Krystal remains

“Does anything else come in St Perpetua’s welcome pack?” you ask.

There’s a twinkle in Krystal’s eyes at the question. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about tuning my laptop?”

A moment of disappointment and then Krystal smiles. “And what do I get for it?”

“A beer?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You open your laptop and unlock it for her. Then you go fetch a beer from the fridge. You sit in the spare chair and watch her work. At first ,she tries to explain what she’s doing but quickly realises you don’t have much idea what she’s talking about, so limits herself to a few words of advice.

You both quickly finish your beers, and you go pick up another. When you get back, she’s playing one of your favourite porn videos, while scrolling through your history. You freeze. She realises you’re watching and turns away to smile at you.

“You really like your teens, don’t you? Don’t you like tits?” She wiggles her chest, and her breasts bounce beneath the blue jumper. Then she leans forward to offer a great view down her cleavage.

“I… I.. I like tits,” you manage to stammer out.

“Really, which do you prefer?” She swivels your laptop to show the scene of some teen actor being pummelled by a cock nearly as big as your own. Meanwhile she grabs hold of the hem of her jumper and raises it over her head, revealing her breasts in a light blue bra. Live breasts or televised fantasy, there’s only one winner. The real mounds of flesh before you.

Having captured your attention, she makes a meal of placing her jumper on top of the open box containing the Snetterton Collection. Then she reaches round and unclasps her bra. It joins the jumper. Your attention is now of the huge breasts jutting over her stomach, pronounced areola, sharp nipples.

To keep your attention there, she shakes them. They swing wildly, uncontrollably. She almost falls from the chair with her enthusiasm. Your hands reach out to grab her. They grab her breasts instead. Your fingers sink in. They knead the flesh. Her nipples are hard with her excitement. You feel their weight. They are the heaviest breasts you’ve ever felt. They almost ooze out of your hands.

You lean down and kiss her. Her breath is tinged by the beer she’s had, by the tea she had earlier. While your hands continue to play with her exquisite mounds of flesh, and your lips play with her lips, and your tongue plays with her tongue, her hands reach to your groin and cup the swelling there, tracing its length through your trousers with her fingers. You can feel her gasp through the kiss. You can feel her rapid fumble with your trousers’ buckle, with your boxers. She pulls your boxers down and leans away from your kiss to look at what she’s revealed.

“Wow.”

“Like what you see?”

“If I’d known you were this big, I’d have jumped you before.”

Her hand is rubbing up and down your shaft, fingers wrapping round it, thumb tickling its head. She then leans in to kiss the head, then lick the head. Her licks descend down your shaft, her rough tongue tickling the pronounced veins. She marvels at the size of your balls. Then she’s licking them, spittle sliding into the cracks, hairs prickling to their wash. She returns to your shaft, lips kissing, tongue licking. Back to the head. Once there she slips the whole head into her mouth. Her teeth graze it until she opens her mouth wider, allowing more of its length inside.

She sucks as her mouth rhythmically slides up and down. Her tongue lavishes praise along its length. Saliva escapes her lips, slips down your shaft, down her chin, splattering her naked, swinging breasts. You stand there, never more excited than you are right now. You’ve never experienced a blowjob like this before. Samantha didn’t like giving blowjobs. Krystal clearly loves it.

But there’s something she clearly likes more. She pulls off, and her hands run up and down your spit-soaked shaft. “I need this monster in me,” she tells you, her eyes radiating lust.

“Turn around and show me where you want it.”

She stands and undoes her jeans. She kicks off her shoes and slides the jeans down. Her underpants quickly follow. Then she turns, leans onto your desk and presents her fat ass to you. You, meanwhile, have stepped out of your shoes and your trousers and your boxers. You’ve pulled off your t-shirt and stroked your penis to the sight of her copious, pale flesh. Krystal thrusts her ass towards you, and you accept the offered bounty. Her slit is smooth and dripping with her desire. You run your cock along it. Then you position yourself and thrust in.

She’s hot and wet and clinging. You groan as her heat embraces you. She groans as you push your way inside her. A couple of thrusts, a momentary withdrawal and then you’re fully inside, your stomach against her ass-cheeks, your balls against her thighs.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans in delight. Moans that turn into screams the moment you start moving, thrusting. You pull back and the flesh of her pussy tries to come with you. You thrust in and the hot wet flesh is slow to part. You grasp hold of her ass-cheeks, and you pick up speed. All you can concentrate on is the motion of your hips, driving in, pulling out. Even screaming yes is beyond her now. She can only scream and moan incomprehensible acceptance of the acts. She’s clinging on to the desk, her forehead against the top, her arms stretched out before her. Her breasts swing wildly, back and forth, huge pendulums that turn her motion erratic. When they are against you, they add resistance to your movement, you’re pushing in, their swinging away, pulling her pussy away from you, you’re pulling out, they’re swinging towards you, limiting your motion. When you and they are in sync, they add compliance, you’re pushing in and they’re swinging back, pushing your cock deeper into her, making your stomach slap harder against her ass, you’re pulling back and they’re swinging away, pulling her faster, making you slip out of the heaven that is her pussy, forcing you to realign yourself to re-enter.

There’s a crash. The box of the Snetterton Collection has fallen off your desk, scattering its contents. You don’t care. All you care about is the pleasure you’re feeling, the satisfaction only a hot, wet, tight pussy can provide.

A hot, wet, tight pussy in orgasm can provide.

Krystal’s orgasm scream is deep and hollow and unmistakeable. Her legs shiver with her joy. Her pussy spasms uncontrollably. Your balls boil as those spasms massage your shaft. You start to pull out. “Don’t pull out, don’t pull out,” Krystal screams at you, and how can you deny that. You push back in and release. Wave after wave of sperm shot inside her. Your own legs crumble into shivers of pleasure. You need the solidity of her thighs not to collapse on the floor.

You pause, frozen as the last vestiges of pleasure wash away from you, the last wave of your cum pumped from your balls, the last shivers of her pussy accepting your seed.

“I came in you,” you gasp.

“That’s OK. You can’t do any damage. I’m infertile.” You look at her with horror, but her eyes hold only pleasure. “Can’t have children. Can have sex.” She winks and you finally withdraw.