*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
The sectional furniture was a contemporary rectangular design. Square cushions continued the sharp angular appearance of the one loveseat, chair, and longer couch. It came complete with square ottoman; actually a cube on wheels.
"That is the ugliest fucking thing I've ever seen," Grant Johnson said to his father as the men unloaded it.
Brett looked at the sectional furniture and had to agree. The material was blue velour, a simulated suede. It was too dark a blue to be called 'Sky Blue' and too light to be called 'Royal Blue.'
"Oh well, some little n*gger will love it," Grant said, unmindful of the two large black men that sweated unloading the large truck.
The furniture was placed toward the center of Johnson's Furniture and Appliances, modelled with squat ball shaped lamps to break the stark lines.
The modeling must have worked; it was leased to a young married couple less than a month after Johnson Furniture and Appliances took delivery of it.
The couple was not African-American, as the younger Johnson had surmised, though. They were, however, far too young to be married; he was nineteen and she had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday when they tied the knot.
Johnson's delivery crew carried the pieces up to the third floor apartment and arranged it the way Michelle directed them, in an 'L' fashion. Neither man told the horse faced girl that the furniture was simply too large for such a cramped space.
"Man, how much you want to bet we be back for that shit before three month up, huh?" one of the men said as they wheeled their hand trucks down the stairs.
"How much you want to bet they miss the first payment?" the other man agreed.
"Girl didn't even have the sense put her on some drawers," the first man said. "That's just nasty, pussy all hanging out and shit."
"Yeah, but we know she a real blonde, huh?" the second man laughed.
FIRST HOME
Sammy and Michelle christened the couch as soon as he walked into the apartment. His Domino's Pizza hat was thrown onto the loveseat wing and they lay on the couch section, humping and grunting and groaning happily.
Giggling like naughty schoolchildren, they sat, nude on their new couch and ate the slightly burnt pizza he'd brought home from work.
Then they again humped and thrust and groaned on the couch again.
The following morning, after Sammy had tripped, yet again, over the ottoman, the ottoman was moved into the bedroom
The chair, they both happily observed, was perfect for her to curl up on while sucking his cock. The loveseat, when abutted with the chair, was just the right length for Sammy to stretch out on while Michelle sucked him off to a quick climax.
The couch and loveseat were far enough apart for Sammy and Michelle to sit and sulk after their first argument. He sat on the far edge of the loveseat and she sat on the far edge of the couch, neither one speaking, neither one budging. Finally, silently, he got up and went to bed.
It was the first time that they did not have sex.
Three years later, if you asked Sammy what they had been arguing about, he could not tell you.
The second day, both believing that they were right, they were the injured party, Sammy and Michelle continued the silent treatment.
The third day, Sammy had decided, enough was enough. He was going to put his foot down, she was going to apologize, they would fuck and all would be forgiven.
He stormed up the stairs to the third floor apartment and shoved the door open.
"Oh God yes, fuck me!" Michelle screamed as Roberto grunted, groaned, and thrust his hard cock into her blonde muff.
"What the fuck?" Sammy screamed.
Roberto looked over his shoulder then smirked at the scrawny boy. He did not stop thrusting himself into Michelle.
"Hi Honey, this is my new boyfriend," Michelle said calmly. "Listen, go wait in the bedroom until we're done, okay?"
"You heard her, pussy," Roberto said when the stunned, sickened Sammy did not move. "And close that door, huh? Ain't everybody got to see my ass."
Sammy did not close the door, but he did storm into the bedroom.
Aw, shit no, nuh uh," Roberto said as he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun shell being chambered.
Michelle was deafened by the roar of the twelve gauge shotgun and did not react when she felt warm stickiness splatter onto her face and chest.
She did not hear the second shell being chambered; she was too busy trying to move the heavy weight of Roberto as he lay on top of her, crushing her.
A neighbor called 911; the police responded and found Sammy sitting on the loveseat portion, not looking at the torn bodies on the bloodied and shredded couch.
He offered no resistance as the officer pulled him to his feet, read him his rights and handcuffed him.
The couch was destroyed. Even if the blood and tide could have been cleaned out of the velour and the foam rubber cushions, the material was shredded by the buckshot; the springs on the abutment end were visible.
The chair had a fleck of Roberto's blood imbedded in the fibers. He had been an unemployed high school dropout that had seen an unattractive blonde girl and smiled when she smiled at him.
Unattractive or not, she offered him some pussy, even though she was wearing a cheap wedding ring. Unattractive or not, married or not, pussy was pussy, and pussy felt good.
Unattractive or not, married or not, she liked to fuck, liked to fuck loud and hard.
Her husband was a real pussy. He came in and saw his wife fucking another man and did not even try to kick Roberto's ass. One look at the little pussy told Roberto he could easily handle her husband. So he taunted the man.
And when his wife ordered him to go into the bedroom while they continued to fuck, her husband did exactly that.
The blood cell imbedded in the fibers remembered the shock and the sick realization that her husband wasn't the spineless pussy Roberto had assumed him to be.
The ottoman had only some sweat from Sammy's shin in its fibers, only memories of an "Ouch! Damn it!"
The chair had some of Michelle's vaginal secretions; she had loved sucking her husband's cock, had loved satisfying him, bringing him pleasure.
The loveseat had some of Michelle's vaginal secretions imbedded in the fibers, along with some of Sammy's semen smashed down into the foam rubber of the cushions. They'd sat on it, nude, munching on microwave popcorn, watching the 'Creature Feature' playing on Channel 26.
Half of a sectional was of no use to Johnson's Furniture And Appliances; Brett just wrote it all off as a loss, quadrupled its value for insurance and tax purposes, and moved on to the next ugly, overpriced sale.
SECOND HOME
Sammy and Michelle's bed went to Sammy's cousin Josh; he was moving out of the college dorm and into his first apartment. His roommate already had a futon and a dining room set so they didn't take the loveseat, chair, and ottoman or the table and chairs from the apartment.
They did, however, take the filthy microwave, gave it a barely adequate cleaning, and used it for popcorn.
The loveseat and chair, when abutted to each other, formed a full couch and Nicole, Michelle's older sister acquired the three pieces for her trailer.
The nearly three hundred pound Nicole lumbered into the room, threw the two pillows and small blanket onto the furniture and then flopped down.
Her heavy heel slapped into the couch and Nicole discovered something that Brett Johnson, and Sammy and Michelle did not; the loveseat had a long drawer.
Nicole pulled it open, shrugged upon discovering that it was empty, and slid it closed again.
"But I can put..." she said aloud and hefted her bulk out of the seat.
She checked that the blinds were fully closed, tilted up to prevent prying eyes, and waddled into her bedroom.
In the bedroom she checked that the blinds, which by now were stuck shut by layers of dust, were still shut, reached up into her closet, and pulled down three long latex dildos.
The 12" black dildo was palmed, held flat against her hip as she waddled back into the living room then dropped into the loveseat's drawer, which was shut quickly.
After darkness fell, and the only light in the Livingroom was from the 21 inch television, Nicole reached into the drawer, shut it again, checked that the trailer's door was securely locked, and then opened the drawer again.
His name was Jermaine, and instead of being disgusted by her bulk, turned off by her lumps of fat, he was extremely turned on.
He was six feet, three inches of ebony muscles and he roughly shoved her sweat pants and full briefs down and jammed his twelve inches of hard black cock into her hairy twat.
"Oh, God!" Nicole cried out as 'Jermaine' roughly fucked her, her sweat pants and panties bunched up around her ankles.
"Aw yeah, aw yeah, you one hot piece of ass; you ain't nothing but a ho, huh? You my bitch? You my ho?" Jermaine grunted as he fucked her.
"Augh!" Nicole cried out as she shook in orgasm.
"Clean my cock, better clean my cock good, bitch, know what I'm saying?" Jermaine ordered as he stuffed his cock into Nicole's mouth.
Satisfied, and embarrassed, Nicole dropped Jermain back into the drawer and pulled her pants and panties back up.
Her slimy pussy rubbed against the velour material of the cushion, imbedding some of her wetness into the foam rubber.
The next day, after Nicole returned from her job at Speedier Oil Change, where she was a cashier, she microwaved herself a frozen dinner and ate on the couch while watching the evening news.
As soon as darkness began, Jermaine came out, and again ordered her to fuck him, ordered her to suck him clean and then he quietly, passively went back into his hiding place.
Nicole felt shame and revulsion as she undressed to shower, cursing her rolls of fat.
In time, Jermaine was joined by his brother, Ramone. Ramone was abusive, vulgar, demanded that Nicole get him good and slick with her pussy juices, and then he would brutally force himself into her bowels while Jermaine roughly pounded her pussy.
Nicole used some spray carpet cleaner to clean the tracks Ramone's filthy cock had left on the blue velour. The frenzied scrubbing motions imbedded more of herself into the foam cushion.
And Ramone demanded her backdoor almost as often as his brother demanded her hairy pussy.
And Nicole would sob in shame; she was very lonely.
A few of the tears dripped into the cushion on the armrest of the loveseat and Nicole's loneliness and shame became part of the couch's memory.
