by Penny Birch
It was risk that, or the girls. I could bargain, yes, but I had a horrible suspicion he wouldn’t take any shit. He knew I was a slut, he’d seen, and after the photo of me with Rupert’s cock in my mouth, claiming to be a lesbian wasn’t going to do any good either. Nor was pointing out that whatever I might have done with Rupert it didn’t mean I wanted to do it with him. Men never accept that one.
He came back all too quickly, with the last two boxes, putting them down with the others and picking a magazine off the top. It was an old Flushed Cheeks, which he opened as he kicked the door shut. I said nothing, not at all sure what I should do.
‘So what’s all this?’ he demanded. ‘Blokes slapping girls around? Not right, I reckon.’
‘No, it’s not like that,’ I answered, instinctively defending myself and just spanking in general. ‘It’s for play.’
‘Yeah, looks it,’ he said, and turned the picture he’d been looking at.
I had to admit he had a point, at least to myself. It’s one of the harder mags, and designed for guys who would actually have liked to spank girls for real, and have them hate it, if they could have got away with it. Certainly that’s the way the fantasies were aimed, but then, so are my own, most of the time.
What the picture showed was a choir girl, very sweet and innocent, with long, thick brown hair and a fringe half covering her eyes. She was kneeling on a chair, with her surplice turned up over a very red bum, while her panties had been turned down around her thighs. A bearded bloke who was presumably supposed to be a vicar stood behind her, slipper in hand. The expression on her face was of absolute misery.
‘That’s just fantasy,’ I told him. ‘Pretending to hate it is part of the fun.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Maybe I ought to do you, then, if it’s what you get off on,’ he went on.
‘Er . . . no, no thanks, I’m all right,’ I managed, realising how close I’d come to dropping myself right in it.
He just shrugged, turning the page to where the girl was on her knees, her head up under the vicar’s cassock, sucking cock with her bare red bum still showing. He nodded, his thick tongue briefly flicking out to moisten his lips, and put the magazine down.
‘Better get introduced,’ he said. ‘You’re Jade, yeah. That’s what that nasty-looking bird said, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, Jade,’ I answered.
‘I’m Dave,’ he said, and to my amazement he stuck out his hand.
I shook it, amazed that he thought it was the right thing to do with a girl he was about to make suck his cock and worse. Only then did it dawn on me that he had no idea whatever that he was doing anything wrong, or that my reluctance was anything other than pretended modesty.
‘How d’you want it, then,’ he asked If you don’t want your arse slapped? D’you like doing striptease, or what?’
‘Just don’t,’ I said. ‘Make me do whatever you want, but don’t try to make me act like I want it.’
‘Kinky bitch, ain’t you?’ he said. ‘Right, Jade, if that’s the way you like it. I want my cock sucked, and then some. Tits out for starters, and you can suck while I have a look at your dirty pictures.’
It still hadn’t sunk in, but I didn’t even try to argue. Instead I pulled up my top, showing him my bra. It was one of my smaller ones, too small really, with flesh bulging out around the top of the lacy cups. He licked his lips at the sight, and nodded for me to go on. I reached up behind my back, my fingers trembling. The catch was tricky, the third hook sticking, and when I finally got it free the elastic snapped back. My boobs just fell out, really awkwardly, the bra snapping up to lie on top of them, but hiding nothing. I pulled it off, all of it, top and bra, leaving myself bare. Again he licked his lips.
‘Nice,’ he drawled. ‘I love ’em fat. You can put those round my cock while you’re doing me, all right?’
I gave a resigned nod, adding the thought of a titty fucking to my woes.
‘Perk your nips up,’ he ordered, nodding at my boobs once more.
I shut my eyes as my hands went to my breasts. They felt heavy, my nipples sensitive as I tweaked them gently. I was hoping they’d stay in, to show him how much I hated what he was making me do. It didn’t work. Out they came, as big and stiff as ever, stuck up just as proudly as if it had been some beautiful and dominant girl who’d been giving me the orders.
‘Nips like fucking raspberries,’ he said. ‘I knew you’d have big ones. Feel ’em up then, keep ’em hard for Dave.’
That drew another sob from me, pure humiliation, as I fondled my breasts for his pleasure. It’s how I masturbate, usually, my boobs in my hands before I get down to the sticky bit, and it was just awful, doing something so intimate in front of him. That didn’t stop my nipples staying up, or the little tingling sensations running through me as I touched myself.
‘Open your eyes, love,’ he drawled. ‘Dave’s got a treat for you.’
I did it, although I knew exactly what the so called treat was, his cock and balls. He sat down, making the sofa creek as he lowered his bulk onto it. He really was fat, grossly fat, so fat he had to almost lie back to get his crotch far enough out to stop his belly getting in the way. I could only stare in disgust as he unzipped himself and flopped it all over the top of his underpants. Men’s genitals are ugly at the best of times. He was gross, big, and hairy, with a fat, pale cock, the foreskin really fleshy, with the red tip already poking out through the hole at the top. He’d pulled his balls out too, big ones, the size of eggs, in a loose, wrinkly sack covered in goose pimples. A great bulge of fat stuck out above it all, like a hood, with some of his pasty white skin showing through the hair.
If he realised the effect he was having on me, then he hid it well, grinning and sticking it out, as if I could possibly have enjoyed the thought of having such a horrid thing in my mouth. That was where it was going, though, and as I sank slowly to my knees I was wondering if it wouldn’t be better to let AJ have me after all.
He bent sideways, reaching out for the packets of photos, grinning as he opened one. He began to look at the pictures, the pictures of me getting my spankings, an act so intrusive that it had the tears starting in my eyes. I shuffled closer, the big lump that had been rising in my throat growing until I felt I would choke, or be sick. He moved a bit further forwards, making himself more comfortable. His cock moved to the motion, rolling down over his balls, which shifted sluggishly in their sack in response.
‘You can start by licking,’ he said. ‘Take your time, and don’t forget to use your tits.’
I swallowed the lump, meaning to speak, but finding it impossible. His legs were wide in front of me, and all I had to do was lean forwards, and down, to take the horrid thing in my mouth. It just looked so gross, so ugly, and I could smell it too, pungent and male, stronger than Rupert, and very different from the female smells I’m used to. I knew I had to suck it, but I couldn’t do it, not of my own accord.
‘Fuck me, tits out in the woods, eh?’ he said as he took a new photo. ‘Your arse too. You are a dirty bitch, and no mistake. Come on, you can start now.’
‘Make me,’ I managed.
‘Yeah, right,’ he answered. ‘I forgot you wanted to play like I’m forcing you.’
I was going to say he was, and call him a filthy bastard or something, to try to at least make something of what he was doing sink in. I never got the chance. He had grabbed me by the hair before I could say a word, and all I managed was a squeak of shock, ending in a muffled squeal as my face was pushed to his genitals.
He rubbed my face in them, smearing the oily skin over my lips and nose and cheeks, until I was forced to open my mouth just to breath. It got filled with cock, immediately, fat, bulbous penis flesh, swelling in my throat as he pulled my head hard down. It went right in, choking me, so that I felt my gorge rise and had to pull back to stop myself being sick. He just stuffed it in again, holding the base and my hair, to fuck my head to his own rhythm. It got s
tiff really quickly, growing in my mouth, the fat foreskin peeling back as the slimy, salty head was pushed deeper and deeper into my mouth.
‘Oh, yeah, good,’ he sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s right, suck it like that, deep throat. Fuck, but I could spunk in your mouth so easily.’
It was down my throat, the head anyway, but only because he had put it there. I wanted to speak, to protest, but could only manage a muffled gobbling noise as he fucked my mouth, harder, faster, until I was gagging on his erection, the tears running down my face, my stomach knotting in protest. I was going to throw up, I knew it, and then it stopped, suddenly.
‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘Now lick my balls and stuff.’
He let go, and I pulled off, gasping and wondering if it wouldn’t serve him right just to be sick all over his cock. I nearly was, but choked it back, sure that it would either make him angry or that he’d make me lick it up. Resigned, I bent forwards again, holding my breath against the thick smell of male cock. It was hard now, straining up in front of my face, with his fat ball sack hanging below. He was watching me.
‘Come on, lick,’ he ordered, ‘and suck on my balls, I love that. Wank me while you do it.’
I grimaced, thinking how the fat testicles would feel in my mouth, and the hairy, wrinkly skin of his scrotum. My tongue came out, dabbing at the base of his cock. I took it in hand, squeezing the thick, rubbery pillar of flesh. Jerking at his cock, I began to lick, the base of his shaft, then lower, in among the thick black hair that covered his balls.
He went back to looking at the photos, making little sounds of amusement or pleasure as he went through the pictures of me, me spread and punished, every intimate detail of my body on show, me, the girl who was licking on his balls. They’d begun to tighten, the skin growing thicker and more wrinkly as his excitement rose, until my tongue tip was running over meaty wrinkles and crevices. I could feel the balls under the flesh too, fat, egg-shaped masses that squirmed as my tongue touched them. I’d been told to suck them, and I did it, sucking them into my mouth, one by one and rolling them over my tongue, hoping it would make him come and spare me a mouthful of spunk. He just groaned and put the photos down, pushing me off. I sat back, watching as he pushed his trousers down, all the way to his ankles, and once more sat, spreading his great blubbery thighs.
‘That feels better,’ he said. ‘Now you can really get at me, eh? Now how about getting those lovely tits around my prick?’
I nodded, glad to be spared the taste and feel of him in my mouth, if only temporarily. Shuffling forwards, I took my boobs in my hands and folded them around his cock. He began to push himself up and down, fucking the long hole of boob flesh I’d made in my cleavage, with the red tip of his cock emerging between them with each push. It was wet with my saliva, but there were bubbles of another fluid around the little hole in the tip. I knew that meant he was close to orgasm, and began to rub harder.
‘That’s right, jiggle ’em about,’ he moaned. ‘Oh, you fucking know how to please a man, don’t you? Will you look at your fucking nips!’
I did, and blushed. They were rock hard, poking up from my boobs as if they were trying to take off. Men always think that means a girl’s turned on, and I suppose I was, sort of. Physically anyway, because I knew full well that my pussy was wet. What I wasn’t going to do was give him the satisfaction of finding out.
‘Suck it now, and lick, plenty,’ he ordered suddenly.
His voice was now hoarse, and he’d fixed on one photo, with the others spread out so that he could see them. I didn’t know which it was, but I could just imagine it, one of those that showed everything, with me flaunting my red bottom, and naked or near naked. His eyes would be feasting on the back view of my pussy, I just knew it, and on my bumhole too, and I was sobbing as I sank back down to take his cock in my mouth once more. He was going to come, he had to, and as he reached down to take me by the hair I knew it couldn’t be long.
He pulled me in, not onto his cock, but against his balls, rubbing my face in them until I began to kiss and lick at the wrinkly skin. I took his cock in hand, jerking at it, sure he’d let go at any moment. I sucked his balls into my mouth, both of them, which should have made him spurt on the spot. He just gasped, and as I sucked on the fat, fleshy eggs and the rubbery skin of his scrotum I was cursing him for being so insensitive.
‘You fucking love it, don’t you, you dirty little whore?’ he grated, and turned the photo to me.
There I was, in Uncle Rupert’s garden, with my combats and panties down, my huge boobs dangling bare under my chest, my pussy and bumhole on blatant show, spanked and ready for fucking. I gave a choking sob, gagging on my mouthful of ball sack, my head dizzy with the sheer shame of it all.
‘Dirty, dirty little whore!’ he repeated. ‘Lick this.’
He moved, his legs sliding further apart, the fat tuck of his buttocks pressing to my chin. His grip tightened, pulling my head back, and down. I’d thought he meant his cock, and realised to my horror that he wanted his anus licked, even as my face was pressed down, between his great fat cheeks, my eyes on his balls, my lips against the hairy, puckered hole below them.
I struggled, trying to pull away, but he was too strong, holding me in place. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. I had to, though, and my mouth came open to the pungent musk of his bottom and balls, only to be pulled in, my open mouth spreading out over his bumhole, my tongue touching it. He just rubbed my face in it, up and down his crease, smearing my face over his anus, just using my nose and lips to get sensation to his skin. It was so dirty, and I was choking on the taste and smell, and all the while wanking on his cock as hard as I possibly could and praying he would come.
It stopped, suddenly, and I thought he’d come. His hand had been twisted so hard in my hair that it hurt, really hurt, and he’d been gasping and groaning like anything. I thought it was over, relief washing over me, along with an utterly humiliating touch of disappointment. Then, as he pulled me up by my hair, I realised it wasn’t. He’d just run out of breath, too fat to make it in one.
He was running sweat, his face red and glossy, the skin of his great fat thighs and gross belly damp. Not that I was much better, my whole body prickling with sweat, while I could feel the wet of my juice between my thighs. I looked at him, drawing my breath in.
‘Are you going to come?’ I asked.
‘Yeah,’ he puffed. ‘I’ll be all right. Hang on.’
‘You wank,’ I told him. ‘I’ll suck on your balls.’
‘In a bit, yeah,’ he answered. ‘You can have a bit first, just give me a moment.’
He threw his head back, his chins stretching up to expose the sweaty red lines between them, with drops running down his neck. His breathing was deep, his chest rising and falling, and for one horrible moment I thought he was going to pass out on me, or worse. He didn’t, and after a moment his hand fixed hard in my hair, pulling me into him, but not towards his cock.
‘What are you doing?’ I demanded.
‘Giving you what you want, your kinky stuff.’
‘No . . . really . . . I . . .’
‘Come on, you love it! I can do it harder than that poof in the photos and all.’
‘No, not that! Not a spanking! No!’
‘Yeah, you love it, you kinky bitch!’
‘No, please, stop! Not like that!’
He’d pulled me up, not over his legs, but spread across one, with my pussy on his thigh, pressed hard to his leg and my bottom stuck out behind. It was the worst possible thing he could have done, certain to get me horny. Sure enough, the first hard slap pushed my open sex right against his leg, rubbing my clitty on his bare skin. I squealed, cursing him and calling him a bastard, yelling at him to get off, but he took no notice at all, laying in another hard smack, full across my sweet spot, and I was just lost.
He did me hard, so hard, smack after smack of his great heavy arm, each one jamming my pussy onto his leg, until I could do nothing but squeal and babble
incoherently. It was right on my sweet spot, and all the while his great hard cock was pressing to my side, rubbing on the soft flesh of my waist, until I thought he’d spunk on me. It was too much, I was going to come, right there on his leg.
I lost it, rubbing myself, bucking up and down, pushing my pussy to his thigh with each awful slap. My mouth went wide, my screams and sobs turning to a gasp of ecstasy . . .
It stopped, his body jerking forwards to shove me off. I collapsed, onto the floor, hard on my bum. I was snivelling, and gasping, tears streaming down my face to splash on my boobs, snot pouring from my nose. I’d been on the edge, too close, and I had to come, and come with my bum up. I rolled, sticking my bottom high, an utterly vulgar display.
He twitched up my skirt as my fingers went to my pussy, showing it all. I didn’t stop him, but started to rub at my sopping hole. My mind was fixed on the sensations of my body, my hot bum and wet sex, my straining nipples and the taste of cock in my mouth. I was broken, the last shred of my dignity gone, blown away in that awful, degrading spanking, until all I cared about was getting myself to climax.
I heard him, barely aware of his words, ‘What an arse! I’ve got to fuck it!’
I might have got away with it, maybe, if only I’d had panties on. I didn’t, and the next thing I knew the weight of his belly was settling on my bottom and his cock was prodding at my hole. A faint voice in the back of my head screamed at me to stop him. Then he was up me, and it was too late, the full, fat length of his cock filling my pussy as the first glorious twinges of orgasm hit me. I cried out, babbling, calling him a fat bastard, but thanking him too, brokenly, wretchedly, for what he’d done to me.
‘ . . . yes, please, deeper!’ I begged. ‘Fuck my pussy, Dave, use me, hurt me, spank me while you do it, you dirty, fat creep . . . Fuck my bottom, you dirty, fat bastard!’
