2000 Hippo Street
The next morning, Mark and I met for breakfast at a Waffle House. I was tempted to stand him up; for breakfast... and for the rest of his life. But I was having trouble figuring out why I was so damn pissed.
I shouldn't have been. Mark had certainly upheld his part of the bargain. He was buying three houses a day. Sure, his methods were unusual, but it wasn't as if he didn't warn me. And he hadn't tied me up in over four days, or maybe never... still wasn't sure about that. So, I thought it best to continue our business enterprise until I came to grips with the reason for my anger.
Our first appointment for the day was with a lady I used to babysit as a teenager. Brenda Bovine was ten years younger than me and, even then, outweighed me. She was a pretty faced girl whose parents gave her an otherwise extremely unfortunate set of genes. Presently, she tipped the scales well north of two hundred fifty and her younger brother was at least a hundred pounds heavier than she.
The house she was selling was actually her Mom's... or was until Brenda and her brother inherited it after Mrs. Bovine died of a massive heart attack. Mr. Bovine suffered the same fate several years earlier and there was a good chance that both Brenda and her brother would follow suit in two or three decades. Bovines didn't last much past fifty.
One good thing about Brenda's overly large frame, at least from my point of view, was that Mark wouldn't be tempted to sexually molest her. Hopefully we could look at the house, make an offer, write a check and move on. Like normal people.
Brenda met us at the door wearing a Polynesian muumuu. From the way it shook as she walked, it appeared that her ginormous breasts were unrestrained under the thin fabric. Not that I had room to talk.
Mark poked his head into a couple of rooms and then made an offer just ten thousand below asking.
Just as I suspected. He wants a quick sale so he can move on to something or someone he can have some fun with.
"That's your final offer?" Brenda asked.
"Take it or leave it," Mark answered.
"You know, unlike the rest of the people in this town, I don't have to sell. I'm not moving, and I don't need the money."
"That's fine. Don't sell. There's plenty of other houses in Merryville."
Mark turned to leave but Brenda placed her considerable girth between him and the door.
"Not so fast. We're still negotiating. And from what I've heard, you are quite the deal maker."
"I don't know what you've heard, but from where I stand, you don't have anything else I want."
"But you've got something I want," she said and then whispered into his ear.
Is she really offering to take an even lower price if he fucks her?
Mark's eyes widened. He took a glance towards me as she continued whispering.
"I'll have to discuss this with Miss Moorehead," he said when she finished.
"Take your time," she said. "I'll be upstairs."
We waited until she left the room before speaking.
"Does she want what I think she wants?" I asked in a hushed voice.
"Probably not," Mark said.
"She didn't offer her body to you?"
"Actually, she wants me to include you in the deal," he said.
"Me?"
"I didn't say yes."
"What do I have to do?"
"If you agree, I'll give you a ten percent commission."
"Agree to what?"
"And you can say no at any time."
"Say no to what?"
Against my better judgement, we went upstairs instead of out the front door.
We found Brenda in the master bedroom, leaning against a massive, four poster, king sized bed. I approached cautiously and paused before laying on my back, face up, head on a pillow.
Brenda looked at Mark and winked. Then she looked at me. I nodded in consent and she joined me on the bed... one knee on either side of my head, her ass on my chest, her pussy lips poised just below my nose.
She didn't bother to remove her muumuu. She hiked it up around her waist when getting in position and then just let it fall over my head and upper body. I was completely in the dark and unable to move. After a brief pause, she slowly lowered her bare, but thankfully clean-shaven muff to my mouth.
I won't lie and say it was my first taste of a woman, but it was certainly the biggest meal I'd ever tackled. Surprisingly, it wasn't completely disgusting. She didn't smell bad or have any warts down there. I couldn't see anything, so I imagined it was somebody else. And there was an extremely long list of pussies I would have much rather munched than the one hovering over my lips.
Ten percent. That's what Mark promised me. Thirty-five thousand for thirty minutes of lady licking. That's seventy thousand dollars an hour. I can do this.
I started tentatively. A kiss on a fold of fat I thought was her outer labia but might have been part of an inner thigh. Then a brush of my tongue against a valley that I hoped was her front entrance and not the back door. A few more licks and I heard a muffled moan as she moved above me, forcing my next tongue thrust deeper into the target. I raised my head slightly. My tongue broke through to a second layer... moist and warm. I licked until it sopped with fluid and then moved my head again, even higher, looking for the tiny nub at the very top of her sex. I knew when I found it, both by the feel and from her reaction.
Immobilized as I was -- unable to move my arms, hands, or the rest of my body -- my only recourse was to use my lips, tongue and teeth. A lick here, a kiss there and, once in a while, a gentle nibble. I got into a rhythm, a round robin of stimulation that seemed to be doing the trick... if the amount of vagina wine flowing from the enormous pussy above me was any indication. I was content that the sale was in the bag and I would survive the ordeal until two things happened.
I jumped as something warm and wet ran up my thigh and stopped at my panty less crotch. The warm, wet thing started doing to me what I was doing to Brenda, with similar results. Not a problem. If I was making the ultimate sacrifice for the cause, the least Mark could do was reciprocate.
When it came to pussy licking, Mark was far superior to me. He most likely had years of experience with hundreds of women while my numbers were far less. So, instead of continuing what I had been doing, I simply mimicked his technique on Brenda. To her delight and my dismay.
Her first orgasm took me completely by surprise. My tongue was as far into her as it could possibly go when she clamped down with her pussy and pushed my head down into the pillow. Her thighs contracted, nearly squishing my skull like a grape, as she gushed a gallon into my unsuspecting mouth.
I swallowed what I could and spit out what I couldn't. My cries for help went unanswered, muffled by several inches of fat and drowned out by Brenda's screams of pleasure.
I attempted to escape by sliding under her ass. That's when I realized that the tongue in my pussy had been replaced by a large cock... ramming me in the other direction.
I tried the northern escape route -- away from the cock and the pussy -- only to be thwarted by a strong set of hands around my waist pulling me back towards the pounding piston between my legs.
Two of the largest thighs in Merryville prevented me from rolling away and two hundred fifty pounds of orgasming flesh pressed me deep into the bed.
I was trapped. Every effort to escape only served to bring on yet another Brenda climax. With each successive orgasm she squeezed her thighs a little tighter, pressed her ass down a little harder, and released yet another carafe of vagina wine.
My mouth was full, my nose imbedded in fat. Breathing was getting to be a problem. I had to get out of there or die. But my lower half -- the part with the pecker infested pussy -- had a different plan entirely. It was eagerly latching onto the intruder, milking the man meat with sex muscles that had been too long ignored. My brain was battling with my body, and the flesh was winning.
Got to breath.
Got to come.
