He didn't even see the fist descending, but he sure as hell felt it. It smashed into his jaw so hard it rocked the chair to which he was tied. What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? The object hurts like hell.
He leaned over as far as he could in his restraints, his long brown hair writhing in the sweat and blood pasting his brow and cheeks. He spat, and ringing clearly when the thick red gobbet hit the ground was the sound of teeth dancing on concrete. His mouth – his whole face, really – felt raw and puffy, but when he probed around with his tongue it seemed like the punch had knocked out two molars.
"Won't be getting much pussy any time soon, will he, Mickey?" The guy who had punched him, a short happy little fellow with tightly curled blonde hair, smiled at Mickey. His name was John Fitzgerald Moretti, born on the day a worthless no-one secured a footnote in history by leaning out a window in a Dallas book depository. Moretti looked about as threatening as an accountant with aspirations towards being in a barbershop quartet. At least, that's what you thought if you saw him in repose, languishing in the catatonia that only ebbed when he was asked to commit some monstrous act of violence that to him required no reason at all.
"Doubt this fucker'll ever get it again," replied Mickey. Mickey was the polar opposite of Moretti: balding, podgy and colossal, about six feet nine tall, his gleaming skull ringed with a thicket of jet hair. He looked like the muscle in a cheap mob movie. He had a 169 IQ and business degree from Yale.
Mickey reached out one colossal paw and lifted back the guy in the chair (whose name was Jimmy)'s head. He thumbed back one eyelid, got nothing but white underneath.
Vaguely heard is "passed out again, the little prick". And Jimmy – Jimmy dreams of the past.
The woman sat naked before him on the tangled, silk sheets. Her bush was luxuriant - rich and black it smothered her pussy, which was as pale peach as the bedclothes and glistened from the efforts of her fingers. Her breasts were large and, as she leaned forward on the bed, dangled in almost pyramidal shapes, the inverted peaks of her nipples a deep brown. Her scarlet lips pursed and she ran a small tongue over them.
Jimmy was twenty and the woman in front of him had to be at least in her early forties, yet he had never seen so beautiful a woman, nor felt his cock any harder.
He was not so overwhelmed that he couldn't mouth off a bit, though. "Mrs. Giamatti, are you trying to seduce me?"
The woman lay back on the bed, her big breasts diminishing slightly, leaving only the perfect circles of her nipples prominent on her chest. Her left hand rested in the thick snarls of her pubic hair and feathered at the flesh of her vulva.
"Well, seeing as the radiator's working after all, perhaps I can find another use for you. You can call me Edie, by the way."
Jimmy was filling in for his uncle, who was on a lecture tour, his uncle being the only philosopher Jimmy knew that wrote his books while working as a handyman in a gated community. Mrs. Giamatti, Edie, had called him over with a fault in the heating. She'd buzzed him in through the gates and had told him over the intercom that the problem was in the bedroom.
Jimmy moved towards her and she spoke. "No. Not yet. Strip for me."
Jimmy had a lot of virtues. He was kind and gentle, which led a lot of people to take him as slow. He was strong and fast, and quite honourable when some man's wife wasn't naked before him. What he wasn't, though, was a dancer. Instead he stood perfectly motionless as his quick, clever fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. He dropped it hurriedly and Edie looked admiringly at his hairless, toned chest.
Her husband was obese, swollen like Bacchus with the high living a life of immense wealth could provide. He was also, a result of his indulgence, completely impotent, so Edie really did have problems in the bedroom. Jimmy's chest and the faint trace of six pack was like wine to her and she could feel that old, slow burn in her stomach as she drank in his pale pink nipples and squiggle of belly button.
Jimmy undid the buckle on his jeans and let them slide down his legs. He had thighs corded with muscle and calves as shapely as a woman's. They were dusted with a thin coating of pale hair. Edie's attention, though, was entirely consumed by the immense bulge in his boxer shorts. The thick length of his cock bobbed slightly against the material, giving the impression that the cartoon characters decorating his underwear were dancing on his genitals.
Jimmy made to drop the shorts, but again Edie stopped him. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms outstretched towards him. "Come here."
He came towards her and she wrapped her arms around his torso. She left one there and with the other slowly weighed his cock as she took one small nipple into her mouth and sucked hard. She turned them round, so Jimmy lay on the bed and she knelt in front of him.
"You're not a virgin are you?"
Jimmy told her no.
"Good, I want this to last."
She grasped the elastic waistband of his shorts and tugged it down, keeping her face near his groin. Once the shorts were far enough off, Jimmy's cock bounced up and brushed her lips. He groaned and so did she.
Edie held it by the base, not stroking it, just enjoying looking at and touching a hard cock for the first time in far too long. "It's so beautiful. So big," she said. She bent her head over it and took it into her mouth.
Edie's plump lips dallied around the head of Jimmy's cock, her tongue flipping at the tall opening. It was around eight inches long, too long in any case for her to completely engulf, but she swallowed as much as she could. Her technique was incredible, vastly better than the clueless fumbling of Jimmy's other lovers.
He looked down and watched her, her classically beautiful face framed by the onyx tresses of her hair as she devoured his cock. He almost came just watching her and Edie sensed it. She stopped giving him head and wordlessly guided him back until he rested in the centre of the bed, arms spread over the pillows and cock jutting out a brilliant red against the peach sheets. Edie crawled over the bed towards him, her smoothly curvaceous ass waggling beautifully. Then she pinched his cock hard.
Jimmy screamed. "What the fuck?"
"It keeps you from cumming too soon," said Edie as she straddled him. "I'll give you a hundred dollars for each time I cum." She sat upright on his thighs then grasped the thick fabric headboard and lowered herself quickly onto his cock.
It felt incredible, like coming back to a drug after years of abstaining. That ancient mystery of how something could feel so impossibly hard and yet deliciously soft. No dildo or vibrator, no finger or fist or tongue, could even approximate it and Edie sat for a minute, eyes closed and neck stretched, lips smiling, enjoying the cock nestled snugly deep within her, drowning in the liquid inferno of her cunt.
She began to bob up and down on him, slowly at first, moaning as Jimmy's hands went to her breasts and gently pinched her nipples. Her pussy was tingling with the first intimations of orgasm and she began to gasp. Edie had both hands on the headboard now and rocked on his cock ferociously as Jimmy looked up at her face, wondering at the desperation and passion on it.
They were both sweating heavily now, thick beads of water dripping off Edie's breasts on to Jimmy's chest. Jimmy leaned up and lapped up the perspiration. Edie's gasps had long since turned into shouts. She was screaming "Oh, god", "Oh, yes," but when Jimmy shifted, the way his cock pressed against the walls of her pussy altered and her pleasure increased exponentially. Jimmy moved so his back rested against the headboard and Edie wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and fucked him harder than ever. Her hair tickled his neck and the sharp points of her nipples scratched red trails across his chest.
"It's so big. It's so big. It's so big," she muttered over and over.
Jimmy felt the cum in his balls roiling and he knew he was moments away from cumming. Edie's breath gusted against his ear and that was it. He shot his cum into her in a white-hot torrent that seared away all thought, leaving only ecstasy.
Edie collapsed on top of him and lay there as the mixture of his cum and the juice of her pussy cooled and trickled out of her to spatter chilly against his thighs. She lay there as her breath slowed and her sweat dried and the cock within her softened. Then she got up, went to the dresser and took a purse from one of the drawers. She took a fistful of hundred dollar bills out of it and showily held them up. Then she theatrically peeled off one and laid it on the dresser. She added another. And another. When five hundred dollars rested on the dresser she stopped and beamed at Jimmy.
Jimmy had watched Edie, her pussy raw from the rapid fucking and still glistening with moisture, her breasts flushed red and swaying gently as she moved. His cock was already rock hard again. He got up, and held Edie close, his hands gently slapping her ass, his cock forming a thick shadow on her thigh.
"I want you from behind," he said.
"I'm ready for you," she replied.
She knelt on the bed, her ass waving intoxicatingly at him and looked back, her eyes dark with desire, her mouth already open in a pant. Jimmy tantalised her by rubbing the thick head of his cock around her pussy before thrusting into her, his hand caressing her clitoris simultaneously.
They fucked once more after that, Jimmy nearing climax when she saw the lights coming up the driveway. "Faster," Edie screamed. "Fuck me faster." Jimmy thrust into her furiously, madly; she thrashed back against him. It took a minute, perhaps, for them both to cum, clenched tightly to each other, hands over each other's mouths to mask the screams.
They leapt off the bed. Jimmy's boxers were nowhere in sight, so he stuffed his still hard cock into his jeans and quickly buttoned up his shirt as the slow tread on the stair reached their ears. Edie rushed into a skirt and bra, no panties, and tied the last button while Jimmy shoved his feet into his shoes. The door opened.
Mr Giamatti wasn't just fat – he was round. His stomach swelled serenely out of his trousers, which were both extremely wide about the waist and short in the leg. The only features marring the orb-like torso were his flabby breasts. The walk up the stairs was enough to make him short in breath and his brow was dappled with perspiration.
"Hey honey," he said in a thick Brooklyn accent," what's going on here?"
"The radiator was broken. This nice young man was just sorting me out."
Giamatti reached out one clammy hand and shook Jimmy's, unknowingly grasping the fingers that had intimately delved in his wife's pussy.
