You don't have to have read Beach Stud to enjoy this one.
Jason scrolled down the screen, saw the current price of the shares he had been following and hit the buy button. They were just a tad over $1.05 and had dropped from $4.85 in a week. He bought 200,000 and knew that in less than a week, given the asset backing of the company, he would clear a quarter of mil, minimum.
Sighing he leant back in the chair and considered what he was going to do for the rest of the day. The beach was out, rainy and blowing. He could go down the pub and pick up some beach bunny for a shag or two, but their conversation was mind numbingly boring. Emnem this, Emnem that. Certainly not music. Boring repititious little prick. Still, his own parents had been ostracised by his grandparents over the Beatles and the Stones. How about the librarian? It had been a week since he had bounced her wonderfully bulging bod about the bed. Nah, she was away on some course or other. What about the old sheila from the prawn trawlers? He’d enjoyed a pre-dawn attempted emascalation by that horny bitch Sylvia the day before and she was now out for three days chasing a big school of prawns.
The door bell rang. Jason wondered who it could be. The house was fairly well secluded and the only female other than the cleaning lady who knew about its location was the librarian, and she was out of town.
Wearing only a pair of board shorts, Jason answered the door. It was Michelle who liked to be called Mickey, the prawn skipper’s girlfriend - short, dumpy and mean eyed with plain looks. Sylvia, the trawler owner was a big woman, easily 6 feet and somewhere in her late fifties. Mickey was a foot shorter and in her mid forties. She had dark curly hair cut short and fierce brown eyes. She had used a knife twice before; once on a delightful femme visitor to the town whom Sylvia had lusted after in the hotel bar one afternoon. And once on a big tough biker that had developed a letch for Sylvia after she flashed her magnificent tits once too often. Mickey had a knife scar on one corner of her mouth that gave her a permanent half smile. And she had got that in a prison fight. Tough cookie, Mickey, definitely not to be messed with - a pit bull terrier. Jason just knew she had found out about him and Sylvia.
“You’re Jason, aren’t you,” Mickey said in her quiet voice. A snow capped volcanoe.
“Yep. What can I do for you? Mickey isn’t it?”
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t cut your balls off, that is if I can find them, and slice them up like radishes.” She glared at him, hands on her substantial hips, the front of her shapeless sweater heaving. Clearly agitated.
“Why would you want to do that, Mickey,” Jason replied looking completely unconcerned. He was at least fifteen inches taller and despite her bulky figure, had at least 60 pounds on her, and twenty years.
“I saw Sylvia after she got home yesterday morning. I could smell the sex on her even through the smell of prawns. I ripped her pants down and there was some dirty filthy man’s cum dried on her thighs. I got her down with my knee on her throat and opened up her traitorous cunt, and more of it spilled out.” She glared up at the handsome, dark tanned Jason. “While I had a knife at her tit, she told me everything, you bastard. How could you, you slimy prick? Everybody knows she’s mine and everybody knows what I’ve done to keep her.”
Jason folded his arms and leant against the door, completely unconcerned. “Gee, Mickey, I knew you had left a brand or two on her, I saw the hickeys on her tits. Marvellous tits, aren’t they? As for who fucked who - that’s entirely debatable cos she fucks like a mink.” Jason saw Mickey’s eyes narrow and knew what was coming. She may have had her hands on her hips but the knife had to be handy. He decided to bait her some more, and threw in the clincher. “Mind you, she did say that she needed a decent orgasm because she sure wasn’t getting it from you.”
The volcano erupted. The wicked looking fishermans knife, razor sharp on one side and serrated on the other flashed at Jason’s washboard stomach. With the speed of a striking snake, Jason grabbed her wrist and turned so the knife missed, and pulled her past him. Using his hip as leverage, he used her momentum to to twist and throw her onto her back. A split second later he had her on her front on the carpet, her knife hand twisted forcibly up behind her back. He sat heavily on her meaty thighs and applied brutal pressure to her wrist until the knife spilled free. Grabbing it, he flung it to the other side of the room. She moaned loudly and wriggled to escape, the fire of fight still running in her veins.
“Lay still, you crazy bitch. Betcha didn’t know about the black belt in Judo, did you?” he grunted. She continued to try to rise, and in doing so, rolled her large solid arse against his cock that amazingly started to harden. His blood was racing with adrenalin as well. He reached behind him and found the pack of cable ties he used for his garbage. Jason pulled one off, and grabbing her other hand, swiftly tied her two thumbs together. “Now settle down, Mickey, or I will hurt you, I promise.”
Mickey still wriggled about trying to dislodge him from her thighs. Jason cursed as his hardened cock became more rigid and he reached into his boardies to straighten it up. She could see him out of one eye, her cheek pressed to the carpet. “You fucking bastard. Let me up or I swear I’ll cut you to pieces.”
“Cut it out Mickey. You haven’t a hope. Why don’t you lie there like a good fat dyke and calm down. You won’t be using a knife on me ever. Actually, I’d better make sure you don’t have another one on you somewhere.”
“Don’t touch me you bastard, and get off me.”
Jason ignored her. She was wearing a bulky sweater that had ridden up over jeans. He leaned back and rubbed his hands all over her big arse, slowly and carefully. He reached under her and undid her top button and slid the zipper down. He tried to search between her legs but she ground her pelvis to the carpet. He sat up and worked her jeans down over her hips revealing a pair of exotic purple panties straining to hold her lush hips and arse. Putting his knee in her back, he worked them off her strong thighs, past dimpled knees and off over her trim ankles. She wore an anklet. He flipped her sandals off and turned to survey her pantie encrusted arse.
“My, what expensive underwear we have, Mickey, and very pretty too. Knowing you, you’ve probably got a cut throat razor up your twat. Hold still while I get these off.”
“Leave me alone, you filthy cunt!” she screeched, as she felt her underwear being pulled down her thighs and removed. “No useless man has ever touched me there. You do and you will pay for it.”
The twin pale moons of her arse were quite an erotic sight. Jason laughed at her, and smacked her right cheek hard leaving a big red hand print. “I’ve never been into S/M, but you could drive me to it. How about it, Mickey? A good whipping on your butt.” He whacked a matching hand print on the other cheek making her squirm some more.
