Chapter 3: The First Real Man
Two nights had passed since Ben had come undone against the vibrator, and the memory still smoldered in her cunt like a coal that refused to die. She lay beside Nicolle in the lavender-scented dark, her body slick with a restless heat no amount of cool sheets could quench. "I need the real thing," she whispered, the words tasting filthy and honest on her tongue. "I need a cock inside me, Nicolle. Not a toy. A man." Nicolle's green eyes caught the moonlight, a slow smile curving her lips. She made a single phone call, and by ten the next morning, a young man named Marcus stood in their bedroom doorway, lean and cocky with a jaw that could cut glass. Ben's heart hammered as he peeled off his shirt, revealing a chest smooth as marble. Nicolle eased Ben's silk robe from her shoulders, then guided her onto all fours on the bed, cupping her heavy F-cup breasts from behind as Marcus settled between her spread thighs. "Show her what a woman's for," Nicolle murmured from the doorway. Marcus obliged, gripping Ben's wide hips and ramming his thick cock into her soaked pussy in one brutal stroke. Ben cried out, her spine arching, her ass bouncing against his thighs as he slammed into her again and again. "That's it," he grunted, his balls slapping her wet flesh. "Take it like a good little sissy."
Ben's nails clawed the duvet as Marcus drove into her, each thrust sending shockwaves through her swollen breasts. "More," she gasped, her voice cracking. "Please, I need more." Marcus slowed, grinning down at her. "You want it harder, sissy?" "Yes," she sobbed. "Fucking destroy me." Nicolle stepped forward, her voice soft but commanding. "Flip her over, Marcus. She wants to be pile driven." He withdrew, and Nicolle helped Ben onto her back, lifting Ben's thick hips onto a pillow. Marcus climbed over her, his cock poised above her slick, gaping hole. He dropped his weight, burying himself to the hilt. Ben screamed, her F-cups quivering as he fucked her from above, his balls slapping her ass. "That's it," Nicolle whispered, stroking Ben's hair. "Let him use that pretty cunt."
He dropped his weight, burying himself to the hilt. Ben screamed, her F-cups quivering as he fucked her from above, his balls slapping her ass. "That's it," Nicolle whispered, stroking Ben's hair. "Let him use that pretty cunt."
Then Marcus shifted his angle, and the head of his cock dragged across a ridge of tissue deep inside her that Ben had never known existed. Her whole body seized, a flood of liquid heat gushing from her cunt as a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain ripped through her. "Oh fuck," she wailed, her eyes rolling back. "What the fuck is that?" He kept that angle, pounding the spot relentlessly, and Ben came in a shuddering cascade, her thighs shaking, her pussy clenching around him so hard he grunted. "Holy shit, she's gripping me like a vice." Ben's mind went white. She didn't know her body could do this, didn't know she could come this hard, this fast, and the realization made her want more.
Marcus kept that merciless angle, his cock grinding against the spot until Ben's vision swam. She felt something building, a pressure so immense it blocked out thought. Then it broke. A scream tore from her throat, not her voice, not any sound she'd ever made as a man, high and broken and utterly female. Her body went rigid, her spine bowing off the pillow, toes curling as a torrent of hot liquid burst from her gushing cunt, splashing onto Marcus's stomach and soaking the sheets between Nicolle's thighs. "Fuck, yes!" he roared, slamming deeper as she squirted and squirted, her pussy convulsing around him, milking every inch. Nicolle watched, wide-eyed, her hand pressed to her mouth. Ben's eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream, her entire body locked in a shuddering spasm that just kept going, her mind wiped clean. When it finally ebbed, she collapsed, gasping, drenched, her thighs slick and trembling, a puddle spreading beneath her. "Jesus Christ," Marcus breathed, pulling out with a wet sound. Nicolle moved to the bedside, stroking Ben's damp hair. "There she is," she whispered. "That's my beautiful girl." Ben could only whimper, pink and quivering, utterly spent, her body still twitching with aftershocks. And she knew, with absolute certainty, she wanted to do it again.