1 comments/ 13633 views/ 0 favorites Zabka Attack! By: JWTaylor36 My first attempt at a story that doesn't fall under the Gay Male category, and definitely a different tone from my other attempts. Hope you enjoy - as always, I love getting feedback, hearing from folks on here and chatting about my writing or yours, or anything else! Beautiful, naked big-titted women just don't fall out of the sky, you know. For some inexplicable reason – beyond, of course, my own sad dependence on pop culture for my entire worldly frame of reference – a quote from the late '90s Kevin Smith film Dogma was the first thought that popped into my head upon seeing her. In the film in question, the character of "Jay" - the rail-thin foul/motor-mouthed skate rat repeatedly essayed by Jason Mewes in the Smith "View Askew" universe – hollers the line, hoping to replicate the apparent success of his just-prior "Guys like us just don't fall out of the sky, you know," which happened to coincide with Chris Rock's "13th Apostle" character, well, falling from the sky. Unfortunately for Jay, Rock's arrival had nothing to with anything beyond coincidence. Salma Hayek's muse-cum-stripper does not appear until later in the movie, and she does not fall from the sky. It loses a lot in the telling. Regardless. Here I was, sitting not-quite-happily in a bar, by myself, nursing my fourth whiskey soda of the early evening, when a beautiful, big-titted naked woman fell from the sky. Well, not naked, yet. And she didn't literally fall from the sky, because this is a work of erotic fiction, not Twilight Which begs the question, since I swear I have no idea – does anyone fall from the sky in Twilight, or should I stick with pop culture references to films I've actually seen? In retrospect, I think it's probably more flying and shit, which I guess vampires can do sometimes, but maybe some of them fall asleep or run into a bird or something and then they might fall from the sky. To get back to the beautiful, big-titted woman who's not yet naked, and sort of more appeared from outside my four-whisky-and-soda field of vision. Which also rarely, if ever, happens. At least to me. If this kind of thing happens often to you, and she turns out to not be: A) A figment of your imagination; B) A ghost; C) A hooker; D) The waitress – please write me, and we'll start hanging out more often, because for me, it's almost always one of the above. Usually A or D. C would actually be pretty interesting, assuming she's not like in The Shining and she turns all old and scabby and gross when you go to make out with her. Boom. '70s pop culture reference. Well, 1980, technically. But anyone who would guess that The Shining was made in the '80s without checking is a dirty liar and probably enjoys getting blowjobs from guys in dog costumes. And that's not a furry reference. I don't do those. That's also in The Shining. Sooo. I'm sitting in my corner bar, contemplating the possibility of downing three more whiskey sodas in the next hour, since it's going to take me at least that many to get a serious buzz going, but at ten o'clock they turn the lights down even lower and turn the music up and I like to change the name from P.J. Shaw's to Club PJ's, and it fills up with douchebags. So I'm trying to do the math. If three whiskey sodas leave the bar at 9 o'clock, being drunk at a rate of one ounce every two minutes, how quickly can I get them in my bloodstream and stumble out of here? And then suddenly there's a woman standing in front of me. I jump a bit on the stool, which is hard to do, without much leverage under your feet, so it's more like a little slide. The Dogma quote pops into my head, and I run down the checklist. Beautiful? Yep. Big-titted? Check, check. Naked? Nope. Hiss. Falling from the sky? Two out of four ain't bad. And they're two of the more important ones. She's got a figure like the redhead from Mad Men, the office manager who was on Firefly and wears the pen around her neck that acts like a '60s version of a laser pointer on her boobs. But this one's body is somehow even better, something out of a '50s pin-up calendar mashed up with a weird dream I once had involving the collected works of Paul Reubans. No, sorry. Peter Paul Rubens. Not Pee Wee Herman. Now that would have been weird. Anyway. She had a fucking amazing body. Toned, strong legs; hips that looked like they were sculpted specifically to grab a hold of during a brutal doggystyle fuck; an ass that evoked fond memories of my mom's yoga teacher from when I was five and she'd take me to class with her; and breasts that make Jessica Rabbit look realistic. After staring at her body for a good five minutes, I figured I should take a look at the face. Disappointment was inevitable, and yet miracle of miracles, not to be. She had the cutest little nose, set amidst beautiful, clear, lightly-freckled cheeks, accented by deep brown eyes that sparkled in the cheap barroom light and full red lips that finally made clear what the fuck Mario Puzo was talking about when he kept describing everyone's lips as "sensual bow-shaped." They looked like Angelina Jolie's, except without the whole "somebody just punched me in the mouth" thing. If I'm not being clear, her lips were the most beautiful, most kissable objects I've ever seen. Now, this being a work of erotic fiction, you'd be forgiven for thinking the above description is of some fantasy woman, some goddess of the imagination and little boy's wet dreams, the amalgamation of the body of Marilyn Monroe, the pure sex appeal of Alyssa Milano, and the utter cuteness of Meg Ryan. And yet the woman described herein is a real person, and the description is entirely accurate. It's the only true-to-life aspect of this work. And her real life beauty is actually beyond description, the words above are a mere shadow of her true wonder. And I've seen her naked. Sucks to be you, bitches. Right. So this goddess come to Earth stood before me, hand on the hip of body-hugging jeans, cuffed around her calves, a tight red t-shirt making quite clear the suitability of the above comparison to Jessica Rabbit. Her dark brown hair had this little pixie thing going on, not ridiculous like the girls who think they're an anime character or 40-something porn stars trying to play 18, but classy and confident, befitting a woman who looked to be in her early 30s. She knew she could pull it off, and she was. I don't think she stood there waiting for me to speak nearly as long as this description took to write, but it sort of felt that way. Words don't come easily to me at the best of times, and being that I the afore-mentioned quadrilogy of whiskey sodas was currently playing around in my brain and she was fucking hot as balls, words were taking their sweet sweet time. Don Juan I was not. I think my opening line was something like, "Hey." "Hey yourself," was her reply, but it was the accompanying smirk that made me think that this must be some sort of sick joke. Fun to look at, but still sick. I glanced around the bar, saw nothing but the kind of guys who are already drunk at 9 PM on a Wednesday. The only guy in the place I recognized was the bartender, Padraig, and he was much more so the punch-you-in-the-face-and-steal-your-wallet type, as opposed to the more amiable "joking" type. Hence him pulling the 9 PM on a Wednesday shift in this dive. So no joke. I kind of hoped she would turn around so I could make sure there weren't any scabby holes or open wounds in her back, but if I learned anything from The Shining – and I did – it's that nasty ghost chicks don't turn all nasty (in a bad way) until you start snogging. Hmm. Not a joke, not a ghost (I don't think). That left A) Figment of my imagination; C) Hooker; or D) Waitress, and P.J.'s didn't have waitresses, so that was out. "You a hooker?" She laughed and rolled her eyes, her teeth clean and even and white, which did as much to answer the question as did her soft, "No, I'm not a hooker. Thanks so much for asking though." So, not a joke, not a ghost (I think), not a hooker. That left figment of my imagination. I was pretty fucking impressed with my imagination, and had absolutely no scruples about actively pursuing a figment of it. Wouldn't be the first time. Having established her plane of existence (non-corporeal; non-paranormal), I took the next obvious step in this, or any similar situation. "You want a drink?" "Actually, I was hoping to buy you a drink." Her voice was a little husky, but incredibly feminine. Granted, in P.J. Shaw's, a pit bull wearing a ribbon seems incredibly feminine. But still – sexy voice. "You're sure you're not a hooker?" She pursed those incredible lips, turned her head to look slightly behind me, to my left. I turned, saw some guy sitting alone in a booth. He nodded hello. I nodded back. "That your pimp?" She sighed, pushed her hair back where it had fallen over her forehead. "Yeah, sure. That's my pimp. Fucking idiot. Do you want a drink or not?" "Yeah, sure." I slid off the stool. "But if I ask you if you're a hooker and you say no and you are, that's entrapment. You have to tell me." "That's if I'm a cop, retard. And that's an urban legend." She moved away from the booth, towards the bar. I followed. "You think an undercover cop is going to admit he's a cop just because some gangbanger asks him? What are you drinking?" "Yeah, I guess that does sound pretty dumb. Whiskey soda." "Whiskey soda," she said to Padraig, who managed to avoid sticking his thumb in it. Having a gorgeous woman buy your drink has its privileges. I should have been having gorgeous women buy my drinks long ago. This also seemed to prove that she was not, in fact, a figment of my imagination. Unless the entire bar was a figment of my imagination. Whoa. My mind temporarily blown, I could only stumble after the possibly transcendental beauty as she sashayed over to the booth. "This is Mark." She gestured at the dude in the booth, who slid out to let her in, and stuck out his hand at the same time. I shook it hesitantly. He seemed a little too happy to have some guy joining him with this woman. I didn't sit. He did, quite close to the woman in the padded pleather seat. She grabbed a cocktail of some sort of the table, leaving a big ring of condensation on the table, took a quite healthy swig. Thirsty work, convincing folks you're not a hooker. "Good to meet you," said Mark. "Have a seat." I noticed the woman's hand had moved onto Mark's leg under the table, and was quite obviously rubbing his inner thigh vigorously. As she did, her bicep moved against the swell of her breast, massaging it through her thin t-shirt, the neck of which I could now quite easily see down. I followed Mark's instructions and sat before my lurid imagination and her ridiculous cleavage caused me to stretch my jeans beyond repair. "What's your name?" Mark asked. "Um, Jake." "Nice to meet you, Um Jake." He nodded his head sideways at the woman as she sipped contentedly at her drink – dark liquor, no fruit. She had potential be yond the obvious. "This is Tia." She nodded at me, even smiled a bit, I think. That was encouraging. "Nice to meet you, Mark. Tia." I stopped, drank half the free whiskey soda. Always tasted better free. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Listen, Mark." He nodded eagerly, smiling at me without opening his mouth. Guy looked like some kind of yuppie fuck, kind of guy who'd end up getting his ass kicked at the end of some John Cusack movie back before he tried to get all deep and meta. Dark blond hair, big blue eyes, clean-cut. Fucking Billy Zabka. That's who it was. Guy who made a living playing douchebags who get their comeuppance. Karate Kid, Better Off Dead, Just One of the Guys. That guy. This guy Mark had the same smarm. But hey, free drink. "Mark," I continued, "Thanks for the drink. It's delicious. Listen, I don't mean to be rude or something, but what the fuck is going on here? Is this some kind of cult thing? 'Cause I don't really have much money, and I look shitty in purple velvet." He laughed, a little too loudly, showing his big white teeth. Just like Zabka!! Dun dun dun. He glanced at Tia, who shrugged, and then back at me. "Hey, Jake. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. So here goes." He leaned forward a little bit, took a drink of his beer. "We – Tia and I – we'd like you to come home with us tonight." He leaned back, his arm going around Tia. I swallowed the second half of my drink. This just got interesting. Well, no, it had been interesting before this point. I hope. I just got a lot more interesting, to me at least. Also interesting was the foot that was slowly working its way up my calf under the table. Tia had been wearing little slip-off type heels. I had noticed those. They made her calves look amazing. She must have slipped them off. I glanced at her. She was staring at me over the rim of her drink, sipping it slowly, the ice reflecting the light into her eyes. They were certainly big and dark and brown and lovely. My eyes stayed on her. "Okay, Mark. Sounds good. Let's get out of here." He smiled, that big goofy, Zabka smile; Tia smirked, that glorious, intoxicating devilish smirk; and I put my empty glass down on the table and stood to go. Turned out they lived only a couple blocks away. Tia did, anyway. Apparently they didn't live together, which made things even more interesting. Just for those keeping track at home, "things" were now at a 7 on a 10-point "interesting" scale. About equal to that time this guy I know showed up at a third friend's bachelor party with a motorcycle, a monkey, two strippers and a large bag of 'shrooms. Not necessarily "interesting" in the same way, but on the same scale. A scale with the heading "This Situation Could End Up Going A Lot Of Different Ways, Many of Them Bad, a Few of Them Hilarious, One or Two Fun." I was hoping this would end up being one of the outlying "fun" results. Which sort of turns this into more of a graph of a bell curve or something, rather than strictly a scale. This is going to end up being the first piece of erotic fiction to feature footnotes and an appendix. Prob/stat aside, Tia's apartment was nice. Very nice. For New York, anyway, which could mean a lot of things. A "nice" New York apartment, depending on your scale of living, could mean anything from "not teeming with roaches" to "penthouse that rivals the Hanging Gardens of Babylon." Tia's "nice" was somewhere in the middle, which made it a hell of a lot nicer than mine, which made it "nice." Three rooms – living space with adjoining kitchen, new appliances and fixtures and cabinets; smaller studio-looking area off of that, decent-looking bathroom, and a good-sized bedroom. But I get ahead of myself. It's sort of a habit, living in New York. One becomes obsessive about space, apartments, cost of living, who's got a better deal and who's getting royally screwed. Tia locked the door behind us, left the overhead lights off, walked slowly around the living room flicking on a handful of floor lamps. They cast a soft glow around the room, leaving some shadows in the corners, which I assumed to be hiding dust bunnies and whatnot. That wasn't the first thing I got wrong this night. Girl kept the place fucking immaculate. It looked like she had a maid in every morning or something. She tossed her jacket onto the arm of one of the couches and sat herself down next to it, crossing her legs, leaning back, her mostly bare arm stretched out along the back of the sofa. I noticed a big colorful tattoo on her upper arm that had somehow escaped me in the bar. Perfect tits can be distracting that way. And they were distracting me now, as she leaned back, stretching comfortably, her t-shirt pulled tight around those glorious examples of some Dionysian god's goodness to mankind. I needed to sit down. Next to her on the couch? I plopped into the wing chair to her left, facing the kitchen. Fortune favors the bold, but I didn't want my back to Zabka, who was currently occupied pulling what looked like a bottle of vodka from the freezer. Tia tapped her fingertips lightly along the top of the leather couch, her fingernails the same red as her lipstick. Candied apple? Fire engine? My mother would have called her a slut with a color like that, but my mother also thought Julia Roberts was actually a prostitute after she saw Pretty Woman, so her judgment is suspect. Whenever thereafter she would see Ms. Roberts in anything, she would get all pissy about how Hollywood would never have employed "a woman like that" back in the day. Whatever color they were, Tia's nails were drumming up a storm on the back of that couch. "What color do you call that?" I asked, nodding at her hand. Not subtle, am I. "Hellfire." She lifted a single perfectly formed foot up above the short coffee table that squatted in front of the couch, her slip-off shoes having slipped off somewhere back around the front door. Toe nails matched. "You like?" "Hellfire. Nice. Not something you'd find in a Crayola box, huh?" I thought that was clever. She gave me a look like I was an drooling idiot. Not even pity, just sort of apathy. This woman was proving difficult to figure out. Why the fuck was I here? I settled back in the chair, plumbing the quite often nightmare-fueling depths of my mind. Was this an American Psycho thing, where they pick up a dude and split his head open with an axe while blathering about terrible music? God, I hope not. Mark/Zabka wandered over from the kitchen, squeezing three highball glasses in his hands, filled to the brim with ice and clear liquid. Fuck. Should have watched him pour. How long do roofie's take to dissolve? Or are they liquid? For someone who spent an unhealthy amount of time hanging around squalid dive bars and watching movies, I knew painfully little about slipping someone a mickey. He handed me a glass, gave one to Tia and kept the third for himself, settling in next to the goddess on the couch. I put my glass down on the table in front of him and took the glass from his hand. He looked at Tia. She shrugged, smirked again, and held her glass up towards me. "Cheers." Mark touched his glass to hers, and I slowly followed suit. "Cheers." I watched them each take a big sip before I did the same. Tasted like vodka rocks. "I don't blame you, Jake." Zabka's voice was different. Less hyper than he had seemed in the bar. Less nervous. "I'm guessing it's not every day you get picked up by random strangers in a bar." I took another gulp. No need to waste good vodka. "Oh sure, Zab...Mark. Happens all the time. Just the other day I went home with one of the Kardashian sisters and her husband. I think she was a Kardashian. One of the ugly ones though. But hey, beggars can't be choosers." He smiled. Definitely less goofy. Still not sure what Tia saw in this ponce, though. "Well, one still can't be too careful. Good to know you're not the blindly trusting type. Bottoms up, now." His eyes were on me over the top of his glass as he tipped it back, piercing blue eyes, and I almost felt hypnotized for a second. I emptied the vodka down my throat, felt the slight burn, set the sadly empty vessel on the table. Tia and Mark had done the same. He reached over, put his hand on her wonderful thigh, his long, slim fingers moving slowly over the perfect curves, the two of them watching me closely. Waiting for something? My head buzzed a little. Not an alcohol buzz. Oh dear. I looked down at the glass, because that's what people do when they've been drugged. Stare at the empty glass meaningfully, with a slightly confused, very dumb look on their face. That's why I did. Then back up at the drug-ers. Mark was grinning, tight-lipped. But where he was now cool and calm, Tia was suddenly the opposite. A dull haze moving over me, I saw the goddess perched next to him, her nipples visibly hard through her thin t-shirt, her lips parted, breathing heavily through her mouth, her eyes glazed and half-shut. And her hand was between her thighs, rubbing herself through her jeans. That was fun. Zabka Attack! "Feel good, Jake?" Mark had leaned back on the couch and was slowly undoing his brown leather belt. "Not bad," I half-slurred. "You pulled a Princess Bride?" My tongue felt thick in my mouth, but my words somehow came out clear. His smooth brow furrowed beneath that ridiculous blond hair. "A Princess Bride?" I spoke to him, but my eyes were locked on Tia. Her red-tipped fingers had unsnapped her jeans, and were moving slowly between her legs over blue lace panties. Her other hand had moved under her t-shirt and was massaging her right breast, hard. Every few seconds she moaned softly, lost in her world. "Yeah, you know, when Cary Elwes has the battle of wits with the Sicilian. 'Incontheevable!' He switches the goblets to avoid the poison, but assumes they would be switched." It was Mark's turn to smirk, his jeans now undone and open at the fly. "Oh yes. No, you're a little confused. Not surprising, though, given your state. Although you're actually more right than you realize." His tan fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, opening it as he sat. His body beneath was smooth and tan and hairless. He worked out, apparently. Often. "It works out for Cary Elwes because he's actually poisoned both the goblets, no?" I cocked my head, somehow pulling my eyes from Tia, who now had her hand plunged down the front of her panties and was visibly bucking her hips off the couch, her shirt pulled up over her tits, the cups of her white lace bra pulled down off her small pink nipples, moaning and grinding her pussy against her hand. Quite a sight, that. "Interesting" was no longer an operative word with which to rate the situation. "Fucking Hot" should replace the title on the scale in Appendix A. She wasn't going anywhere though. "So wait, you drugged her too?" "Yes. I thought that was pretty obvious." His hand moved down inside his black designer boxer briefs (natch) and suddenly Tia's attraction to this cocky scrunt became a lot more clear. His dick was about the size of my forearm. That's a slight exaggeration, but not by much. It was like something out of an old Marx Brothers' film where they reach into a small bag and pull out endless scarves or some shit. My mind temporarily lost the ability to come up with a better comparison. Suffice it to say, he reached down between his legs and drew forth something that I couldn't believe. He was only half-hard, as far as I could tell, but this thing was a good ten inches long, and about as thick as, uh, two normal dicks put together. Like I said, my mind was kinda fuzzy at this point. He noticed me staring, which was not some great feat of observation on his part. I'm pretty sure he was used to it. "But don't worry. I drugged myself too. It's only fair." "You fucking serious with that thing?" Like I've said, I'm not subtle. Neither, apparently, is he. He laughed, his hand casually moving up and down the heavy-looking shaft, rapidly bringing himself up to full-size. Tia had slouched down in the couch, her legs out and spread wide. I could hear her fingers working her pussy inside her panties from where I sat. I glanced over, tearing my eyes from Mark's monster cock, watching her for a moment, enjoying the sight of her slightly curved stomach undulating and quivering as her body shook. Not every day you get to see a gorgeous drugged woman masturbating two feet away. I wanted this to stick in the memory bank. Bpeg. Click. "I'm not sure how you mean, but yes, I'm serious, I suppose." His other hand had moved down with its fellow, and was gently massaging his balls, which were suitably proportional. Which is to say, big. He looked like some kind of circus freak, almost. This slim body attached to this obscenely big package. "Of course," he continued, "Unlike in the film, I have not – yet – developed an immunity to the 'poison' with which I've dosed the three of us. That would certainly ruin the object." I couldn't decide whether to watch Tia finger herself to a quiet little orgasm, or focus on Mark's hand slowly pumping his enormous dong. The fairer half was now tucked into a beautifully curved package on the sofa, her legs pulled up under her, one hand tucked tight between her thighs, working herself madly, loudly; her other hand was vigorously mauling her perfect tits, pulling her nipples together so that she could rub and pull and twist both at the same time. I could hear her soft whimpers and the squishing of her apparently dripping cunt. I could see she had at least three fingers buried deep within herself at this point. Mark was still talking, apparently. "What would also defeat the purpose would be to employ actual poison. Instead, I've further departed from the script by using a simple mood-enhancing drug. Not iocane powder." The smug douche had the balls to wink at me. Granted, he had the balls to do pretty much anything he wanted. "You can see the effect it has on our gorgeous friend here. She does enjoy it so." He watched Tia cum for a moment, for the fourth time, by my careful count. A small pool had formed on the leather beneath her body. Her jeans were now bunched around her knees, her panties just above them. She was squatting on the couch, one hand on the arm of the sofa, her arm wrapped around behind her, bouncing herself onto two fingers, moaning loudly each time she plunged downwards. "I think you'll find that it's had a similar effect on yourself, if you give it a chance." "Hey, man. If you wanted to give me some drugs, you could have just offered. I haven't said nope to dope since, well, ever." He smiled, his fingers squeezing around his massive shaft, a small gasp escaping his lips for the first time as he stroked himself languorously. "Apologies. It's more fun for me, this way. But I'm glad you are not troubled." "Fuck, man. You want to let me sit here and watch her make herself cum for half an hour, you can do whatever the fuck you want to my drink." Tia had now somehow pushed a single finger up her asshole, grunting loudly as she did so, while maintaining the dual-finger approach to her pussy. A "shocker," if UrbanDictionary.com is to be believed. "You don't just have to watch." At this, Mark turned his body so that his legs were outstretched towards Tia, one foot resting on the floor, the other pushed behind her body along the back of the couch. He laid his head back on the armrest behind him, one hand tucked behind it as a pillow, the other reaching out to grab Tia's thigh, pulling her off balance, down against his legs. God bless her, she didn't miss a beat. Her fingers pulled from her cunt and her asshole in an instant, she grabbed hold of the base of Mark's gigantic wang and she plunged her amazing lips down around him, somehow taking him halfway down her throat in an instant. I feared for her safety for a moment, but she seemed to be doing okay with it, so I let it go. Mark groaned softly, his eyes closing, and I concentrated on the sight of this perfectly formed goddess bobbing her head in this guy's lap, slurping loudly around his huge cock, her tiny fist pumping quickly on the base of his massive shaft, not even able to wrap them all the way around. As she worked him, her hand moved back between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it frantically with two fingers. From where I sat, I had a great view from behind, between her luscious thighs, down along her dripping cunt to where she was virtually drooling on his pole. It was a marvelous sight, and with a sigh, I slid forward in my chair, unzipped my jeans, and pulled out myself out. When in Rome. Now, I'm no freak of nature like Mark, but I'm also certainly no slouch when it comes to the size of my dick ("Don't sell yourself short, you're a wonderful slouch"). But my decent six inches looked ridiculous in comparison. I was glad Tia had her beautiful round ass pointed my way rather than her eyes. Worked for everyone. I watched them go at it for a short while, and slowly began to stroke myself, enjoying the sight of Tia's small fingers moving over her little clit. Every once in a while a fingertip would snake back and press against her adorable asshole, and each time my cock would jump in my hand. Mind of its own. But then as I began to stroke myself, I realized what the fuck Mark had been babbling about. Whatever he had given me, us, himself, was something special. My dick felt like it was on fire, but in a good way, whatever the fuck that means. I had tried E before, once, and that was kinda fun, but this was different. Every never ending in my body felt like it was bursting. As I pumped my fist on my cock, I felt like I wanted to scream. The feeling was better than anything I had ever experienced, and this is coming from a guy who once drank a bottle of gin while getting a blowjob from a Taiwanese prostitute. That was pretty good. This blew that away. I don't know how Mark wasn't screaming his head off, if he was on the same stuff, and the way Tia was working his dick, I would have been exploding. But this stuff seemed to also be numbing certain parts of me, while accentuating others. I was in control, but every sensation made me want to lose control. Whatever. Rock and roll. I heard something intruding on my lust/drug/whiskey-induced haze, realized Mark was saying my name. I looked away from Tia's sublime ass, my hand still moving on my shaft, saw the blue eyes on me, locked on my crotch, watching me pump. In turn, I looked down his slim body, gazed for a moment at his massive tool, glistening and swollen and throbbing beneath Tia's plunging mouth. I could where her tongue was pressing against his bulging vein as she drew her head up his long pole each time. It left a particularly wet streak, punctuated by a throaty moan from deep in her body. Mark said my name again, softly. I looked back up at him. "Fuck her." Simple enough. I pulled myself to my feet, kicked off my shoes and socks and quickly stripped. My cock was harder than it had ever been, standing straight out from my hips, and I wondered if there was some Viagra or something mixed in with Mark's wonder drug. I moved in behind Tia, my hands sliding along her perfect thighs, warm and soft and round, getting in behind her. Her hand was still between her legs, her head popping up and down on Mark, and she barely reacted as I took my dick in hand and guided myself between her ass cheeks, feeling her warm, soft lips on my tip. I looked down past her head for a second, meeting Mark's cold blue eyes, and he merely nodded. I pushed forward, hard, and my dick slid easily up into Tia's sopping cunt and I heard myself groan loudly. The feeling of her hot, wet, tight cunt around my dick was heaven. It was like her body had been handmade to fit mine. She was soft and warm and wet and gripped me everywhere, and I slammed forward again, knocking her body down onto Mark, hearing her gag just a bit as her throat was filled with his dick, but she recovered like a trooper, pushing back against me just as hard, slapping her beautiful ass against my hips, drawing my cock deep into her body. I wanted to weep, it felt so good, but crying isn't my thing, so instead I pulled back my hand and brought it down flush on her right cheek, spanking her ass hard, grunting loudly as I plunged back into her body, rocking her forward again. I felt her cunt squeeze me as I smacked her, so I did it again, harder, and for a second her mouth came off Mark and I heard her whimper a guttural "Yesssss!! Gimme that fucking cock!" before plunging her head back down on him hungrily. I took this as a good sign. I grabbed her ample hips and pulled Tia back against me, more using her body to fuck myself rather than fucking her. I could hear her panting now, gasping for air around Mark's ponderous dick, the three of us moaning almost in unison. Then I felt Tia cum, again, felt her cunt tightening around me, spasming hard around my cock, and I lost it, slamming into her body hard. I felt the tip of my cock pressing against something deep inside her, my hips tight against her ass, my cum pumping into her. Her body was shaking as she came, I could feel her strong thighs trembling, and her cunt was literally dripping down my legs. I fell backwards on the couch, my dick flopping out of her body against my leg, rubbery and shiny and still hard, and I saw my cum leak from Tia's cunt, directly in front of me as she continued to cum, her pussy visibly clenching. She was still working Mark's cock, and I had a clear view between her thighs, her fantastic tits hanging down off her chest, swaying through my line of sight, beautifully framing his inflamed dick. I watched for a long moment as she plunged her head down again and again on him, his pole now almost purple, so engorged was he, and I saw he had moved his hand between his legs and was rubbing his own asshole as she sucked him. I found myself wondering if dick size had any correlation to stamina. See Appendix F. Then Tia suddenly fell backwards, rolling back into my lap, pushed by Mark. His dick made a wet popping sound as it slid from her throat, and as I started as his head, I marveled anew at her ability to fit that fucking thing in her mouth. The tip had grown, swollen immensely under her ministrations, and looked about the size of a small child's fist. I felt a little disgusted at the way my mind apparently judged sizes. It passed. Tia's wondrous body pressed against mine in every place, her ass and hips nestled into my lap, my dick resting comfortably between her legs. My arms had naturally gone around her waist and now rested on her flat stomach, pulling her back against me. She smelled heavenly and felt even better. The glorious sensation that had set every nerve in my dick alive now worked on every inch of my skin that she touched, and it was almost too much. I didn't know whether to push her off to relieve the overwhelming rush of ecstasy or to take her body and fuck her until the feelings passed out of me. Mark made the choice for me. He had moved to his knees on the couch, hovering over us, his dick pointing straight ahead, dipping slightly down, pulled by its own massive weight. He pressed the tip against Tia's face, smearing her cheeks and her lips with the precum that was leaking steadily from the swollen purple tip, and then passed over her face, moving towards me. Like I said, when in Rome. My mouth opened of its own accord, and my head moved forward. I had to stretch my lips as wide as I could to fit his tip inside my mouth, but once I did I nearly lost my mind. He was soft and hard at the same time, tasting of sweat and lipstick. I pushed my tongue over his head, feeling it swell in my mouth, and heard Mark moan. Then Tia's face was next to mine, her lips making their way slowly along his bulging shaft, kissing and licking him as I sucked Mark's bulbous head, trying to will my throat to open wide enough to slide this beautiful cock deep into my mouth. Mark had the same idea, and I felt him pushing forward, forcing himself down my throat, and I gagged hard, not ready for him. He didn't stop, merely pulled back for a second and then tried again, and this time I had better luck. Air flowed to my lungs through my nose, and the feeling of panic was lessened. I felt Tia's hand on my thigh, and it moved to my lap and her fingers closed around my own cock as we shared Mark's. I managed to groan around his throbbing cock as her slim fingers squeezed and pumped and caressed me, her face now pressed against mine, her lips leaving little flecks of bright red lipstick on Mark's obscenely engorged dick. I could smell her, felt her hair on my face, and then her lips were on me, kissing me slowly as her hand worked on me below. I was torn between the pure lust that drove me to try to swallow Mark's beautiful cock, and the other feelings that made me want to kiss this goddess and feel her lips on mine. I slowly worked backwards on his dick, withdrawing slowly, loving the feeling of fullness, drawing the tip of my tongue along the base of his cock, feeling the surge through his thick vein, finally reaching the tip and feeling him pop out of my mouth with a loud gasp. He fell back onto the arm of the couch with a moan, and I immediately turned to Tia, pulling her body hard against mine, kissing her mouth, my tongue and lips still hot from Mark's cock, her tongue in my mouth, her breasts soft but firm against my chest, the two of us making out like teenagers on the couch, her hands on my face, mine on her sides, her breasts, kneading them roughly, hearing her moan and gasp in my mouth. I felt her hand drop to my crotch once again, being to pump me, almost savagely, as she pulled her face back, her mouth set in a vicious snarl, her eyes wild. I pushed her backwards hard, pulling my cock from her hand, knocking her off the couch to the thickly carpeted floor. She gasped hard, the wind knocked from her body, and I rolled after her, falling atop her as she lay on the ground. I felt her squirm beneath me, half trying to escape but adrenaline and lust gave me strength and I was able to turn her body over on to her back, spreading her legs wide with mine, pinning her wrists to the floor on either side of her body. There was nothing in her eyes but lust. I let go of her wrists and grabbed her ankles, lifting her strong legs up onto my shoulders, moving up against her and pushing my cock between her lips once more, driving into her body in a single thrust, feeling her ass lift off the floor. I slammed against her, looking down to watch my dick slide in and out of her, fast, looking back up to see her hand go to her chest, catching her breasts as they bounced on her chest, squeezing them hard, her nipples rolling between her fingers. Saliva slipped from the corner of her mouth and her tongue snaked out to collect it as her eyes rolled back, and I pushed forward, almost bending her body back on itself, lifting her hips up off the floor, her knees nearly pushed back on either side of her head. "Turn her over." I had almost forgotten about Mark, but now he stood beside me, his massive dick hanging between his legs, inches from my face. I looked up at him, paused in my savage fucking, and then pushed Tia's legs off my shoulders and roughly turning her on the ground in front of me, grabbing her hips and pulling her up onto all fours, her head hanging down between her shoulders, her ass round and smooth in front of me. I grabbed my dick and made to push it back inside her, but Mark stopped me, his hand on my shoulder. "Stand her up." I stood, pulling Tia to her feet, a puppet on my strings, as I was on his. She took a step forward and planted her hands against the nearest wall, her feet spread wide, bent at the waist, just waiting, panting hard. I turned to Mark, his hand on his dick, once again stroking himself slowly, watching. "Can I fuck her now?" I asked, frustrated. "Please do." I don't understand how the guy was still so fucking calm, not even having cum yet. Unbelievable. Whatever. Rock and roll. I wrapped an arm around Tia's waist and guided my dick between her ass, letting the tip roll over her asshole, feeling her tense and then exhale as I moved lower, pushing up hard into her, feeling the familiar welcome warmth again, groaning loudly. I began to fuck her again, hard, more leverage now, our bodies slapping together loudly Felt so fucking good. Somehow the short break had brought my orgasm closer, and I pushed harder, faster, watching one of Tia's hands leave the wall and go between her legs, finding her clit. We were both moaning loudly, so fucking close, and then I felt Mark's hands on my hips, felt his body move behind mine, and before I could react he had his monster dick pressed against my asshole. I panicked, but couldn't move backwards or away, buried so deep in Tia's cunt as I was. If I tried to pull out of her I would just be backing up against his pole. I tried to push forward even more, pushing as far as I could up into Tia, lifting her body up off the ground as I did so, but he merely pushed forward with me. I could feel a condom on him, felt the cool layer between his hot dick and my asshole, and it felt like he had smeared some sort of lubricant generously over his cock. Thank god for small favors. Zabka Attack! Then he pushed against me hard and his giant head popped inside me and I screamed loudly, and Tia did to as I ground my dick up inside her, my body pressed tight against her, pressed tight against the wall. Mark paused, and then pushed forward again, and I almost felt like I was being split open. I felt tears come to my eyes and I couldn't move, could only stand there and let him impale me on his enormous cock, letting him push me impossibly deep in Tia's tight, clenching cunt, feeling him move deeper and deeper, spreading me wide open, feeling my asshole opening impossibly wide for him, and my mind went blank, the combination of lust and pain and the drug driving any though from my mind but the utter intensity of pleasure I was feeling. I felt cum surging through my dick and I suddenly exploded within Tia, spurting hard into her body, lurching against her as my hips bucked violently, vaguely animalistic grunts spewing from my throat, unintelligible moans and curses. I couldn't move without feeling Mark move inside me, any movement driving bolts of pain and pleasure twisting through my body. I could feel Tia squeezing me, clenching around my cock, could what felt like gallons of hot cum around my shaft inside her. She was moaning loudly, grinding back against me even as I softened inside her, rubbing her own clit, her breasts flattened against the wall. I felt Mark backing up just a bit behind me, slowly working himself out of me and I almost collapsed to the floor as he finally eased his dick out of my body. I suddenly felt sadly empty. The letdown did no t last long. He sort of shoved me to one side and pulled Tia off the wall where she appeared to be cumming for about the twelfth time in the last couple hours. He spun her around roughly and spread her legs, pulling the condom off his dick and guiding it up into her body from below. I saw her body tense from behind, heard her moan loudly as he penetrated deep into her, stretching her wide, and saw her hands clawing at his body as she struggled to adjust to his girth, so massive compared to mine, or to an elephant's. I watched, mesmerized, as he began to move his hips beneath her, his hands on her shapely ass, pulling and pushing her body around on him. I saw him look at me over her shoulder, saw him gesture me up behind her with his pale blue eyes, and I knew what he wanted. I moved up behind her as the couple fucked slowly, standing. My dick was hard again – wonder drug indeed – and I pushed it up into Tia's dripping cunt one more time, sliding it in against Mark, feeling his massive tool dwarfing mine inside her, feeling him pulse and swell against my cock. My chest was tight against her back, and I felt Mark's arms around her, his hands reaching around me to pull my ass tight against her, the three of us sandwiched tight together, our two dicks barely able to move inside her, just standing there, fucking her without moving, just the utter fullness bringing Tia to orgasm one more time, her body shuddering hard between us, her hands grasping and clawing at Mark's back as she stifled a scream in his shoulder, her cunt dripping all over the three of us. I reached a hand up and wrapped my fingers around her throat from behind as she convulsed, squeezing lightly and felt her moan, her hips and ass bucking hard, almost knocking us all to the floor, and then she pushed against Mark's chest, hard, hard enough to dislodge herself, knocking the two of us backwards. I heard his dick pull from her body with a loud slurp, and Tia and I fell to the floor. I lay there for a moment, my own cock fallen out of her, lay there feeling her pussy leaking on me, but she was quickly on her knees. Mark loomed over her, his fantastic cock still hard as ever in his hand, a gleam in his cold blue eyes, and I got to my knees as well, beside Tia on the carpet, kneeling at his feet. I could see pearls of precum on his tip, and my tongue flicked over my lips, and Tia moaned beside me, and then his hand pumped once down his throbbing shaft and an enormous gob of thick cum spurted from his head, splattering loudly on Tia's forehead. He pumped again, a loud groan following it, and a second dollop smacked into my cheek. Then Mark started pumping himself as fast as he could, and each stroke brought a thick stream of white fluid that jetted out onto Tia's face, or mine, covering us both, cum on our faces and mouths and necks, dripping down off our bodies, down our chests to land thickly on the floor beneath us.