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He didn’t even see the fist descending, but he sure as hell felt it. It smashed into his jaw so hard it rocked the chair to which he was tied. What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? The object hurts like hell.
He leaned over as far as he could in his restraints, his long brown hair writhing in the sweat and blood pasting his brow and cheeks. He spat, and ringing clearly when the thick red gobbet hit the ground was the sound of teeth dancing on concrete. His mouth – his whole face, really – felt raw and puffy, but when he probed around with his tongue it seemed like the punch had knocked out two molars.
“Won’t be getting much pussy any time soon, will he, Mickey?” The guy who had punched him, a short happy little fellow with tightly curled blonde hair, smiled at Mickey. His name was John Fitzgerald Moretti, born on the day a worthless no-one secured a footnote in history by leaning out a window in a Dallas book depository. Moretti looked about as threatening as an accountant with aspirations towards being in a barbershop quartet. At least, that’s what you thought if you saw him in repose, languishing in the catatonia that only ebbed when he was asked to commit some monstrous act of violence that to him required no reason at all.
“Doubt this fucker’ll ever get it again,” replied Mickey. Mickey was the polar opposite of Moretti: balding, podgy and colossal, about six feet nine tall, his gleaming skull ringed with a thicket of jet hair. He looked like the muscle in a cheap mob movie. He had a 169 IQ and business degree from Yale.
Mickey reached out one colossal paw and lifted back the guy in the chair (whose name was Jimmy)’s head. He thumbed back one eyelid, got nothing but white underneath.
Vaguely heard is “passed out again, the little prick”. And Jimmy – Jimmy dreams of the past.
The woman sat naked before him on the tangled, silk sheets. Her bush was luxuriant – rich and black it smothered her pussy, which was as pale peach as the bedclothes and glistened from the efforts of her fingers. Her breasts were large and, as she leaned forward on the bed, dangled in almost pyramidal shapes, the inverted peaks of her nipples a deep brown. Her scarlet lips pursed and she ran a small tongue over them.
Jimmy was twenty and the woman in front of him had to be at least in her early forties, yet he had never seen so beautiful a woman, nor felt his cock any harder.
He was not so overwhelmed that he couldn’t mouth off a bit, though. “Mrs. Giamatti, are you trying to seduce me?”
The woman lay back on the bed, her big breasts diminishing slightly, leaving only the perfect circles of her nipples prominent on her chest. Her left hand rested in the thick snarls of her pubic hair and feathered at the flesh of her vulva.
“Well, seeing as the radiator’s working after all, perhaps I can find another use for you. You can call me Edie, by the way.”
Jimmy was filling in for his uncle, who was on a lecture tour, his uncle being the only philosopher Jimmy knew that wrote his books while working as a handyman in a gated community. Mrs. Giamatti, Edie, had called him over with a fault in the heating. She’d buzzed him in through the gates and had told him over the intercom that the problem was in the bedroom.
Jimmy moved towards her and she spoke. “No. Not yet. Strip for me.”
Jimmy had a lot of virtues. He was kind and gentle, which led a lot of people to take him as slow. He was strong and fast, and quite honourable when some man’s wife wasn’t naked before him. What he wasn’t, though, was a dancer. Instead he stood perfectly motionless as his quick, clever fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. He dropped it hurriedly and Edie looked admiringly at his hairless, toned chest.
Her husband was obese, swollen like Bacchus with the high living a life of immense wealth could provide. He was also, a result of his indulgence, completely impotent, so Edie really did have problems in the bedroom. Jimmy’s chest and the faint trace of six pack was like wine to her and she could feel that old, slow burn in her stomach as she drank in his pale pink nipples and squiggle of belly button.
Jimmy undid the buckle on his jeans and let them slide down his legs. He had thighs corded with muscle and calves as shapely as a woman’s. They were dusted with a thin coating of pale hair. Edie’s attention, though, was entirely consumed by the immense bulge in his boxer shorts. The thick length of his cock bobbed slightly against the material, giving the impression that the cartoon characters decorating his underwear were dancing on his genitals.
Jimmy made to drop the shorts, but again Edie stopped him. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms outstretched towards him. “Come here.”
He came towards her and she wrapped her arms around his torso. She left one there and with the other slowly halkalı escort weighed his cock as she took one small nipple into her mouth and sucked hard. She turned them round, so Jimmy lay on the bed and she knelt in front of him.
“You’re not a virgin are you?”
Jimmy told her no.
“Good, I want this to last.”
She grasped the elastic waistband of his shorts and tugged it down, keeping her face near his groin. Once the shorts were far enough off, Jimmy’s cock bounced up and brushed her lips. He groaned and so did she.
Edie held it by the base, not stroking it, just enjoying looking at and touching a hard cock for the first time in far too long. “It’s so beautiful. So big,” she said. She bent her head over it and took it into her mouth.
Edie’s plump lips dallied around the head of Jimmy’s cock, her tongue flipping at the tall opening. It was around eight inches long, too long in any case for her to completely engulf, but she swallowed as much as she could. Her technique was incredible, vastly better than the clueless fumbling of Jimmy’s other lovers.
He looked down and watched her, her classically beautiful face framed by the onyx tresses of her hair as she devoured his cock. He almost came just watching her and Edie sensed it. She stopped giving him head and wordlessly guided him back until he rested in the centre of the bed, arms spread over the pillows and cock jutting out a brilliant red against the peach sheets. Edie crawled over the bed towards him, her smoothly curvaceous ass waggling beautifully. Then she pinched his cock hard.
Jimmy screamed. “What the fuck?”
“It keeps you from cumming too soon,” said Edie as she straddled him. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars for each time I cum.” She sat upright on his thighs then grasped the thick fabric headboard and lowered herself quickly onto his cock.
It felt incredible, like coming back to a drug after years of abstaining. That ancient mystery of how something could feel so impossibly hard and yet deliciously soft. No dildo or vibrator, no finger or fist or tongue, could even approximate it and Edie sat for a minute, eyes closed and neck stretched, lips smiling, enjoying the cock nestled snugly deep within her, drowning in the liquid inferno of her cunt.
She began to bob up and down on him, slowly at first, moaning as Jimmy’s hands went to her breasts and gently pinched her nipples. Her pussy was tingling with the first intimations of orgasm and she began to gasp. Edie had both hands on the headboard now and rocked on his cock ferociously as Jimmy looked up at her face, wondering at the desperation and passion on it.
They were both sweating heavily now, thick beads of water dripping off Edie’s breasts on to Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy leaned up and lapped up the perspiration. Edie’s gasps had long since turned into shouts. She was screaming “Oh, god”, “Oh, yes,” but when Jimmy shifted, the way his cock pressed against the walls of her pussy altered and her pleasure increased exponentially. Jimmy moved so his back rested against the headboard and Edie wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and fucked him harder than ever. Her hair tickled his neck and the sharp points of her nipples scratched red trails across his chest.
“It’s so big. It’s so big. It’s so big,” she muttered over and over.
Jimmy felt the cum in his balls roiling and he knew he was moments away from cumming. Edie’s breath gusted against his ear and that was it. He shot his cum into her in a white-hot torrent that seared away all thought, leaving only ecstasy.
Edie collapsed on top of him and lay there as the mixture of his cum and the juice of her pussy cooled and trickled out of her to spatter chilly against his thighs. She lay there as her breath slowed and her sweat dried and the cock within her softened. Then she got up, went to the dresser and took a purse from one of the drawers. She took a fistful of hundred dollar bills out of it and showily held them up. Then she theatrically peeled off one and laid it on the dresser. She added another. And another. When five hundred dollars rested on the dresser she stopped and beamed at Jimmy.
Jimmy had watched Edie, her pussy raw from the rapid fucking and still glistening with moisture, her breasts flushed red and swaying gently as she moved. His cock was already rock hard again. He got up, and held Edie close, his hands gently slapping her ass, his cock forming a thick shadow on her thigh.
“I want you from behind,” he said.
“I’m ready for you,” she replied.
She knelt on the bed, her ass waving intoxicatingly at him and looked back, her eyes dark with desire, her mouth already open in a pant. Jimmy tantalised her by rubbing the thick head of his cock around her pussy before thrusting into her, his hand caressing her clitoris simultaneously.
They harbiye escort fucked once more after that, Jimmy nearing climax when she saw the lights coming up the driveway. “Faster,” Edie screamed. “Fuck me faster.” Jimmy thrust into her furiously, madly; she thrashed back against him. It took a minute, perhaps, for them both to cum, clenched tightly to each other, hands over each other’s mouths to mask the screams.
They leapt off the bed. Jimmy’s boxers were nowhere in sight, so he stuffed his still hard cock into his jeans and quickly buttoned up his shirt as the slow tread on the stair reached their ears. Edie rushed into a skirt and bra, no panties, and tied the last button while Jimmy shoved his feet into his shoes. The door opened.
Mr Giamatti wasn’t just fat – he was round. His stomach swelled serenely out of his trousers, which were both extremely wide about the waist and short in the leg. The only features marring the orb-like torso were his flabby breasts. The walk up the stairs was enough to make him short in breath and his brow was dappled with perspiration.
“Hey honey,” he said in a thick Brooklyn accent,” what’s going on here?”
“The radiator was broken. This nice young man was just sorting me out.”
Giamatti reached out one clammy hand and shook Jimmy’s, unknowingly grasping the fingers that had intimately delved in his wife’s pussy.
“Pleased to meet you kid. Name’s Paul.”
“Ah, Jimmy sir. Subbing for my uncle.”
And that’s when Edie noticed the boxer shorts underneath her husband’s brogue.
“Darling,” she said, “take a look at this window frame – don’t you think it’s askew?” She led Giamatti over to the window, her eyes indicating the boxer shorts’ location to Jimmy. He looked down in puzzlement, then horror, and just had time to stuff them into his jeans pocket before Giamatti turned back round.
To the question in his eyes and, because he was feeling guilty, to cover up the silence, Jimmy said, “Too big a job for me, sir. Well, I’d better be getting home.”
“Here’s the money we’re due you,” Edie said. Turned so her husband couldn’t see, she fanned out then handed him eight hundred dollars.
Jimmy left shortly after, heading down the stairs and through the hall towards the front door, when a voice from the kitchen stopped him.
“That was some fucking you gave my mother.” The girl speaking was about Jimmy’s age, perhaps a year or so younger. She looked the kind of girl known as Daddy’s Little Princess at home, and Superslut everywhere else. Her eyes were dark brown, her lips only a little paler. She had perfect high cheekbones and delicately bowed eyebrows. Her hair was long and straight and as glossy and black as a metallic sports car. She had high firm breasts over which it seemed a thin red top had been poured and it was obvious she wore no bra. Her legs were slender and perfect and only her pussy and the tops of her thighs were covered by the cut off denims she wore.
She got up, went to the refrigerator and bent over to pick up a soda from the back of the fridge, probably taking longer than was really necessary. Her ass was tiny and spherical. When she turned back, her nipples prodded through the fabric.
“So here’s the deal,” she said. “You take me back to yours now and make love to me, and maybe I won’t tell Dad what I heard this afternoon.”
She could see the questioning look in my eyes – why hadn’t her mother been quieter when her daughter was in the house?
“She didn’t know I was home. Just back from college. So what’s it going to be?”
Jimmy’s cock was aching and his balls felt empty. The money Edie had given him seemed heavy in his pocket and out of nowhere he wondered why she hadn’t kissed him once. Looking at this girl, at least as attractive as her mother, he realised he wanted her too.
“Come on, then,” he said.
The girl smiled. “Great. I’m Leanne, by the way.”
“I know,” she said. “I heard my mother screaming it.”
Jimmy and Leanne walked to his uncle’s truck. Upstairs, Giamatti watched and wondered where his daughter was going with the neighbourhood handyman.
A pail of cool water smacked into the bruise of Jimmy’s face, and he opened his eyes to see Moretti staring curiously at him.
“He’s awake, Mickey.”
Mickey handed Moretti a scalpel and the latter began to tug at Jimmy’s jeans. Jimmy fainted, Mickey’s words following him into unconsciousness: “No point in doing it if he can’t feel it.”
The moment they were inside his flat, Leanne pressed against him and her tongue forced its way into his mouth. He responded, kissing her back as his hands stroked her magnificent breasts. She broke the kiss to moan her pleasure at the ceiling, then looked in his eyes and whispered, irresistibly, “Where’s the bedroom?”
He led her ikitelli escort back there with one hand. They stood beside his bed and kissed some more as Jimmy slowly took off Leanne’s top. She had the smallest nipples he had ever seen; tiny almost black dots that sat like burns on the ripe swells of her breasts. He took first one into his mouth, then the other, lapping at skin that tasted of mango and papaya. He took of his own shirt then laid both of them on the bed where he kissed her as his hands explored her body down to her shorts.
He stroked her thighs upwards to the hem of the shorts, then, his cock straining against his jeans, a thin line of cold along it where it pressed against the zipper of his jeans, he tore them off. Her pussy was a bare cleft of perfectly smooth skin. It had been shaved that day: it was still irritated and, as he bent his tongue to it, he could taste the shaving foam. Funny, he thought, most girls like this wax.
As he tongued her cunt, which tasted nothing like her mother’s, she moaned his name and pressed her hips against his face. He lapped at her labial lips and bathed her clitoris in soft, fluttering kisses as her thighs clamped about his head. Her pussy was brimming wet, and he raised himself, pulling off the jeans and baring his cock. One of Leanne’s perfect white teeth nibbled her lips when she saw it. Jimmy smiled and entered her.
She was unbelievably tight, and he took it slow. Each millimetre he slid into her tight young pussy was a delicious struggle. Leanne was rapidly approaching her first orgasm, her breath rapid and her high cheeks flushed. When he broke her hymen and realised Leanne was… had been a virgin, Jimmy nearly came himself.
He didn’t say anything, but took more care. Gently, he made love to her. Leanne’s hand rested lightly on his ass as he slowly thrust deep into her.
Afterwards, Leanne bathed in the glow of orgasm and Jimmy exhausted, he asked her.
“With my father,” Leanne replied, “I haven’t been able to get a single guy to go out with me, let alone… anything else.”
That was the moment that Jimmy realised why he recognised the name Paul Giamatti. He was most commonly referred to as the alleged Mafia boss of New York. Jimmy felt the sore hardness his cock had been regaining, as his hands lovingly explored Leanne’s legs, wilt.
He drove her home and, as she left the truck, she leant over and kissed him. “Come see me on Wednesday,” she asked him.
Wednesday was two days later, and he didn’t realise how much he wanted to see her until those days passed like pools of eternity. Leanne remotely opened the gate for him and he drove up to the house, noticing the carpenter’s truck parked there.
He heard a quiet shrieking and looked up. Edie was squashed against the bedroom window, her breasts a flat smear on the glass. Behind her, Jimmy could make out a tall, heavy-set man. Surprisingly, Jimmy wasn’t the slightest bit upset. He went to Leanne’s room where the two of them carefully made love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
He’d woken up tied to a chair, being beaten by a guy a foot shorter than him.
Jimmy felt a quick sting and then his eyes burst open. Mickey stood over him holding a hypodermic.
“That’s epinephrine,” he said, “a.k.a. adrenaline. You won’t be passing out again.”
Mickey stepped back. “Alright, John, cut his balls off.”
Jimmy struggled, as much as he could, anyway, while tied to a chair with piano wire. “No! Please don’t. Don’t do it. Please! Please!” he begged them, forcing the words out through a throat closed with terror, tears and snot running down his battered face. His cries only got more plaintive as Moretti got his jeans off and was worked on the underwear. “All this because I fucked the guy’s slutty wife,” Jimmy cursed bitterly.
“What?” asked Mickey. Then he laughed. “Kid, this was because you touched his daughter. I think you’ve just made things much worse.”
He reached into his pocket and Jimmy nearly pissed himself, gasping when Mickey’s hand came out holding only a phone. He was searching for a number when, from somewhere, an alarm sounded, bleating shrilly into the dark. “I’ll go check it out,” Moretti said. He left through a door in the far wall of the room.
Five or more minutes passed; to Jimmy time stood still and raced by. Mickey began to get edgy, looking at the door, then his watch, then back at the door. Finally he went to the door and opened it, and that was when Leanne smashed his head open with a fire extinguisher.
She rushed over and kissed Jimmy quickly, her lips smeared with his blood. “Thank fuck,” said Jimmy. “They were gonna cut my balls off.” Leanne quickly kissed those too, saying “can’t let that happen.” She flicked open a knife and sawed through the wire binding him.
Holding each other, grasping with the feverish desperation of two people with no future and no destination, only each other but smiling with the knowledge that in this world, that’s all anyone needs, they got into Leanne’s sleek German car. They disappeared into the night, losing themselves but never each other in the glinting vastness of America.
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