(Mini Torso Edition - 20 pounds - headless and limbless)

Michael slammed the bedroom door with his heel, already half out of his jeans. The mini torso he bought from Molly’s Sex Shop waited on the bed exactly how he’d posed it: legs bent and spread, massive tits lolling heavy to each side, soft pink nipples pointing at the ceiling. Twenty pounds of pure silicone fantasy. He’d been leaking in his boxers since he unboxed her.

He climbed on, lined up, and drove in to the root in one slick thrust. A shudder rolled through him.

“Damn… so fucking tight.”

He started slow, savoring the drag, then faster, hips snapping hard enough to make those oversized breasts slap together with every stroke. He buried his face between them, groaning into warm silicone, drunk on the weight and bounce.

Then the body beneath him locked up.

Every muscle seized at once. The tunnel around his cock clenched so violently his vision blurred.

Michael froze mid-thrust, eyes wide. “…Holy shit.”

The torso bridged hard, hips lifting him clear off the mattress. For one heartbeat he just stared, stunned, feeling the impossible heat and pulse around his shaft.

Then a slow, filthy grin spread across his face.

“Oh my god… you’re alive.”

The torso twisted like a corkscrew, tits swinging in a brutal arc. Michael’s hands slipped on the slick waist and he toppled sideways, cock yanked free with a wet pop.

He hit the mattress laughing, breathless and delirious.

“Fuck—do that again.”

The torso flopped onto its stomach and started butt-scooting for the edge of the bed, thighs pumping frantically. Michael lunged, snagging a thick thigh and dragging it back beneath him.

“No you don’t, get back here!”

He flipped it over, spread the thighs wider, and slammed back inside. The walls rippled around him in protest and he groaned like he’d died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck, yes—squeeze me just like that.”

The torso spun beneath him, hips rotating fast, trying to twist him out. Michael’s head fell back, mouth open in pure bliss.

“Fuck—fuck—keep doing that, I’m gonna come so hard—”

He clamped both hands on the breasts, using them like handles to ride the spin, thrusting deeper into the crushing grip. The torque finally ripped him free; he popped out glistening and aching.

The torso rolled again—straight off the bed this time, hitting the carpet with a heavy thud.

Michael was on it in a heartbeat, cock bobbing, eyes wild.

“Shit! Damn it!”

It bridged high, ass in the air, slamming itself down over and over. Each impact sent shockwaves through the fat of its thighs and tits. Michael dropped to his knees behind it, laughing in disbelief, trying to line up again.

“There you are, gotcha!”

His fingers slipped on slick skin. The torso twisted violently, breasts whipping around like battering rams, and the momentum finally tore it from his grip.

It landed on its side and started rolling—full, frantic barrel rolls across the floor, tits over hips, tits over hips. Michael scrambled after it on all fours, cock dripping, voice hoarse with lust.

“Fucking hell, how do you move like that?”

The torso hit the gap under the door, breasts compressing just enough to squeeze through. One last **** shove of its thighs and it vanished into the hallway, leaving a glistening trail behind.

Michael knelt there naked, chest heaving, staring at the empty doorway. From down the hall came the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a limbless, panic-stricken torso hauling ass for freedom.

He dragged a trembling hand down his face, laughed once—low, filthy, exhilarated—and looked down at his throbbing cock.

“Well shit…”