Let him have a go in the wine cellar

"I don't have any money," you say, teasing your lower lip with the tip of your finger, "but I'm so thirsty. Perhaps I can help you find something at just the right price down in the wine cellar. I'm willing to get down on my hands and knees to look."

Olaf does not release your wrist and his angry glare does not ease. Dull brute. To make your point a bit more clear you form your trapped hand into a circle and move the index finger of the other hand steadily in and out. Olaf's face turns red. He seems to think you are insulting him.

"You stupid get," you sigh. "I'm saying you can get your cock in me if we can go down in the wine cellar."

The tavern falls suddenly quiet and your voice rings out with embarrassing loudness. Olaf's eyes go wide and he swings his head about searching for his plump wife. She bustles out of the kitchen after a few seconds with another tray of meat. Conversation resumes around the tavern. Olaf waits for his wife to leave before replying.

"Quick," he says, opening the trap door. "Down here. I'll come down once I make excuse to Helga."

You climb down into the musty cellar, stacked with beer barrels and racks of wine. It's much smaller than you expected and festooned with cobwebs and lit by only a few guttering candles. You lift one from its wall holder and carry it down the narrow rows of wine racks. You blow dust from one bottle and see that it is near 200 years old. How long has this village been on Monster Island? You continue deeper into the cellar and stop at an iron door with a heavy padlock. There is a slot in the door with a small release hook. You reach out to open it and nearly shriek with fright as a hand claps you on the shoulder and spins you around.

"What you doing?" Olaf asks, his face ominous in the candlelight.

You swallow your fear and stick out your chin. "Just looking for the best spot. What's behind the door?"

"Don't worry about it," says Olaf and he takes you by your hand and walks you back towards the stairs. Just inside the cellar there is a small doorway. He steps inside and lights another candle and you see it is dry storage for wheels of cheese, vegetables and dozens of jars of preserved food. The only piece of furniture in the room is a rough-hewn wooden table.

Olaf grabs your hips in his strong hands and spins you around, dropping your shapely bum onto the table. He presses against you, smothering you in his embrace as he clumsily begins kissing you. His beery breath wafts over you, but you nevertheless part your lips and allow the oaf to jam his tongue into your mouth. You loosen the corset and allow it to pop free of your vinyl bodysuit. It clatters to the floor. Olaf takes hold of the ring-pull zipper at your throat, stepping back to watch as he unzips you, first over your big, pale titflesh, exposing the sides to the yawning zipper until he has your top completely unzipped.

You shrug out of the top, a vision of generous curves and creamy white skin dappled with the faintest of freckles. Olaf's big hands find your breasts. You can feel his calloused thumbs rubbing over your pink nipples, teasing them to full hardness. He buries his face in your titflesh, huffing and puffing as he smothers your soft mounds in kisses and licks.

He moves to suck at your nipples, drawing them out even further until both stand out, thick and straight, from your big breasts. While he is busy with your tits you finish with your lower half, lifting up a bit to unzip yourself and expose your bare quim and shapely bum. Though Olaf is quite clumsy, his attention is having the desired effect. You're horny as ever and certain as soon as you get his cock in you you'll be able to overcome him with a wave of domination.

To that end you drag down his trousers and wraps your soft hand around his impossibly stiff cock. It feels huge and you give a few good strokes before parting your thighs and guiding it towards your slippery slit.

"Fuck me you big brute," you demand. Olaf laughs like a child and drink in your body with his gaze. He kisses you again and steps up until his tree trunk legs thump against the table. You wank him against the enticing entrance to your soaked slit, enough invitation for the ogre to lay a hand on your back and thrust. He parts your tender lips with ease and sheaths his impressive weapon in your depths. He groans and you squirm with ecstasy, squeezing his broad legs between your thighs and pushing against him. When you feel his dense pubic hair against your clit you know it will be only moments.

"Come on, fuck me," you tell him, nibbling at his lower lip.

He grins like a fool and sets to stuffing his cock in and out of your eager pussy. Each slap of his cum-heavy balls against your moist opening and tickle of his curly hairs against your clit sends you closer to the edge. In only a few short thrusts the building pressure in your tummy explodes into white heat. It's the start of a chain reaction, like fireworks exploding one after the other.

Your tension crests and you throw back your head, crying out as he pounds your perky pussy over the brink. Your inner muscles ripple around him, your pink rosebud clenches with each ripple of pleasure and you feel the intense release of the energy you know will make this dim-witted barkeep your ****. He thrusts in and out, shaking the table, his cock slapping into you wetly, until you can no longer bear the sensations.

"Enough," you say and he immediately stops. He is staring at you and drooling slightly.

You smile in victory and look down at the fat cock still partially submerged in the steaming depths of your cunt. Clearly Olaf would like to finish what you started. You have no use for the mess he would make. You've won your free night to relax. There's also the matter of the locked door Olaf didn't want you nosing around. There might be something useful behind it, or you might find something that complicates matters and you hate complications.