by KT Morrison
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
“You going to come for me?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“Let’s watch you come, okay…”
“Ah, yeah, keep talking, please…”
“He fucked me, Geoff…fucked me so hard with that huge animal cock…he split me so bad I can barely walk today, baby…”
“Oh shit, Nia, oh here it comes…”
“He fucks like a goddamn man, Geoff…”
“Did you…ah, did you come?”
“I did Geoff…he was rough…and that’s…that’s what I want…and he made me come three times…”
“Oh fuck, Nia, I’m gonna come…”
“Come for me, Geoff…”
“Oh, ah, you sucked his cock?”
“I did…later…I sucked him and he came in my mouth and over my face…”
“You fucking whore…”
“That’s it, Geoff…”
“Did he come inside you?”
“He did, baby, he filled me right up and kept fucking me and I could feel his come splashing out and down my ass and all over the b—”
“Argg, fuck, oh…” he came and she inhaled sharply witnessing it. She stroked him furiously, up and down his shaft and they watched him launch his seed up into the air, high and hot, watched it splash down on his thigh and over her arm and her hand.
“That’s it, Geoff, I love you so much, I love you…”
He sank into her arms and she gently stroked him until he subsided, squeezing and holding him, gently easing his final surges from him. They were both silent as they watched her hand on him, watched his cock slowly deflate and go limp.
She put her arms around him, her messy hand held up high, letting the drips roll down her wrist rather than on the bed. She hugged him close and said, “I wish we could make love, Geoff.”
“Me…me, too,” he panted.
She turned at the waist, brought a towel out she’d tucked behind her and she dried her hand off. She kissed his hair, dropped the towel clean side down over his limp cock, and she wrung him out into it, dried him in his creases and under his balls, wiped his thighs.
“Let me know when you’re ready again,” she whispered.
He pulled her into his chest and held her to him, rested his chin in her hair. “Give me a minute,” he said.
“You missed me?” she said softly.
He laughed, “You know I did.”
“I’m so glad to be home.”
“You going to fuck him again?”
“I want to...I definitely want to…”
“You do?”
“Sorry, Geoff...yeah, I really do…”
“It hurt—”
“I’ll buy lube. I just need lube.”
Six months ago, a regular Sunday, they would have watched TV until 10, if he didn’t stay up to draw they would come up here, and he would get between her legs and he would be gentle and kind with her because he loved her. This was crazy. This was worth it. Worth the danger, the fear. The excitement, the lascivious thrill, was all-encompassing. He’d never loved her more, never wanted to make love to her more…
15
Last Night
…she waited, watched him cross the room to her, come into the light slashing pale amber from the open door of the bathroom. He came to her, looking like a man wanting trouble. The light cut across his big hard body, drawing deep black shadows under his slab of a chest. His belly was thick, smooth, he was covered in hair that led a trail from a thick thatch just above the button on his jeans and scurried up over his chest.
He said, “Where are you going?”
“To my room, Rocco.” She kept her eyes on his but reached behind her and put her hand on the partition door.
“No, you’re not.” His hand went over her shoulder and he placed his big palm on the door, stopped her from opening it. She could smell his animal smell, his musk, his pheromones.
“Rocco, I’m fuckin married—what do you think is going to happen here?”
“You’re fuckin beggin for it,” he sneered.
“I have a husband.”
“Who, that little homo?”
“Fuck you…what do you know, you—”
“I know that daughter isn’t his.”
Cold death fell on her. A ghoul reaching out from a cold tomb, its hand piercing through her heart and turning her body to ice. Her knees buckled and she fell back against the door. Her face was struck in horror. She tried to speak, but her voice was a groan, a creak from an exhumed coffin.
“How do…what…” she managed before she turned and her hands went over the door blindly, both of her weak pins-and-needles hands scrabbling along its black surface like they had no idea where a doorknob would be.
“You…how…” she muttered.
Then her head whipped back, Rocco’s huge hand clutching a fistful of her hair, pulling it right out of her scalp. She screamed, threw her hands up and she clutched his wrists with her hands in claws, her face clenched in pain. He threw her on the bed.
“Fuckin cocktease,” he said and he stalked to the bed.
She was on her front and she weakly crawled up the sheets away from him, heading to the pillows. He grabbed an ankle and he pulled her back down. She kicked her legs at him but he slapped them away. Then he was over her, his huge weight pressing the mattress down on either side of her, her legs pinned between his knees as he walked higher up. She felt his hands pressing against the small of her back, heard her skirt zipper being drawn down.
“Fuck you, Rocco,” she hissed.
He laughed, then he was off her and her skirt was being tugged down her legs. He slid them right off, the tight fit scoring and scratching at her thighs as they went. She grabbed fistfuls of sheets so she wouldn’t slide down with them. He slapped her ass and climbed over her again. He was over her on all fours and he brushed her hair away from her tilted face.
He had her pinned but she got to her elbows and she snarled at him over her shoulder. “Get the fuck off me.”
His big hand grabbed her face and turned her roughly, making her cry out. He had a thumb dug into one cheek, his fingers into the other. She lunged, her teeth sunk into his flesh, into the webbing between thumb and forefinger and she clamped down. He didn’t yell out, he grunted, pulled his hand away but she had him good. She could taste blood in her mouth.
“Fuckin…Nia!” he shouted before he wrenched his hand from her. “You fuckin cunt!” he roared. He slammed his fist into the mattress right in front of her face. The impact bounced her head, wrenched her neck. Then he thrust his hand onto her head, pressed her forcefully into the mattress. His palm pressed her ear, his fingers palmed her skull, tiny in his big grip, his thumb dug into her just below the corner of her mouth, pinching her cheek painfully against the root of her bottom incisor. She hissed through clenched teeth.
“You really fuckin bit me,” he growled.
His finger hooked into the back of her panties and she felt his rough skin against her smooth cheeks. He pulled them hard, lifted her hips right off the mattress, her thighs pinned under his enormous weight. The fabric cut into her skin, scratched at the crease of her hip and she winced. They tore, a brief high shredding sound and she fell back to the mattress. He ripped them at the other hip, gripping them in both hands and breaking them easily. He pulled their remains roughly, flossed them through her creases, the fabric shearing across her sex before he threw them aside.
He jostled, shifting his weight side to side and she knew he was taking his pants down. She closed her eyes and waited to feel him.
“Fuck you, Rocco!” she yelled and clenched the sheets into her fists. He crushed her under his weight, she felt his cock between her legs, hot and hungry, searching out her pussy, looking to bury itself deep inside her. He pushed and probed, his glans felt huge. She bit her lip.
He found it, found her heat, found the weakness of her opening. He shoved himself into her. S
he didn’t give. He was too big and she was too dry. She yelled in pain. He shoved again and it felt like she was tearing. She heard him spit in his hand and then felt his big fist between her buttocks as he stroked his cock. Then his hand on her thigh, roughly spreading her wider. His thumb dug into her ass cheek and he opened her creases up. His cock was slippery from his spit and she held her breath waiting for him. He stroked it up and down, along her seam, felt it tickle along her puckered anus, down lower where she was warm. Then pushing again, spreading. He was huge. She inhaled sharply as his glans pierced her, got swallowed by her ring. She felt it like a knot inside her, something painfully stuck. She moaned, her voice breaking as he sunk himself deeper inside her. She pulled her fists under her, dragging and bunching up the sheets. His foreskin snagged against her dryness, she felt his swollen bare glans being peeled, emerging from his wrinkled sleeve, sliding now against her soft interior, felt its large smooth shape push her velvet flesh aside. He retreated and she wanted more. Then he plunged again and she gasped. He was deep. Then he was thrusting, giving her just the first half of his painfully thick cock, over and over, shredding her unprepared membranes with his girth. She squinted and snarled and her mouth went wide in pain and ecstasy but she didn’t make a sound.
He pulled her head back sharply by her hair and she gasped. He hissed in her ear, “You don’t have to fuck some stripper…”
“Angh, I didn’t fuck him!”
“You sucked his cock…”
“Get, ow…fuckin off me…”
“I don’t want you with strangers, you hear me?”
“I didn’t fuck him!”
“You need it, you come to me or Dino.”
“Dino?”
“You hear me?”
“Ah, ow, mm.”
“You want me off you?”
She didn’t. He felt incredible. It all felt so incredible.
“No,” she whimpered.
She was painfully spread. This powerful beast of a man could do anything he wanted. He was enormous, so unbelievably strong. She could feel his power, his arms were like fucking steel. She could scream, she could fight, kick and scratch and bite and there was nothing that would stop him. She wouldn’t do that. If he wanted to fuck her it was going to happen. She wanted it. This is how she wanted it.
She said, “Fuck me.”
“Say it again.”
“Fuck me.”
“Say my name.”
“Fuck me…ow…fuck me, Rocco…” She kicked him with her heels, the points of her four-inch French Connections digging into his bare ass.
“You’re so fuckin crazy,” he roared as he plunged himself deeper, his cock so thick it brought her eyes peeled wide and glaring. She inhaled til she was going to burst, felt his huge dry manhood dragging through her guts, scratching and stretching. It brought her sweat out inside her, her membranes suddenly beading pinprick moisture from her intense excitement. He had her pinned. He was a monster. She was powerless. He was huge. Handsome. His cock felt wooden. She came.
She had a badness in her. A seething writhing serpentine thing. A dormant desire that lay in wait and Rocco coaxed it into the light…then grabbed it roughly by the back of the head and wrenched it out, hissing and gnashing…
She saw herself from above. Face down on a hotel bed, her black hair fanned out around her, her black top still on but yanked up above her waist. Her panties were torn from her, her legs slightly parted; she wore a lacy garter with straps buckled in gold, plucked through sheer hose, cuffed in a wide black band at the swell of her upper thigh. A three-hundred-pound unstoppable rhinoceros of a man pulled her ass cheeks apart, he straddled her thighs, immobilized her, his enormous inhuman animal cock was buried uncomfortably inside her body.
Then, deep in her core, a thundering train, her tracks shook and rumbled, her belly literally fluttered, her breath quavered. Her pussy drenched itself in the space of two heartbeats and that massive peppermill he’d shoved in her suddenly, easily, greasily parted her and sunk itself so deep. Her body racked with quiet heaving sobs, her breath chugged, her eyes rolled up, unseeing, and she orgasmed.
“Ooh, Rocco,” she moaned. She put her hands behind her back, one wrist over the other at the crest of her buttocks and his hand gripped them, pressed them into her and she sighed with pleasure.
He fucked her like that, her hands pressed against herself, his fist driving her into the mattress at the small of her back, pressing her tummy into the bed. His hips drove his bare uncircumcised cock in and out of her. Over her thrumming heartbeat, banging dully in her ears, she could hear the wet sucking sound of her pussy being wetly gored. Her mouth parted in a mournful down-turned bow and her eyes peeled up and stared into the top of her skull. She was trapped in the gears of an uncaring unfeeling machine, trapped while its mechanisms powered an over-sized piston in and out of her with incredible force. She was powerless. Her breaths were expelled from her lungs with his driving, short grunts, high and breathy, a squeak hidden in its soughing folds.
There was a face, a warm and friendly smile, a lover and a compatriot, nodding and urging…telling her it will be okay…standing with nervous teenage Nia, the two of them having talked over coffee about what they were witnessing, nodding, saying, c’mon, it’s all all right, you’ve come this far, enjoy it, we love you…
Rocco’s other hand gripped her neck roughly, his fingers wrapping around, his blunt ends pressing into her throat. He drove her into the mattress, his breaths coming in short grunts, she felt drops of sweat tapping in her hair, felt his damp heat radiating from his sexually fevered body. He was going to come inside her. This was too much—but she wanted it to be too much. She’d prepared, brought condoms, wanted him to come in a condom, but now, more than anything ever again she wanted to feel what it would be like to be splashed with a man’s hot seed so deeply. She purred for him, encouraged him. She kicked him again with her heels, spurring him on like he was a big stallion, only she was the one being ridden.
That thing inside her drove deep, too deep, hitting her cervix and putting a lump in the back of her throat with its discomfort. Then she was being sprayed with his steaming milky nectar, his molten seed spewing out of his fat glans right at her gynaecological doorstep. Pulse after strong pulse, his cock flexing and hardening, arching and spewing…
“Agh…ah…ahh,” she came again, a high tickle that went over the grey top of the corrugated surface of her brain like a feather, making her gasp and cry and hold her breath, turned her mouth to an O and clenched her eyes tightly shut.
Rocco collapsed on the bed next to her making her bounce. When he’d pulled himself from her she’d cried out in pain. She clutched her hands between her legs now, her knees brought up, felt his wetness spilling from her, felt how she’d been stretched and left gaping. She rubbed herself, soothed her folds with the ends of her fingers. He lay next to her, his chest heaving, his fur matted to his chest.
“Fuck,” he groaned long and mean, “tell me you’re on the fuckin pill.”
“I am,” she nodded, “I am…”
“Fuck,” he said, his hand went over his sweaty forehead, he wouldn’t look at her.
“Rocco,” she whispered. He didn’t say anything. “Rocco,” she said again and she climbed closer to him, put her hand over his chest. “Odie is his…I just know she is…” she cried.
Rocco pulled her up to him and let her sob into his chest, his hands smoothing over her thighs, feeling her skin. His rough hands scratched at her. He parted her legs and she let him. Opened herself wide to him. A thick calloused finger stroked her gently, explored her wetness. She gasped and her head fell back into his shoulder, her mouth hung open. The finger plunged, fast and deep and she cried out. His face loomed over hers, watching her expression as he fucked her with his big middle finger, dead black eyes seeing her at her most vulnerable, at her most passionate, and not caring. He stopped. Dragged that wet finger up her belly and ran it between her breasts. Even his gentle touch had the thr
eat of pain. His finger grazed her flesh, leaving tenderness in its wake. Then that finger was pressing her lips, pulling her bottom lip down. She could smell herself on him, smell him, smell his ejaculate. She sucked his finger. She took it into her mouth and he raised it up high, made her tilt her chin up to the ceiling while she sucked it, exposed her throat to this animal. He fed her the finger, watched her take it deep in her mouth. He drew groans from her with his dirtiness, made weak and lewd moans escape her throat as she felt herself getting wetter and wetter between her legs. Wanting to be fucked again, his seed running out of her, her labia stretched and sore and worn. She ached to feel him fuck her again.
“Suck it,” he said.
She did, taking that finger, feeling his big swollen knuckle drag the edge of her incisors, felt the scrape of his leathery skin. She tasted his semen and her own slickness.
The finger came out and she let it go, her lips coming to a wet pout at the tip, a shining thread of spit connected them for a moment then that hand grasped her neck, wrapped around her, thumb and fingers coming almost all the way around.
“Suck my cock,” he growled.
He pulled her by her throat, scratching her cheek across that vast hirsute prairie, pulling her down his belly now and he tilted his hips. She could see that thing he had between his legs wag, come up straight, look for a moment like it would stay, then it fell heavy and wet across his other thigh.
He gripped it by the base in his other hand, squeezed it tight and she could see his glans bulge under his thick foreskin. He pushed her face towards it with his hard grip on her neck. Her hands went out, one on his thigh to support herself, her other grabbing his cock, her small hand above his large fist.
“Lemme see your face,” he said, and he tilted her face to him. Rocco watched her, sitting up on pillows against the headboard, his mean face watching her. His black eyes shone dully between his black lashes. The light from a table lamp lit him on one side, showed those hard angles of his jaw and his cheek, the razor sharp hair. The other half of his face was lit by the night sky and the life of the city, a cold blue cast. His cock smelled like his finger, smelled like his bleachy discharge, her own musky interior, stale cologne, his sweat. His foreskin was thick and dark, bunched up over his bulging glans. Like Dino, but meaner, bigger, darker. She put it in her mouth. Stretched her mouth over his huge glans, tasted their sex on his skin, felt his foreskin sliding over his glans underneath. She plunged, his foreskin bunching til she felt the taut surface of his bare cock head glide along her palette. He was too big to suck.
