Something I wrote a long while ago. Something simple.
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It was the width of him that attracted me.
One of those beefy guys, bulky without an ounce of extra fat around his middle. He had shoulders that blocked out light when he stood up, and the prominent outline of his relaxed cock in his jeans had me wet before the first hello.
His swarthy complexion and scowl made his likely profession a bouncer at a strip club, but he was smart beneath all the pulse pounding brawn. Everything about him was a lesson in contradictions. He was a physicist that could talk about particles, bench press a school bus, enjoyed jazz and expensive wine, and fucked like he wanted to destroy things.
I always felt dainty with him. At 5’10”, I’m no petite princess so the first time I saw him all I thought about was mounting and riding him like a cowgirl on a bronco. I imagined him holding my up like I was weightless as I bounced on his cock and screamed my yeehaws.
Of course I scurried over after that. It was easy to strike up conversation and even easier to land in his custom built bed. I was hooked from the first thrust.
It’s because of what he does to me every time I see him. He turns me into this slut, this cock-loving whore who can’t get enough of how much he stretches me. His body pushes mine to its limits, pushes me to the point where pain and pleasure blend and I’m absolutely strung out for more of it.
His size overwhelms me and I love it.
I’ll show up after he gets off work. The need hits the hardest after he’s been postulating and using that big brain of his. He’ll find me nearly naked at his door ready to hear the experiments he’s done. Seeing him in his pressed slacks as his arms stretch the limits of his button down makes me wet. Watching his cock strain against the zipper of his slack slays me.
As he opens his door, my hands will linger along that cloth-covered monster. I want it gagging me, filling my mouth, covered in my saliva as he pumps and spews a load down my throat. I want it immediately.
But he always controls the pace. He wants the feel of my cunt wrapped around him today. My pussy just throbs in response to the gravelly demand in his voice, and I’m racing to his bed, stripping as I go.
He’ll settle that big body of his between my thighs, use those hands of his to splay my legs as far as they’ll go, and I’ll squirm at the pull of my muscles. I’ll try to wrap my hand around him, needing to hold the meaty length of him, so hot and hard, in my hands.
He’ll smack my searching fingers out of the way, trapping my hands above my head so I’m pinned in place. The teasing begins as he strokes along my cunt with the broad head of his cock. On and on, up and down until I’m whimpering and begging for him. Please, please, please.
I can’t help watching, eyes round as he sinks into me. I’m stretching around him in the most obscene way, swallowing the angry red shaft in slow gulps. The size of him leaves me feeling split wide, filled beyond capacity, and begging him to Fuck. Me. Hard.
And God does he ever. So hard, his powerful hips a piston, rendering me dumb. He angles and turns me until I’m falling apart after a few strokes.
He destroys me. I’ll be sore from the drag, inside and out. I’m a sobbing, coming mess; my cunt milking so hard I feel like I’m coming apart. And he just plows through, taking me to that next level as he rumbles the most intellectual bullshit in my ear. He stimulates my mind and my body in the most bizarre way.
Even as I quiver beneath him, cunt throbbing from the abuse and leaking with his abundant spunk, I just want more. I want the breadth of him to rend me double until the only thing that can make me whole is that beast fitting snug inside me.
