done with this in about an hour, and then I’ll get it gel-coated. Come back in say, three hours?”
“About four?” he asked.
Juan lived half a mile from the shop, and often did odd jobs for me. He was dressed in khakis, a white wife beater, and navy blue canvas slip-on sneakers, and he looked the part of every other gang-banger in the area, but he wasn’t. He was a good kid. He was fourteen, Hispanic, and although I was fairly certain he was a US citizen, I suspected his father was an illegal immigrant. There were tens of thousands of illegals in the San Diego area, and many of the adults worked odd jobs for cash. No one, however, was interested in hiring a teenager to do anything, illegal immigrant or not.
He started coming around my shop when he was ten. By the time he was twelve, his older brother was given a seven-year prison sentence for drug related crimes. Immediately following his brother’s incarceration, he lashed out by spraying graffiti on many of the buildings along the boardwalk.
I decided hiring him to do odd jobs just might keep him from eventually traveling along the same path as his brother. Soon thereafter, I learned his work ethic was outstanding and everything he did was done with extreme caution and tremendous care. I had little doubt that whatever money he earned went straight to his family, probably assisting in their provisions for food or housing.
“That’ll be fine, you can sweep the shop and take the trash to the bin,” I said.
As I pulled my mask over my mouth, he turned toward the door. I watched him peer through the glass and into the street for some time, and after realizing he was in no hurry to leave, put down my file and walked toward him.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He continued to stare out into the street. “You ever have something you didn’t want to do, but part of you wanted to do it? Like the bad part of you?”
I chuckled. “The bad part, huh?”
He turned toward me and nodded. With his closely cut hair, tanned scalp, and lean muscular body, if he was a few years older he could pass for one of the many Marines in the city.
“I suppose so. I call it temptation. The fight within us between good and evil.” I pointed to the bench beside my work bench. “Have a seat.”
He sauntered over to the bench and sat. I walked to the small refrigerator I kept in the shop, grabbed an orange soda, and sat down besi
de him.
I handed him the bottle of soda. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
“Good and evil.” I paused and wiped my hands on the thighs of my jeans. “Most of us have a line we’ve drawn in the sand. Good is on one side and evil is on the other.”
He opened the soda on the edge of the bench, took a drink and nodded.
“Not everyone agrees on what is good or what is evil. We each have our own beliefs. But, no matter who we are or what we believe in, at some point in time, we’re tempted to do what is evil,” I said. “To cross the line we’ve personally drawn in the sand.”
“Abuela says evil is black, good is white, and some people are colorblind,” he said.
“Sounds like your abuela is a smart woman,” I said.
“You know Big Lopez?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
He took another drink of soda and gazed down at the floor. “You remember my older brother, Luis?”
“Sure do.”
“He worked for Big Lopez.”
“And what? Has Big Lopez got the bad part of you arguing with the good?” I asked.
He finished the soda and nodded. “Big Lopez pays big money.”
“And big money got your brother in prison for what, seven years?”
He nodded again. “Yep.”
“You know, any time we consider doing something that’s contrary to what we find acceptable, we naturally weigh the risk. It seems that’s the deciding factor, each and every time. If the risk of getting caught is small, or if the punishment associated with the risk is small, we tell ourselves it’s acceptable. If the risk is great, or if the punishment is great, we’ll inevitably refuse. Selling drugs for Big Lopez seems like a pretty easy decision.”
He shifted his eyes from the floor to the front of the shop and gazed outside. “But what if the guy offering the risk is mean, like Big Lopez?”
“He’s mean, huh?” I asked.
He took the final drink of soda. “Yep.”
“So, where’s Big Lopez stay?” I asked.
“Barrio Logan. Or sometimes with his sister at Logan Heights,” he said.
“By the Navy Base?”
“Yep.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” I asked.
“You mean if I didn’t have to worry about Big Lopez?”
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