Blackmailed by the Brother-in-Law
Copyright 1999 By Stormbringer
Revised 2025
Bernard reclined naked on the king-sized bed, the creaking
springs and musty air of his childhood home stirring memories, not all of them
pleasant. His five-and-a-half-inch penis, rigid with anticipation, twitched as
he awaited Anne in the adjoining bathroom. At 35, Bernard was a shadow of the
boy who’d envied his younger brother David’s effortless charisma, a resentment
that fueled a cruel act 17 years ago, shattering their bond. In this house,
where they’d played cowboys in shadowy halls, that betrayal clung like damp
rot, the faded wallpaper and chipped paint a testament to their fractured past.
Their father died eight years ago, their mother just months
ago, leaving Bernard, the eldest, this decaying estate. He and Anne relocated
to his hometown, fleeing stagnant jobs in a crumbling city. Bernard bought the
local video store, complete with a large curtained off porn selection that was
half his business. David, 33, inherited money but skipped the funeral,
photographing penguins in Antarctica. A week after the burial, he called
Bernard from Santiago, their first real conversation beyond curt holiday
exchanges and a letter following the death of their father. Tomorrow, David
would arrive, staying a week to collect belongings and visit their parents’
graves.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Anne’s voice echoed from the
bathroom, playful yet tinged with nerves, her silhouette flickering in the dim
light. Bernard’s fingers trembled as he pressed play on a hidden camcorder’s
remote, guilt gnawing like a rat in his gut. He’d grown obsessed with his
store’s pornography collection, slowly going through them one by one. X-rated
movie after X-rated movie, one thing became clear, his wife’s beauty and form
out shown any of the porn actresses he’d seen so far. Anne didn’t know he
planned to record their lovemaking, it would have horrified her, a desperate
bid to capture her beauty he couldn’t satisfy. His compulsion to control what
he lacked drove him, despite the shame whispering it was wrong.
Bernard was rolling the condom down his small shaft as Anne
emerged, framed by the bathroom’s light. At 28, she was a vision—blonde hair
cascading over a white lacy bra that strained against her full, heavy, EE-cup
breasts, small pink oval nipples faintly visible through the delicate fabric.
Her see-through thong clung to her hips, revealing a neatly trimmed pubic
mound, glistening with a hint of arousal. Bernard’s breath hitched; she was his
trophy, won through cunning at the old video store where he worked for slightly
more than minimum wage four years ago. Her shy smile and baggy clothes hadn’t
hidden her allure. He’d studied her rental history, feigned shared tastes in
obscure films, and coaxed her to a movie as “friends.” By night’s end, her hand
was in his, her innocence his to claim.
Homeschooled by a zealot mother who preached purity, Anne
had never kissed a man before Bernard. He’d charmed her mother with scripture,
quoting Psalms to win her trust, securing his prize, but it was all a lie and
he was thrilled to move back home just to get away from his extremist in-laws.
His wife didn’t seem all that upset to get away from her mother either, as she
had an adventurous spirit. As she swayed, stripping for him, her lacy bra fell,
revealing swollen, rosy nipples slowly popping out. She teased them with her
fingers, moaning softly, her other hand slipping into her panties to stroke her
clit, the wet sound barely audible over her gasps. Showing off her figure and
stripping was an unnatural act for her, but it seemed to be coming naturally to
her and she was certainly aroused as was Bernard. His control snapped. He
yanked her thong down, the fabric tearing slightly, and pulled her atop him,
thrusting his small cock into her slick, tight heat. She gasped, straddling him
awkwardly, her hips grinding in search of more than his five-inch size and frantic
three-minute rut could offer. “I could make love all night,” she thought, her
pussy aching as he came, her desire for a child unsatisfied. They had a home,
owned a business, so why not start a family? But Bernard wasn’t ready. She
dismounted, his penis shriveling rapidly as she pulled the condom off,
examining the meager load of semen filling the receptacle. She tossed it in the
trash. They curled together on the bed in the musty room, one asleep and
satisfied, the other staring at the ceiling, trying to fight the urge to touch
herself sinfully to satisfy the aching need inside her.
****************
Morning light filtered through cracked blinds, casting
jagged shadows as Bernard watched the tape alone, Anne out shopping for
groceries. Her body, bouncing on his cock, was porn-star perfection. She’d
missed her true calling, the video making him feel inadequate with his penis
nearly disappearing as she wrapped her hand around it before guiding it inside
her wet pussy. He wished he’d lasted longer, the excitement of secretly filming
her making him get off quickly though a normal sex session with his sexy wife
didn’t last too many seconds longer. He cursed not zooming in, plotting another
try to capture her better, catch her coming out of the shower, secretly film
her changing, wondering if he could get her to try out a dildo, while knowing
the thought would scandalize her.
Later, Anne found a family scrapbook, a faded Polaroid of
him and David as cowboy-clad boys, six-shooters in hand celebrating a birthday.
“He looks like you,” she said, her fingers brushing the image, her voice soft
with curiosity.
Bernard’s gut twisted. “People thought we were twins, though
I was older by two years. Smaller, too.” He’d always resented David’s
good-natured charm, a spark he’d tried to extinguish with those damning photos.
“I was a jealous kid,” he admitted, his voice cracking as he recalled the day
he’d destroyed his brother. At 18, he’d caught 16-year-old David masturbating,
lost in fantasies of nude girls from a porn magazine they’d found under their
parents’ mattress. Bernard’s camera clicked, capturing David’s tiny cock and
shocked face mid-orgasm. He’d shown the photos at school, reveling as jocks
dubbed David “pencil-dick,” their laughter echoing through the halls, girls
giggling and refusing to talk to him where they’d normally been drawn to the
charismatic teen. David, humiliated, fled the summer after tenth grade just
after Bernard had graduated, a ghost of the boy he’d been. Showing Anne the
photo, she looked perplexed, but her words cut deeper: “Why pencil-dick? His
penis isn’t any smaller than yours, isn’t it?”
“Kids are cruel,” Bernard muttered, hiding the photo in his
secret spot, shame burning like acid in his chest, knowing he’d been cruel to
his brother to take away from his own inadequacies. Memories of the first time
he’d showered nude after gym class and seeing that all the other boy’s had
dicks larger than his, had made him try to hide his shortcomings just as his
wife tried to hide her assets.
****************
David’s rental car crunched into the driveway, the house’s
peeling paint and sagging porch stirring a flood of bitter memories. His
childhood home had certainly become rundown in the sixteen years since he’d
seen it, a testament to his parents declining health. At 6’6”, his chiseled
muscles strained his tight shirt, a far cry from the scrawny, pimply nerd he’d
been at 16. Bernard’s photo had branded him “pencil-dick,” driving him to
hitchhike to California, a humiliated wreck that kept to himself and couldn’t
talk to girls. But in Africa, everything changed.
Five years ago, in Tanzania’s golden savanna, David
photographed a strange branch of the Datoga people, their warriors famed for
cocks so massive they were whispered about in anthropological circles, but
outsiders were unwelcome. Unlike other tribes he’d encountered—where
malnutrition left men with sunken chests and women with withered, sagging
breasts—these people were vibrant, their men rippling with muscle, their women
curvaceous with firm, heavy breasts that swayed with every step. When a lion
stalked a tribal boy, David charged, his camera forgotten, driving the beast
off with a makeshift spear fashioned from a fallen branch. The elders, their
dark eyes gleaming with respect and gratitude, invited him to a firelit rite
under a blood-red moon. Naked, their cocks—10 to 12 inches soft, thick as
forearms—swayed like pythons, dwarfing his own, rekindling the shame of
Bernard’s taunts. He stood, exposed, his tiny dick shrunken into his scrotum, but
non laughed at his shame, his heart pounding as they chanted in a guttural
tongue, offering a bitter drink of herbs and roots bonded by a white gelatin,
the clay cup warm in his trembling hands. “For strength, for manhood,” the
elder said, his voice low and resonant. David drank, the liquid searing his
throat, tasting of earth and something feral, the drums pounding in his skull
like a heartbeat. Afterward, they revealed the prime ingredient: water buffalo
semen, raw and potent, harvested under sacred rites. His stomach churned, but
their approving nods quelled his disgust. “One of us now,” they said,
approaching and placing hands on his shoulders.
Overnight, agony struck. Alone in his tent, David writhed on
his sweat-soaked cot, his penis throbbing with searing pain, as if it were
being stretched from within by invisible hands. His testicles ached, swollen
and heavy, each pulse a knife-twist of torment that brought tears to his eyes.
He clutched himself, his fingers trembling, sweat dripping onto the canvas
floor, fearing the drink had poisoned him. The pain came in waves, his cock
burning, its skin taut, veins pulsing unnaturally. He groaned, his voice
hoarse, the savanna’s distant hyena calls mocking his suffering. A rustle at
the tent flap startled him. The mother of the boy he’d saved entered, naked,
her fit, healthy figure glowing in the firelight filtering through the canvas.
Her large breasts, high and firm, swayed as she approached, her dark skin
gleaming with a sheen of sweat, her eyes warm with gratitude and something
deeper—desire. Her curves were lush, her hips wide, a stark contrast to the
malnourished women of other tribes with their distended bellies and withered
flesh. She was beautiful, scarification tattoos around her eyes making her
strangely compelling. “You hurt,” she said in halting English, her voice
soothing, like a lullaby over the drums outside. “I help.”
She knelt beside him, her scent—earthy, like the savanna
after rain—filling his senses, calming his panic. Her hands, calloused yet
gentle, brushed his thighs, coaxing his trembling fingers away from his aching
cock. She straddled him, her heat enveloping his swollen, throbbing shaft, her
pussy slick and tight, easing the pain like a balm. The tribe gathered outside,
their silhouettes flickering against the tent, drums beating in rhythm to her
hips, the fire’s glow casting shadows of their mating on the canvas walls.
David’s hands found her firm ass, his fingers digging into her flesh, grounding
him as the pain transformed into pleasure. He sucked her nipples, hard and
sweet like ripe berries, their texture rough against his tongue, drawing moans
from her that mingled with the drumbeats. She rode him with a primal grace, her
body shuddering through multiple climaxes, her juices coating his thighs, her
gasps sharp and rhythmic. The pain in his cock faded, replaced by a surging
need, his shame dissolving as he thrust upward, his virginity surrendered to
her primal embrace. His first time with a woman, a moment denied him by
Bernard’s cruelty, was a revelation of power and connection. He roared, his
climax erupting, cumming inside her, his seed abundant, spilling out as she
rode him through another orgasm, her pussy clenching him like a vise. The drums
crescendoed, the tribe’s cheers echoing through the night, a chorus of
approval. She leaned down, kissing his sweat-slick brow, her breath warm
against his skin. “For saving my son,” she whispered, her hand resting on her
flat belly. “And granting me another.” She rose off him. His eyes staring down
in amazement at his swollen cock appeared, now 10 inches and thick as a
warrior’s spear, pulsed with new power, veins throbbing, the “pencil-dick” scar
fading into oblivion, as his huge cock fell like a redwood against his stomach.
The pain returned in waves over weeks, each episode less
intense, his cock growing—11 inches, then 12, and finally stopping close to 13
inches of throbbing manhood, its veins pulsing like rivers, his confidence
soaring. His testicles, once aching, felt heavy with potency, a constant
reminder of the tribe’s gift. The woman, Nembeyu, returned each episode to
relieve his growing pains. His physique changed with his cock, muscles coming
easily, a month of workouts showing years of results. Women flocked to his primal
aura, their eyes drawn to the bulge in his pants, his good looks, and
commanding personality, but he fucked and discarded them, using them to relieve
the pressure in his balls, shielding his heart from the pain of betrayal. His
wildlife photography soared, magazines lauding his daring shots of leopards and
elephants, crocodiles and hippos, sent him on adventures all around the world,
but Bernard’s betrayal fueled his hunger for revenge and he couldn’t let it go.
Five years later, in Antarctica’s icy desolation, David lay
on a narrow bunk aboard a research vessel, the steel walls vibrating with the
ship’s hum, the air sharp with the scent of diesel and salt. A marine
biologist, her small, teardrop breasts bouncing, rode his cock, her pale skin
flushed, her dark hair whipping as she screamed, “I love your big cock!” Her
tight pussy clenched him, her orgasms rippling through her, her moans echoing
in the cramped cabin. Their foreplay had been a slow burn—her fingers tracing
his shaft through his thermals, teasing the head with featherlight touches, his
tongue tasting her clit, her juices sharp and tangy, building to this frantic,
desperate fuck. “Fuck, it’s huge!” she gasped, her nails raking his chest,
leaving red welts, her body shuddering through another climax, her juices
dripping onto his balls, pooling on the bunk’s thin mattress. David gripped her
hips, thrusting upward, his 13-inch cock stretching her to her limits, her
screams a mix of pain and ecstasy. He came, flooding her with potent cum, her
pussy milking him as she collapsed, panting, her breath fogging in the cold
air. She leaned down, kissing him deeply, her tongue sweet with the whiskey
they’d shared earlier, her lips soft against his. “This is the best expedition
ever,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming with post-coital bliss, her fingers
tracing his jaw.
A bang on the door jolted them. “David! Captain needs you!”
a crewman yelled; his voice muffled through the steel. They dressed hastily,
pulling on fur-lined jackets against the -10°F cold, their breath fogging in
the corridor, the ship’s heaters barely cutting the chill. On the bridge, the
Captain, his face weathered like old leather, handed David a radio transcript,
the paper creased and smudged. “Your editor called. Sorry, son—your mother’s
passed.” David’s chest tightened, the news a dull shock, like a distant
explosion. He stared at the transcript, the words blurring, his mother’s loving
face flashing in his mind—distant, critical, but family, Bernard her favorite.
He nodded, his voice steady despite the ache. “No turning back,” he said,
folding the paper into his pocket. “Three more days here, photographing
penguins.” The Captain clapped his shoulder, a rare gesture of warmth, and
David returned to his bunk, the biologist’s warmth a fleeting comfort, his
mother’s death a shadow he’d face later, after the ice and the penguins.
Now, in Bernard’s driveway, David stood before the house,
his resolve hardened like steel. The peeling paint and sagging porch were a
mirror of his broken childhood, Bernard’s betrayal etched into every crack. He
rang the bell, heart pounding, the sound echoing in the quiet morning. Anne
opened the door, her baggy sweatshirt and messy bun radiating a vulnerable
beauty that caught his breath. Her blue eyes, wide and curious, met his, and
his cock stirred, a primal urge tempered by a deeper, unexpected need—to
protect her, to claim her as his own, the perfect revenge. “You must be Anne,”
he said, his smile disarming, his voice low and warm, like a predator coaxing
prey.
“You’re David?” Her eyes widened, tracing his chiseled
frame, lingering on his broad shoulders, huge biceps, his rugged manly face
smiling back at her. “Not what I expected.”
His hug engulfed her, his arms enveloping her slight frame,
her softness igniting a fire in his gut, her scent—lavender and nervous
sweat—stoking his desire. She blushed, her cheeks pink, and led him inside to
Bernard, who was hunched over a computer in the cluttered living room, the
screen’s glow casting shadows on his pinched face, so engrossed he hadn’t heard
the doorbell. David loomed behind, his shadow swallowing his brother, and
whispered, “Hello, big brother.” Bernard spun, dwarfed by David’s bulk, fear
flickering in his watery eyes, his hands twitching on the keyboard. David’s old
rage surged—jealousy, hate, the sting of “pencil-dick” taunts—but Anne’s
presence tempered it, her warmth a tether. He hugged Bernard roughly, his grip
just shy of painful, masking his intent: revenge, cold and calculated.
At dinner, David’s tales of scaling peaks and naked tribal
rites captivated Anne, her laughter like bells, stoking Bernard’s envy. “They
gave me a drink, said it made men strong,” David said, his eyes locked on her,
a primal edge in his voice that made her shift in her seat, her thighs pressing
together. “And you know what was in it?” he asked. She leaned in, sipping her
iced tea. “Bull semen!” She spit out the tea, in shock.
“More like bull shit,” muttered Bernard, shifting, uneasy,
his fork scraping the plate.
“I shit you not,” replied David, a wry smile on his lips.
Anne leaned closer, enthralled, her lips parted. “Tell me
more,” she begged, David’s life the total opposite of her sheltered one.
Later, the men cleared the table. David teased, “You should
call me big brother now,” he said, wrapping a strong arm around Bernard’s
shoulder and earning a giggle from Anne, a vibrant happy sound that warmed his
heart and made him hate his brother even more. After dinner, they sat and
talked. He learned of her sheltered life, her zealot mother’s iron grip, her
love for Dickens and poetry, and David felt himself drawn to her purity.
The next morning, with Bernard at work, David shared his portfolio
with Anne during a picnic on the overgrown lawn, the grass tickling their bare
feet. “The tribe’s rituals were raw,” he said, showing her a shot of firelit
dancers, their bodies gleaming. “Naked, by firelight, drums pounding.” He
hadn’t been allowed to photograph their huge cocks, just their sweaty bodies
from the waist up, women included. Her blush deepened, her fingers brushing the
photo, her breath catching, betraying a curiosity that stirred his cock. His
dominance was a current between them, pulling her, and guilt flickered—he
wanted her, not just for revenge but for her light, her vulnerability.
At the graveyard, with Bernard, standing by their parents’
stones, they stared down silently at their parents’ graves, their mother’s
newer with freshly planted flowers. Bernard hadn’t even been able to contact
David about their father’s death until a year after he was buried. Anne stood
back letting the men reconnect, she found herself wanting David in their lives.
He didn’t get back into the car with them. “Where are you going?” she asked,
concerned. “Don’t you want a ride?”
“Town,” he replied. “I can walk. Just want to be alone,” he
lied. His balls were aching and needed release.
That night, in the Irish pub on Mainstreet that his father
used to haunt, Tiffany, a former cheerleader tormentor turned haggard waitress,
who barely remembered him, her once-sharp beauty dulled by time and
desperation, served him drinks, unable to take her eyes off him or to believe
that he was Bernard’s little brother. In her trailer, he fucked her
doggy-style, cold and detached, his 13-inch cock slamming into her loose pussy,
the trailer’s stale air reeking of cheap perfume and cigarettes. “I love it, David!
Your cock’s so fucking good!” she screamed, her voice hoarse, her
stretch-marked hips quivering under his relentless thrusts, her kids stirring
in the next room, their cries drowned by her wails. “Harder! Fuck me like you
mean it!” she begged, her nails clawing the sagging couch, her body shaking
with her fifth orgasm. He felt nothing, fucking her from behind so he wouldn’t
have to look at her, using her slut pussy to relieve the pressure in his nuts.
He came, filling her womb, pulling out to spray her sagging ass, the cum
pooling on her faded back tattoo, and left without a word, his thanks a hard
slap on her quivering ass, her “Call me!” echoing as he slammed the door, the
trailer’s tin walls rattling.
Back at the house, he heard Anne’s giggles through the thin
walls, a sound that twisted his heart. Checking the attic panel in the closet
on a lark, he found Bernard’s porn stash, a dusty box of VHS tapes and faded
magazines. Pulling an unlabeled tape without any dust on it, he saw the photo
of his boyhood shame—his tiny cock, his humiliated face—tucked inside, a dagger
to his gut. Rage flared, hot and blinding. Why keep it? Had Anne seen it? Their
giggles came from the master bedroom. Were they giggling at him? His brain
convinced him it was true, Bernard whispering “pencil dick” to Anne and her
soft laugh, his fury solidified, a cold, hard thing. He ripped the old Polaroid
to shreds. They’d both pay, Bernard with loss, Anne with submission.
****************
David’s coldness the next day crushed Anne, who’d dreamed of
his adventures, her heart bruised by his sudden distance. She left to shop,
giving him space, her footsteps heavy on the creaking porch. Brooding alone, he
played the tape he’d found in the box, stunned by Anne’s perfect body dancing
for Bernard’s pathetic prick, her unsatisfied moans a siren’s call. “You
deserve more, bitch,” he growled, stroking his tribal-blessed cock, its veins
pulsing like a living thing, precum constantly running down his plum-sized cock
head until his cum erupted from the head like a powerful geyser as he stared at
a paused image of his sister-in-law on the screen. He copied the tape in
Bernard’s double player, knowing with Anne’s background she was unaware,
fueling his plan to dominate her, to make her his in body and soul.
Over the next few days, he probed her life with a gentleness
that disarmed her—her zealot mother’s suffocating rules, her love for Dickens’
tales of redemption, her quiet dream of teaching literature, the online book
club forum she frequented. Their talks were interrupted by the constant ringing
of the phone until Anne finally told a desperate Tiffany that David had left.
Anne’s trust was intoxicating, a drug that softened his resolve, but not enough
to stop him. When he left, her tearful hug and his kiss on her cheek lingered,
a spark of something beyond revenge, a dangerous warmth. He tried not to crush
Bernard’s hand when they shook, promising to keep in touch, slackening his grip
when his brother began to wince. Back home, he made JPEGs of Anne from the
tape, masturbating daily to her image, his obsession consuming him, his cock
aching for her, wanting no other woman but her. He joined the book forum as
user “Rick,” commenting on her posts. He listened to tapes of her favorite
books as he traveled from place to place. Six months later, he emailed her as
“Rick,” using her love of books to seduce her.
Anne devoured Rick’s messages, his praise— “Are you a lit professor?”—flattering
her, filling a void Bernard’s neglect left. Months of talking books built
trust, but his request for a date jolted her. “I’m married,” she wrote, guilt
clashing with desire to meet the man she shared so much in common with, her
fingers trembling on the keyboard. His reply, a photo, a muscular torso with a
bulging cock outlined in tight briefs, thrilled her, her pussy tingling despite
her shame. “You stuffed it,” she teased, her mother’s warnings fading like
distant thunder. His next JPEG, labeled “proof,” a half-erect 13-inch cock
jutting out from his crotch slightly angled down, left her breathless, her
breath catching in her throat. “Never imagined there were penises that big,”
she typed, arousal overtaking shame, her fingers slipping beneath her panties
as she stared.
“Penises don’t get this big,” he replied. “This is a cock.
Penises are for men with little pencil-dicks.”
Anne gasped, “pencil-dick” making her think of David, but
her husband’s penis rising to the surface in her brain. “Please don’t contact
me again,” she typed.
But he did.
One more email, almost immediately, convincing her he hadn’t
gotten hers yet. There were five pictures attached. She waited patiently while
they downloaded. His mighty veined penis rock hard, shot from head down, his
hand on it, feet beyond, lying on a bed with an out-of-focus background. His
hand at the base, the entire shaft shiny and glistening from some lubrication,
the fourth labeled “CUM” showed an immense geyser of thick milky white semen
erupting from the head. The final showed his entire cock, fingers down at the
base showing off the entire thing. It looked even more swollen, and it was
coated with semen, more matted his pubes, more covered his fingers and hand.
Anne gasped in disbelief. She’d never seen anything like it.
This was… This was… PORNOGRAPHIC! Her nipples were achingly erect. Her vagina
was dripping from the images. She brought up the one labeled “CUM” and zoomed
in on the image, filling her computer screen. She angled the screen towards her
bed, stripping off her clothes as she reached in the dresser and pulled out the
dildo. It was still in the plastic. Bernard had given it to her on their
anniversary, disgusting her and causing a fight; he wanted her to use it, she
refused to even open the package. Now she was desperately cutting the plastic
with scissors, pulling the large penis-shaped toy from the wrapping. It was
inches bigger than her husband’s, but much smaller than Rick’s. She lay on the
bed, staring at the computer screen as the fake penis… fake cock spread her
pussy lips open, pushing into her soaked vagina… pussy… working it… fucking
herself with it… fucking herself with the fake cock as she stared at Rick’s
real one. Anne found herself cumming, cumming hard for the first time in her
life.
And it was good.
Anne lay on her back nude, catching her breath. She held the
dildo up, slowly turning and examining it. “Okay, maybe you weren’t such a bad
idea,” she told the dildo, but wasn’t about to give Bernard the pleasure of
letting him know she’d tried it. She got off the bed, rinsed her new favorite
thing off in the bathroom, and went to hide the plastic wrapper for the dildo
in the bottom of a trash bag. Satisfied, Anne was humming as she fixed herself
a cup of coffee before returning to her computer.
She couldn’t help herself and clicked through all of Rick’s
pictures, spending several seconds examining each one before closing the
window. He’d sent another email, and she opened it hoping for more pictures of
his “cock.” “Don’t open my last email!” David’s apology email reeled her back,
his words promising to respect her wishes and never contact her again.
She quickly typed back, “Sorry, you caught me off guard. I
enjoy our conversations.”
“I enjoy our conversations too, maybe too much. Did you see
the pictures?”
Anne froze, staring at the message before finally typing,
“Yes.”
“Sorry. What was your favorite?”
“What are you doing, Anne?” she asked herself. “You’re a
married woman,” even while typing back, “CUM.”
“I knew you’d like that one. So, did you?”
Anne furrowed her brow. “Did I what?”
“Did you cum? Did you play with yourself while staring at my
cock?”
“Maybe we should stick to books.”
“Can’t I at least get a picture of you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m a married woman after all. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I have a good idea of what you look like.”
“Oh? Describe me then,” she responded, leaning forward eager
for his response.
Instead, he sent another picture. It was labeled, “Hot
Wife.”
Anne smirked, raising an eyebrow, and opened the image.
“That does look like me,” she muttered, squinting to focus on the grainy image
as it slowly downloaded. “And that looks like my bedroom.” The man lying on the
bed even looked like… Her coffee mug shattered on the bedroom floor, ceramic
shards scattering. “Who are you?” she demanded, typing, sobbing as more images
arrived, each showing more, including her sitting on Bernard’s cock, images of
envelopes addressed to her preacher, and her mother, each a threat to her
world. Instructions followed, demanding she wear lingerie, go to the Budget Inn
in three days, to retrieve the photos—or face ruin.
When Bernard came home, he found her sick in bed. She stared
at him suspiciously. The camera had been hidden in the bedroom. Had he done it?
Had someone broken in and hidden the camera? She didn’t know what was worse.
The only one that had been in their house was David, she inhaled sharply, then
froze. The night in the images had been before he had arrived. Then who?
**********
David set up camcorders in the motel, its buzzing neon sign
casting a sickly red glow over the cracked asphalt lot, the room’s stale air
thick with mildew and despair, the walls stained with years of neglect. He was
beginning to think his entire hometown had become rundown.
Anne knocked, her heart hammering, the weight of betrayal
and desire crushing her like a vise, her breath shallow. The latch was flipped
on the door, keeping it from shutting.
“Enter,” he barked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers
down her spine, her body already betraying her with a pulse of heat between her
thighs, wondering if the huge cock in the pictures had been a lie. She was
about to find out.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. She froze,
seeing him sprawled on the sagging bed, his 6’6” frame radiating raw, animal
power, muscles glistening under the dim, flickering lamp, his shirt discarded
to reveal a chest carved like stone, dusted with dark hair. “David?” She gasped
in shock. “Why?” Her voice trembled, her blue eyes wide with fear, shame, and a
shameful flicker of lust that made her thighs clench, her eyes flickering down
to his bulging white briefs, her nipples hardening against her bra.
“To destroy my brother like he destroyed me,” he snarled,
his eyes dark with rage and hunger, his jaw tight, a vein pulsing at his
temple. “To take his wife, with my little pencil-dick.” Her brother-in-law
looked truly insane at that moment.
Her nipples poked through her sheer bra, her body a traitor
to her heart, her breath ragged. “Please, we were friends,” she begged, tears
spilling down her flushed cheeks, her blonde hair clinging to her damp skin,
her hands twisting in her skirt. “It wasn’t me that hurt you.”
“Strip for me, or your mother sees what a slut her daughter
is.” His voice was steel, though a flicker of guilt softened his gaze for a
moment, a crack in his armor. He had a conscience. “Dance, like you do for
him.”
The room’s musty heat enveloped Anne as she swayed, her eyes
closed, trying to summon Bernard’s image to quell her terror. Her mother’s
voice screamed “damnation” in her mind. The neon’s incessant buzz mingled with
her ragged breaths, rap blaring several rooms down, her body pulsing to the
beat—boom, boom, like the tribal drums David had described, a rhythm that
echoed her racing heart. Her skirt slid down her trembling thighs, the fabric
whispering against her skin, pooling on the grimy, stained carpet that reeked
of stale beer and mold. David’s gaze burned like a brand, his power over her
awakening a submissive hunger deep within her, a primal need she’d never known,
her clit throbbing despite her fear. She peeled off her sweater, her fingers
shaking as she unhooked her bra, her full, heavy breasts spilling free, nipples
swollen and aching, goosebumps rising under his stare. Her panties dropped, the
cool air kissing her glistening pussy, her trimmed mound exposed, her arousal a
musky perfume that filled the room. She stood, head down in surrender, raw and
vulnerable, her body a canvas for his desire, her mind screaming to resist even
as her hips swayed, her breath hitching.
David’s cock throbbed, straining his briefs to the point
they might rip, her submission intoxicating, a drug more potent than the tribal
drink that forged him. He stood. “Kneel,” he commanded, pushing his underwear
down to free his 13-inch beast, its veins thick as ropes, the head swollen and
glistening with a bead of precum that caught the motel’s dim light as it
dripped to the carpet, more forming on the head. “The tribe made me one of
theirs, Anne. This cock, forged in buffalo seed, was their gift. Now get on
your knees and suck it.”
“I’ve never… it’s dirty,” she whimpered, her voice barely a
whisper, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor, the carpet rough and
gritty against her skin, its texture a harsh reminder of her fall. A dirty
place to perform a dirty act. Her mother’s voice screamed “SINNER!,” but her
eyes locked on his cock, its sheer size overwhelming—longer than her forearm,
thicker than her wrist, pulsing with a life of its own.
“Suck it like a whore, or everyone sees you,” David said,
his tone unyielding, his eyes glinting with primal lust, his cock twitching as
if sensing her surrender. His hand rested on his hip, the other brushing the
base of his shaft, a silent promise of what awaited her defiance.
Anne leaned forward, her breath hot against his cock, the
musky, earthy scent of his arousal flooding her senses, dizzying her like a
forbidden wine. Her tongue flicked out, tentative, tasting the salty, tangy
precum beading at his tip, its flavor sharp and potent, a shock to her
sheltered palate. She shuddered, her mother’s warnings clashing with a wild,
awakening hunger, her clit throbbing in time with her racing pulse. “It’s
wrong,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but her lips brushed his head again,
drawn to its heat, its power. She licked bolder, tracing the pulsing veins
along his shaft, each ridge a map of his strength, her fingers trembling as
they grazed his thighs, feeling the corded muscle beneath his skin, the coarse
hair tickling her palms. “It’s so big,” she murmured, her fear melting into
awe, her eyes wide as she studied him, the head an angry red, glistening, the
shaft a tower of flesh that promised both pain and ecstasy.
Her lips parted, kissing the tip, the heat searing her, and
she took him into her mouth, the girth stretching her lips painfully, her jaw
aching as she struggled to accommodate him. Her tongue swirled, tentative at
first, then hungry, lapping at the underside, tasting the salt of his skin, the
faint sweetness of his precum. She gagged softly, her throat tightening, but
his low, guttural groan spurred her, a sound that vibrated through her core,
igniting her submission. Her reluctance dissolved, replaced by a fierce, primal
need to please him, to worship the cock that was currently the center of her
world. She sucked harder, her hands gripping his thighs, nails digging into his
flesh, leaving crescent marks that drew a hiss from him. She bobbed her head,
taking him deeper, her throat relaxing as she surrendered fully, her moans
vibrating against him, sending shivers through his frame. The taste consumed
her—a heady mix of musk, salt, and something uniquely David, like the African
savanna during the rainy season, raw and alive. Her pussy throbbed, arousal
running down her thighs, her body aching to be taken by the beast, but her
mouth was her offering, her devotion. If she could make him cum with her mouth,
her virtue was safe.
Inside, her mind churned, a storm of guilt and desire. *This
is sin, this is damnation,* her mother’s voice screamed, but another voice, her
own, whispered, *This is natural, this is freedom.* She imagined the photos in
her mother’s hands, the preacher’s disgust, the town’s whispers, and her fear
surged, but David’s cock in her mouth was a tether, grounding her, pulling her
into a new reality. She wanted to please him, to erase the shame, to be his.
Her fingers tightened on his thighs, her nails drawing blood, a small act of
defiance against her fear, her tongue swirling faster, her lips stretching
wider. She gagged again, tears streaming, but pushed deeper, her throat
opening, taking half his length, a feat that made her pussy clench with pride.
“You’re a natural cocksucker, slut,” David grunted, his
fingers tangling in her blonde hair, pulling just hard enough to sting, guiding
her rhythm as his hips rocked, fucking her mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts
matching the beat of the distant rap music. His cock pulsed, the veins
swelling, and she felt it—the surge of his climax, a warning in the tightening
of his balls, the hitch in his breath. “Take it all,” he growled, his voice
thick with lust, his eyes locked on hers, commanding her surrender. “Swallow
every drop, or you’ll regret it,” he said, even as his grip on her head
tightened, preventing her from pulling back, she stared up at him in horror as
his cock spasmed violently.
A torrent of semen erupted, flooding her mouth with thick,
creamy seed, the volume overwhelming, spilling past her lips to drip onto her
heaving breasts, coating her swollen nipples in glistening white. She choked,
gasping, her throat working to swallow, the rich, earthy taste flooding her
senses, potent and primal, like the tribal drink he’d described, a bull’s seed.
It was too much, yet she craved more, her tongue lapping at the overflow, her
lips sucking greedily, milking him for every drop. Cum glistened on her chin,
her chest, a badge of her submission, warm and sticky against her skin. She
pulled back, ropes of semen splattering on her face. “There’s so much,” she
gasped, her voice husky with awe, her eyes wide as she licked her lips,
savoring the creamy residue, her pussy clenching with desperate need, her
thighs slick with her own arousal.
“Like a bull’s,” David growled, smirking, his cock still
rock-hard, veins throbbing, a bead of cum lingering at the tip, catching the
flickering light. “You liked it, didn’t you? Like a good slut. I can smell your
desire. Tell me, Anne.”
She nodded, flushed with shame, dazed, her body trembling,
her clit pulsing in time with her racing heart. “I liked it,” she admitted, her
voice raw, her submission blooming like a dark flower, her fingers brushing her
cum-slick lips, tasting him again, the act sealing her surrender. “I’m yours,
David, for tonight. For what your brother did to you, you can make love… fuck,
you can fuck your brother’s wife. I give myself to you willingly.” Her words
were a betrayal of Bernard, of her mother, of her values, but they felt right,
a truth her body had known before her mind. “P-please, f-fuck me,” she
trembled, still kneeling before him, his huge cock head nuzzling against her
nose.
David’s smirk of triumph widened, his hand stroking her
cheek, a fleeting tenderness in his touch that made her heart ache. “Good
girl,” he said, his voice low, promising more, his eyes dark with possession.
He held his hand down for her.
He shoved her onto the creaking table, its wood cold and
rough against her back, the motel’s peeling wallpaper a blur in her periphery,
the air heavy with the scent of mildew and their arousal. Spreading her thighs
wide, he exposed her dripping pussy, the pink folds glistening under the
flickering light, her arousal a musky perfume that filled his nostrils. “Look
at you, your pussy’s begging for my cock,” he said, inhaling deeply, his
nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing with primal hunger. “I can smell you’re in
heat, Anne, your cunt begging for me.” His fingers teased her clit, circling
slowly, drawing a gasp, her hips bucking involuntarily. He pinched the swollen
bud, a sharp jolt of pain and pleasure, her moan desperate, her hands clutching
the table’s edges, knuckles white. His tongue plunged into her, rough and
relentless, lapping at her clit with fierce, deliberate precision, each flick
sending electric jolts through her core. She screamed, her body arching off the
table, her breasts heaving, her toes curling in ecstasy.
His lips clamped around her clit, sucking hard, his tongue
circling in rapid, merciless strokes, the wet sounds of his mouth mingling with
her cries. Her first orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, her thighs
clamping around his head, her juices flooding his mouth, coating his chin,
dripping onto the table. “Oh God, David!” she cried, her voice raw, her body
trembling, her vision blurring with pleasure. He didn’t stop, his tongue diving
deeper, probing her tight channel, its warmth enveloping him, the taste of her
arousal sharp and intoxicating. “Cum again,” he growled, sliding two thick
fingers into her, curling them to stroke her G-spot with ruthless accuracy, his
knuckles grazing her walls. His licks intensified, his fingers pumping in sync,
the wet, squelching sounds a symphony of lust, her moans escalating to screams.
Her second climax hit harder, her pussy clenching his fingers like a vise, her
screams echoing off the peeling walls, her body convulsing as she clawed the
table, leaving deep gouges in the wood. “I’m cumming!” she sobbed, her juices
dripping onto the table, pooling beneath her, her thighs shaking
uncontrollably, the intense pleasure overriding her shame.
He pushed her further, his tongue relentless, his fingers
relentless, a third orgasm building before the second faded. “More,” he
commanded, adding a third finger, stretching her, his thumb pressing her clit,
his tongue flicking in rapid bursts. Her body was a live wire, every nerve
firing, her screams hoarse, her mind blank except for the pleasure, the pain,
the need. The third climax shattered her, her pussy spasming, her juices
squirting, soaking his face, his chest, the table, a primal release that left
her gasping, her chest heaving, her voice gone. “No more,” she whimpered, but
her hips rocked, craving him, her body a traitor to her words.
David stood, his cock a battering ram, still hard and
dripping, the head smeared with precum, glistening under the light. He knelt
between her legs, positioning her on her back, her hips raised on the table’s
edge, her pussy open and vulnerable, pink and swollen from his assault.
“Condom,” she gasped, her voice panicked, her eyes wide with fear, her hands
pushing weakly at his chest. “Please, it’s a dangerous time of month—I could
get pregnant.”
He laughed, a dark, mocking rumble that sent a shiver
through her, his hand swatting hers away. “A condom? You ever seen one fit a
cock like this?” He stroked his 13-inch length, the head smearing precum across
her trembling thigh, leaving a glistening trail that burned against her skin.
“A bull’s cock goes bare, Anne, raw and deep, just like you need.”
“No, please, pull out,” she begged, her voice breaking, her
fertile womb a ticking bomb, her mother’s warnings screaming in her
head—abstinence, adultery, damnation. “I can’t risk it, David, please,” she
sobbed, tears pooling in her eyes, her hands clutching his arms, her nails
digging in, a desperate plea. Her pussy clenched, betraying her, aching for
him, her body at war with her mind.
He teased her entrance, the head of his cock brushing her
clit, sliding along her folds, coating himself in her juices, each touch a
torment. “You’re pleading now, but you’ll beg for my seed,” he said, his voice
low, his eyes locked on hers, reading her surrender. He slammed into her, his
cock stretching her tight pussy to its limits, the pain sharp and searing,
blending with a pleasure so intense it stole her breath. She screamed, her
walls gripping him, her body yielding to his dominance, the table shaking under
his brutal thrusts, the wood groaning, threatening to snap. “Fuck, you’re
tight,” he growled, pounding deeper, each stroke hitting her cervix, claiming
every inch of her, his heavy balls slapping against her ass, the sound a
rhythmic counterpoint to her moans. The room filled with the wet slap of flesh,
her desperate cries, and the creak of the table, the neon’s buzz a distant hum,
drowned by their lust.
“So big,” she gasped in awe. Anne’s fear dissolved, her body
craving his power, her hips rocking to meet him, her legs wrapping around his
waist, pulling him deeper, her heels digging into his back. “Don’t stop,” she
moaned, her voice thick with lust, her earlier pleas forgotten, her pussy
pulsing with each thrust. “Fuck me, David,” she begged, her words a surrender,
her body his to claim, her mind lost in the haze of pleasure. “So good. It’s so
good.”
“Better than my brother?”
“YES!” she screamed, cumming hard on his cock. Her orgasms
came in waves, each thrust triggering a new peak, her pussy spasming, her
screams hoarse, her nails raking his shoulders, leaving red trails. Tears of
shame and joy rolled down her cheeks. “So much better,” she whimpered.
“You want my seed in your cunt?” he snarled, his nostrils
flaring as he smelled her ovulation, a primal scent that drove him wild, his
thrusts brutal, the table rocking dangerously.
“YES!” she screamed, locking her legs around his hips to
keep him from pulling out. “Don’t pull out. Keep fucking me,” she begged, lost
in ecstasy, her body trembling with need, her eyes locked on his, pleading.
“I’ll never want another cock,” she cried, her voice breaking, orgasms ripping
through her with each plunge, her pussy milking his shaft, her cervix kissed by
his head. He roared, his cock pulsing, her pussy squeezing it, contracting
inwards to milk the shaft for every drop of his seed. He came, flooding her
womb with a torrent of thick, hot semen, the volume overwhelming, filling her
to the brim, seeping out around his cock, dripping onto the table. Anne’s body
convulsed as she came hard from her first insemination. He pulled out, still
cumming, ropes of seed spraying across her flat, undulating belly, splattering
her heaving tits, painting her in his essence, the white streaks glistening
under the dim light, pooling in her navel, dripping down her sides. Her pussy
clenched, missing his cock, trying to trap his semen inside, her body
shuddering with aftershocks, her breath ragged, her skin flushed and slick with
sweat and cum.
David collapsed onto her, their sweat-slick bodies pressed
together, his weight grounding her, threatening to collapse the table, his cock
softening against her thigh, still leaking cum. Their lips met in a passionate
kiss, tongues entwining, the taste of his seed on her lips mingling with her
juices on his, a primal communion that sealed their mating. “You’re mine,” he
whispered against her mouth, his breath hot, his eyes dark with possession, his
fingers tracing her jaw.
“Forever, my bull,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in
his hair, her body still humming with the intensity of their union, her heart
aching with a love she couldn’t name.
He lifted her, carrying her to the motel’s grimy bathroom,
the shower’s tepid water barely cutting through the mildew stench, the tiles
cracked and stained. Under the flickering spray, David soaped her body, his
hands gliding over her breasts and hips, lingering on her cum-streaked tits,
his fingers teasing her sensitive nipples, drawing soft gasps. She washed his
cock, her fingers reverent, marveling at its size even soft, the veins still
faintly visible, the head heavy in her palm. She sucked his fingers, tasting
soap and his skin, her eyes locked on his, a silent plea for more. His hand
slipped between her thighs, fingering her gently, her pussy still sensitive,
her moans soft, the water rinsing away the evidence of their primal act, though
her womb held his seed. She pressed against him, her breasts against his chest,
their lips brushing in a lingering kiss, the steam wrapping them in a cocoon,
the world outside forgotten. His fingers curled inside her, triggering a small,
shuddering orgasm, that coated his fingers with his semen, her gasp muffled
against his shoulder, her body trembling in his arms.
Back in the room, David grabbed the remote, his expression
unreadable, a shadow crossing his face. “You need to see this,” he said,
plugging the tape into the motel’s ancient, dust-caked TV, its screen
flickering with static. The image cleared, showing Anne dancing for Bernard,
her body writhing sensually for his pathetic, inadequate cock, her moans tinny
through the speakers, a betrayal captured in grainy VHS. Her face crumpled,
tears streaming as anger surged, a red-hot knife in her chest, her hands trembling
as she clutched her arms, nails digging into her skin. “He recorded me,” she
sobbed, her voice raw with betrayal, her breath hitching, her eyes wide with
hurt.
“I assumed you didn’t know,” said David, sitting on the bed,
his bull cock dangling over the edge.
“That bastard used me.” Her words broke, her body shaking,
her world unraveling. Bernard wasn’t the man she thought he was.
David’s jaw tightened, guilt flickering in his eyes, his own
betrayal mirrored in Bernard’s, a twisted reflection. “He never learned,” he
said, tossing the tape onto the bed, its plastic case clattering, a hollow
sound. “What now, Anne?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, a crack in his
dominance, his hand hovering near hers, not touching.
She wiped her tears, her eyes blazing with defiance, her
voice steady despite the quake in her chest. “I want to fuck again,” she said,
her pussy already throbbing for him, a desperate need to erase Bernard’s touch,
to reclaim herself through David’s power. “Make me forget him, David. I said
I’m yours, will you have me?” Her words were a challenge, a plea, her body
trembling with need, her breath shallow.
“Yes,” he replied, a weird unfamiliar stirring in his heart
as he stared at her nude body, his cock hardening instantly, a predatory gleam
in his eyes, his guilt buried under desire. “Get on all fours,” he ordered,
pointing to the bed, its springs groaning as she complied, the stained sheets
rough against her skin. She positioned herself, her ass high, her pussy
glistening, the neon light casting a red glow across her curves, giant tits
swinging beneath her, nipples nearly scraping the sheets, her blonde hair
spreading over the pillow like a halo. David pushed the head of his cock in
through her pussy lips and held it there, working the tip in and out. She tried
to push back into him, but he grabbed her ass, holding her still. David raised
his hand, palm open, and spanked her hard, the crack echoing like a gunshot,
her ass reddening under his palm.
Anne jumped in surprise, gasping. Her pussy squeezed the
head of his cock, squirting her arousal around it. His hand slapped down, and
she jerked again. “Yes,” she hissed. “Punish me. I’m a sinner.” She raised her
ass higher, bracing for another blow.
“You’re a whore,” growled David. He changed hands, spanking
her still-pale ass cheek.
“I’m your whore, David. Spank me. Spank your whore.” She
came on the next blow, her pussy clamping down around the head of his cock,
trying to pull him deeper as she came all over it.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, landing another
blow, then another, each strike a rhythm that matched her racing pulse, her
pussy clenching with each hit. He grabbed her angry red ass cheeks, kneading
them as his thumb slid into the crack of her ass. He teased her tight asshole
with his thumb, circling the puckered ring, its heat drawing him in. He slid it
inside, slow at first, then deeper, her gasp turning to a whimper of pleasure,
her body rocking back to meet him, her ass gripping his thumb. “Take it all,”
he said, slamming his cock into her pussy, the bedsprings creaking under their
weight, threatening to collapse, the room filled with her screams, raw and
unrestrained.
His thumb fucked her ass in rhythm, stretching her, her
moans escalating, her body a furnace of need. “Fuck me, David. Fuck your whore
with your big cock!” she screamed, orgasms crashing through her, one after
another, her pussy clenching his shaft, her ass gripping his thumb, her juices
dripping onto the sheets, pooling beneath her.
“More,” he growled, pulling his thumb out, spanking her
again, the red marks blooming like flowers on her skin. He pressed two fingers
into her ass, stretching her further, her scream a mix of pain and ecstasy, her
body shaking, her pussy spasming. “You’re my slut,” he said, his voice thick,
his cock pounding her, his balls slapping her clit, her screams hoarse. “Say
it, Anne, say you’re mine.”
She obeyed, her voice breaking, “I’m your slut, David, yours
forever!” Her orgasms blended, a continuous wave, her body trembling, her mind
blank, her world reduced to his cock, his hands, his voice.
“Take my cum, slut,” he snarled, his cock pulsing, his balls
tightening. He flooded her pussy with another torrent of semen, her womb
drinking it greedily, the excess seeping out, coating her thighs, dripping onto
the sheets. He pulled out, spraying the rest across her ass and back, thick
ropes coating her skin, dripping down her spine, marking her as his, the cum
glistening in the neon light.
She collapsed, trembling, her body glistening with sweat and
cum, her voice hoarse, her breath ragged. “Thank you,” she whispered, spent but
sated.
“Thank me when we’re done.”
“Mmmm, yes,” she moaned into the pillow. “More, please.”
“Ride me,” he commanded, slapping her ass more gently this
time, lying back on the bed, his cock still hard, glistening with their
combined fluids, the head swollen and ready. He held it up for her. Anne weakly
straddled him, her pussy aching but eager, her breasts bouncing as she lowered
herself onto his 13-inch shaft, the stretch reigniting her pleasure, a sharp,
sweet pain that made her think that she’d only be happy with his cock inside
her. She rocked her hips, her clit grinding against his pelvis, her moans
escalating to screams as she chased another orgasm, her hands braced on his
chest, her nails raking his skin, leaving red trails.
“I’ll never want another cock,” she gasped, her voice raw,
her eyes locked on his, her body trembling with need. He gripped her hips,
thrusting upward, each movement driving her higher. Her pussy spasmed as she
came again, her juices flooding him, dripping onto his balls.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his hands cupping her
breasts, pinching her nipples, sending her into another climax, her screams
echoing, the bedframe rattling, the headboard slamming against the wall.
He flipped her onto her back, lifting her legs over his
shoulders, pounding her with relentless force, the new angle hitting depths she
didn’t know existed, his cock brushing her cervix with each thrust. “Your pussy
was made for my cock,” he said, his voice thick with lust.
His cock flexing inside her triggered another orgasm, her
body shaking uncontrollably, her toes curling, her breath hitching. “Cum in me
again,” she begged, her voice raw, her eyes pleading, her hands clutching his
arms, her nails digging in. He obliged, flooding her womb once more, the volume
impossible, spilling out as he kept thrusting, her pussy milking him dry, her
screams a symphony of surrender.
David stood, pulling her to her feet, her legs wobbly, her
body trembling. He pressed her against the motel’s peeling wall, the rough
texture scraping her back, the plaster crumbling under the force. He lifted
her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and impaled her on his cock in a
standing fuck, his hands gripping her ass, his fingers digging in. Her arms
clung to his shoulders, her moans muffled against his neck as he fucked her
against the wall, the plaster cracking, dust falling, the room shaking with their
intensity. “I love it. I love you. I want your baby,” she sobbed, her body
shuddering through another orgasm, her pussy clenching him so tightly he
groaned, his breath hot against her ear. He came again, filling her, the excess
dripping to the floor, pooling on the carpet, the room reeking of sex and
sweat, the air thick with their scent.
They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies tangled, and he
positioned them for a sixty-nine, her lips wrapping around his cum-slick cock,
the taste of their combined juices sharp and intoxicating, his tongue plunging
into her pussy, lapping at her clit, her juices flooding his mouth. “Taste us,”
he growled, his voice muffled, his fingers spreading her folds, his tongue
flicking in rapid bursts. Her moans were muffled against his cock, her throat
working as she sucked, her tongue swirling, their orgasms building in sync, a
primal connection that transcended words. She came, her pussy spasming, her
juices coating his face, his tongue lapping up his own semen, and he followed,
flooding her mouth with cum, her swallowing eagerly, their flavors blending, a
ritual of unity. They lay panting, her head on his thigh, his spent cock under
her nose; she nuzzled and kissed the leaking tip. His fingers traced her hip,
moving up to squeeze and massage her sore ass cheeks, his hot breath still on
her pussy.
They took turns this time using the dingy motel room’s
shower. David sat on the toilet and watched Anne wash herself, lathering her
big breasts and cleaning his seed off her body. When she stepped out, she was
surprised to see his powerful bull cock had risen back to half-mast watching her.
She froze, staring at it. “Wait for me on the bed,” he told her, switching
places.
Anne toweled herself off, returning his earlier stares.
David lathered up his broad chest and ran the soap down over his tight abs
before washing around his cock, stroking the shaft to clean it, and when he let
go, it was fully hard again. It remained hard while he finished washing. She
dropped the towel and walked naked back to the bed. He soon followed, 13-inch
cock bobbing before him, pointing the way.
Finally, he mounted her, face-to-face, entering her slowly,
their eyes locked, his thrusts gentle, a contrast to the earlier brutality. “I
love you,” she whispered, her confession raw, her voice trembling, her hands
cupping his face, her thumbs brushing his lips. He kissed her, their rhythm
tender, his cock filling her without pain, their bodies moving as one. She
pulled his head down against her lips, their tongues dueling as they kissed
with passion. Their lips parted, foreheads leaning together, and she said it
again, “I love you. I love you, David.”
“And I lov… ” He froze, staring at her in surprise. She
raised her hips into his frozen shaft. “I love you, too,” he said, almost in
disbelief. David, the bull that used and tossed women aside, was in love. In
love with his sister-in-law. “I love you, Anne,” he said again, moving his
hips, fucking her again.
They came together, his seed mixing with hers, moaning into
each other’s lips, a slow, lingering act that sealed their bond, her heart
open, his guarded but cracking. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice soft, his
forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. “And I’m yours,” he added.
Hours later, they lay tangled, napping and content, his cock
finally spent, the sheets soaked, the air heavy with their scent. Starving,
Anne suggested lunch, but the clock read 4:30 p.m., the day lost to their
primal marathon. She dressed, her body sore but alive, taking the photos, her
fingers trembling as she tucked them into her purse. Kissing his cock, she
whispered, “For everything,” her lips lingering, tasting him one last time,
inhaling through her nose to take in his scent.
“I’ll be here one more day,” he said. He handed her the
video, his eyes soft with something like regret, a flicker of the man beneath
the warrior. “He never deserved you,” he said, shutting the door, the latch
clicking with finality, the sound echoing in her heart.
****************
Driving home, Anne’s reflection in the rearview
mirror—disheveled hair, cum-crusted lips, eyes wild—showed a stranger, a woman
reborn. Bernard’s tape, made before David’s visit, had led to this, a catalyst
for her awakening. David’s dominance had set her free, but she loved Bernard’s
flawed, fragile heart; he’d been good to her, despite his weakness. At home,
she watched their video, seeing his inadequacy, his small prick, a pathetic
contrast to David’s bull shaft, his love tainted by betrayal. She packed her
bags, her hands steady as she wrote, “I’m leaving. You keep everything.
Goodbye.” Tears fell, smudging the ink, but David’s cock haunted her, its power
etched into her body, her womb heavy with his seed. She cupped her hand under
her navel, certain that David’s seed had been planted. Anne got her bags and
walked out, not looking back.
The same time she was knocking on the motel room door,
Bernard was returning home from work. Just as David was sweeping her up in his
arms and mashing his lips against hers, Bernard was turning pale as he saw the
note sitting on top the video he had made of them. He collapsed on the bed
crying just as his brother was collapsing on top of Anne in the motel at the
edge of town.
Days later, a package arrived at Bernard’s store. There
wasn’t a return address and all it contained was a video cassette with a post
it note that read, “for your collection.” Bernard’s eyes widened as he watched
his bulky brother reclining on a motel room bed just as Anne entered the room.
Tears rolled down his cheeks watching Anne dance for David, kneeling and
sucking a gigantic cock that looked like it belonged more on a bull than a man.
He paused it, heart racing, tiny penis hard and aching as he got up and locked
the front door. David watched the rest of the video, his broken heart breaking
even more, stroking his pencil-dick, it dribbling out his weak seed long before
David’s cum began running down Anne’s chin. He hated the video, but he kept it,
watching it several times a week to jerk off to. It appalled him, but in a way,
it was what he’d always wanted, to see Anne in a porn and this was better than
he ever imagined.
Bernard withered, his video store failing, its shelves
gathering dust, the neon sign flickering out. He showed Anne’s mother the video,
her disgust laced with a flicker of fascination, her lips parting as she
stared, her fingers trembling. Tiffany, now his wife, mocked his “pencil-dick,”
her voice shrill, spreading gossip about Anne’s shame, her kids trashing his
life with gleeful chaos, their laughter a cruel echo of the jocks who’d
tormented David. Anne vanished, her mother disowning her, her name a curse in
their church, her memory erased from their prayers. The extremist pastor
assured her mother that Anne would burn in hell for all eternity.
**********
In Tanzania’s golden savanna, on assignment to photograph
lions, David and Anne returned to the tribe that forged him. Her belly swelled,
conceived in the motel’s primal heat, David’s seed taking root in her fertile
womb, a warrior’s legacy. Naked under a blood-red moon, the warriors welcomed
her, their massive, 15-inch cocks gleaming in the firelight, a reminder of
David’s rite, their bodies glistening with sweat as they danced to their
drumbeats. Elders rubbed her belly, their calloused hands warm, chanting in a
guttural tongue, “A son, strong like his father, a man among men.” They offered
her a modified drink, herbs blended with sacred roots bonded by the seed of a
buffalo, its recipe whispered only among the elders, designed to ensure the
boy’s cock would rival David’s, a shaft of power to carry their bloodline into
the future. Anne drank, the bitter taste sharp with earth and promise, burning
her throat, binding her to their power, her submission to David complete. He
nodded his approval.
The baby kicked!
Anne clutched her stomach in pain, fear for her child
engulfing her. Two women took her arms and raised her to her feet, whispering
soothing words. Anne screamed, her stomach twisting and turning as the two
women led her into a hut, laid her down on furs, wiping her brow with a wet
cloth. Her belly swelled, another woman rubbing oil on her belly, her stretch
marks fading away.
The elders assured David she would be fine. A tribeswoman
approached, the boy he’d saved by her side, now older, and another mixed-race
child was held in her arms. “Baba,” Nembeyu said to the boy, pointing at David.
The boy stared at David curiously. “Baba,” she said again. “Father.”
He reached out and took the boy’s hand, the first child he’d
conceived. There were more, many more; he could smell when a woman was in heat,
and few had resisted his advances as he traveled the world. The woman smiled
and handed the boy off to her other son. She reached down and grasped David’s
cock, stroking it to erection. “Daveed,” she said, her voice sultry. She took
him by his hard cock and led him towards her hut. Her screams of pleasure helping
to drown out Anne’s cries of pain.
David left the hut at dawn. A woman offered him a bowl of
porridge, which he accepted, scooping up the contents with his fingers. The
elders and most of the tribe sat around the dwindling fire, still nude, some
singing and occasionally beating a drum.
“David?” said Anne’s voice. It was weak, and she was
staggering out of the entrance of the hut.
He looked up, springing to his feet. “My god, Anne, are you
alright?” he asked, staring at her belly.
She rubbed her swollen belly, her navel now sticking out. “I
look more like I’m 40 weeks pregnant than 27,” she said.
Her belly had swelled nearly to bursting overnight. David
reached out and rubbed his hands over her pregnant belly, moving them up to her
breasts. “Your tits too.”
She laughed. “I thought they were already too big.”
David ran his hands over the swell of her bosom. They had
grown another cup size at least, her small pink areola had spread out over the
tips of her swollen tits, and her nipples had grown longer, doubling in
diameter. He stared at them lustfully, making their way to her nipples. He
squeezed them, pulling his hand away in surprise when milk squirted out.
“The young warrior will be big and need sustenance,” said
the chief elder, stepping up beside David. David glanced at him, noticing that
the African’s cock had grown, sticking straight out 15” from his crotch as he
stared at Anne’s nude body. He placed his dark black hand on her pale belly.
“The first of many of your line of warriors,” said the chief. “All your
children shall have the strength of the buffalo and will be honorary Mang’ati.”
“Mang’ati?” asked Anne.
“It’s how the Datoga refer to themselves,” explained David.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing down. “Kneel, Anne,” he
ordered.
She knelt, lifting his cock and kissing the head as she
stared up at him. She began sucking the tip. His cock tasted of pussy, and she
looked up at him suspiciously, her mind wandering to the lovely tribeswoman
with the mixed-race child. Massive, dark black, and out of focus, the elder’s
monster of a cock bobbed out of the corner of her eye. It pressed forward, the
giant head pressing against her cheek, leaving a slimy trail of precum.
“You must thank the Albaa agali, Anne,” said David.
Anne pulled back, kissing the tip of David’s cock again. She
reached up and grabbed the shaft of the tribal leader’s cock. The elder was
probably in his late sixties, but his erect penis could have belonged to a man
in his prime. It was circumcised, as were all the tribesmen, bigger and veinier
than David’s. It’s dark black skin reminded her more of a bull’s cock than
David’s. She bent the giant black cock down towards her lips, kissed it, and
took the head in her mouth, her free hand stroking David’s shaft. The tribe
roared approval, drums pounding like her heartbeat. She alternated sucking both
men’s cocks while jerking the other off. *If my mother could see me now,* she
wondered, no longer giving a damn what her mother thought. She was even
enjoying sucking the elder’s cock, its bigger size a challenge, its superiority
deserving her worship and submission.
When he came, the volume was overwhelming, nearly choking
her as she tried to gulp it down. She pulled back, his pudding-thick seed
blasting her in the face, matting her hair with his semen. David’s cock was
swelling, and she turned her attention to it, wrapping her lips around the head
just as he filled her mouth with his familiar seed. She moaned, swallowing her
lover’s cum, his seed mixing with the elder’s and the bull’s semen in her
belly.
The savanna came alive with the roars of distant lions, the
tribe adding their roars of approval as Anne completed her initiation into the
tribe. The warriors chanted, their voices rising, their cocks swaying, a
testament to their strength, their eyes on Anne, as David and the elder each
took one of her arms and raised her to her feet.
**THE END**
Author’s note: My
fifth story and not one of my best. This updated 2025 rewrite vastly improves
the original. In the original, David took steroids and hung weights from his
penis to make it bigger. I thought changing David’s origin story to a mystical
tribal one gave this story a more pulp-adventure feel. The sex scene between
Anne and David has been vastly enhanced.
The Datoga live in Northern Tanzania. They do not have 15”
penises or drink buffalo semen though some African tribes are known to do so as
a ritual to gain the animal’s strength. The Datoga are primarily cattle herders
and animists, worshipping nature spirits which make’s sense for this story.
Mang’ati means “enemy” and it is believed they adopted it as an honorific from
one of their rival tribes, possibly the Maasai. The Maasai and Datoga are both
known to ritualistically drink a mixture made from cow’s blood mixed with milk.
Albaa agali means wise man or wise elder.
One of the BEST stories I've ever read on here. Only thing I'd have made different is I would have put a BIG HAIRY BUSH on her cunt!!!!!
ReplyDeleteAnother GREAT story!
ReplyDelete