Big Red #2 Trifecta Fever Dream

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Big Red got a text from Eli:

"Get over to my house through the backyard. No clothes."

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The sun hammered the suburbs, cicadas screaming like an orgasm. She slunk out the back door, her sweat-slick skin glistening, tits jostling with each tip-toe across the lawn. A neighbor revved his mower. BRRRRRM! She ducked behind a hydrangea, thorns scratching her arm and plush thigh.

Eli's backyard stunk of charcoal and lighter fluid.

His friend leaned against the grill--short, salt-and-pepper beard, smile sharp as a switchblade. "Eli's busy" he purred, thumb hooking his belt. "But he said you'd entertain."

He spun her, face smashed against vinyl siding, breasts pancaking into the blistering hot surface.

"Hands here," he growled, splaying her palms wide. His cock jammed between her thighs-thick, veiny diesel-tip poking out her front, shining in the sun.

"Grab it" he snapped. She obeyed, fingers squeezing as he pumped, his sack slapping her ass. THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!

The mower roared closer.

"Quiet girl," he hissed yanking her hair. Her moan turned into a whimper, teeth sinking into her lip. His thrusts angled up, cock nudging her clit with each piston stroke.

"Gonna break you into confetti," he grunted, spit dripping down her neck.

He yanked her down, knees plunging into mulch, her dress hiked to her ribs.

"Suck it clean," he ordered, slapping his dick across her tongue. She gagged, slurping salty-as-tears pre-cum as the mower idled next door.

BRRRM-BRRRM-BRRRM!

"Deeper" he snarled, fisting her curls, ramming her nose into his crotch.

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A shadow loomed. The neighbor gaped over the fence, mower dead, keys dangling from his limp hand.

She froze, dick dripping on her chin, eyes widening. The friend laughed, crunching gravel as he zipped up. "Oops," he mocked, tossing her a greasy rag. "Better wave, darlin!"

She stumbled home, ass wobbling, neighbor still gawking. Eli waved from his window, grinning while eating a peach. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number:

"My turn. Clean up." -Mower Guy"

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

The door thudded.

BANG-BANG-BANG!

Big Red tugged her robe shut, silk snagging on nipple barbs as she opened the door.

Mower Guy loomed, 6'2", biceps straining a white tank top, cock bulging jeans, banana-curved, tip mushroomed and "probably purple," she thought, smiling and waving him in.

"Saw you beggin' for it," he grunted, shoving her toward the back porch, stinking of gasoline and stale Copenhagen.

He yanked her robe open, tits spilling free, stretchmarks glowing silver in the sunlight.

"Hands on the rail" he snarled, spinning her, ass jiggling as he kicked her legs apart. His cock slammed into her cunt.

POP-POP-POP!

The bulbous head stretched her with each thrust.

"FUCK, THAT HEAD!" she screeched, knuckles whitening on the porch railing.

"Arch!" he barked, slapping her ass.

CRACK!!

A handprint bloomed on her dimpled flesh. His curve scraped her G-spot, flooding her cunt with slick.

"Gonna milk me dry?" he growled, pummeling harder, porch creak-screaming.

She gurgled, drool dripping onto geraniums. "BREAK ME, DADDY!"

He flipped her, slinging her onto a rocking chair, splintering the wicker.

"Suck it," he ordered, slapping his thick, veiny, salt-crusted cock on her tongue. She gulped, throat stretching around the curve, gag-reflex dead from practice.

"Swallow," he hissed, fucking her face, balls slapping her chin.

THWAP-THWAP-THWAP!

Pre-cum glooped down her windpipe, choking her moans.

He dragged her to her hands-and-knees. "Ass up" he snarled, spitting on his cock before spearing her again.

SQUELCH! The banana bend hooked her cervix, punching grunts from her gut.

"Louder!" he demanded, yanking her hair, scalp burning.

She howled "FUCK MY FAT CUNT!" as cardinals fled the oak tree.

He roared, cum jetting in ropes, filling her womb.

PULSE-PULSE-PULSE.

She collapsed, cheek grinding into porch grit, his spunk leaking down her thighs. "Clean it" he grunted, shoving his dripping cock into her mouth.

She sucked, slurping the rest of the cum.

As he zipped up. "So, next Wednesday?" he asked cheerfully, crushing a daisy under his boot. "Be ready."

She hobbled inside, robe torn, as her husband's car rumbled up the drive.

He walked in and saw her disheveled state. "Busy day?" he asked with a smile.

"Gardening" she lied, wincing at the trickle down her leg. He kissed her neck and flinched at the Copenhagen stink-but said nothing.

The mower revved next door.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

The house reeked of loneliness and burnt toast, Red's husband being called into the office for an emergency, as usual. She lounged on the couch, all clean from earlier, tank top stretched to transparency, nipples poking through like twin landmines. Her shorts clung to her ass like a second skin, riding up to expose crescent moons of freckled flesh. The doorbell rang.

DING-DONG-DEATH--and she shuffled to the door, ass jiggling with each step.

Gladys stood there. Towering, broad-shouldered, breasts straining a floral muumuu. Her eyes narrowed, lips curling into a snarl.

"You the hussy fuckin' my brother?" she hissed, barging in, slamming the door. "Call me Miss Gladys."

"Oh--umm, yes, Miss Gladys," Red stuttered.

"Now, get naked!" Gladys barked, yanking the tank top over her head, snapping the strap. The shorts followed, ripping at the seams as Gladys tugged.

"Jesus, look at you," she sneered, pinching her belly. "Doughy as a biscuit. And I love me some biscuits."

Big Red blushed, heat pooling between her thighs. "I'm not a biscuit, Miss Gladys," she whispered, biting her lip.

Gladys pulled a feather duster from her purse, tickling the redhead's quivering ass. Then, she grabbed a paddle.

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"Squeal!" she ordered, slapping Big Red with the paddle--THWACK--leaving a cherry mark. "Louder!" she demanded, spanking her again--THWACK-THWACK-THWACK--until the Red collapsed onto the bed, ass glowing like a stoplight.

"Rump up," Gladys snapped, yanking the redhead's hips into the air. Her long tongue lashed between the Red's cheeks, probing her asshole with surgical precision. "Tastes like sin," she growled, spitting into the quivering plump pussy before fisting her--SQUELCH--knuckles grinding against the redhead's g-spot.

Gladys shrugged off the muumuu and her massive veiny breasts, topped with nipples dark as plums, spilled free.

"Suck," she commanded, shoving the Red's face into her chest. Red obeyed, latching onto a nipple, suckling like a starved calf. Gladys moaned, grinding her soaked cunt against the Red's thigh. "Good girl," she purred, yanking her hair.

"You are a good fuck," Gladys hissed, slapping the redhead's ass. THWACK! "And you're mine."

Gladys left at dusk, muumuu stained with Big Red's essence. She collapsed into the shower, scrubbing until her skin bled. But that night, in bed, she dreamed of Gladys' long tongue flicking, probing, and claiming her.

PHONE BUZZED: "Next Thursday, baby girl. --Miss Gladys"