Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.Click here
Hey, hey, hey!
Still here? To be honest, I wasn't sure you would be. People probably think I'm a bit much to take all in one go. It's true. I can be a total motormouth most of the time but that's just my way of hiding how nervous I get around others. The same goes for the cussing. I swear for a reason. Men are always coming on to me and I've discovered the best way to put them off is to use the language as a kind of weapon. Works every time. But it's not really who I am inside so don't judge me by the way I express myself in certain situations.
Seriously, I'm a really nice girl at heart.
All this was Babette's idea. Typing it down. Baring my soul as it were. Which is all well and good if you think you know how things are going to go. But what happens if they don't? What if your comfortable successful life is about to take a major detour and there is nothing you can do about it?
That is the scariest thing of all. The one thing that frightens me the most.
The unknown future.
Oh, and by the way, this is a love story. Honest.
Big Fat Sam was a big fat man.
Late thirties but looked older. Short back and sides with a matching Chaplineque mustache and chubby face with rosy cheeks. And he was one hairy motherfucker as he removed his shirt and started on his pants. Down they came followed by his XXL blue boxers leaving me with a ringside seat of his bare ass which needed widescreen to do it justice.
Jesus H. Christ. He was going to squish me like a bug.
Then he turned sheepishly around and I nearly fell off the bed in shock. Between his meaty thighs hung a thing that was not so much a cock but a baseball bat.
"Is that yours?" I blurted out like an idiot.
He should be in a fucking circus. Women would pay top dollar and line up to see something like that. I'd seen some big wangs in my time but his took the prize. Tarzan could swing from this fucker and even Mary Poppins would think twice.
Fat Sam was as bashful as they came. A really swell Oliver Hardy type kind of guy. The sort that would do anything for anybody. He was the quiet one who sat at the back in meetings, laughed at everyone's jokes even if they were about him and pretty much tried to avoid the company assholes in the department where he worked and people around him in general.
Hand on cold heart, I kind of felt sorry for him and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull when I asked him if he wanted to go for a drink after work. Fuck knows what the guys in his department thought. Not that I gave a shit about them. I liked Big Fat Sam and wanted to show him that someone somewhere cared enough about him to matter.
And I liked him even more after getting to know him after a few drinks. So much so we ended up back at his place and about to jump in the sack. Or at least that was the intention. Let's just say I got naked real quick as I stared at his penis and fell at his feet to have a closer look. Holy cow. We are definitely not fucking worthy.
"It doesn't really get hard," he said suddenly, looking down at me. "Even when I, uh, you know, masturbate."
I swear I blushed. He was right. It didn't get hard but kind of flopped around as I played with it with him standing there chewing on his knuckles. Easy there, partner. Don't sink before you can swim. Getting to my feet, I stood there trying to figure out the best way to do this.
"Alright, Sam," I said, looking up at him. He was staring at my tits like a kid on Christmas morning. "Samuel."
His head jerked up. "Huh, yeah. Oh."
"Listen to me," I told him. "I'm going to lie on my back and I want you to get between my legs and stick that thing in me, okay?" This was going to be like reverse parking a nuclear fucking submarine. "Don't get on me. Just take your weight on your hands. And if I tell you to stop, you fucking stop. Got that?"
Sam nodded like an eager puppy.
Bouncing back onto the bed, I lay back and spread my legs as wide as they would go and watched as my latest lover came closer with his jello elephant dick swaying back and forth hypnotically. Oh fuck. This is going to hurt. My poor pussy.
Once in place, I reached down and grabbed his cock. The head was cut and looked kind of gnarly as it leaked lube and I pushed it down so that it pressed between the lips of my sex. Rubbing it up and down my slot a few times to spread the juice, I began to force it in as best I could as Sam grunted and mumbled over me.
My ass was wriggling around like it was sat on a hot plate as I winced in pain trying to get the head inside of me. After a couple of minutes, I was greased up enough for the purple pussy destroyer to pop beyond my vaginal ring. "FUCK!!" I yelped as it pushed a couple of inches deeper and I had to grab my legs to stop them twitching.
Sam was drooling. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy," he kept muttering as I impaled myself on his immense pole. "Oh, boy, oh boy, oh boy, Miss Peterson!"
The more he penetrated me, the more he suffocated me as he lowered himself between my spread thighs until I couldn't see a damned thing below my jiggling boobs. Under a mountain of blubber, somewhere deep inside me, his immense dong was slithering up my carnal passage.
"Samuel, Samuel, for Chrissakes," I gasped as his penile battering ram hit a brick wall. Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Alright, that was most definitely enough. There was absolutely no way he was getting any more of his prick inside of me. I was bursting at the seams and I could even feel my asshole stretching in sympathy. "Stop, stop, stop, STOP!"
The big oaf looked down at me cross-eyed with a face contorted like Goofy on crack. I reached up with both hands and grabbed his ears. "ENOUGH!" I warned him as he mumbled something to himself. "Pull it a little bit back out and push it a little bit back in, okay?"
"Ug ug," he nodded and did as he was told.
Oh. Oh, holy guacamole. It felt like I was being turned inside out as he withdrew and I squealed like a stuck pig when he pushed back in. Never have I felt so thoroughly skewered and fucked. I had no idea how the bed was still in one piece as Sam got into some sort of rhythm and began rocking his hips back and forth letting out the odd fart which had me howling and yelping at the same time.
I could barely move as I grasped his shoulders and clung on for dear life. This was a shag and a half and I knew my big fat lover was about to blow, what I anticipated to be, a big fat load.
And I wasn't wrong.
"OOO, Miss Peterson," he gasped. "I dunno but I think I'm about to.."
It's a scientifically proven fact that ninety-five point six percent of women don't feel it when a man ejaculates inside of them. Other than the BAM BAM BAM sudden rabbit kick, you wouldn't know that he'd cum at all. At most, you might get a tingling inside like someone is tickling your ovaries but that's about it.
Not so with Big Fat Sam.
It was like someone had turned on a firehose and let rip. There was a hot whoosh that flooded my whole sex like I'd sat my ass on a hot water bottle. And I swear, this lasted a good thirty seconds before it began to fade.
Five minutes later, Samuel finally rolled off me and lay gasping on the bed as I sat up and stared at my distended and well-fucked pussy. From the orifice, a thick stream of white spunk seeped and oozed out onto the duvet. Wow. Holy shit. Look at that!
The amount of stuff he shot inside of me was insane. Talk about being a complete cock socket and spunk bucket. I turned to my lover and saw that he was fast asleep which was kind of endearing in its way. Hell, I was so tired I could barely stay awake myse...
***BEEP BEEP BEEP***
Huh? The heck? Oh. Dang. Grabbing the alarm clock, I rolled over and shoved it under the pillow. The dream of Fat Sam faded away as I lay there blinking in the early morning sunlight that flooded my bedroom.
Yawning, I got out of bed and hauled my bare ass to the bathroom and as I sat there taking a pee, grim reality began to set in. It was the morning after the day before. The day Clark Kent had walked into my life and saw me getting reamed by a little old French lady in my office bathroom.
So what do I do?
Find him and explain what happened or spend the rest of my working life hiding up my asshole? Tough call. Fuck knows how Babette is dealing with this. She practically ran for the hills in embarrassment. Well, don't blame me. She knew what she was getting into when she jumped aboard my perverted little rollercoaster.
Nope. Just act normal as if nothing happened and if we bumped into each other I'll just play it by ear and if he gives me any grief, well, he can take a running jump.
Looking up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Fuck me, I look hot. All that messed up hair, dark eyes, pert nose, and full red lips. Wanton. Sexy. Intensely fuckable. No wonder I could stop a conversation when I walk into a room.
I stood up and admired my body. Yeah. I've definitely got it where it counts. Perfect tits. Peach like pussy. Decent but firm ass. You know what? I'm a fucking prize. The man who gets me is going to think he's died and gone to heaven.
Reaching up, I ran my hands through my long red curly hair.
"I am Medusa. The original Scarlet Witch."
Shit. I'm going to need a disguise.
Winter had truly arrived as I slided down the path from the entrance to my apartment complex and dropped into the back seat of my ride.
Larry, my driver, turned around and looked at me sitting there in my thick muffler coat wearing a black headscarf and a pair of matching shades.
"Morning, Miss. Peterson," he said with an amused expression on his face. God knows what he was thinking as I sat there looking like a reject from the Eff Bee fucking Eye. "How goes it?"
I peered at him over the top of my spectacles. Had he heard what happened yesterday? Had the company grapevine kicked in yet with the latest hot gossip? "Just get me to the church on time, Larry," I told him. "Oh, and go in the back."
There was no fucking way I was going in through the main entrance. That place is like Grand Central at this time of the day. If the story had hit the wires I'd stick out like a penguin in a sauna. Not that I didn't stick out anyway. When I waltzed in it was like the parting of the red sea because I looked like a flame-haired Jezebel on crack. A walking talking pion to the sexual female and the extravagant nature of being totally fuckable for men, women, and Buzz Lightyear.
I wondered what Babette was up to. Knowing her, she would probably parachute in.
My mobile buzzed.
It was her. "Where are you?"
"In a helicopter."
There was a pause.
"Did you forget?"
Uh. Hang on. Wait a second.
"The meeting?" said Babette. "You know. The one I had to arrange the helicopter for?"
"The one I'm sitting in right now waiting for you to arrive."
"Step on it, Larry, or I'm going to miss my wedding!"
The day after, the day after, the day before.
"So how did it go with Mr. Hirihito-san?" asked my Secretary as she sat opposite me taking daily notes for the record. Yesterday had been the helicopter thing and the pow wow with a seriously important potential client. It was one of those do or do not there is no try situations where failure was not an option.
"He loves westerns," I replied with a wave of my hand. "I know every one of the magnificent seven off by heart now."
Babette laughed at the look on my face. "Did you get it?"
Another brown envelope.
"Oh, ye of little faith." I sighed. "A nun I am not."
Japanese dicks are the angriest looking dicks in the whole penile universe.
Mr. Hirihito- san was the first Asian schlong I've had in a long time and how I managed to keep a straight face when his purple-headed twinkie popped out of the hole in his very expensive shorts was nothing short of a miracle. The fact he was only about five foot six tall made it more so. The man could stand toe to toe with a fucking munchkin and still have to look up.
I knew shit was going to get weird the moment he said "I am Johno Wayno. Get off a hoss and drink milko!"
So, anyway, I figured I needed to bring my A-game as this guy packed a serious financial punch. Show him the works. Fuck and suck him till his eyeballs popped out and begged for mercy.
For a good hour, I became his own personal American whore and by the time I was finished with him, he was flat out on the bed singing Yankee Doodle Dandy as he signed the contract.
Another mission accomplished.
At least my asshole felt back to normal.
It had been a long old day.
Babette had already left for home and it had gone six when I packed up, grabbed my shit, and headed for the exit. I didn't mind putting in the extra hours, to be honest. The daily hubbub was over and the place had this kind of ambiance about it that I really liked.
At that time, the only people left in the building were security, cleaners and the odd masochist pulling a late shift as I made my way along the corridor towards the elevators at the far end.
As I stood there watching the numbers counting down from 30 to 29 to 28 to 27, I had the strangest feeling come over me that made me shiver from head to toe. Confused, I looked over my shoulder to see if there was someone behind me when there was a sudden ping as the elevator doors slowly opened and I literally gasped when I saw there was already somebody inside.
It was like coming face to face with my own personal, honest to God, real-life version of Persius who looked as surprised as I was.
Oh, holy fuck.
It was him.
I froze on the spot as my mind freaked out doing backflips inside my skull. Uh oh. What do I do now? Take the fucking stairs? I couldn't move and it was Superman who broke the spell as he edged to the side to let me in. My heart was going bananas as I glanced up at him and I blushed from head to toe. As our eyes met, he gave me a sort of "Hey" smile that made me feel like a girl on a first date. Okay, that settled it. I pretty much had to get in the elevator with him now or else I'd look a right bitch.
Mumbling a whispered "Thanks," I stepped in beside him with me staring at the floor as he inspected the ceiling. What the fuck was going on here? I was actually having trouble breathing as I prayed for the doors to fucking shut.
Finally, they closed and with a slight jolt, the number changed from 25 to 24 as we descended in awkward silence. There are no words to describe the sheer embarrassment I was feeling at that moment. But at the same time, something else was beginning to happen as I stood there holding my case firmly to my chest.
You know that thing where you take a pair of magnets and turn them so that the attraction is reversed? It kind of felt like that but not in the way I expected. Fuck knows why but the more space I tried to put between us, the nearer I wanted to be to him - if that makes sense. As if positive and negative were having a dance where opposites attract.
I peeked up at the numbers above the doors. 15 to 14 to 13. Above the hum of the elevator, I could hear the sound of his breathing which I found strangely comforting for some reason. It was just him and me in this little metal box and I was consumed by my reaction to being this close to him.
12 to 11 to 10.
I suddenly realized I could see our reflections in front of us and I slowly raised my eyes towards him. He was taller. Six foot or so. His hair was inky black and cut naturally. He looked a little older than I was. Middle thirties at a rough guess. He was wearing a pair of black spectacles that really did make him look like Clark Kent and his eyes appeared a rich shade of green from what I could tell.
One thing was for sure, the man was not dressed to impress. He looked like he'd just walked straight out of an episode of Happy Days. Tweed jacket. Chequered shirt under a black vee necked sweater. No tan chinos but a pair of dark blue denim jeans and black loafers.
Then I saw his hands. And the ring he was wearing.
The stab of pain had me clutching my case tighter like it was some zen shield to protect me from my demons as I dropped my eyes trying to hide the soul-crushing disappointment I was feeling. Well, there you go, Batman.
Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened out towards the company lobby.
Oh shoot, what do I do now?
I was super-glued to the floor and stood there like a sap chewing on the top of my case that I still held tightly to my chest. Please say or do something for Chrissakes I yelled inside my head. Not only is he going to think I'm an ass reamed lesbian into little old ladies but a mumbling idiot too!
Thank fuck Supes had more cajones about him. He indicated the door with his right hand. "Ladies first," he said in a voice that made me hear bells. "After you."
OMG. It was like someone was using my flopian tubes to play the bongos. Good grief. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to fall at his feet, present my bare ass to him like a bitch in heat, and tell this son of Zeus I wanted nothing more than to have his babies!!
Instead, I was out the door pronto and heading towards the exit where I knew Larry was waiting to take me home so I could yell at myself in the mirror while I ate ice cream.
As I walked, I could hear his footsteps behind me like the clanging chimes of doom.
Listen up, if it's the last thing you do, DO NOT LOOK OVER YOUR SHOULDER. I repeat do not even so much as take a peek no matter how much you want to. Just get to the fucking ride and vamoose!
But as I made my way, one thought was going through my mind. Something so basic. So natural. So God damned important to my little over-sized rice pudding of an ego.
Please, please, please, let him be staring at my ass.
Look out for Medusa part 3.