1 comments/ 12900 views/ 0 favorites Geoffrey By: kimbelina "Kaitlyn?" Recognizing a familiar voice behind me, I turned around. "Susanne! What are you doing here?" She was a friend of my parents', and I had gone to school with her kids. But what she was doing here, in the hallway outside my dorm room, I had no idea. "I'm here to help Geoffrey move in - right down the hall from you, it looks like!" It was a challenge, but I managed to contain my honest reaction (which I'll share with you in a moment) and simply replied, "Oh, great. Well, I have to run. Nice to see you again, Suzanne!" "You too, dear. Say hello to your parents for me." "Will do!" Escaping as politely as I could, I made my way to my favorite coffee shop just off campus, where I always did my best thinking. What a nightmare, I thought to myself as I got my coffee and found a seat. Geoffrey living in my building, right down the hall? I don't believe it! This was the nice but nerdy and painfully awkward guy who had been following me around like a lost puppy since I was 15 and he was 14. It was bad enough when he used to embarrass me and humiliate himself in high school. But now I have to see him every morning and every evening in my dorm? I let my mind wander to the last time I had seen Geoffrey. Did I mention that he insisted on pronouncing his name 'Joffrey'? Not 'Jeffrey' or 'Jeff', but 'Joffrey'. It was what his mother preferred, and it went along with the rest of his image. He preferred math homework to sports, would rather work on his computer than hang out with friends, and couldn't speak when pretty girls were around - especially me. Anyway - back to the flashback, the last time I saw him. It was at his house, at the graduation party his mom was throwing for his sister - she and I were really good friends in high school but unfortunately have lost touch since we went to different colleges. Anyway, they had a pool at their house, so it was a casual BBQ/pool party. I was lounging on a chair by the pool, soaking up some June sun. I remember I was wearing a black one-piece with a green sarong tied around my waist, the colors stunning against my tanned skin and long blonde hair. Geoffrey stumbled over to me, looking pale and skinny and wearing a speedo and flip flops. He had a glass of lemonade in each hand, obviously hoping to share a few minutes with me. Unfortunately, he was in over his head - in his anxious way, he tripped over his own feet and ended up splatting on the ground next to me, covering me with lemonade as he fell. This would have been embarrassing enough, but then he proceeded to go overboard in an effort to clean the sticky liquid and ice cubes off of me, with everyone at the party watching, chuckling. As I tried to tell him that really, I was fine, he didn't need to worry about it, no problem, I noticed that his speedos were now straining to contain a growing bulge. I wasn't sure if anyone else noticed, but I was humiliated anyway. Every encounter with this guy ended in unwelcome sexual tension. I escaped into the swimming pool, diving in in hopes of washing away both the lemonade and the embarrassment. Anyway, back to the present. Realizing I couldn't stay away forever, I walked back to the dorm. As I got to my floor, I saw that Geoffrey's door was open, and thought I might as well get the inevitable reunion over with. As I peeked into the room, I saw that both he and his mom were there, and she was still helping him unpack. "I'll put your socks in this drawer, OK, sweetie?" she said to him before realizing I was there. Geoffrey looked at me sheepishly. He was obviously embarrassed by his mom, but also didn't have the guts to tell her to leave him alone. I suddenly realized that she had probably treated him this way all his life, and felt sorry for him. I couldn't imagine putting up with a mom who meddled so much! Following his gaze, Suzanne finally noticed me in the doorway. "Oh, hi again, dear. I should probably be going. Would you mind showing Geoffrey around?" "No problem, I'll make sure he gets to know the building," I replied, more to get her out of there than because I wanted to spend the time with him. This poor guy needed a mom-ectomy. "Alright, Geoffrey, I'll call you tomorrow and make sure everything is OK," she said, meddling again even as she was leaving. "Wow, how do you put up with that?" I asked him as soon as she closed the door behind her. "Oh," he said, pushing up his glasses with his pointer finger, "She's really not that bad. I guess I'm used to her. I am glad to finally be moving out of the house, though." As he spoke, I noticed that he had changed in the year since I had seen him. His formerly thin frame had filled out, he was more muscular, and it actually looked like his skin saw the sun occasionally. He really was a decent looking guy, if you could see past his nerdy exterior. It was obvious, though, that he still had quite a soft spot for me. When he thought I wasn't looking, he would glance at my tits or ass, and then, sure that I had caught him, would blush nervously. He started asking me questions about the dorm and the campus, and we both sat down, him on his bed, me on the chair next to his desk. As we talked, I suddenly realized that there was no need for me to feel like a victim in this situation. I didn't need to be embarrassed by his attraction to me - in fact, it gave me power in the relationship. I started to wonder how I might make the most of that power, when I glanced at his crotch and noticed a bulge starting to form in his pants. Taking him by surprise, I interrupted him mid-sentence with, "So, Jeff, you still have quite a crush on me, don't you? You do know I have a boyfriend, right? I wonder what he'd think if he saw you here with me, with your cock getting hard as we talk?" His mouth dropped open, and his face suddenly turned bright red. But I decided to stick to my guns. Before he could gather his thoughts enough to reply, I stood up and walked towards him, stopping just in front of where he was sitting on the bed. Reaching down, I took hold of his cock and gave it a quick squeeze. "Do you want me?" "Oh, yeah, Kaitlyn, I've always wanted you." "OK, I'll let you have me, as long as you understand that there are certain rules." He nodded, and I continued, "You must let me be in control. You must never tell anyone about what we do here. When we see each other in public, you must control yourself and not give away your desire. And you must let me call you 'Jeff', not 'Joffrey'. OK?" "Fine, whatever you want, Kaitlyn." Amazed at the rush I was getting from taking control of the situation, I decided to go for it. I reached down to his crotch again, this time removing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. "Take your cock out and start stroking it. I want you to watch me strip for you." It wasn't a challenge for him to follow this instruction, and he eagerly soaked up the vision in front of him as I quickly removed my top and skirt, leaving me just in my lacy bra and thong panties. "Now, let go of your cock and fondle my tits." As he again followed my command, my hands replaced his on his cock, grabbing it firmly, stroking his cock with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. Leaning down as I was to reach him, my 34C tits were now right in his face, and he took the opportunity to take one of them into his mouth, sucking my nipple intensely. As much as I enjoyed what he was doing, I needed to regain control of the situation, so I quickly stood up again, pulling my breast out of his mouth and letting his cock fall from my hands. "Take your pants and boxers off. Lay down on your back, with your head on the pillow," I commanded him. He obeyed quickly, and now was flat on the bed, his hard cock sticking straight up from his body. I quickly climbed on top of him, my mouth directly above his stiff member, and pushed my now-wet pussy towards his face. Turning my head back towards him, I said, "If you focus all of your attention on my pussy, I'll give you the best blow job of your life." He immediately dove in, sliding my thong panties to the side and plunging his tongue into my pussy. I could tell this guy lacked experience, but would make up for it in enthusiasm and a desire to please me. "Slow down," I said to him quietly, and by moving my hips was able to encourage him to start licking from my clit to my pussy in slow strokes. I also knew that it wouldn't take much to give him the best blow job of his life - I'm sure he hadn't had many, and would cum quickly with an experienced mouth like mine on his cock. I started by taking his entire length into my mouth, the tip of his cock reaching deep into my throat. Once there, I began bobbing up and down on him, the motion also pushing my pussy more firmly onto his face with each bounce. He was learning quickly how to pleasure me, sensitive as he was to my responses. I could sense that he was getting closer, and wouldn't be able to hold on much longer before cumming. He was still trying to satisfy me, but had to replace his tongue with two fingers in my pussy as his head fell back on the pillow in response to my expert work on his cock. I was moving more quickly on him now, his cock disappearing and then reappearing from my mouth, and pushing my pussy down onto his fingers with each stroke. "Oh, Kaitlyn, I'm cumming!" he groaned as he shot his load deep into my throat. I stopped moving and just milked every drop of cum from his trembling cock. As soon as I had swallowed it all, I got up off the bed and quickly got dressed. "Well, Jeff, I have to go - got a date. How was that for you?" "Oh, god, Kaitlyn, that was a dream come true!" "You remember the rules, right?" He nodded, and I continued, "Alright then, I suppose we can continue this later. You've got some things to learn about pleasuring a woman, but I'm confident that you're a fast learner, and I can get you up to speed before too long." With that, I left him alone in his room, and made my way back to mine to change. I couldn't believe the huge rush I had gotten from taking control of the situation, and finding myself an eager new partner in the process. To be continued? Geoffrey's Game Michael Broderick's attorney had showed him a copy of the suggested ruling that his wife's attorney had provided to the judge hearing their divorce case. "Good God, they can't be serious. I know that this is California, what with the community property rules, but I earned most of my money before I married that witch," He had moaned out when he saw the request for forty-four million dollars. Louis Nizer cast a sympatric glance at his client. He knew that look of total despair only too well. "Michael, I am afraid that there is more. She wants your Rolls Royce, as well as your home in Malibu. If her Honor stays true to form, Greta will get it. I'm sorry. The one bright spot is they are not asking for your place on Catalina Island, or your condo in New York." "I paid six million for the Malibu estate." Just then, Greta Broderick made a grand entrance into the court room, trailed by her attorney, the sneering Brenda Woodbury. Greta was bedecked in an original Pasdivi creation. It was subdued, by Greta's standards, but still cost a cool three thousand. She never walked out the door without twenty thousand dollars worth of diamonds on. "All rise." Her Honor entered. Michael knew that he was dead meat, when her Honor maintained her stone face when looking in his direction, but gave Greta an old friend's smile. Her Honor gave the clerk copies of the divorce decree. It was nothing more, or less, then Brenda Woodbury's suggestions, with the exception that Michael was ordered to pay Woodbury's fee of five million dollars. Michael is forty-two years old. He had divorced his first wife, Sheryl, when her nude photos were splashed all over the "Enquirer." It was known that she screwed every man she co-stared with, but getting caught, both nude, was too much for his public image. He was getting tired of her anyway. Greta was an up and coming starlet. Sure, he knew that she was a gold digger. But, what the hell? She had a body that men could not keep their eyes off. That face, with her smoldering beauty was unequaled. Damn. She was the ultimate trophy. He had thought that it would take her five years to become a star in her own right. He always thought that he would lose her someday. In the meantime, having that on his arm bolstered his super star image. In the bedroom, he put his cock into her three, four, sometimes five nights a week. He would give her that, she was a good fuck. Then that Chad Ward came alone. They had been at Clooney's home. Mike had become tanked, as was Greta. Chad was dancing with her. She could hardly stand up. Soon, Greta and Chad were missing. When he finally found her in the upstairs bedroom, she was alone. She was out, laying on her back. Her dress was up to her waist. On the floor were her pantyhose, panties, shoes. From her pussy, there was a stream of cum running down her ass. Mike was pissed. He suspected that it was Chad, but he had lost track of time. He went looking for the fucker. I'll ask him right out, he thought to himself. Well, Clooney's is a big place. Twenty rooms. By the time that he was back in the basement, his anger had subsided. He refreshed his drink. There were fifty guests. He spied Chad Ward with his arm around Charlie Sheen. They both were laughing. Jim Carey was just walking away. Michael whispered in Chad's ear, "Did you get some pussy upstairs?" Charlie and Chad both burst out laughing. Michael contained his anger. He went so far as to smile. Chad, "I don't know what Greta had to eat. All the time that I was fucking her, she was letting out one fart after another. Does she do that all the time?" Michael had to admit, That was funny. He was enjoying their company, when it suddenly dawned on him that Jim Carey had hurried off in the direction of the stairs. He hurried to the third floor. Carey passed him, coming down the stairs, zipping up his zipper. He peeked into the room. A man was between Greta's legs. His thrusts were fast. Greta's feet were on the back of his legs, as her ass was meeting his every thrust. Michael walked into the room. He did not recognize the man. Greta's eyes were closed. With each thrust, her body was pushed forward. Her breast would slide up and back. The impact of his body hitting her ass caused a ripple. Just then the man groaned. With several hard thrusts he pumped his cum into her. As he rolled off, He said to Michael, "She's all yours." With irony in his voice, Michael answered, "Yes, I know." Michael used a wash cloth to wash the cum off her pussy, and her ass. Still drunk, she leaned on her elbows looking at him, as he washed her. "I needed that," she said referring to the three men who had fucked her." Defiantly, she added, "I am going to have some more of that Chad Ward. He has a nice thick cock." True to her word, Greta begin to sneak around to meet with Chad. Michael begin to hear that they were being seen together. The divorce followed. It did not take a genius to understand that now Chad Ward would be able to fuck her every night that he wanted, in Michael's own bed. That night, watching the sun set from the porch of his home on Catalina Island, Michael got very drunk. Stinking, puck up your guts in the toilet, drunk. He woke up at three AM. A milk glass of straight vodka. He was out again. His hatred of that Bitch seethed. Many of his friends knew well enough to not even mention her name. Ever the tabloids got wind of his resentment of her. Greta's picture was in "People Magazine." She was promoting her newest movie, "The Song is You." Next thing he knew, she was on the "Tonight Show." A few weeks later, the phone rang one evening at nine o'clock. It was on his unlisted private line. "Yes." A man with a distinctly English accent intoned, "Is this Michael Broderick?" "Yes it is." "Mr. Broderick, There has been a discussion of you between myself and your attorney, Mr. Nizer. I and my associates offer a service, unlike any other in the world for men who have received deceitful treatment from their wives, as well as unfair treatment by the courts. Would you be interested in learning more about our services?" In a low, even voice, Michael answered, "Where are you, my English friend? I will visit with you, as soon as I can get there." "Mr. Nizer thought that would be the case. I am in the Bahamas. You should fly into Nassau. I will have you flown by seaplane out to our island. We will be starting a "Game" tomorrow at noon. You will be able to observe just what we have in mind for Greta." "I will be airborne in my private jet within the hour." At quarter after ten AM, The seaplane touched down near a sixty foot cruiser anchored a half mile off an island. Once aboard a crew man escorted him to the captains quarters. As he entered, a tall, distinguished, lean, weather-beaten, man stood. Offering his hand, he said, "I am Geoffrey Mann. Mr. Broderick, I presume?" Michael, "I am here on the strength of your mention of Mr. Nizer." "Indeed. I am a man of few words. This is an aerial photo of the island off our port bow. It is twenty-five acres. You will note that it is covered by high grass, a few trees, and has a raised cabin in it's center. Scattered around the island are ten comfort stations for those playing the Game. At each is food, and water. The raised cabin is sixty feet in the air. From it, one can see all over the island. It is equipped with high power telephoto equipment, lounge chairs for those of us watching the Game, as well as radio receivers which catch every word the players utter." "Just what is this Game all about, Mr. Mann?" A huge grin crossed Mann's face. "You will like this, Michael. May I call you Michael?" "Of course." "Well, Women, such as your Greta, are control freaks. They are spoiled, pampered, egoistical, self centered, women, who have come to believe that their completely man-made world, one controlled by their great wealth, is the only world there is. What we do, if you are interested in our service, is to kidnap the woman. She is sedated, then brought here. She has no idea where she is, not even which ocean. Once here, she is subjected to the Game." "What does this cost? What do you do to the woman?" "Five hundred thousand dollars. I am sure that you will think that it is money well spent. I will continue. In this very room, I will sit with her. We will enjoy a fine meal. It is so very gentile. I explain that I am sorry to disrupt her life style. Then, I explain that she is going to play a Game. She will be striped of all her clothes, and will be provided with tennis shoes for running. Her name will have been posted. Several men will have bid for the right to pursue her. Only one man may chase her at one time. If he catches her, he may do anything he wants to her. He can have his way with her as long as he wants to. When he is finished with her, another man will be allowed to pursue her. That will go on until we run out of men, or you wish something else to happen to her. For your part, Michael, you have the choice of letting the bidders have her, or you can request that one of our "Special men" go after her, first. You, I, as many as fifteen others, will witness the chase. We place bets on how long it will take to catch the woman. We also bet on how she will conduct herself, when she finds that she can not run any further. Some women will offer to pay the man to leave her alone. Some will call the man all sorts of obscene names. Some pick a nice place to lay down, lay on their back, close their eyes, and open their legs. Most are dragged down. It is a long way from Hollywood and Vine. Say what? Of course, if you request a "Special man," your Greta may run until she can run no further, completely exhausted, fearful of the fuck that she will receive. That is very exciting to watch. Especially, if she has been a brazen, greedy slut, who has taken you for millions." "What are these Special men?" "Let me show you pictures." Geoffrey placed seven pictures on the table. Michael sucked in his breath. "Great balls of shit. Look at those cocks. Where do you find men such as these?" "We fly them in just to service a woman. Each of these men works out so that he has unmatched endurance. This big fellow here, is the chaser of the woman today. You will note that the men do not run. In fact, they do not even hurry. At first the woman being pursued will be pleased that she easily leaves her pursuer behind. He will loose sight of her. The woman will trot away. Her breasts bouncing as she opens the distance between them. Within two to three hours, he will have her in sight. She will see that man with the monstrous cock getting closer, ever closer. She will run like a yearling deer. Finally, she can only walk. He keeps getting closer. We will hear her breaths coming in gasps. She has nothing left. She is defeated. Finally, he will get his hands on her. He will then take her. She is no longer the star. Her money is of no worth. Her beauty will not have an effect. No, she is a woman with a cunt. The man is her master. He will use her cunt, like a buck deer servicing the skittish doe. Again, again, and again." It was like old home week when Michael entered the cabin. "What are you doing here, Tom?" Michael said to Tom Cruise. Answering his own question, he said with a laugh, "Nicole, Today? With that big stud?" "You got it." Geoffrey got their attention. "There she is. They have releasing her." Nicole was walking near the shore. Some distance from her, a large naked man appeared on the beach. Nicole stopped. She allowed him to walk toward her. They could hear her yelling at him, "Do you know who I am? I will report you. You are in big trouble." He just kept walking towards her. His right hand begin to run up and down his cock. Nicole stopped in mid sentence. "Not in me…" She turned and sprinted into the high grass. "Fast little shit, isn't she," Tom said. "How deep is she, Tom?" Geoffrey asked. "I'm six inches, I hit her cervix." "My Special Man will give her quite a ride with his eleven inches." Bruce Willis got up. "I putting a thousand on his getting it all in her." "Your on," Michael responded. Hey Bruce, Is Demi in the offing?" Mike, I'm here like you are. We will see how this goes. But, you know Demi touched me for over one hundred million. Nicole is trying to take Tom for over one-fifty." "Wow!" Meanwhile, The "Special Man" had Nicole in sight again. "Are her tits real, or store bought, Tom? She has a nice set for a thin gal." "They're real." Fifteen minutes later, the Special Man had narrowed the gap down to fifty yards. From then on, he kept inching closer, as they walked through the high grass. Geoffrey intoned to the telephoto operator. "Bring her up very close. Put it on the TV." They could see the sweat breaking on her brow, Her tongue was out. she was panting. He grabbed her hair. She was stopped. He held her wrist. He admired her beauty. His right hand was stroking his cock. Nicole's eyes were locked on to his cock. He walked her to a small clearing, so that they had a full view of them as he lowered her to the ground. She did not scream at him. She did not try to buy him off. She knew the Game was intended for her to be fucked. She was the prize. There was little resistance, as he opened her legs. Half heartily, she pushed at his head as his mouth went to work on her pussy. Not to say that she was enjoying it, but it served the purpose of wetting her. He slid forward. The pampered, spoiled, too good to be with mere peons, golden ass of Nicole Kidman was now receiving a thick, hard, long cock. With little pushes, it was forced in, inch by inch. It bottomed at seven inches. Her legs were slowly lifted. When he was ready, all eleven inches was buried into her muff. "Go, Man," Tom said. "Here is the thousand," Michael said to Bruce. "Gentleman, watch a truly masterful fucker turn a haughty woman into a panting slut." They were fascinated as the huge ass ripped and slashed in a blur of motion. The massive cock driving relentlessly in and out of her golden pussy. The force of his fucking was pushing Nicole across the clearing, inch by inch. Michael sat holding his chin. "Geoffrey, I like what I'm seeing, but eleven inches will not frighten Greta. She is long and narrow. Do you have a really thick guy?" Geoffrey slid a picture across the table. "How about our Russian friend here?" The picture showed a blond man of average height. His cock was displayed on a table with a ruler and a large beer can beside it. It was thicker then the beer can, and ten inches long. "I call him, The Stretcher." "Perfect." After Nicole had been hard fucked three times. The Special man turned toward the cabin. He could be heard saying, "Next." "The next chap is a fellow from London. He has paid ten thousand dollars to chase and fuck her. He intends to fuck her in the ass. How will she respond to that Tom?" "She is a virgin. Good! This, I'm going to like." Thirty minutes later, Nicole was taken again. She raised a fuss, but she was taken in the ass. There would be no sleep for Nicole. By sunrise, four more men had pursued her. When she saw the last two coming, she just lay down, with her legs opened, hoping that they would leave her sore ass alone. Michael gave Geoffrey the go ahead to bring Greta to the island. He could hardly sleep as he imagined The Stretcher thrusting into her. Geoffrey told him that she was aboard the cruiser. As instructed, he turned on the TV in his room. To his surprise, no only was Greta sitting with Geoffrey, but her bitch attorney, Brenda Woodbury was sitting, sulking, with them. Several times when Geoffrey tried to speak, Brenda would interrupt. Finally in exasperation, he turned to two of the crew members. With a smile, he instructed; "Strip this one. Take her to the other island. Cuff her to a bed. Tell the men of the village that they may use her all they want." Quietly he said, so that a watching Michael would know what was going on, "When we went for Greta, we found Miss Woodbury in bed with her, so we brought her along." Michael rang a buzzer. Geoffrey picked up the phone. "What?" "Blindfold the Bitch. I will pay you another twenty thousand to sit at the end of a bed as Special Man, and the Stretcher take her. I may even fuck her in the ass myself." "She is on her way for your use." Geoffrey said with a smile, as he returned to telling a completely shaken Greta, that she was to play a "Game" in which she was the prize. He winked at the camera. He showed Greta a picture of the Stretcher. Her mouth fell open as she grasped what was in store for her. "You won't really do this? I am Greta Broderick, not some whore. This must all be a mistake. Her eyes met Geoffrey's eyes. He had a bemused smile on his lips. "Undress her." Greta tried to struggle, but the two crew men had no problem taking off her clothes. She now sat in the chair, naked. Her proud breasts, those wonderful tits that she allowed to rise above her dresses, were on display for all to see. The tits that thousands of men would give a weeks pay just to see, were about to become world famous, as would the puffy lips of her cunt. For, you see, Geoffrey Mann had agreed with Michael to display her conquest, in its entirety, on the net for all to see. Millions of men would hear, real time, her musings, protests, and groans as her cunt was extended. The stretcher liked to take them "Doggy Style." And yes, they gladly submitted to him when he explained to them, that if they did not stay in position, that he would take them in the ass, instead. "I have a lot of money. I. I will fuck you. There must be something that you want?" The sarcastic, demanding Greta, was replaced by a woman trying to sweet talk her way out of this, this problem that could not be happening to Greta Broderick. Geoffrey clicked on his TV. There in living color, was a blindfolded, Brenda Woodbury, cuffed to a bed, her legs pulled up and tied above her head. On her, Special Man was pumping all eleven inches of his cock in and out of her swollen red pussy. Calmly he told his crew men. "Take Greta to the island. Turn her loose." Greta had a personal trainer. She ran several miles each week. There was no "Jog Bra" containing her size C tits. World Wide Webbers trying to click on any number of sites were diverted to a full screen image of Greta. The camera, would from time to time, cut away to show the Stretcher closing in on her. By the time that he tackled her. There were over ten million viewers glued to their computer screens. Men would call their wives to watch. Girls would call their boy friends. All were soon treated to Greta Broderick, on her hands and knees being taken. Part of the screen showed her face, straining with intense effort, as inch by inch the Stretcher buried is cock into her belly. With each push, her tits would sway. Finally it was in. Faster then you could count, his ass thrust and withdrew his meat from her. She hunched up her body. Her mouth opened. A look of fear, then lust, came over her. "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhaaaaaaa," she screamed as her cunt tightened up in an long frightful orgasm. Back in Hollywood, Chad Ward's little seven inch cock erupted and blew his slimy milky cum all over his computer keyboard. Millions of computer printers were used to print out the picture of the Stretchers cock partly in Greta's mouth as she licked it off. I'm Softly Please be sure to vote.