Chapter 6: A tough Choice
Karen went to bed that night satisfied, a thin, smug smile etched on her lips as she replayed the sound of the desk creaking, the feeling of being filled, the sight of Jerry’s submission. She had a cock slave now. A damn good one. She could fuck it whenever she wanted. The thought warmed her as she drifted off, the scent of him and sex and mahogany polish still a phantom in her clean, linen-scented bedroom.
The next morning, Jerry called off work. The buzz from the office still hummed in his veins, but the mundane reality of a clogged gutter and a leaking faucet needed addressing. He was on a ladder, sleeves rolled up, arm deep in damp leaves and sludge, when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“Playing hooky, Jerry?”
He looked down. Tiffany stood on his driveway, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun, the other planted on a generous hip. She wore a low-cut white shirt that strained over the full, heavy curve of her natural tits, the deep valley between them a shadowy invitation. Her yoga pants were black and impossibly tight, clinging to the ample, round swell of her ass like a second skin. A slow smile spread across her face.
“Something like that,” he said, climbing down. His hands were dirty, his t-shirt smudged.
“Good,” Tiffany said, stepping closer. Her scent was different from Karen’s—warmer, like vanilla and coconut oil. “Because I’ve been thinking about you since the block party. And I’m bored.”
Jerry wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thinking what, exactly?”
“That you look like you know how to use those hands for more than gutter work.” She reached out, traced a finger down his chest, over the fabric. “You gonna let me in, or do I have to write you up for being too damn tempting?”
He led her inside, the screen door slapping shut behind them. The cool, dim living room was a contrast to the bright driveway. Before he could say a word, she was on him, her mouth hot and insistent against his, her tongue sweeping past his lips. Her hands yanked his t-shirt up and over his head. He fumbled with the tight yoga pants, peeling them down over the glorious, jiggling flesh of her ass until they pooled at her ankles. She stepped out of them, standing naked except for her white shirt, which she let him push off her shoulders. Her tits were magnificent, full and heavy with large, dark areolas, and she arched her back when he took their weight in his palms, his thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples.
“Fuck, Jerry,” she breathed, grinding her bare pussy against the rough fabric of his jeans. He could feel her heat, her wetness already soaking through. “I want that cock. Right now.”
He unbuckled his belt, shoved his jeans and boxers down. His erection sprang free, already thick and eager. Tiffany dropped to her knees with a hunger that mirrored Karen’s, but her rhythm was different, less practiced, more greedy. She took him deep, gagging slightly before relaxing her throat, one hand cupping his balls, the other gripping the base of his shaft. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed, as she sucked him with wet, noisy slurps, saliva glistening on her chin.
“Yeah, just like that,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in her curls. “Suck it good.”
She pulled off with a lewd pop. “I wanna ride you. On that couch.”
She pushed him back onto the cushions, then straddled him, guiding him inside her with one smooth, sinking motion. She was soaking, tight and incredibly hot. A low, guttural moan tore from her throat as she took him all, her nails digging into his shoulders. Then she began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, grinding circle that made him see stars. Her tits bounced with each motion, and he leaned forward, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting until she cried out.
“Harder,” she panted, her rhythm becoming more frantic. “Fuck me harder, Jerry.”
He gripped her wide hips and thrust upward, meeting her downward strokes, their skin slapping together in the quiet room. The couch springs complained beneath them. He flipped her over onto her back, her big, beautiful ass spreading on the cushion as he drove into her from behind, his angle hitting a spot that made her scream into a throw pillow. He pulled her up, her back against his chest, one hand cupping a tit, the other circling her clit, fucking her deep and steady as she trembled and shook.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her head lolling back on his shoulder. “Oh god, right there, just like that, you feel so fucking good.”
He didn’t stop. He walked her, still impaled, to the wall, pinning her against it, her feet off the ground. He hammered into her, the force driving the air from her lungs in sharp gasps. Then to the floor, on the rug, her legs hooked over his shoulders as he plunged into her, over and over, watching her face contort with pleasure. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her stomach.
Time lost meaning. There was only the slick, raw sound of their fucking, the smell of sex and her coconut skin, the visual feast of her body taking him. He was relentless, drawing out every possible sensation, following her whispered, filthy demands—spank my ass, fuck, yes—pull my hair—bite me there—until they were both breathless and spent, but not finished, the tension coiled tight but not released. He finally stilled, buried deep inside her, both of them panting, trembling on the edge.
“Jesus,” Tiffany whispered, her body quivering around him. “You’re a fucking animal.”
He grinned, kissing her shoulder. “We’re just getting started.”
He pulled out slowly, his cock slick and gleaming, making her gasp at the sudden emptiness. "Get on your hands and knees," he said, his voice low and rough. Tiffany scrambled onto the rug, her back arched, presenting her full, round ass to him, the cheeks parted slightly, revealing her flushed, wet lips. He knelt behind her, running his hands over the generous curves, the skin warm and yielding under his palms.
"Fuck, Tiffany, this ass," he groaned, giving one cheek a firm, open-handed slap that echoed in the room. The flesh jiggled, a red handprint blooming on the skin.She cried out, pushing back against him. "You like that, you filthy bitch?"he asked, spanking her other cheek, harder.
"Yes, you bastard," she hissed, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes dark. "Slap my fat ass and then fuck it raw.I want to feel you in my guts." He guided himself to her entrance, the head of his cock pushing against her slickness. He rubbed it up and down, teasing her clit with each pass, making her whimper.
"Beg for it," he commanded, delivering another sharp slap."Please," she moaned, dropping her forehead to the rug. "Please fuck me, Jerry.Shove that big cock in my dirty little pussy.I need it." He pushed in, not slowly, but with one deep, relentless thrust that buried him to the hilt.She screamed, her fingers clawing at the carpet as he stretched her, filled her completely.
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a solid impact that rocked her whole body forward, her tits swinging beneath her. The sound was obscenely wet, flesh slapping against flesh in a steady, driving beat. "Such a perfect fucking ass," he grunted, gripping her hips hard, his fingers digging in. He spanked her again mid-thrust, the sharp crack mingling with their ragged breathing."Made for taking cock."
"Only yours," she panted, fucking herself back onto him, meeting every drive."God, only yours.It’s so deep. I can feel you in my fucking throat." He leaned over her, one hand wrapping in her hair, pulling her head back as he pistoned into her. The change in angle made her shriek, a broken, pleasure-soaked sound. He watched himself disappear into her, over and over, the view primal and captivating.
He was thick with tension, the need to climax a white-hot coil in his belly, but he clamped down on it. He wanted this—the heat of her, the grip of her cunt, the sight of her utterly used—to last. He slowed his pace, grinding deep, circling his hips to rub against her swollen inner walls.She shuddered violently around him. "Don't you dare stop," she pleaded, her voice ragged."Keep going. I’m so fucking close.Make me cum on your dick."
He resumed his deep, measured strokes, each one deliberate and intense, focusing on the sensation of her silken heat milking him. He spanked her once more, a final, stinging blow that made her yelp and clench around him. "Come on, Tiffany," he urged, his own control fraying at the edges but holding firm. "Cum for me.Squeeze that pretty pussy tight." Her breath hitched, then broke into a choked cry as her body locked, convulsing around his shaft in pulsing waves. He kept moving, riding out her climax, his own release held ruthlessly at bay, a promise of something more to come.