Chapter Six

“Is she just gonna lie there all night? What did you do to her?”

“Nothing, master, relax. “She’s just got a little magical whiplash. Your girlfriend will be fine.”

Girlfriend...?

Jen was lying on something soft. A bed, maybe. A pillow cradled her head. She didn’t open her eyes, letting memory filter back in: pink smoke, a flying airhead, absurd chatter, a certain word—master.

She stayed still.

Better to listen first.

Somewhere nearby, a television blared crowd noise and sports commentary. The unmistakable clicking of a game controller tickled Jen’s ears, along with a repetitive wet sound.

Schlick, schlick, schlick…

“Was it stupid to bring her here?” The first voice asked, deep and frustrated. “Dammit, her email’s in the student directory. Wasted a fucking wish, didn’t I?”

“No, master, noooo~!” The second speaker cooed girlishly, vaguely familiar. “You were horny. You wanted to see her. And look, everything turned out, like, totally fine. Wanna fuck my face? That’ll be super fun! You can use my ponytails like handles and really go to town while Miss Snoozypants pretends to be asleep.”

For a second, Jen thought she’d been made, but the guy didn’t seem to catch the underhanded remark.

Schlick, schlick, schlick…

“Eh, maybe after this match. I’m totally stomping the other team. That, and she might wake up, ya know?”

“Whatever you say, master.”

Naru.

That sighing voice belonged to the strange girl from the sports field!

Had Jen been kidnapped then? Spirited away on the orders of some unknown master?

Heart hammering, she risked a peek—cracking one eyelid a fraction to take in her surroundings.

The first sight that greeted her was a large shirtless back–a veritable mountain range of carved muscles capped by shoulders the size and breadth of plateaus. His spine ran like a valley between two rock-hard ridges, tapering down to a masterfully defined butt with attention-grabbing hip dips.

A very naked butt sat on the end of the bed.

Too naked.

Too close.

Schlick, schlick, schlick…

She swallowed a startled squeak, both eyes shooting open before she could stop herself.

Jen’s prodigiously proportioned abductor loomed, even while seated, facing away from her, playing a football game on a console. The controller must have been tiny in his meaty fists. A shaggy chestnut mane tumbled down his bull-like neck.

Her fingers curled reflexively, yearning to comb through it and feel untamed locks slide between them.

He shifted during a complicated play, angling his head just enough to give her a partial profile: a prominent lantern jaw shadowed in sandpaper stubble. The kind that would feel coarse against her delicate skin or against her questing lips.

Goodness, who was this Man?

The capital letters arrived unbidden, slotting naturally into place when she considered… The Man.

How could they not? Even from behind—especially from behind—he looked like he’d stepped straight out of her deepest, steamiest showertime fantasies.

Schlick, schlick, schlick…

Heat coiled low in her stomach.

Jen **** herself to stay still, to breathe evenly, to think. Desire surged fast and treacherous, threatening to drown out common sense—but she held onto it with fearsome determination.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna fuck me, master? Or maybe check on your sleeping beauty?” Naru’s bubbly voice snapped Jen back to reality. A shocking reminder that other objects existed in the universe besides… The Man. “I think she might be, like, stirring from her magical slumber.”

“Hang on.” He replied distractedly. “Fifteen seconds left on the clock. Almost done.”

Jen frantically sought the source of her betrayal. A grinning face veered into view when he leaned sideways, wrestling the controller in a last Hail Mary play. Brilliant hazel eyes met hers.

Naru squatted between The Man’s powerful thighs, wrangling the biggest, most perfect dick Jen had ever seen, still dressed in that slutty schoolgirl outfit minus the flimsy blouse. Her titanic tits jiggled as she jacked his stupendous shaft, tongue lashing out to taste the tremendous tip. Grinning, she shot Jen a cheeky wink.

Schlick, schlick, schlick…

The wet noise came from the vast quantities of gooey precum that plastered the dusky-skinned bimbo’s dainty hands and dripped from her forearms, which looked like she’d dipped them up to the elbows in a tub of conditioner. Far too much for any single male to produce.

And yet, as Jen stared, The Man’s colossal cock jerked, spewing what had to be at least two ounces onto Naru’s waiting mouth.

“Mmmm, fank wu. Mafta.” She slurred around her sticky prize.

The smug slut didn’t break eye contact as she choked down the heavy load, her throat visibly bulging. Jen’s own mouth went suddenly dry, and the room felt ten degrees hotter.

Goodness, The Man wasn’t simply built like a tank; he was also hung and inhumanly virile.

Her skinny thighs clenched, churning within her sensible skirt, an unwelcome reminder that she’d not released any tension since breakfast.

On the television, the crowd went berserk, and a loud buzzer blared.

“Woohoo! That’s how you do it, bitches!” Jen’s walking dream hooted, throwing up arms thick with muscles. Her gaze snagged on bunching biceps the size of her skull. “Final whistle! I should show Coach Matthews that last play. He’ll be impressed for sure.”

Dear god, The Man was a football player.

The room–his bedroom–was a trophy hall to sporting achievement. A framed jersey hung prominently on the wall. Every detail clicked neatly into place, landing him dead center in Jen’s Venn diagram of forbidden fantasies.

She chewed her bottom lip, helplessly transfixed, as he whooped again and hurled the controller down. Plastic shattered against the floor.

“Yay! Good for you, master!” Naru hopped and clapped, bare boobs bounding like spunk-splattered volleyballs. They both danced in celebration. “You’re, like, the bestest at sports games. We should have a victory fuck!”

To his credit, The Man paused. His glistened rod, weaving circles in the air as he thumbed the cleft in his anvil chin, pondering.

Heavens above, he even had the cleft! Jen squirmed helplessly, burning with arousal.

“Okay.” He relented, openly ogling the sex kitten’s ridiculous rack. “Seems fair. But keep the noise down. Don’t wanna disturb Jen.”

“Whatever you say, master.” Naru’s hazel orbs shone with mischief. “She’s totally chill and super nice anyway, right? She won’t mind a little hanky panky between gal pals.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

She pounced and The Man caught her with fluid athletic grace, as if the nymphette’s hefty curves weighed nothing. Grabbing her sweeping hips, he spun, and they crashed into the wall.

“Wheeee!!” Naru squealed, clearly delighted when he trapped her there, wrapping thick thighs around his waist. “Give it to me hard, master. Show her what she’s missing!”

Their size difference was starkly apparent. The mountain of mouth-watering muscle towered over her, pinning her one-handed as he wrangled that phenomenal phallus beneath her tiny, pleated skirt.

The audacious tart wasn’t even wearing panties.

“Yeah… hell, yeah. Gonna fuck you.” He growled, his ass jutting out, creating the necessary space to lever his ludicrous length into Naru’s drooling pussy lips. “Gonna pound your lights out, babe. Gonna bang you into the next century.”

Jen shuddered delectably, hands creeping southward, seeking her own simmering hot spot.

Her dream guy sounded so horny he could hardly speak. Intoxicated on animal lust. Reduced to a brainless rutting beast. A dumb brute who would club her with his raging mega-meat before dragging her back to his cave for unspeakable acts of primal carnality.

Heavens, he was perfect all the wrong ways–an amalgamation of every unhealthy, irrational, degenerate desire she harboured made real. A dark, deeply held sexual secret given hard-fucking flesh.

“AAYYEEEEE!!”

Naru screamed when he speared her soaking honey pot–ankles crossing above his hypnotically humping ass cheeks.

Jen barely heard her caterwauling.

Her world had narrowed to one overwhelming, dangerous realization:

The beefy, uber–hung Man wasn’t simply close to her most messed-up, toxic fantasies.

He embodied them exactly.

“Oh gawd, master—yes, yes! Your huge cock is filling me completely… ahhh! You’re such a total super stud!”

“Heaven above.” Jen whimpered, shaky fingers slipping under her skirt’s waistband to graze her mound. “Where did he come from?”

She did wear panties, unlike someone else who was presently getting bounced up and down the most magnificent member to ever exist. Hers were a plain grey cotton affair. Unadorned and boring.

Basic.

Jen suddenly regretted her underwear choice. Why hadn’t she bought something sexier? Trimmed in lace or cute little bows. And in a real colour. Grey was so bleh. A Man like him wouldn’t be attracted to grey.

He wouldn’t bend her over a couch and forcibly rip them off her slender hips.

Nonononono!

That kind of thinking wasn’t helping matters. But even as Jen admonished herself, her **** digits rolled over her sensitive nub, strumming it through the hideous panties.

Moisture bloomed beneath her fingertips, darkening the affordable fabric.

“That’s it, master… ohhh~! Ravage your slutty **** girl.” Naru’s euphoric cries kept climbing in pitch. “Use that meaty pussy pounder to… nyaa! Punish me. Please, please—!”

The howling hussy apparently held the monopoly on dirty talk. Her hulking paramour responded in grunts, chuffs, and growls like a big, dumb lug. Everything about him was blunt, physical, simple. Built for conquest, not contemplation.

Jen’s fingers rubbed quicker. She stared mesmerized as his whole musculature flexed, driving the lucky trollop into the wall, hammering her overly endowed figure like a nail, cracking the plasterboard.

In contrast to Jen’s frail delicacy, Naru seemed custom-built for sex.

Every part of her was provocative. Exaggerated. From the shiny obsidian hair done up in lavishly long, voluminous pigtails, to her thicc fuck bunny bod, boasting more bodacious curves than the entire Kardashian family combines.

Yet her limbs were toned and slender, not fat. She’d achieved an **** hourglass–usually impossible without surgical intervention or torturous corsetry. Her face bore that regal Persian beauty which incited ancient desert kingdoms to war, somehow made more alluring by the lewd ahegao expression twisting her refined features.

“That’s it…. Right there, master Haaa! You’re h-hitting my sweet spot!”

Jen swallowed hard.

She prided herself on not judging other women. She avoided gossip, despised cattiness, believed—truly believed—that everyone walked their own path.

But watching the brazen bimbo get absolutely demolished by her fantasy fuckboy, Jen felt something twist painfully in her chest.

Envy.

Not of her beauty or overflowing figure.

Jen coveted her position, impaled upon his gut-punching girth.

Thumbing aside the god-awful panties, she plunged frantic fingers into the molten heat beneath, almost gasping aloud at the electrifying sensation. Her arousal heightened by the dark, aching desire to be seen, to be chosen, to be used by a Man she knew, rationally, would be all wrong for her.

She wanted him anyway.

And that frightened her.

“Ah, master, I’m gonna cum again! Don’t stop… Mmmph~! Never stop pounding me!”

Jen glanced up, eyes wide and watery, digits delving her damp depths, to find hazel orbs locked onto her. The mouthy minx’s head was only half visible over The Man’s massive shoulder, but the corners of her eyelids were crinkled–an unmistakable sign that she was grinning.

Jealousy spiked Jen’s heart. Resentment curdled in her stomach. The unfamiliar emotions–so alien to her meek, gentle temperament–burned like bile in her throat, ready to be vomited forth in a spray of offended vitriol.

Nonononono…

She had to control herself, not lash out like a spurned lover. She didn’t even know the stupidly hunky Man’s name and held no claim to him.

No claim to the large hand that seized Naru’s throat. No rights to the rough palm which cupped her cushiony keister. No grounds on which to object to the way he jacked her up and down his monster meat like an overinflated fuckdoll.

Exactly how Jen pictured herself being used in her wilder fantasies.

Christ, he was **** the wanton wench now. It was almost too much. Too hot. Too real!

Fingers curling within, she stroked the volatile nerve cluster, which typically melted her into a boneless, orgasmic puddle. Girl juices soiled her skirt, gushing around her buried fingers as she sought blessed relief, staring fixedly at her dreamy dream stud drilling the busty skank into blissful oblivion.

Wishing it were her getting nailed to the wall.

“Gonna cum now.” He rumbled.

It was the first intelligible thing he’d said throughout the frenzied fuckfest. An announcement. Delivered with deep, authoritative intent. That gruff, growling tone was the last straw. Jen clamped her lips shut to stifle an answering cry, her skinny thighs quaking as she came undone.

Naru showed no such restraint.

“Do it, master… yaaa~! Stuff my **** girl p-pussy totally full of your p-potent master seed!”

Her whole body contorted as he exploded–luscious legs shooting straight out to either side, spine arching like an erotic bridge, heavy tits careening madly to slap at the giant fist grasping her throat.

Jen witnessed The Man’s climax, actually seeing the outrageous outline of his cunt-cramming immensity distending Naru’s smooth abdomen, before that flat plain of bronzed flesh began to swell like a water balloon stretched over a fire hose.

He roared, and Jen stared in bleary fascination while the dark-haired sexpot gurgled ecstatically, her taut tummy visibly expanding to accommodate his implausibly abundant ejaculate.

“MAAAAASTERRR!!”

Naru wailed, long ponytails lashing like obsidian flails as she jittered and jolted within his iron grip.

In defiance of all physiology and knowledge of human anatomy, her already prodigious knockers inflated into fat, sloshing funbags which dwarfed her slender torso. They rounded and ripened with each extraneous expulsion of his copious cum like prize-winning melons, jiggling enticingly above her hemispheric stomach.

Jen couldn’t restrain a shocked gasp, clutching at her own diminutive bosom with slick fingers.

It wasn’t possible. None of it could be real.

Her footballer fuckstud had just cum buckets and banged more tits into Naru.

It was a scene stolen unaltered from her most far-fetched, flat-chested fantasies. The same scene that always left her crumbled and panting on the shower floor.

“H-how?” Jen squeaked.

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