by Christopher Marconni
I, for one, can’t figure it out at all; I have to represent an important client in court in the morning—so why in the hell am I kneeling in front of this Italian stud, eating my dinner off a plate on the floor in between his feet? I didn’t feel like a completely different person, but yet something about me had obviously changed. And I wasn’t in shackles. Buried somewhere inside, my own hidden desires held me.
Johnny undoubtedly has some of the very strangest quirks I’ve ever experienced.
Oh yeah, and he doesn’t like being called John, either. I have to admit though that Johnny fits him.
I remember when I first walked into my office early on a Monday morning and there he was. His size scared the hell out of me. I had forgotten that the remodeling of the law firm was beginning that day.
“Hope I didn’t scare ‘ya,” he grinned.
“Uh, no, I forgot you were coming today. I have a lot of work to get done.”
“Go right ahead, Mr. Lawyer. You won’t know I’m here.”
Yeah, right. Like I could get a damn thing done with this young, tough-ass painter strutting around me all day. His huge physique was barely tucked into a pair of grey sweat-shorts and a white t-shirt. I spread my notes out on the desk, but it was hopeless. Italian olive skin that had been kissed deeply by the summer sun. His massive arms looked like they could lift the entire building over his head if he wanted to. I watched the muscles of his thick hairy legs split and flex with every step he took. I attempted to get some work done.
Johnny was quiet. By that I mean he didn’t run his mouth while he worked. But make no mistake-he made the noise of five men as he went about his job. His huge body stepped on metal mix pans, he threw the ladder here and there and he popped off cans of paint and let the lids fly wherever they wanted to. And that was just the first ten minutes. With the few words he did mutter, I wondered if maybe he wasn’t all there in the head. I mean you just don’t talk to paint as you’re mixing it.
I had to break the pace of the racket for a second. “Is this your summer job?”
“No, I’m in the union but we keep gettin’ laid off lately.”
“How old are you?”
He lifted his t-shirt and rubbed his flat stomach, “Twenny-one.”
Johnny kept smoothing his hairy flesh as he walked towards my desk. His bulky frame swayed slowly with each territorial step. Sitting there with a growing bulge in my pants, I felt like a nervous virgin. I wanted to run and I wanted to stay.
“Ah, there it is,” he walked past me and picked up a paint-mixing stick. I finally exhaled.
I felt one side of my face getting warmer. Johnny was bent over my shoulder, reading my notes, with his stubbly face almost touching mine. His heavy breathing filled the silence of the room. “Whatcha got there?” He ran a paw through his wavy, dark hair.
“It’s a murder case I’m working on.”
“Hmmm,” he straightened up and rearranged his crotch. I hadn’t had a good shot of that yet. He walked back to the wall opposite of me. His muscular ass was full and wide, the thing dreams are made of. He picked up a can of paint, turned around and started mixing it. I almost fell backwards. Johnny’s mountain-of-a-crotch was unbelievable! The worn fabric of his shorts showed every detail. A fat, long tube aimed up towards his left hip, while below it, a softball-sized sack hung down lazily. To top off the whole picture, Johnny had the paint can resting on his bulge while he mixed it. I know he saw me staring at that beautiful freak of nature. I didn’t give a shit.
“If I’m real good, I’ll be able to paint the ceiling tomorrow.”
Real good? Are we in kindergarten or what? I struggled for words and came up with, “Uh, oh, I guess I can’t work in here then, huh?” I was so rattled that I wondered if I had mistakenly said “big cock” in that last sentence. I thought I heard myself say it.
“Well, I don’t know for sure if I’ll get all of this done today or not.”
He set the can down and scratched his chest. “Hey, why don’t you write your number down and I’ll call you later tonight and let you know how far I’ve gotten.”
My skin crawled with goosebumps. “Um, ok, sure.” I steadied my hand, scribbled my number down and handed it to him.
For the rest of the day, my thoughts raced in every direction imaginable. I knew I hadn’t given this stud my number for a date or anything but, damn, I’m only human. It scared me a little, though, because every single scenario that popped into my head played out with the same ending: Johnny’s huge, powerful body forcing me into submission. Damn, I’ve never had those kind of fantasies and I wasn’t sure how I felt about them.
When I went home the first thing I did was to beat off.
* * *
After supper, the phone rang. “Hey, it’s Johnny. How’s it goin’?”
“Good, how ‘bout you?” It was miracle to sound composed when my hands were sweating and my dick was reacting like it hadn’t been touched in weeks. “So, how far did you get?”
“Oh, I got it all done. Pretty damn good, eh?” He snorted like a teenager. “So I’ll do the ceiling tomorrow.” I wondered what he was wearing.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to work at home tomorrow,” I felt my insides drop with disappointment.
“Naw, Chris, you can still come in.”
“But how can I work when you’re painting above me?” Just speaking the words “above me” to him sent a strong shiver throughout my body. “I’d just be in the way.”
“No you won’t. Besides, I know you want to come in.” His voice had changed and I didn’t know how to respond and then, “I insist, bud.”
“Uh, well… ok. If you’re sure.”
“Great. I’ll see you in the morning.” I hung up the phone and stared into nothing for minutes. What the hell’s going on here? It sounded like he was leading me on, but that’s ridiculous. And how could he assume I would go for it? Could he see something in me that I didn’t even know was there?
* * *
That night, I woke up in a pool of sweat. I had a strange dream that was very short, but very potent. I was in my office but my hands and feet were tied and I was lying on my back on the floor. Johnny came in and walked over to me. His steps shook the ground. An evil sneer spread across his face when he saw my condition. The towering Johnny raised his foot and slowly lowered it onto me, squashing my head under his colossal construction boot. Then I woke up. I jerked off three times throughout the night.
“Looks good in here,” I set my briefcase on the desk.
“I aim to please, Mr. Lawyer.” Johnny had on the same shorts, different t-shirt and the infamous boots. The way his body moved under his clothes, this guy must have started working out at age two.
I reluctantly began studying the facts of the case, while Johnny spread sheets of plastic over the floor. He must have missed the attention. “I think I’ll start here,” and he pointed to the ceiling over my desk.
“Should I move?”
“No, stay right there.”
Johnny opened the ladder and positioned it over me, so that I sat right inside the fold of it. I moved to get up, because it seemed a little dangerous to me, but Johnny motioned me down. He climbed the ladder and I watched every young inch of his body pass by me.
He began rolling the paint on and I was frozen in my position, head tilted upward. Surely I couldn’t be expected to concentrate when paint might fall on my head any second. I did focus on the fact that Johnny’s muscled ass was bare under those flimsy shorts. I could see the beginnings of his full, white cheeks, smothered with dark hairs.
“You watchin’ my work or watchin’ my ass?” He smirked as my eyes raised to meet his. Shit! “You like it down there, don’t ‘ya?”
“Got a great view of both,” I shot back.
His stare lingered for a few seconds. I don’t think he’d expected that kind of a comeback. Then he shook his head like an embarrassed school boy and returned to his painting.
After about ten minutes, Johnny climbed back down the ladder and moved it. He spent the rest of the afternoon on the ceiling and then he was finished. I felt heart-sick since I knew this was the last I would see of him.
“Well, I guess that’s it, huh?” I felt like I had to say something to break the mood.
“Yep, not a bad job at all, I must say.”
“Gonna miss your ass around here, Johnny.” That could pass as straight.
“Don’t have to,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Gimme your pen.” I handed him the pen and he wrote a number down.My mind was too jolted to jump to any conclusions. “Here’s my number, gimme a call later.”
I grabbed the number and looked at it. I knew I would need an analyst to decode his clumsy scribbles. “But, I…” Johnny leaned over the desk, in front of my face, and sneered, “Oh, c’mon, don’t play stupid with me, Mr Lawyer.” He lifted his shirt and began rubbing himself again. “You’ve been watching me the whole time I’ve been here.”
I swallowed hard, “Listen, I was just..”
“You were just looking at me like no other woman ever has.” The next couple of seconds of silence seemed to drag on forever. “Hey, you could be like my buddy—my playmate.” His white teeth came together under a slanted grin. I could only nod my head in awe. Excited as I was, I could never have imagined what was to come.
Johnny lives in a seedy neighborhood, in a ratty worn-down apartment complex. I reminded myself that he was just starting off. But I didn’t have to work too hard rationalizing it because the whole situation started a fire deep inside of me. A young Italian stud, with little money and living in a dump, but with a steamy passion that poured out of him constantly and naturally. I felt tied to it, tied to him, in an unbreakable bond that defied only knowing him two days.
Johnny let me in and I sat down on the cluttered floor. I had changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. He hadn’t changed at all. He handed me a beer and said, “I like you down there too. Makes me feel even bigger.” He eyed my reaction, “Why don’t you hang low all the time, huh?” Strange, I felt like I would have anyway, without any request. I looked up and nodded, which met his approval.
“You wanna play something?” He took a long swig of beer and I wondered what this manchild had in mind. Play something? How could such a boy’s mind reside in this powerfully built, macho stud? And why do I feel like a willing slave to his innocent, adolescent whims?
I responded to what seemed like his hint to action, “What, like wrestling?”
“Naw, not wrestling. I’ll show ‘ya.” Johnny left the room and came back with a cloth bag. He dumped its contents in front of me and I just about shit It was a pile of Lincoln Logs! The logs I used to build things with when I was a kid.
“You could build me a log cabin,” he smiled as he eyed the pile.
I laughed out loud, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
Johnny lost his smile and he grabbed me by the hair, “Don’t laugh at me! You think you’re so high up in this world that you can’t build a cabin?” He tightened his grip on my hair.
I felt guilty, but silly too. I saw what it meant to him for whatever reason. “Ok, but I don’t know how good it’ll look.”
Johnny released me and said, “And if it’s real good, you’ll get a big surprise.” He massaged his enormous crotch as he spoke. So I got busy with it, while he scrutinized the position of each log I set down. Once the foundation was complete, Johnny thrust his big construction boot forward and kicked it apart.
“That’s too small. I need a bigger cabin than that.” He roughed my hair up before going to the kitchen for two more beers. I built a bigger foundation and he let it stand. Finally I finished the entire cabin and I thought it looked pretty damn good for someone who hadn’t done any Lincoln-logging for such a long while…
“Not bad,” he knelt down next to me. Now for the surprise.” He peeled his shorts off and my mouth dropped when I saw his long, thick pole and those incredibly huge balls. I thought he was going to let me suck him off or something equally hot. Instead, he rested his hardening dork on the carpet at the doorway of the cabin and, with a snarl, said, “Now, I’m the BIG intruder and you and your family live inside the cabin and…”
“Wait a minute,” I was reeling with amazement. “What are you talking about?”
Johnny smacked me hard in the head, “I’m trying to tell you what I’m talking about! Now shut up and listen.” He look another swig and continued, “You’re inside the cabin, right? And I come from the forest to invade your cabin with my big prick. Now is that so hard to understand?”
I searched his serious expression and, all of sudden, it didn’t seem so hard to understand at all. His beautiful face looked so natural with this scenario.
“Ok, so what am I supposed to do then?”
“Well, what do you think you’d do if a giant prick was knockin’ your door down?” He reached down and squeezed new life into his bloated invader. “You gotta scream and beg and all that stuff.”
Then Johnny gave me a “gonna start” nod and he slowly slid his flared cockhead into the entrance of the cabin. I could see why he insisted on such a big cabin. His grin was evil as hell.
I started out timidly, “Oh no, oh my god—get outta here!” Johnny gave me a neutral look. I tried again, “Kids, take your mother and get back!” He loved that one. His veiny weapon stiffened immediately and he filled the inside of the cabin with it.
“I don’t hear your daughter screaming,” he sneered.
I did my best female voice and spit out a couple “oh no’s” and a “daddy, what’s that?” Johnny got into it big time. It was like, at the moment, this was the most important thing to him. He stroked his thick cock while he plunged it in and out of the cabin.Then he took his hand off of it and let the friction of the carpet tickle him as he slid it forward and back.
He pushed his overgrown bush hard into the front of the little house. I could tell he was near his moment, and I didn’t want to see him waste his gold on a playhouse. But I knew I wasn’t about to try to stop him either!
Defying my pretend pleading, Johnny declared in between gasps, “You can run but you can’t hide, little fuckers!” With that he smacked his groin wildly into the house and demolished it. “Oh yeah!” As the logs flew into the air, Johnny shot his load all over the landing pieces and the carpet. He collapsed on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.
“You were real good, once you got into it.” He got up and went to the kitchen. “Didn’t you play with these logs when you were a kid?”
“Yeah, but not like this!”
“I did,” he came back with a towel, “I gotta piss.” He threw me the towel and told me, “Clean the logs off and put ’em back in the bag.”
I watched that bubble butt walk away and I wondered if I was going to get a chance to take care of my impatient hardon. I diligently cleaned the manchild’s desires off of the pieces and put them away. Johnny walked back and said, “Gimme a call tomorrow night, if you want to.”
I got in my car and sat there, dazed, trying to pull answers out of the humid summer breeze. That’s it? What the hell was that all about? Maybe I just shouldn’t call him again. It would be too damn tortuous to sit and watch him waste his energies on pretend scenarios every night.
The minute I hit the door of my apartment, my clothes were off, my anxious dick was in hand and fantasies of living in a little cabin ruled my brain.
The next night I shook my head all the way to his apartment. He told me not to eat, he’d make supper. I wanted to tell him that I could bring some steaks over, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention it. He seemed so excited about making Hamburger Helper for me. What the hell is happening to me?
Johnny opened the door and gave me just enough room to step inside the doorway. He stood waiting, without moving aside. Instinctively my body crumpled to the floor in front of him. “Very good, Mr. Lawyer,” he grabbed my head in one of his huge paws and shoved my face into his crotch for a fleeting moment. “C’mon, let’s get cookin’.”
I crawled behind him to the kitchen. “Get the meat out of the ‘fridge.” I opened the door and beheld a true bachelor’s refrigerator: a case of beer, some bread, moldy cheese, milk and a little package of ground beef on a shelf by itself. I felt embarrassed when I thought of what my refrigerator held. I grabbed the package and crawled over to him at the stove. He took the meat and then playfully pulled my face into his ass.
“Go in the living room and watch TV while the chef does his thing,” he twirled the spoon. “I got the cartoons on in there.” I crawled back to the living room and sat down.
My eyes might have been on the television but my mind was elsewhere. I replayed the events of the last couple of days and tried to get a grip on it all. Who is this strange dude? Why am I here? And why would I rather be here than anywhere else?
My thoughts were broken when Johnny busted out with a loud laugh from the kitchen. “Did you see him hit that mountain?” I smiled and pretended that I saw the cartoon-crash. A second later Johnny brought out two plates of steaming cuisine. He sat down on the couch in front of me and set my plate on the floor, in between his feet.
Before I could ask anything, he looked down at me and said, “Uh, we don’t eat with our shoes on.”
I’m sure I had a puzzled look, but I gave in and sat down to take my shoes off. After I did, Johnny cleared his throat and said, “I was talkin’ about my shoes.”
I bent over and unlaced his big construction boots. I slid them off and pulled his thick socks back up slightly. Johnny smiled and started eating.
“I think you forgot my fork.”
In between gulps, he said, “No. I didn’t. You don’t get one.” A wide grin came over him. Games—even at dinner time. Feeling like an animal, I bent over and stuck my open mouth into the pile of food. I temporarily forgot that I was a lawyer. I don’t know if Johnny was aware of it or not, but every time I lowered my face to the plate, I was assaulted with the potent scent of his man-feet. Maybe he was aware of it.
“Boy, that was good wasn’t it?” He set his plate on the end table and laughed when he looked at my face. I had sauce and noodles all around my mouth. “You’re messy, bud.” Johnny got up and brought a paper towel back to me. “Nothing like a good meal to make a man horny, huh?” I nodded excitedly, wagging my imaginary tail.
Johnny got up and said, “Be right back.” I prayed that he wasn’t going to get those damn logs. For a second I was relieved when I saw him coming back without them, but then I was awestruck once again. He was carrying what looked like a fake beard.
He slid the beard over my head and positioned it over my mouth. The odd thing was that the mouth opening was very small, almost like it had been stitched or glued shut. He stripped off his t-shirt and shorts. Eye-level with that gargantuan prick of his sent mine into convulsions.
“So, what is this one all about?” I couldn’t fathom a guess.
“Can’t you tell?” He pulled hard on his dick and waited for my response, which there wasn’t. “You’re gonna be a big pussy.”
I knew better than to burst into laughter. “A big pussy!?”
“Yeah, and a real tight one!”
Johnny moved up to my face and began pushing his pole all around my cheeks, which were now covered with long, coarse, black hairs. I resigned myself to the whole thing because, after all, I would finally be able to taste this man’s powerful pecker. Just as his cockhead reached my lips, my tongue shot out to welcome it.
“But hey, hey—cunts don’t have tongues!”
“Oh man, c’mon, what am I supposed to do with it?”
“I just wanna feel your hot, tight walls clenching my cock. That’s it.”
Growing impatient, I started, “You mean I can’t…”
He smacked my head with his big paw, “Hey, cunts don’t talk either.”
I rolled my eyes and maneuvered my hungry tongue out of the way. I brought the sides of my mouth close together and my lips formed a small, tight opening. All of a sudden, the only thing that mattered to me was helping Johnny live out his warped games.
His engorged helmet pushed hard against my resisting lips. Eventually he broke through and slowly began feeding his meat into my make-shift vagina. “Ohhhh yeah, baby,” he ran his hands all over my face, on and off the beard. With one urgent motion, Johnny plunged his tree all the way in and hit the back of my throat. I heard the opening of the beard rip, as I gagged.
His eyebrows raised, “Wow, I gagged a pussy. That’s a first.” He laughed as I worked on relaxing my throat muscles. I kept a firm grip on him, just like he wanted. “Oooohhh, you’re so damn tight!” He thrust his forest of pubes into my face with every lunge and lingered there for a few seconds. My vision was darkness, but my sense of smell told me where I was.
Johnny rammed my mouth until he couldn’t prolong the inevitable any longer. I reached up and grabbed his bowling balls and pulled down hard on them. He groaned loudly as he shot his repetitive missiles down my gullet. Johnny’s thick syrup coated my throat and the rest of my mouth, as he withdrew his frightening leaky beast.
He gave the usual goodbye and off I went. Would I ever be able to shoot my load in his presence or what? Funny thing is I didn’t even think of my own screaming dick at the time. It was only after I had left that it dawned on me.
The work day dragged on and on. My case was starting the next morning in court. I was feeling lost knowing that I wouldn’t be able to make the nightly trip to Johnny’s. I had to be absolutely alert for the start of the trial.
Ok, I’ll just make it a short visit—he’ll understand. I knocked on his door and took my position on the floor. After my dinner at his feet, Johnny said he felt too full to get up and bring me a paper towel. “Just wipe yourself off on my socks.” His sweaty stench was my dessert.
We watched cartoons a while, him on the couch and me on the floor, with his legs of steel crisscrossed over my chest. I didn’t bother to mention my early morning the next day. Faced with the choice, I ditched the “right thing to do” and opted for the next chapter of this twisted stud’s wicked desires. Let my client defend himself!
“Hey, Mr. Lawyer, what cha thinkin’ about?”
“Uh—nothing important.”
“You know, I haven’t seen what you’ve got yet,” he roughed my hair up. “Why don’t you get out of them clothes, huh?”
I jumped at the offer. I shed everything I had on in seconds. Without any assistance, my prick was at full attention. Of course it always was, the instant I would walk into this place and kneel before the warped god of my dreams.
“Hey, you got a damn nice body there. Hard to tell when you’re wearing suits all the time.” He reached down and nervously gripped my cock. “That thing is hard as a rock.”
“What did you expect?” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard around my meat. “It’s real hungry for a warm mouth, buddy.”
He got skittish, “Never did that before. Don’t know how I’d feel about—”
I thought fast. “Well, you could pretend it’s a huge nipple and lick it.”
Johnny’s eyes got big, “Yeah!” He dove to the floor and bathed my dripping cockhead with his saliva. I ran my hands through his thick hair. Johnny inhaled my throbbing pole like it was air. His hot mouth clamped me tight as he chewed and spit me out, over and over again.
One look at this massive boy-man eating me alive sent my load rushing pronto. Whether Johnny was ready or not, I spit a huge wad into his virgin mouth. His eyes got even bigger. Once I pulled out, Johnny closed his mouth and swished my thick essence all around inside before swallowing it in one big gulp.
“Hhhhmmmm, I got off on that. Didn’t think I would.” He had the appearance of a kid that just learned how to ride a bike, without training wheels. “And now, let’s not forget why you’re here. It’s my turn.” I hadn’t forgotten.Believe me.
Johnny led me to the kitchen table, which we never utilize, and he stood me up. Funny how things look so much different when you’re standing upright. “Be right back” was what I heard, but I was beyond guessing at what would be next.
Johnny came back with a comic book and no clothes on. Standing behind me, he bent me over the table. Oh my god I’ll never be able to handle that spear of his! Without a word, he smeared lube on his sword and a generous amount into my asshole. He opened the comic book to the first page and set it down on the table, in front of my face.
“Uh, Johnny, if you’re gonna do what I think you’re gonna do, I’m not going to be much in the mood to cheer Superman on here.”
“Ha, you’re funny,” he edged the tip of his fat shaft up to my panicked hole. “No, you’re gonna read it to me. It’s my favorite issue.”
“Well, if it’s your favorite issue, then you already know what’s going to happen, so you don’t…”
“You can start reading now,” he struggled to enter me, but I held my own against the very foreign object. “Ooooh, I like a challenge.”
Once again, I gave in to the eccentric moment and began with, “Who knew on this dark and dismal night that…” THE FUCKER’S IN ME!
My breath escaped me when I felt Johnny’s swollen blimp gradually propelling itself into my narrow passageway. “Gotcha,” he growled. “Now, since you’re in no position to argue, let’s get back to the story.”
I attempted to go on but my voice was understandably strained. Johnny guided himself forward with a slow passion that didn’t fool me for a second. My forehead was dripping sweat onto the pages of his comic book.
As I read the part where the woman tearfully tells her dilemma to Superman, Johnny smacked my ass and sneered, “You don’t sound very much like a woman—try it again.” Actually, in my condition, I found that it was extremely easy to hit a higher pitch in my voice.
Johnny must have approved, “Oh yeah, tell me your problems, baby.”
I was beginning to get accustomed to the stranger in my butt and I felt a unique, full sensation. Johnny reached down and turned the page. It was Superman’s first confrontation with the mastermind criminal. “This is one of my favorite scenes.” I could tell, since he was rapidly picking up the pace of his attack. As I read, I also noticed that those particular pages were covered with Superman-sized stains from the past.
I finally felt Johnny’s thick patch of pubes tickling my ass. His head hovered above mine as he read along. I kept reading, but I didn’t even know what I spoke. My mind was trying to comprehend the combination of pain and euphoria I was experiencing being skewered on Johnny’s fuckstick.
His method was very basic. No wild circular patterns with his hips, no hair yanking, no ass smacking, just straight in and straight out. He fucked me like a well-built machine. Every plunge was to the hilt, a few second’s pause to remind me who was who, and then almost all the way out before repeating the precise pattern. He was an engineer’s dream.
My aches became duller as my body surrendered to his raid. Johnny’s throbbing train was speeding in and out of my tunnel at double-time speed. Many minutes must have passed because I was finishing the comic book adventure. It was the obligatory ending where the damsel in distress is thanking the Superhero for saving her.
I felt Johnny pulling his powerful arsenal out of me when he said, “I don’t think you were too convincing at the end there.”
“Oh? And just how could I have done it better?”
“Well, we’re gonna find out.” Johnny motioned me to the floor, so
I knelt down. He sauntered up to me, stroking his fat cannon over my face. “Now, let’s hear how you really thank Superman!”
“Oh, Superman, you saved my life. You’re so strong and brave.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I let his body cue me. My hands traveled up his giant, furry legs. “You saved me, but your body wants to take me prisoner.” Johnny’s face rippled with waves of sexual arrogance and wicked youthful fantasies.
“So what can I do to get the Man of Steel off? Your stiff, speeding bullet looks like it wants to fire.” My hands roamed over his groin, through his forest and up to his hairy stomach.
“Your little hands feel good on Superman’s body,” he said between heavy breaths. He was almost to the point of no return.
My attention shifted to Johnny’s boulder balls. While he pulled down hard on his pulsing pole, I dove into his underworld. I stuffed my mouth with as much of his fleshy bag as I could. A loud groan filled the room.Then I unleashed my teeth on his sperm factory.
“Aaaahhhh, shit,” he spit out. “Chew on those nuts, you fucker!”
I shoved my head up further until his sack was pressed all over my face. I felt Johnny’s pelvic bone flexing and releasing around me. Any second I expected to feel his warm juice squirting onto my back.
Then Johnny pushed me down. “Look up and say ‘aaahhh’ to your hero.” He widened his stance over me and aimed his hostile hose towards my open mouth. Huge fingers teased and pinched his reddish cockhead. Then he clamped his paw onto the base of his dork and slowly squeezed down the length of it, pushing his cum through the long pipe.
When Johnny’s hand reached the nozzle, his fist tightened on it, shooting a hot blast into my mouth. The tail of it fell onto my cheek. I opened my throat as he forced his savage beast to spit rope after rope of white custard in between my lips and all over my face. Johnny growled as he strangled the life out of his animal. He sneered triumphantly and I swallowed his victory.
While getting dressed, it dawned on me: Johnny’s a man of extremes. I mean, everything is bigger than life with him. If it isn’t his huge body dominating some playtime scene, then it’s his giant prick face-fucking me and pretending I’m a huge pussy. Truth is, without any pretense, Johnny is massive enough to enslave anybody—but it’s just not enough for him. It’s like, even though he’s a big guy now, he gets off acting out those wicked fantasies he had when he was little. All he needed was an eager accomplice.
So, in spite of my late nights spent in Johnny’s perverse world, or maybe because of it, I did alright with that case in court. I’m preparing for another one now. I’ll tell you one thing, he hasn’t run out of warped games yet.
He told me to come over tonight for dinner and to bring any miniature cars I have—we’re going to play garage. “Every guy collects cars,” he said.
So, now I’m off to the fucking toy store.
