Johnny's Conquest

Chapter 1

The boxes had been stacked in the hallway for three days, and Abby had stopped noticing them the way you stop noticing a smell. Then a man in a wet t-shirt carried the last one up the outside stairwell past her door at four in the afternoon, and she noticed.

She was on the sofa with her laptop open and a half-eaten sleeve of crackers beside her, wearing Evan's old fraternity sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts that had never once been used for running. The door was cracked because the delivery guy was supposed to come back with the second half of her order, and because the outside stairwell had better air than her living room.

He didn't knock. He just pushed the door wider with his shoulder, both hands full, and looked in at her like she was the one who'd wandered into the wrong landing.

He set the box down on the landing and straightened, and the wet shirt pulled across his chest when he did it - a lean, cut chest, the kind that came from lifting and not from luck, with a flat stomach and a hard line of muscle running down under the soaked cotton. His arms were long and roped with veins, and the shirt clung to every ridge of him like it had been painted on. "Johnny," he said. "Upstairs. 2B. I just moved in."

"I just wanted to introduce myself now that I'm wrapping up. I'll work to get these boxes cleaned out too," he said while his gaze didn't leave her eyes.

Abby was transfixed on his size. He was like a Greek god. He was tall, shoulders filling the doorframe, the wet shirt clinging to a chest and arms that looked carved rather than built, lean and hard everywhere the fabric touched. Her eyes went down before she could stop them, down the flat plane of his stomach to the soaked gray cotton pulled tight across his thighs, and she saw the shape of him there. It was heavy, unmistakable, hanging long and thick against his leg even soft. She forgot, for a second, that she had a fiancé and a wedding date quickly approaching in the coming weeks.

Abby pulled the sweatshirt down over her thighs without thinking about it. She'd been wearing it for two days. There was a mustard stain on the cuff.

She was always painfully shy meeting someone new, and she could feel herself heat up seeing him there. Johnny walked over to shake her hand and say goodbye, but she had to look down. She was grateful for the sweatshirt, because it hid how turned on she was by the veins on his sculpted arms. Just as important, it hid the rest of her too, the way her huge DD tits pushed the old cotton out and made the SIGMA NU letters stretch and gap, the way her nipples had gone hard against the fabric the second he'd filled the doorway. She was thin everywhere else, small-waisted, but she was heavy up top and full ass, and she knew exactly what the sweatshirt was doing and exactly what it wasn't hiding.

He didn't care, which was somehow worse. He was already looking past her, at the apartment, at the stack of unpacked boxes in her own corner that she'd been pretending weren't there. "You just move in?"

"Six weeks ago."

"Six weeks." He said it like it was a diagnosis. Then he looked at her again, properly this time, and his eyes went down and then came back up, unhurried, like he was reading a label. "Guess I have some time to unpack myself," he smiled.

Abby felt her face go hot. She crossed her arms. It was the wrong move and she knew it was the wrong move the second her forearms pressed against the underside of her own chest, because his eyes flicked down and then up again, and his mouth did something at the corner that wasn't quite a smile. She felt the tightness on her tits.

"Why did you just showcase your huge tits to this random new guy," she thought to herself as she quickly lowered her arms back down. "Why are you so awkward? Get it together Abby"

He put his hand out.

She looked at the hand. It was a big hand with wide, calloused palm from working out. She shook it because not shaking it would have been a whole thing. She was amazed at how small her hand felt in his.

"God his hand must be twice the size of Evan's," she thought to herself.

"Abby."

"Abby." He said her name back slow, like he was trying it on. He held her hand one beat past the point where it was a handshake and then let go. "You always answer the door in your boyfriend's clothes, Abby, or is today special?"

She looked down. The sweatshirt said SIGMA NU in cracked white letters across the chest.

"It's not" She stopped. She didn't owe him the correction. "It's laundry day. And he's my fiance."

"Sure. And he's a lucky man." He stepped back out onto the landing, tipped his head down and picked the box up again like it weighed nothing, which it clearly didn't, because his forearms were the kind of forearms that made box-carrying look like a hobby.

Abby realized she had never been around someone of his size. Sure there had been tall people in her classes in college or at the library but never anyone she actually interacted with. She had always run with the nerds, and Evan was slightly shorter than her. Standing this close to Johnny, she felt small in a way she had never felt before, and she could not decide whether she hated it or liked it. She was aware of her own body in a way she never was before. She felt the weight of her tits shifting under the sweatshirt with every breath, the curve of her ass pressed back against the table, all of it suddenly too much and not enough.

"Well, hey i'll let you get back to your day. Oh and if you ever need anything, I'm just a knock away," he said with a big smile. "I'll try to keep it down. And you're always welcome to stop by."

"Keep what down?"

He was already climbing the outside stairwell toward his door. He didn't turn around. "You'll know."

She closed the door on him. Then she stood in the middle of her living room with her back against it and her hand still on the knob and her whole face hot, and she thought that she did not like that man at all. She did not like the way he'd looked at her. She did not like the way he'd said her name. She did not like that he hadn't asked permission to walk into her apartment, and that she hadn't told him to leave.

She did not like that she'd noticed his shoulders before she'd noticed anything else about him. She didn't like that she kept seeing the image of what had to have been a stuffed shorts. There is no way a guy has a cock that big.

She went back to the sofa and closed the laptop and ate three crackers in a row without tasting them. The engagement ring on her left hand clicked against the keyboard when she reached for it, and she caught herself turning it, once, the way she did now when she was thinking about something she wasn't going to say out loud to anyone. Evan had proposed in April. The wedding was in about two months in late October. They had the venue deposit she and Evan had split and a dress she'd already bought because it was on sale, and none of it had anything to do with the man upstairs in a sweaty shirt who'd told her she'd know.

She didn't know. She had no idea what he meant.

She knew by nine-forty that night.

Later, she noticed a thin, attractive woman heading up the outside stairwell, the unmistakable click of heels on the steps. Abby heard the knock, and then the low murmur of small talk through the ceiling.

She heard the chatter through the ceiling, and then the stranger's voice, clear enough to cut through the vents: how much she'd missed his huge cock, how her hands couldn't even reach around it. Then Johnny's voice underneath, low and dirty, saying things that made Abby's face go hot in the dark.

A few minutes go by as she hears them walk to his bedroom.

It started as a sound she couldn't place. It was a low, rhythmic thud against the ceiling, like something heavy being moved in a slow circle. She was in the kitchen rinsing a glass and she stopped with the water running and her ears doing the work. Then a woman's voice came through the ceiling, muffled but unmistakable, and it wasn't talking. It was a long, low moan that rose at the end and broke, and then a man's voice underneath it, quiet and even, saying something she couldn't make out, and then the woman laughed, breathless, delighted, and then the thud came again, harder, and Abby understood what she was hearing.

With the old radiator heating vents in the wall, she could hear the conversation. Not all of it. The vents swallowed the low ends and gave back the high ones but she could hear enough. More than enough. She could hear the wet sounds, the small ones, the ones that weren't words at all. She could hear the mattress creak in a rhythm that wasn't hers. She could hear the woman's breath catch and then release, catch and release, like something being pumped.

"Fuck baby, that cock is so big. Give me that cock like the slut I am," the stranger exclaimed.

"Careful what you ask for," he responded as she heard thud again.

"FUUUCKK!!" She let out as he hammered her cervix. "I swear your bigger than 9 inches baby."

Abby couldn't move. "Nine inches?" She thought to herself. Evan, the only guy she had been with, was maybe 3 or 4 inches. She always thought that was good, hearing some of her friends talk about the guys they had been with. She laid on the bed with her hands sweating and her face hot and her whole body listening.

The voice rose. It was a long, climbing sound that broke in the middle and came back lower, and then there was a man's voice underneath it, quiet, saying something she couldn't make out, and then the woman laughed, breathless, and then the headboard started hitting the wall in a steady, patient rhythm that Abby could have set a metronome to. She could hear the slap of skin, the wet, rhythmic sound of it, the way the woman's breath came in short, punched-out gasps that matched the beat. She could hear the bed frame complaining. She could hear the woman saying his name. Johnny, Johnny, oh god Johnny. She could hear him answer her, low and unhurried, like a man who had all night.

Her mouth slightly open and her heart doing something stupid in her throat. She should put on the TV. She should put on headphones. She should do literally anything except lay in her own bed listening to her neighbor fuck a woman through a ceiling that was apparently made of tissue paper and good intentions, and she did none of those things. She could hear the woman's voice go up and down like a wave, could hear the exact moment the rhythm changed, could hear the small, wet, unmistakable sounds that meant something was happening up there that she had never once let happen to her.

The rhythm changed. Faster. The woman's voice went up and stayed up, and Abby could hear the actual words now, or close enough.

"oh god, oh god, right there!"

Abby pressed her palm flat to her mouth and told herself she was going to walk away. She could hear the woman begging now, the words running together, and she could hear Johnny's voice underneath it, low and steady, telling her to take it, telling her to be good, and Abby's free hand was drifting up the inside of her leg.

When the woman came, it was loud. Not performative-loud. Real-loud. A sound that started in the chest and came out ragged, and then a series of smaller sounds after it, like aftershocks, and then the man's voice again, low and amused, saying something Abby refused to try to hear. She could hear the woman's breath sawing in and out, could hear the mattress settle, could hear the two of them murmuring, could hear the wet sound of a kiss. She could hear everything.

She looked at her phone in her hand and scrolled through nothing for a while, and the ceiling was quiet, and she told herself it was over and she could stop thinking about it.

"God you won't believe what's going on," she texted Evan.

"What?"

"The new neighbor is having sex. And I can hear everything," she responded. "It's so rude."

"Ha, I'm sorry. You should tell him to stop."

"And what? Walk up and knock??" That's the worst idea."

"Ok i'm sorry."

It was not over.

Then the stranger's voice climbed again, ragged and demanding, telling him to come deep in her pussy, to fill her up, and Abby laid there frozen. She could hear the rhythm go harder, could hear the woman's voice break apart into single syllables, could hear Johnny's breath go rough and uneven for the first time all night, and she could hear the exact moment he stopped holding back.

She heard Johnny and the stranger orgasm in unison, his low groan folding into her high, breaking cry as he filled her up. Abby lay frozen, thighs pressed together, her whole body hot and listening, and she could not decide what to do with any of it.

"What a slut," she thought to herself.

She couldn't believe it. She'd never let Evan have sex with her without a condom. Not once, not ever. Maybe on their wedding night, she'd told herself, and even then she wasn't sure, because she didn't want to get pregnant, and because the whole thing had always felt like something you did carefully, with rules, with the lights off.

It had now been thirty-five minutes. She knew it was thirty-five because she'd checked her phone when it started and checked it again when she heard the two both climaxing. Thirty-five minutes. She had never once, in her entire life, had sex that lasted thirty-five minutes. She wasn't sure she'd had thirty-five minutes of sex in the last 2 years. Evan was always quick.

"Fuck me, baby. I won't walk straight for a couple of days again with your huge cock," she heard the stranger say.

After about 10 minutes of hearing some walking around, Abby heard the front door of 2B open and close, heard heels on the outside stairwell. And then, in the quiet after, she heard Johnny.

Alone.

He wasn't quiet about it. He didn't try to be. The sound came through the ceiling the way sound does when a man has decided he doesn't care who hears. It wa a low, building groan that turned into something deeper, a rhythm that was just his own, and then, at the end, a long release that she felt in her own chest like a struck bell. He said something.

"Did he just say Abby?" She asked herself staring up at the ceiling.

It didn't matter. She'd heard the whole thing. She heard the breath, the pace, the small sounds he made when he was close, the way his voice went low and private at the end.

"Fuck yessss! Take it all!!" Abby heard him demand.

She had heard a man finish, alone, and she had not moved.

She'd never heard Evan masterbate. While she wasn't desperate for sex, she wanted to make Evan happy so she hardly turned him down.

Abby lay on her bed in the dark with her phone face-down on her stomach and her thighs pressed together and her engagement ring cold against her thumb, and she did not move for a long time.

She was not aroused. That was the thing she told herself. She was appalled. She was going to complain to the landlord. She was going to knock on his door tomorrow and tell him in a level voice that the floors were thin and that she'd appreciate some consideration, and she was going to mean it.

She turned onto her side and stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling stared back, blank and beige and about four inches thick, and on the other side of it a man she did not like was lying in whatever state men lay in after that, and she could hear him breathing.

She could actually hear him breathing.

She got up and went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water she didn't drink and stood at the sink looking at the ceiling like it had personally done something to her. In the morning she was going to knock on his door. In the morning she was going to say her piece. She was going to be the kind of person who had a fiancé and a deposit down on a venue in October, and none of this was going to matter.

She set the glass down without drinking it.

Above her, the breathing evened out, slow and steady, and Abby stood there in the dark of her own kitchen and listened to a stranger fall asleep.

She didn't sleep. She lay in the dark with the sheet pulled up to her chin and her phone charging on the nightstand, and every time she closed her eyes she heard it again. She heard the girl cumming, the head board hitting the wall, the girl begging for him to cum. She turned onto her other side. She turned back.

She lay there and became aware, all at once, of the weight of her own huge, heavy tits, pressed flat and then shifting as she turned, so sensitive that even the drag of the sheet across her nipples made her breath catch and her thighs press together.

She wasn't one to masterbate. She wasn't one to think about sex. Sex was fine but it wasn't this big focus on her. She wanted to make Evan happy and even gave him a couple of blowjobs over the years. However, she was happy that she could make him cum as he fucked her missionary. He may only last a minute but he was happy and this made her happy. However, this was the first time she thought of someone other than Evan and the sounds she had heard.

At some point past midnight she got up and took the engagement ring off and set it on the nightstand because it had started to feel like a thing that was watching her, and then she felt ridiculous and put it back on.

The ring was back on her finger and it still felt like it was watching her, so she pushed the sheet off and swung her legs out of bed and sat there with her feet on the cold floor, listening.

Nothing. The ceiling was quiet. He was asleep up there, or close to it, breathing slow and even through four inches of beige.

She walked to the bathroom without turning on the light. The hallway was dark and she knew the way by feel. She knew the corner of the dresser with her hip, the doorframe with her palm, the cold tile under her feet that made her step quick and careful. The bathroom had a small window over the toilet, frosted glass, and the streetlight outside leaked through it gray and orange and gave the room just enough shape to move in.

She didn't know why she was in here. She'd told herself she was getting water. She'd already poured water and not drunk it. She closed the door behind her anyway and stood in front of the sink and looked at the mirror.

The mirror was old. It was a rental-apartment mirror, clouded at the edges where the silvering had gone, a hairline crack in the bottom corner that had been there since before she moved in. Her reflection came back to her in pieces. The pale oval of her face. The dark mass of her hair, down out of its tie and flattened on one side from the pillow. The gray shape of the sweatshirt with SIGMA NU barely readable in the dim.

She turned the tap on, just barely and wet her fingers and pressed them to her temples, and then to the back of her neck, where the hair had stuck to her skin. The water was cold. It helped for a second and then it didn't.

"You're being insane," she said. Out loud. Quietly. To the mirror.

Her reflection didn't argue.

She caught the hem of the sweatshirt in both hands and pulled it tight across her front, and then she stopped, and looked at what she'd done.

The cotton pulled flat across her chest and there they were. Her huge, heavy tits, the weight of them dragging the fabric down at the neckline, the shape of her nipples hard and plain through the worn gray, the SIGMA NU letters stretched and broken over the swell of them. The sweatshirt was Evan's, from college, and it had never once looked like this before.

She let it go. It fell back into its slouch. She pulled it tight again.

She didn't know why she was doing it. That was a lie. She knew exactly why she was doing it. She was doing it because a man abover her apartment had put his eyes on her today and then gone upstairs and fucked a woman for thirty-five minutes, and she wanted to see what he had been looking at.

She turned a little, angled her hip, and looked at herself from the side. The sweatshirt hung to mid-thigh and did nothing for her. It was a trick that she'd learned in college, that a big shirt made her look like a girl in a big shirt and you had to look twice to see what was under it. But she knew. She knew the waist was small and the hips flared out from it, knew the ass that filled the back of the shirt and pushed at the hem, knew the long line of her legs and the soft pale tops of her thighs where the shirt ended. She had a body that men looked at twice and then looked away from, and she had spent a lot of years learning to stand in ways that made them look only once. After all, she only cared for Evan.

She'd never stood in front of a mirror at one in the morning and pulled her shirt tight to see it for herself.

The ring clicked against the fabric when her hand moved. She looked down at it, the small bright stone, the thin gold band, the thing she'd turned and turned and turned in the weeks since April like a coin she was trying to wear down.

Thirty-five minutes.

She thought about that number the way you think about a word that's stopped meaning anything. Thirty-five minutes. She and Evan had never once, not one time in four years, gone past maybe three or four, and that was if they did it twice. Usually it was one. Usually it was the missionary and the one sound he made and then the way he rolled off her and patted her hip like she'd done a good job, and she would lie there and look at the ceiling and think about whether she should have come and whether it was a problem that she hadn't and whether it would hurt his feelings to say so, and she never said so.

She'd told herself she was fine with that. She'd told herself that a lot of women were fine with that. She'd told herself that the sounds she heard in movies were exaggerated, that nobody actually did it like that, that it was a thing people performed.

And then tonight a woman had cum through her ceiling so hard she'd screamed, and then ten minutes later a man had finished for the second time in a short period but this time alone on the other side of the ceiling. Abby had felt it in her chest like a hand thumping the inside of a drum.

She realized she'd been standing at the sink with the water still running and her face hot and her thighs pressed together, and she didn't know how long. She turned the tap off. The quiet that came after was worse. It was the kind of quiet where you can hear yourself.

She bent over the sink and splashed the cold water on her face. She used both hands, three times, the way she did when she was hungover or crying, which she had not been doing, which she was not going to do. The water ran down her chin and her neck and into the collar of the sweatshirt, cold, and she came up and looked at herself in the mirror with her hair wet at the edges and her cheeks flushed and her eyes too bright for the hour.

She reached for the towel on the hook and pressed it to her face and stood there in the dark with the towel over her eyes like a child hiding from the room, and behind her eyelids she could see it again: She could hear the way his voice had gone low and private, the way it had sounded like something he was saying to a person who wasn't there.

Nobody, he'd said.

She lowered the towel and looked at herself again. Wet hair. Flushed face. Huge tits pushing at a shirt that didn't belong to her, hard nipples she couldn't do anything about, a ring on her finger that she could not stop touching. She looked at the whole of it, the whole of herself, standing in her own bathroom at one in the morning looking at her own body like it was somebody else's, and she made herself say it.

"You're engaged. You're happily engaged to a man who loves you," she told herself.

The words came out flat and quiet and they hung in the small room with the water on the tile and the streetlight in the frosted glass, and her reflection said them back to her without moving its mouth, and neither of them believed it.

She reached out and turned off the light.

She didn't leave.

That was the thing she would remember later, if she remembered any of this. She turned off the light and then she just stood there, one hand on the wall, the tile cold up through the soles of her feet, waiting for something to move her back down the hall toward her bed. Nothing did.

Her thighs were still pressed together. She noticed it the way you notice a sound you've been making without knowing. It was the ache low and internal and entirely her own, no man in it, nothing in it but the long hum the night had left behind. She shifted her weight and felt the seam of the sweatshirt drag across her nipples, and her hand went to the wall harder than she meant it to.

Down the hall, her phone lit up on the nightstand. She couldn't see it from here. She knew the rhythm of it anyway. The pale square of light blooming once and dying, the way it did when Evan texted before bed. "Night. Love you." Something like that. He did it most nights and she did it back and it was the easiest thing in the world, the easiest thing, and she stood in the dark bathroom with her palm flat on the wall and let it ring out.

She counted it. One bloom, two, gone.

The apartment ticked the way old apartments do when the heat comes on. She heard a knock in the pipes behind the wall, the radiator in the hall clearing its throat. She'd learned those sounds in the first week. She knew the one that meant the building was settling. She listened for the tap now. She listened hard, the way she'd been listening all night, her whole body turned into an ear.

Nothing came down through the ceiling. Just the pipes. Just the building, being a building.

She pressed her forehead against the cool of the mirror. She thought about his hands.

She didn't mean to. It arrived the way these things arrive like a flash of a memory. She'd watched him carry the last box up the stairs this afternoon and his forearms had done a thing when he lifted it, the muscle ridging up under the skin, and he'd caught her looking and hadn't pretended not to. That was the part that stuck. Other men looked away and gave you the out. He'd held it, easy, like he was letting her see something he already knew she wanted to see, and then he'd said morning, and gone inside.

"That's enough," she told herself. "It's time to get to bed and have the talk with him in the morning."

She walked back to her bed and laid back down. She grabbed her phone and saw it was Evan that had texted her earlier.

"goodnight, love you XOXOXO"

"What a dork," she thought. However she texted back that she loved him too.

Chapter 2

The knock sounded louder than she meant it to. Abby stood in the hallway outside 2B with her fist still half-raised, her hair pulled back wet from the shower, wearing the gray sweatshirt she'd slept in because she hadn't wanted to think about what to wear to yell at the new neighbor. She'd rehearsed it in the mirror. "Hey. Hi. I'm Abby, we met yesterday, downstairs neighbor, and last night. I need you to keep it down." That was the one.

She knocked again. Something shuffled inside. A pan clinked on a stove.

"It's open. c'mon in."

She didn't. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, the ring cold on her finger, and the door swung back anyway because Johnny Aldridge had apparently decided it was open whether she agreed or not. He stood in the frame with a spatula in one hand and nothing on his chest. Water ran down the back of his neck from his hair, and a towel hung over one shoulder like he'd forgotten it was there. He was lean the way a knife is lean.

"God those shoulders and pecs," Abby thought making sure her mouth wasn't open. "He really taken straight out of a magazine."

There was a faint sunburn across his nose already, three days into a new apartment, like the man had taken the coast with him.

"Morning." He looked her up and down once, unhurried, no apology in it. "You're the downstairs one."

"Abby."

"I know." He stepped back from the door. "Come in. You're letting the cold in."

She stepped in because it was either that or stand in the hallway talking to a shirtless man with a spatula, and the hallway had a camera at the end of it that she didn't want to be on. The door clicked shut behind her and the smell hit her all at once. The smell of bacon, and something sweeter underneath it, maple, and coffee that had been on long enough to turn the whole apartment into it. Butter in a hot pan. She stood just inside the doorway with her hands at her sides and did not know where to put them.

"Sit," he said, and nodded at the counter. There were two plates out. Two. She noticed that before she noticed anything else, and she did not know what to do with noticing it.

"I came up here to... "

"Eat first." He turned back to the stove. "You look like you skipped it."

She could feel herself turning red at the compliment. It had been awhile since Evan commented on her looks. She may not be a gym rat but she was proud of her body even if she hid it often.

She sat. The stool was one of those wooden ones with the wobble in the third leg, and she caught it with her heel before it tipped and then sat very still, hands folded on the counter like she was at a job interview. Ever the thankful she wore the sweater though as she could feel her tits shake with the movement.

The counter was clean. Cleaner than hers. There was a paperback lying face-down next to the sink with the spine cracked white down the middle, a coffee ring on the cover, and a small plant on the windowsill in a clay pot that had been watered recently enough that the soil was still dark at the edges. She looked at the plant longer than she meant to.

"You want eggs or you want to yell at me?" he said, not turning around.

"Eggs."

He laughed. Low, easy, the kind of laugh that came out of a chest that had never once been embarrassed. "Good answer."

She watched him move. He cracked the eggs one-handed on the rim of the pan and dropped the shells in the trash without looking, and the way he stood at the stove was the way Evan stood at a grill at a family barbecue, except Evan had to concentrate. Johnny didn't. His arms and chest naturally flexing as he moved about. Even his back muscles flexed. He slid the eggs around with the spatula and reached for the bacon with his other hand and did both at once like it was nothing, and the whole time the towel stayed on his shoulder and the water kept drying on his back. As he moved about she couldn't help but notice the sway of his hips.

She didn't know it but Johnny was purposely slowly gyrating his hips and flexing his ass.

She couldn't put her finger on it but something so mesmerizing about seeing him move around the kitchen. Then it hit her. The sounds from last night. She heard the headboard pounding the wall, the girl screaming, and her begging to be filled with his cum.

"So," he said. "You're here about the noise."

Her face went hot before she could stop it. She reached up and touched the back of her own neck, which she did when she was thinking about something she wasn't going to say, and she caught herself doing it and dropped her hand. "Yes."

"It's a thin building."

"It's a very thin building."

"I'll keep it down." He said it flat, no smirk, and slid a plate in front of her -- two eggs over easy, four strips of bacon, one pancake folded over like he'd run out of room on the griddle. He put a fork down beside it. He put the syrup down beside that, and then he put the coffee down, black, in a mug that said SMITH & WESSON on it and had a chip out of the rim. "There. Eat."

She looked at the plate. Nobody had made her breakfast since, well she couldn't remember. Her mom, maybe, senior year of high school, on a morning when she'd had a fever. Evan didn't cook. Evan ordered. Evan put a frozen waffle in the toaster and ate it standing up over the sink with his phone in his other hand, and she had never once thought about that until this exact second, sitting on a wobbly stool in a stranger's kitchen with a fork in her hand.

"You don't have to. " she started.

"I already made it." He leaned back against the counter across from her with his own plate and ate standing up, one ankle crossed over the other, and he watched her take the first bite like he was waiting on a verdict.

She couldn't help but notice the bulge from his cock in his shorts. The outline down his leg had to be almost twice as long as Evan when he was fully hard. And the head - she could see a clear line from the mushroom head. What was she supposed to look at as he gently leaned back.

It was good. The eggs were good.

"Okay," she said, mouth full, and hated herself a little. "It's good."

"I know. I make this most mornings. You have to have a full stomach to start the day so you have all the energy you need for what you want to tackle that day."

She laughed. She didn't mean to. It came out before she could catch it and Johnny's mouth pulled up at one corner like he'd won something small, and she looked down at her plate to take the laugh back.

"So what do you do," she said, because the silence needed filling and she was the one who'd come up here.

"Finance." He cut his pancake with the side of his fork. "Boring answer. You?"

"I just graduated."

"From where?"

She told him. He nodded like it meant something to him, and then he asked what she'd studied, and she told him that too, philosophy, and then he asked the question nobody ever asked, which was what part of it did you actually like, and she had to put her fork down to answer it because she'd never had to say it out loud to anyone but Evan and Evan had never asked it in those words.

"The part where you figure out what the person actually meant," she said. "Underneath what they said. That part."

"Yeah." He chewed. "Deep. That's the good part. It's nice you like it deep. I don't meet too many women that like it like that while being so attractive," he said with a half smirk.

She wasn't sure how to take that. No one really complimented her. And how did he know she was attractive? He had only seen her in baggy sweaters.

"I go on feel and I think you and I will get along great," he said taking another bite.

She took another bite and the two of them ate for a minute without talking and it was not uncomfortable, which was the strange thing. She'd come up here to be angry. She'd walked up seventeen stairs with a speech in her mouth, and now she was eating bacon in the man's kitchen and he was complimenting her, and she was nodding along.

"Where'd you live before this," she said.

"Beach side. Little place. Landlord sold it." He shrugged. "I surfed every morning. Now I drive forty minutes to surf every morning. That's the trade."

"You get up at five to drive forty minutes to surf?"

"Four-thirty." He tipped his coffee at her. "Some things are worth getting up for. As I said, I apologize for the noise in advance if I wake you."

She didn't have an answer to that. She looked at the plant on the windowsill instead. It had one new leaf coming out of the middle, pale green and furled tight, and she wondered, absurdly, whether he'd bought it.

The kitchen had gotten warm. The window was closed against the morning and the stove had been on for twenty minutes and the whole apartment had that thick, close feeling a small kitchen gets when somebody's been cooking in it, and she could feel the heat coming up off her chest under the sweatshirt, the wool starting to stick at the back of her neck. She set her fork down and reached back over her shoulders and pulled the sweatshirt off over her head in one motion, the way she did at home, the way she'd done a thousand times without thinking about it. It wasn't until it was already off, bunched in one hand, that she remembered where she was and what she was wearing under it, which was a thin white tank top and no bra, because she'd gone to bed in it and she'd come up here to yell at somebody and she had not planned on the kitchen being warm.

She dropped the sweatshirt on the empty stool beside her and did not look up. She could feel him looking. She could feel exactly where he was looking and she picked her fork back up and cut a piece of pancake that she was not going to eat. The move her arm causing her tits to sway. Even though she didn't look up she knew he was staring. She could feel her nipples hardening knowing she was being stared at.

"You want more coffee," he said. His voice hadn't changed at all. That was the worst part. It hadn't changed at all.

"Sure."

He turned to get the pot and she let herself breathe, one long breath through her nose, and looked at the counter and the paperback and the chip in the mug and anywhere that was not him, and her heart was going so hard she could feel it in her throat, and she was thinking about the sounds. She was thinking about the sounds through the ceiling. She was thinking about the thirty-five minutes and the woman's voice and the second time, alone, after, and the way he'd said you'll know in the hallway yesterday like it was a fact about her and not a fact about him, and she was sitting here in a tank top in his kitchen with his bacon in her stomach and she could not for the life of her remember what she'd come up here to say.

The kettle started to whistle.

It came up loud and fast, a hard thin shriek out of the spout, and Johnny reached over and took it off the burner in one motion and the whistle died and the kitchen went quiet. The quiet that sat between the two of them on the counter like something set down. He turned back around with the kettle in his hand. He looked at her.

"You look comfortable," he said. "Good."

It was warm. It was the same easy voice from the doorway. And Abby sat there in the silence with the tank top thin against her back and her ring catching the light on the counter, and she heard, unbidden and unwelcome, the exact sound of him through the ceiling last night, and her hand went up to her neck and stayed there. This caused her huge tits to squeeze together.

The kettle was still in his hand, steam curling up past his wrist, and he reached across her to set it down on the counter right at the edge of her plate. His reach put him close enough that she could smell the soap on his neck under the bacon. She should have looked at the kettle. She looked at his shorts instead.

The cotton moved. Not much. One small shift at the front, a lean of fabric that pulled the seam tight and then let it go, and the outline underneath went from a soft suggestion to a shape with weight to it, and then she watched it jumped. A single upward twitch against the cotton, quick and involuntary, like something under the surface deciding where it wanted to be. Her eyes were on it when it happened and she did not look away fast enough. She did not look away at all.

He straightened up. He was still holding the handle of the kettle when he did it, and he set that down too, and when he came up his eyes were already on her face. He'd caught her. She knew he'd caught her because he didn't say anything. He just stood there with his hand still on the kettle and let the silence sit, and the corner of his mouth moved the way it had at the laugh, only slower.

Her hand was still at her neck. She felt her own fingers pressed against the side of her throat, the pulse going hard under them, and she pulled the hand down and put it in her lap like she'd been caught stealing.

"Abby."

Just her name. Flat. No question in it, no tease, nothing to hold on to. It was the same voice he'd used in the hallway when he said you'll know, and it landed the same way, in the same place under her ribs. She looked at the counter. The paperback. Anything that was not the man standing a few feet away with his shorts and his easy face and the thing she'd just watched happen.

"I should go," she mumbled as she shifted her eyes.

"You haven't finished your coffee."

"I..." She looked at the cup. It was full. He'd filled it and she hadn't touched it, and the steam was still coming off the top in a thin rope, and it felt absurd to leave a full cup of coffee in a kitchen this warm. "Okay."

She picked it up. It was too hot to hold the way you hold a mug, so she held it by the rim with two fingers and the heat came up through her fingertips and she didn't put it down, because holding it gave her hands something to do that wasn't touching her neck. He watched her do it. He drank his own coffee standing there with the mug in his fist, no two-finger problem, and he didn't sit down and he didn't move away, and the kitchen stayed the size it was.

"So you're engaged," he said. He slowly adjusted his cock. She saw even his big hand filled with its immense size. He kept staring at her.

The ring. She hadn't taken it off. It was right there on her left hand, catching the window light every time she moved the cup, and she'd had her hands on his counter for twenty minutes and never once thought to hide it. "I am."

"When's the wedding."

"October."

"Hm." He took a drink. "October. That's a good month for it. Not too cold yet."

"Late October. The venue's already set. We put the deposit down in the spring." She heard herself saying we and felt it land in the room, and she took a sip of the coffee to have somewhere to put her face. It was good coffee. Of course it was. She should have known it would be good.

"And he's. What's he do for work?"

"He's in sales. He travels a lot." She said it the way she always said it, the way that made it sound fine. "He's on the road three, four days a week sometimes. He'll be back Thursday."

"So you're here alone a lot."

She looked up at that, fast, and he wasn't smirking and he wasn't looking at her chest, he was looking at her face with his head tipped a little, like he was actually asking, and somehow that was worse than the other thing. "I have the apartment to myself, if that's what you mean."

"Ha, yeah. What else would I mean?"

"It's fine."

"I didn't say it wasn't." He set his mug down on the counter behind him and rested both hands back on the edge, and the lean of it pulled his shoulders forward and the towel slid off one and he didn't bother to catch it. It landed on the floor by his feet and stayed there. "I just said you're here a lot. I'm here a lot too. Different floors."

She drank her coffee. The steam had gotten into her face and she could feel it on her cheeks, and the tank top was sticking at the small of her back now, and she was aware of every inch of the thin white cotton in a way she had not been aware of it when she took the sweatshirt off. Every time she looked down to eat or sip her coffee, she saw them. She saw her clearly defined hard, sensitive nipples. Why was her body acting like this? Truth was she wasn't around many guys, let alone ones so easy on the eyes.

He wasn't looking at her chest. That was the thing. He'd had his look at the door, and at the counter when she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, and now he was looking at her face like the rest of her wasn't in the room, and her body did not know what to do with that. It kept making him look. The shift of her arm, the way she crossed one leg on the stool and the cotton pulled across her front, the way she reached up and tucked the wet hair behind her ear and her whole chest moved with it. She caught herself doing it and stopped. Then did it again.

"The girl," she said. She hadn't planned it. It came out of her mouth the way the laugh had, before she could catch it, and once it was out there was no taking it back. "Last night."

"What about her."

"Nothing. I just... " She put the mug down. Her fingers had gone pink from the heat of the rim and she flexed them out flat on the counter. "She was loud."

"She was. That wasn't the loudest she's been." He didn't flinch. He didn't look away or laugh or give her the out. He just stood there against the counter with his hands on the edge and let her have it. "You heard all of it."

"The whole building heard all of it."

"Then the whole building heard all of it." A shrug, one shoulder. "I told you I'd keep it down. I will. I can't control the girl though. Doesn't mean I'm going to apologize for it."

"I'm not asking you to."

"No," he said. "You're not." And he looked at her a beat longer than the sentence needed, and she felt the whole room tilt a degree, and she understood, in a way she could not have said out loud, that he knew exactly why she'd come up here and it had nothing to do with the noise.

She stood up off the stool. The third leg wobbled and she caught it with her heel again and this time she didn't bother to hide it, and she reached for her sweatshirt on the empty stool and bunched it up against her stomach instead of putting it on. The window was still closed. The kitchen was still warm. She was not going to put the sweatshirt back on in front of him and give him the show of it, and she was not going to stand there in the thin top and pretend she didn't know what she was doing, so she just held it and looked at him.

"Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome."

"I should... " She nodded at the door.

"You should." He didn't move to open it. He stayed against the counter with his hands on the edge and the towel on the floor and the shorts doing what shorts do, and he watched her cross the kitchen, and she felt his eyes on the back of her the whole way, down the back of the tank top, over the shorts, and she reached the door and put her hand on the knob and stopped.

She didn't know why she stopped. She had the speech in her mouth again, the one from the mirror, I need you to keep it down, and it was useless now, and she stood there with the sweatshirt against her stomach, not hiding her massive tits, and her hand on the knob and the whole apartment smelling like bacon and coffee and him.

"Abby," he said again. Same flat voice. From behind her this time.

She turned her head. Not all the way. Just enough to see him over her shoulder, still leaning on the counter, still watching, and she waited for whatever was coming next with her pulse in her ears and her hand frozen on the door.

"Come back tomorrow if you want eggs." He picked his coffee back up. "Or don't. Either way I'll be here."

"Oh. One more thing" He paused as he took a sip of coffee. "You look great today by the way."

She could feel the blush coming on and fresh jolt in her pussy. "Thanks?" She wasn't used to getting compliments.

"You shouldn't cover up so much. You have a killer body to go with a 10 out of 10 face card."

She smiled before she knew it. His gaze lingered as he looked her up and down.

"You don't look bad yourself, chef." She said softly.

"What are you doing?!" She scolded herself. "You have a fiancé."

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway and pulled it shut behind her, and the hall air was cold on her bare arms and her face, and she stood there for a second with the sweatshirt in her hands and the closed door at her back and the carpet under her feet going that thin apartment-complex gray, and she pulled the sweatshirt back on over her head and started down the stairs.

She got to her own door and put the key in and it stuck the way it always stuck and she had to jiggle it, and by the time she got inside and shut the door and leaned against it she was breathing like she'd run the seventeen stairs instead of walked them. She stood in her own kitchen with her one mug in the sink, her fridge with the save-the-date magnet on it, the photo of her and Evan at the lake last summer with his arm around her. She looked at that magnet for a long time.

Then she went and stood in the shower with the water cold and her hands braced on the tile, and she did not think about the kettle, or the jump of the cotton, or the way he'd said her name like it was a fact about her and not a fact about him, and she was lying to herself the whole time and she knew it. She felt the cold water cascading down her body, across her sensitive nipples, through the deep valley of her huge tits, down her flat stomach and through her bush before streaking across her hyper sensitive clit. What was this feeling? She didn't know what this feeling was as Evan hardly touched her down there. He only wanted to stick his penis in her and he'd be done in a minute or two. This sexual energy was so new to her.

After five minutes and somehow cooling down, she got out and got her clothes back on. Not before she could admire her huge naked tits in the mirror. She slightly lifted them but they sat high naturally. So heavy under her hands.

Upstairs, a chair scraped across a floor.

She stood still with the wet of her hair going cold against her neck and listened to it. The scrape, then nothing. Then the floorboard over the bedroom. She'd learned his footsteps already, in one day, the way you learn a sound you don't want to know. He was walking. He was doing something up there, moving around in a space she had never seen and now could not stop picturing, and the picture had his counter and his mug and his shorts in it and she did not want it and she could not put it down.

She opened the fridge in her kitchen because it was the thing her hands did when her head wouldn't stop. The save-the-date magnet held the photo at eye level: Evan with his arm around her at the lake, his sunglasses pushed up on his head, both of them squinting into the sun. She'd picked that photo because she looked happy in it. She did look happy in it. She looked like a girl who'd never gone up a flight of stairs in a sweatshirt with nothing under it to complain about a noise.

The cold air came out of the fridge and she stood in it. Milk, half a lemon going soft in the drawer, the container of leftover pasta she'd made Sunday and hadn't touched since. A normal fridge. A normal kitchen. She closed it and the magnet swung a little and settled.

Her phone was on the counter where she'd left it. Two texts from Evan. The goodnight from last night, and then, from this morning, call you at lunch, love you. She read it twice. She had not told him about the eggs, or the coffee, or the way she'd stood at a stranger's counter for twenty minutes in a tank top and let him get a full view of her barely covered tits, let alone her clearly visible hard nipples. She typed love you too and sent it and put the phone face down on the counter like it might look back.

She found her own sweatshirt and pulled it on over the tank top and the cold shower wet. It smelled like her own detergent. That helped, a little. It was the smell of her own life, and her own life was in this apartment, and the apartment had a ring and a magnet and a man who called her at lunch.

She sat down on the couch. The couch faced the wall he was on the other side of. She hadn't thought about that when she bought it and she thought about it now, and she turned the TV on for the noise of it, some morning show with two hosts laughing at a clip, and watched without watching. On the ceiling, faintly, a drawer opened. Closed. Water ran in his pipes and stopped.

She picked up her coffee and she realized, she'd carried it down without thinking, it was sitting in front of her on the coffee table with his kitchen still on the rim. She couldn't drink it. She just held it. The chip in the rim was under her thumb. She turned it so the chip faced away.

Evan called at noon, exactly like he said. She answered on the second ring and they talked about the wedding, stuff like the venue and the caterer's email and whether his mother should get a plus-one, and she heard her own voice doing the thing it did, light and easy and fine, and she was good at it, she'd always been good at it. He asked how the new place was. He asked if she confronted the neighbor about the noise. She laughed and said he knew how she didn't like confrontation. He laughed and said that was the point of moving out of the dorms and she laughed too, and it was a real laugh, almost. When they hung up she sat with the phone in her lap and the mug on the table and the ceiling over her head, and she waited for the relief that usually came after a call like that, the warmth of him, and it didn't come. What came was the sound of a chair scraping, again, and her whole body turning toward it like a dog hearing a name. She could feel her nipples responding. She could feel a warmth in her pussy.

She got up and did the dishes. She wiped the counter. She folded the throw blanket that didn't need folding and set it on the arm of the couch, and she was aware, the whole time, of the ceiling the way you're aware of a person in the next room. She wasn't looking at it, not listening, just knowing where it was. The apartment was too small for a whole afternoon. It had always been too small, she'd known that when she signed the lease, but it had never felt this small, and the smallness had a shape now, and the shape was the outline of a man in a pair of shorts standing in a kitchen that wasn't hers.

At four she put on real clothes. Jeans, a real shirt, hair up. She told herself it was because she was going to the store, and she got her keys, and she got as far as the door with her hand on the knob and stopped the same way she'd stopped at his, and stood there in her own entryway with her heart going and her keys cold in her fist, and understood that she was not going to the store. She was standing at her own door working up the nerve to go up a flight of stairs she had no reason to climb.

She put the keys down. She went back to the couch. She turned the TV off and sat in the quiet with the ceiling over her, and for a long time nothing moved up there at all.

Thirty minutes later, footsteps crossed the floor above her head and stopped over her kitchen. They were over her, or near enough, and she heard the tap run, and the low sound of him, not words, just a man moving through a room doing a man's ordinary things, and it was the most ordinary sound in the world and it did something to her chest that a ring and a magnet and a phone call at noon had not done all day.

She reached up and put her hand on her own neck. The pulse was there again, right under her fingers, the same place it had been in his kitchen. She did not take the hand down. She sat on her couch in her own quiet apartment and held her own throat and looked up at the ceiling, and upstairs Johnny Aldridge walked from one end of his kitchen to the other, and she followed the sound of him the whole way.

She heard him talking to someone. She guessed it was the girl from last night. Then she heard it. It was a car door shutting. She looked out and saw someone new. This wasn't the same girl from last night. She was wearing an outfit ready to go out in even though it was too early. She had hair in a ponytail, tight dress on showing off her curves. She wondered to herself how she'd compare. Even with the glitter of her own ring, she felt a desire to be that girl.

Chapter 3

The car door shut and stayed shut. Upstairs, a chair leg scraped tile. Abby set Johnny's chipped mug on the windowsill and stood at the glass with her arms crossed under her tits, watching the ponytail girl walk the last ten feet to the stairwell door with that tight dress doing exactly what it was designed to do. She was going up. Abby knew the sound of those stairs now. She'd counted them yesterday, the exact number of steps it took to reach the second-floor landing, the exact pause before a door opened.

She should have gone back to the couch. She should have reheated her coffee and called Evan and told him about her latest wedding ideas and never once thought about the ceiling. Instead she stayed at the window with her thumb tracking the chip in the mug's rim, back and forth, back and forth, until the stairwell door swung shut and the stairwell went quiet and there was nothing left to watch.

Then the ceiling started.

Not footsteps. Voices. Two of them, Johnny's low rumble and hers higher and quicker, and Abby stood under it with the mug in both hands and listened to the shape of the words without hearing a single one of them. She told herself it was the same as last night. She told herself she'd already survived thirty-five minutes of this last night and it hadn't killed her.

She barely heard the two of them talking before it sounded like something slammed against a wall.

The whole ceiling jumped. Dust sifted down through the lamplight in slow flakes, and a picture frame on Abby's wall ticked sideways on its nail and hung crooked, and the mug in her hands sloshed cold coffee over her knuckles. She didn't move. She stood there with her fingers dripping and her heart going hard against her ribs and stared up at the plaster like she could see through it if she tried hard enough.

Then the second slam. And the laugh. It was his, this time, unmistakable, the same laugh from his kitchen yesterday, the one that came out of him like he'd already decided the whole night was going to go his way.

Abby set the mug down. She wiped her hand on her thigh. She stood in the middle of her own living room with her bare feet cold on the floor and her nipples hard against the thin cotton of her tank top and her face hot, and she listened to the girl upstairs say something that ended in a question and Johnny answer it with a single word she couldn't make out, and then the girl laughed again and it was a different laugh, lower, and Abby knew that laugh. She'd heard it through this ceiling before.

Upstairs, Johnny is glad to see Megan. He had called her earlier this afternoon. She was an attractive woman, blonde hair, thin, flexible and always willing to do whatever he wanted. Most importantly, her pussy was always tight. She may not have the same huge tits or overall body but he couldn't get Abby out of his mind. He knew she had to be extra tight. He'd cum twice in the afternoon thinking about Abby and her huge tits. He'd certainly been horny before but this was a new level and Megan was going to take the brunt of it.

Megan had walked in looking like she was ready to fuck. Her outfit practically begged for it. That's what he loved about her. She was always down to business and no commitment. She understand a man like him got what he wanted and she wanted to be part of it - whatever the cost would be.

"Why are you overdressed," he asked as he opened the door to her.

They both exchanged a laugh.

She walked right in. She'd been with him a dozen times, albeit mostly at her place while he was moving.

As she walked by she casually grabbed his cock and kept her hand on it. "I should be asking you why your so overdressed." She felt his cock pulse at the comment and couldn't stop her sly smile.

God this woman was an animal sometimes he thought to himself.

Johnny grabbed her wrist, pulled her close, and lifted her up in one fell swoop.

"Johnny!" She shrieked as she straddled his hips. He in turn slammed her against the wall.

"Mmmmm," she moaned feeling his hardening cock against her. "God I can never get tired of that feel."

He leaned in. Breathing on her left ear as she got goosebumps all over. "It's been too long. I hope you are ready for a good fuck session. I hope your ready to cum all over my cock," he said as he continued to grind his now fully hard cock.

"Johnnnnyy! Baby you have no idea," she said as met his grinding action. "If you don't slow down I'm going to cum already."

They both laughed.

He set her down on her feet and she wobbled, one hand braced on his chest, the other already working at the knot holding his sweats up. Johnny caught her wrist again -- gentle this time, the way you'd stop a dog from eating off the counter.

"Slow down," he said. "You're gonna rip something."

"You're the one who picked me up and threw me at a wall."

"You liked it."

"I loved it." She was already pulling at his shirt, yanking it up over his head before he could stop her, and he let her, lifting his arms so it came off clean and hit the floor in a heap of gray cotton. Her hands went flat against his chest, then down, fingers tracing the ridges of his stomach, the little cut of muscle above his hip that she'd found the first time and never stopped looking for.

He let her look. He always let them look. That was the part they came for and the part they never admitted, the way their eyes went greedy and their mouths went soft and their whole body changed the second they got their hands on him. Megan was no different. She was already breathing harder, already pressing her thighs together like she could feel him through her own dress.

"Turn around," Johnny said.

She did it without asking why.

The zipper of her dress ran from her neck to the small of her back and he took it down slow, tooth by tooth, watching the fabric peel away from her spine, the strap of her black bra, the pale line of skin where the sun never hit. She shivered when his knuckle dragged down the last few inches. When the zipper hit its stop, the whole dress loosened and she caught it at her chest before it fell.

"You can let it go," he said.

She arched her ass back, creating an unreal bend, offering herself to him.

"Fuuuucckkk..." he moaned sending another wave of chills down her spine.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. That look, the one that said I know what you're doing and I don't care at the same time and she let it fall. Black lace, black silk, the whole thing pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it and turned around and there she was, standing in his apartment in nothing but the matching set, her nipples already hard through the lace, her stomach flat and tight from whatever she did at the gym five days a week.

Johnny looked at her. He looked for a long time. Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his gray sweats.

He pulled them down.

No boxers underneath. Nothing but him, and the second the elastic cleared his hips his cock swung free. The thick, flushed dark at the head, already so hard it stood at a 90 degree angle and stayed there, a long vein running the underside of it, a bead of wet at the tip that caught the lamplight and held it. The sweats hit the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside and stood there in the middle of his own living room with his hands loose at his sides, letting her see all of it.

Megan's mouth actually opened. It did that every time, and every time he liked it more.

"Jesus, Johnny."

"Come here."

She came. Two steps and she was against him, and his cock pressed into the soft skin below her navel, hot and heavy, and she made a sound low in her throat and rolled her hips against it, once, twice, smearing that bead of precum across her own stomach. His hands went to her ass and lifted her and she hooked her legs around his waist like it was a thing they'd rehearsed. His cock slid up between them and she felt the whole length of it against her belly and shuddered.

"Take me," she commanded. Giving herself to him again. "Use me like the slut you've made me."

He carried her towards the bedroom her arms around his neck, her mouth working at the side of his throat, her grinding her already soaked pussy on his huge cock, making it ready to enter her tight pussy. He walked her through the doorway and put his knee on the mattress and laid her down on the sheets that still smelled like the last woman.

Downstairs, Abby heard the bed.

She heard it through the ceiling. The creak of the frame, the shift of weight, the low laugh from Megan that cut off like a mouth had found it. She was still standing in the middle of her living room with her arms crossed under her tits and her bare feet going cold on the floor, and she had not moved since the second slam. Her coffee was on the windowsill going cold. Her phone was on the couch with Evan's goodnight on the screen. The wedding binder was on the counter with more than 100 days of planning in it.

She should have gone to bed. She knew that. She knew it the way you know a thing you're not going to do.

Instead she sat down on the floor. Right there on the rug, her back against the couch, knees pulled up, and she tilted her head back against the cushion and stared at the ceiling like it was a screen.

Upstairs, the mattress creaked again. A drawer opened and shut. Megan said something Abby couldn't make out -- a question, the tail end of it rising -- and Johnny answered it with a laugh that came down through the plaster and settled in Abby's chest like a hand.

"Baby you know i'm soaked. No need for lube." She said staring at him.

"Oh I can tell," he said staring down at his cock already having a mix of his precum with her juices.

He instinctively slowly stroked his rock hard cock. Something about it always made him feel proud. The only thing he liked more than seeing his 9 inch steel rod, hard veins, and bulging head ready to enter a girls pussy was when he pulled out after cumming deep. The sight of a swollen cunt with his seed seeping out always got him hard right away.

Megan replaced his hands and started stroking his cock. "My turn," she pleaded. She pulled his cock closer and lined it up with her cunt. The sight of his heavy cock always made her get soaked.

The bed creaked harder.

Megan made a sound -- not a laugh this time, something lower, something that started in her throat and went down and got cut off by a breath. Then another. Then the rhythm of it changed, the creak of the frame going steady and slow, and Abby could hear the slap now, faint through the ceiling, a wet little thwack with every stroke, and there was a smell in the air that she couldn't have named if you'd asked her but she could feel it in the back of her throat anyway.

She pressed her thighs together. She didn't mean to. Her body did it on its own.

"Oh. oh god! Johnny!"

Megan's voice came through the ceiling clear as a bell, and Abby heard the pace change -- faster now, harder, the slap of skin coming quicker, and Megan's voice breaking up into pieces that weren't words anymore. A gasp. A whine. The creak of the bed going frantic and then stopping dead, and Megan letting out a sound like she'd been punched, a long, ragged moan that Abby felt in her own cunt. She felt it, an actual throb between her legs, wet and hot and completely involuntary.

Abby put her hand over her mouth. Not to muffle anything. Just to have somewhere to put it.

Upstairs, Johnny pulled out slow. He went all the way, letting her feel every inch of it leave and then pushed back in to the hilt and Megan screamed into the pillow and he did it again. And again. Long, deep, deliberate strokes that made her whole body shift up the bed with every one, her small tits moving with the rhythm, her hands fisted in the sheets. He could feel every ridge of her cunt gripping him, the way it fluttered and clenched, the way she got wetter with every stroke until he could hear it. He could hear that slick wet sound every time he bottomed out.

She could feel his cock pulse every time he bottomed out. His cock lubing her cunt with each stroke.

"Harder," she gasped. "Please. Hard. Er."

He gave her harder. He braced one hand on the headboard and drove into her and the whole bed slammed the wall and Megan's voice went up an octave and stayed there, one long note, and Johnny felt her start to tighten around him. He could feel that first flutter, that tell, and he slowed down. He pulled out to the tip and held it there, just the head resting against her opening, and watched her whole body strain for it. He marveled at her pussy lips straining to take his thick cock. The site made his cock pulse.

"Johnny."

"Say please."

"Please. Please. "

He buried himself in one stroke. She came apart around him, cunt clamping down hard, whole body locking, a sound coming out of her that wasn't a word and wasn't a scream and was somewhere in between, and he rode her through it, slow and deep, feeling every pulse of her around his cock while she shook. Her tight cunt making a vice grip on his huge thick cock. He was struggling not to cum with her. When she finally went limp he pulled out and turned her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up and pushed back in from behind, and she made a sound against the mattress that was half laugh and half sob.

"You're not done," she said.

"Not close."

Downstairs, Abby heard the bed start again. She heard Megan's voice go muffled into the pillow and she heard Johnny's low grunt with every thrust and she heard the slap of his hips against Megan's ass, steady and punishing, the kind of rhythm that didn't let up. Her own hand had drifted to her stomach. It was resting just below her belly button, fingers spread flat, and she could feel her own heartbeat there. She could feel how wet she was. She could feel the seam of her shorts pressed right against her clit and she had not moved her hand an inch and she was not going to.

She couldn't remember the last time she was this turned on. She never masturbated but her hand had a mind of its own.

Upstairs, Johnny was watching himself slide in and out of her. Watching the way her cunt stretched around his cock and gripped it and let it go and took it again, glossy with her own slick, a little white ring of it building at the base of him. He reached down and dragged his thumb through it and pressed it against her asshole and Megan's whole body jolted and she pushed back into him.

"Yeah," he said. "There it is."

"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

He didn't. He kept his thumb where it was, just pressure, no push, and fucked her harder, the headboard knocking the wall in a rhythm that Abby could have set a metronome to. Megan's voice climbed again, that same high note, and this time Johnny was close too. He could feel it building at the base of his spine, hot and tight, and he grabbed her hip with his free hand and pulled her back onto him every stroke and let it come.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Fucking fill me baby. Pump all that cum deep into me baby!"

Megan came first. He felt the violent clench, the gush of wet around his cock, the way she went rigid and then boneless under him and that was it for him. He drove in deep and held and emptied himself into her tight cunt with a groan that came from somewhere under his ribs, long and low and loud enough to come down through the floor, and his hips jerked twice more before he finally stopped.

The room went quiet.

Downstairs, Abby sat on the rug with her hand still flat on her stomach and her eyes still on the ceiling and the wet seam of her shorts pressed hard against her clit and she had not touched herself. She had not moved. But she was shaking. She felt a fine tremor in her thighs, in her hands, in her jaw and her nipples ached against the cotton of her tank top and there was a slick, warm feeling between her legs.

She looked at her phone on the couch, Evan's goodnight still glowing on the lock screen.

Then she got up off the floor and walked to the bedroom. She laid there breathing heavy, massive DD tits spilling out of her tank top. She was a mess. And worst part was she hadn't even seen Johnny's cock. In less than 2 days she had gone from happy and content with her sex life to feeling deprived. She thought to herself, "what have I been missing? This is now the 2nd girl losing control and making sounds I've never been close to. Hell they've had more orgasms than I have in the past 3 years."

Upstairs, Megan continued to slowly stroke his awe-inspiring cock. She had fully brought it back to life and she just smiled from ear to ear.

"It's my turn baby," as she straddled him and feeling his cum leak out of her.

"Fuuuccckkk Yesssss!" Abby heard Johnny moan clearly through the vents.

"Jesus, again?!" She thought to herself.

Hearing them have sex for another twenty minutes - nearly 45 minutes in total - was torture. She didn't know how get herself off. Pressing her thighs together didn't help relieve the pressure like normal. It was only when she got on her knees, tits still swaying outside of her tank top, and when she started grinding on a pillow. She finally started to feel a mounting release.

"Yes, just like that!" Megan screamed. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!!!" Megan started cumming for her 5th time that night.

"Yes, Here. I. Cum!!!" Johnny screamed as he made sure his cock was buried deep.

That was enough to send Abby over the edge. She shook. She felt something she had never felt before.

"Ooohh. Yesssss!!!" She let out before she realized it.

Johnny paused looking over at the vents. He knew what was happening. This caused his cock to let out several more ropes of cum deep inside Megan.

Minutes later, Abby got up to get some water and heard the door before she heard anything else. The hinge, and then the click of the latch, and then the low hum of two voices on the landing -- his, easy, and hers, a little wrecked. Abby was at the window before she'd decided to move, her bare feet slapping the cold floor, her tank top twisted around her ribs from where she'd been grinding against the pillow.

She got there in time.

The stairwell door opened and Megan came out into the parking lot light.

Abby had seen her come in an hour ago with a ponytail tight, dress doing everything it was built to do, heels clicking a clean rhythm across the asphalt like she owned the building. That woman was gone. What came down the steps now was a different animal entirely.

Her hair was down and it was a mess. It wasn't the artful kind, the real kind, strands stuck to her neck and one whole section flattened on the side where her face had been pressed into a pillow. Her ponytail holder was gone. Her makeup had given up somewhere around the third orgasm: mascara smeared under one eye in a dark crescent, lipstick chewed off down to the outline, the shine of her skin gone from powder to something wetter, a flush that ran from her throat all the way up to her ears and hadn't faded yet.

The dress was still on but barely.

The zipper was up but crooked, caught on the fabric in one spot near her shoulder blade, and the whole thing sat on her wrong now, hem twisted to the side, one strap sliding down her arm. There was a dark damp patch on the front of it, down near her hip, and Abby knew exactly what that was and looked away and then looked back. No sound of heels on the stairs as she was carrying her shoes.

Megan got to the bottom of the steps and stopped. Just stopped, one hand braced on the railing, and stood there breathing.

Her legs were shaking. Abby could see it from the window. She could see the fine tremble in her calves, the way she had to put weight on the rail to keep herself upright. She was standing the way people stand after a long run, or after something worse. Her free hand pressed flat against her own lower stomach and stayed there, fingers spread, and Abby felt her own stomach clench in answer because she knew, she knew, what that hand was holding in.

Megan laughed. Alone, in the parking lot, at nothing.

It was a low, cracked, private little laugh that came up out of her like it had been sitting in her chest since the bedroom, and she shook her head once and pushed off the railing and started walking toward her car.

She didn't walk the way she'd walked in.

Her hips swung wider, looser, like the joints had been taken apart and put back with extra play in them. She got three steps and she stumbled. A real stumble, arms out, a little oh sound escaping her and caught herself on the hood of a sedan two spaces over from her own car, and stood there for a second with both palms flat on the cold metal, breathing.

Abby's fingers curled around the window frame. She could feel her own pulse in her throat.

Megan pushed off the car and kept going. She found her keys somewhere in the little bag she was still somehow carrying, and she stood at her driver's door and it took her two tries to get the key into the lock because her hand wasn't steady. The second try landed. The door opened. She dropped into the seat like her strings had been cut, and the dome light came on inside the car and lit her up for one long second. She saw the smeared face, the crooked dress, the hair stuck to her temple and then she pulled the door shut and the light went out and she was a dark shape behind glass.

The engine turned over.

Abby stood at the window with Johnny's chipped mug in both hands. She didn't remember picking it up. It was just there, the chip under her thumb, the cold coffee inside it gone flat and skin-topped, and she held it against her sternum, between her firm DD tits, with both hands wrapped around it like it was the only warm thing left in the apartment.

The car pulled out of the space. Taillights, red, shrinking. It rolled past the dumpster and out onto the street and the sound of it thinned and then it was gone and the parking lot was just asphalt and one flickering light over the stairwell door and nothing else moving.

She stayed at the window.

She stayed long enough that the cold came up through the floor and into her feet and up her shins. Long enough that her nipples, still hard against the thin cotton, actually started to hurt. Long enough to hear Johnny's shower come on upstairs and to picture the water running down his chest and his back and the flat of his stomach, and to make herself stop picturing it, and to picture it again anyway.

Her phone lit up on the couch behind her. She turned her head. Evan's name on the screen, a good-morning text. It was past midnight where he was, he was up early, he always was. He sent row of little hearts and a question about whether she'd picked a florist yet.

She looked at it for a while.

Then she walked over and picked it up and typed back not yet and set it face-down on the cushion and stood there in the middle of her living room with the mug still in her other hand and her thighs still slick and her underwear ruined, and she thought, very clearly, in a voice that sounded like her own and didn't feel like it: I have never made a sound like that in my life.

Not once. Not with Evan, not alone, not ever. She had never once in twenty-three years been fucked into the kind of state that woman had just stumbled out of this building wearing. She had never had to hold onto a railing. She had never laughed like that in a parking lot at nothing.

Upstairs the shower cut off. A door opened and closed. Footsteps crossed the ceiling and stopped somewhere over her bed, and then there was nothing.

Abby carried the mug to the kitchen and set it in the sink next to the one she'd already washed. Two chipped mugs, side by side, hers and his, and she stood there with her hands on the counter and her hair falling forward around her face and let herself want something she was not supposed to want.

She wanted to know what it felt like.

That was the sentence. That was all of it. Not she wanted Johnny. It was too simple and too clean, too easy, and it wasn't quite true. What she wanted was to know what Megan knew. What that girl had in her body right now, walking around with it, carrying it in her car, that made her laugh alone in a parking lot with her dress on crooked. Abby wanted to be the woman who came down those stairs like that. She wanted to be the reason a man had to wash his sheets. She wanted, for the first time in her whole careful life, to be the mess in the parking lot light.

She turned off the kitchen light and went to bed.

She didn't sleep. She laid on her back in the dark with her hair fanned out on the pillow and her tits still heavy and loose in the tank top and her hand resting flat on her own stomach, right where Megan's hand had been, and she listened to the ceiling.

Nothing up there. Just the building settling. Just the pipes. Just the low electric hum of a man asleep one floor above a woman who was not going to be able to look at him the same way tomorrow.

Her hand slid lower. It found the waistband of her shorts and stopped there, thumb hooked under the elastic, and stayed. She could feel the heat of herself against the back of her own fingers. She could feel how wet she still was, sticky and cooling, the seam of the shorts glued to her. She lay like that for a long time.

She didn't do it. She took her hand out and put it on top of the blanket and lay there with her heart going and her jaw tight and her whole body humming like a struck bell.

Somewhere past two in the morning her phone buzzed again. Evan, a photo of a florist's window display he'd walked past on his way to work, thoughts? and she looked at the little pink roses through the screen and typed back pretty and put the phone down and turned her face into the pillow.

Chapter 4

The knock came at seven-forty, three hard raps that pulled her up out of a sleep so thin it barely qualified. Abby had been dreaming about last night. About listening to it. She came awake with her cheek creased against the pillow and her hand already between her thighs, and she pulled it out fast, guilty, like someone had caught her.

The knock again.

She sat up. Her tank top had twisted itself around her ribs in the night and one strap had slid off her shoulder, and her shorts had ridden up until the crotch of them was a thin band against her. Her hair was everywhere. She could feel it sticking to the side of her face in a way that meant it had been pressed there a long time.

Nobody knocked on her door. Evan had a key. It was way too early for the landlord. She stood up and the floor was cold and her whole body felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry overnight.

She shuffled over to the door. He heavy tits swaying and she could feel her sensitive nipples stiffening from the feel of the cotton.

She looked through the peephole.

Johnny. Holding a plate. Steam coming off it, curling up past his chin in the warped fish-eye glass, and she could see the shape of him through the lens, tall and leaning, the way he leaned against everything, like the world was a wall he'd already decided to stand against.

"Jesus," she thought to herself. "He really is a morning person." She couldn't help but notice his thick arms in his cutoff workout shirt. "Those are the arms that controlled that girl last night."

She opened the door.

"Mornin'." He looked at her. He took her in, the whole of her, top to bottom, and didn't try to hide that he was doing it. Her hair. The strap. The shorts. His eyes went down to her chest, her hard thick nipples and stayed there a beat too long, then came back up slow and met hers like he wanted her to know exactly where they'd been. "You look like you slept great. I had some extra breakfast and figured you may like it since you ate it all yesterday."

"I slept fine. Once I could get to sleep." Her voice came out sanded down. She crossed her arms under her chest and the movement pressed her tits together against the thin cotton and she saw him see it and she didn't uncross them, which was its own answer she didn't want to think about.

"You sure? 'Cause I've got eggs and bacon here and I figured you might need it." He lifted the plate an inch. "Figured I owed you breakfast. Twice now."

"You don't owe me breakfast."

"I know." He just stood there. "You gonna make me eat it in the hall?"

She stepped back. That was the whole decision. She stepped back and opened the door wider and her body did it before her head had voted, and by the time her head caught up, he was already inside, already moving past her into the little kitchen, and the smell of bacon came with him and filled the whole apartment in about four seconds flat. Not just the smell of bacon, she could tell he had worked out. It wasn't bad just a manly smell to him. She absent mindedly watch his firm ass as he walked by.

Her apartment was a studio. There was nowhere for him to be far from her. He set the plate on the counter. It was her counter, the little two-burner one she'd never once used for anything but coffee and then he leaned back against it, arms crossed, plate now balanced on one hand, and looked around at her place like he was reading it.

"God why does he always lean like that," she thought to herself as she could clearly see the outline of his huge cock.

She knew what he was seeing. The mattress with the sheets twisted half off. The engagement ring on her nightstand where she'd left it, because she'd taken it off in the middle of the night without remembering doing it. The mug. His mug, the chipped one, sitting on the floor by the bed with her cold tea still in it.

His eyes found the mug. Then they found her. He didn't say anything about it. That was worse than if he had.

"Eat," he said. "Before it gets cold."

She walked over. Her legs felt stupid, like they'd forgotten the order of things, and she could feel his eyes on her back the whole way. She knew he was staring at her ass, the way her thin shorts had risen up clearly showing two full ass cheeks. Normally she'd be too embarrassed but she was still waking up. She reached the counter and picked up the fork and her hand was trembling. Just slightly. Just enough that she set the fork down and picked it up again like she'd been adjusting her grip.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." She speared a piece of egg and put it in her mouth so she wouldn't have to say anything else. It was good. Salt and butter and the yolk still soft, and she was hungrier than she'd realized, hungrier than she'd been in days, and she ate standing up at her own counter with her engagement ring on the nightstand behind her and her neighbor leaning two feet away watching her chew.

"Sorry if I kept you up," he said.

The fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

"Last night," he said, like she might not know which night. He wasn't looking at her now. He was looking at his own hand, turning the plate a quarter-turn on the counter, and his voice was easy, casual, the voice of a man discussing the weather. "I got a bit carried away."

She didn't say anything. She put the fork in her mouth and chewed and swallowed and her throat felt tight the whole way down.

"Wasn't the first time either," he said. "I heard you moving around the first night. After." He looked up at her then, and there was nothing casual about it, nothing sorry about it. "I heard you get up. Walk around."

Her face went hot. All the way up, jaw to hairline, and she knew he could see it because he was looking right at her and the early light coming through her one window was hitting her face dead on.

"You were listening," she said. It came out thinner than she wanted.

"So were you."

The room went quiet. The bacon grease was still ticking somewhere in the pan he must have carried down, or maybe it was just the pipes, the building settling, the same sounds she'd lain awake to for three nights. She set the fork down. She reached for the water glass. Her hand shook on that as well, and she drank and the water was cold and it didn't help.

"I'm not apologizing for it," he said, and he uncrossed his arms and set the plate down and now both his hands were free and he was just standing there against her counter with all of that in front of him. "I said sorry if it kept you up. I'm not sorry I did it."

"You should be."

"Should I?" He tilted his head. "You came up to my door earlier to yell at me about it. You didn't yell. You ate my food and you took your sweatshirt off and you took my mug home." He nodded at it, on the floor by her mattress. "That's not a woman who's mad about the noise."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out that was worth saying, so she closed it.

"I've got a girl coming by tonight," he said. "You'll probably hear her too. I'm not apologizing for liking sex and most importantly liking making a woman orgasm."

Something went through her. Sharp and low and it landed somewhere under her ribs and she hated the size of it.

"I don't care who comes by."

"Okay." He smiled, just the one corner of his mouth, and reached past her for a piece of bacon off the plate and ate it and she watched his jaw move and watched his throat and stood there with her arms crossed over her tits and her nipple hard against the cotton where her arm pressed it and she knew, she knew, that he could see the shape of it, because he was looking, and he wasn't pretending not to.

"You keep looking at my tits," she said. She didn't know where it came from. It just came, flat and blunt, and it hung there in the little kitchen with the bacon smell and the cold floor.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

"You're a pig. I'm engaged."

"I'm honest." He shrugged, easy, and pushed off the counter and took one step toward her, and the apartment was small enough that one step closed most of it. "You've got your arms crossed like you don't want me to see. But you answered the door in that. You let me in. You're standing there eating my breakfast with your hair like that and your ring off and you want to tell me I'm the one who's out of line."

"If I'm guessing you haven't had a good orgasm in awhile."

She felt her chest and face turn red but offered no response.

"I can tell."

"What is your problem?" She asked putting her plate down.

"Nothing. I just like honesty... and I heard you last night. You enjoyed hearing Megan and me." He said as he stared directly in her eyes.

"You know what, forget it," he said as we closed the gap. "There's more important things to talk about. Have you seen the latest dragon show on HBO?"

She was taken back by how he could just move on so quickly. She hadn't stopped thinking about everything - his cock, the girls screaming his name, her cumming while grinding on her pillow. These things she had never experienced prior to him coming into her life a few days ago.

She picked the fork back up.

Not to eat. Just to have something in her hand that wasn't him, something with a handle and a weight and a reason to be there. She turned it once between her fingers, thumb against the tines, and the metal was cool from sitting on the counter and it grounded her a little, that small cold bite against her skin.

"Which season are you on," she said.

Johnny stopped mid-reach for the last strip of bacon. His hand hung there a second, then finished the trip, and he took the bacon and ate half of it before he answered, like he was deciding whether she was serious.

"You're asking me about the dragons."

"You're the one who brought it up."

He chewed. He was looking at her the way he looked at everything, easy and unhurried, but there was something new under it now, a flicker, like a man who'd set a trap and watched the animal walk around it and sit down next to it instead. He didn't know what to do with her. She saw that, and something in her chest sat up straighter for it.

"Three," he said. "Second time through." He continued to stare and not breaking eye contact.

"Second time."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just. You don't look like a guy who rewatches."

"What do I look like."

She speared a piece of egg and ate it, and the yolk was still soft in the middle the way she liked it, and she chewed slow so she'd have the time to think about whether she actually wanted to say it. The bacon smell was all through the apartment now, in the curtains, in her hair. She could feel it settling in like the place had changed owners.

"You look like a guy who finishes things and moves on," she said.

Johnny laughed. Not the polite laugh, not the laugh he did at his own jokes. A real one, low and surprised, and it moved his whole chest, and she watched it move and hated that she watched it.

"That's a hell of a read for eight in the morning."

"You asked." She slowly eyed his bulging arms, the always apparent veins, and pulsing pecs.

"I did." He finished the bacon. "The first time I watched it I was on a plane to Denver and I had a client dinner and I didn't give a shit about any of it, so I just let it run. Second time I actually watched it."

"What changed?" She said as her breathing got heavier.

"I found out the guy who plays the prince dies in episode four of season five. Somebody spoiled it for me and I had to go back and see if I could spot it coming."

She set the fork down on the plate and looked at him.

"You rewatched a whole show because somebody spoiled one death."

"Three seasons of it, yeah."

"That's insane." She laughed causing her heavy tits to bounce.

"It's thorough." He shrugged. "There's a difference."

Abby took the last piece of egg and ate it and the plate was empty and she was standing in her own kitchen with an empty plate and a man two feet away and no reason to keep him there, and she didn't move to the sink. She just stood there with the plate in both hands.

"So did you spot it," she asked.

"Spot what."

"The death. Did you see it coming the second time."

"Yeah." He said it flat. "It's all over his face in episode two. He does this thing with his jaw when he's lying, and once you know he's going to die you can't stop seeing it."

She thought about that longer than it deserved. About how a thing you already knew the end of got a different shape, how you watched it differently, how every small movement turned into a tell.

"I haven't seen it," she said.

"Any of it?"

"Any of it."

Johnny straightened up off the counter. He set his plate down next to hers, side by side, and the two of them sat there on her counter like they'd been there a while, like this was a thing that happened here now.

"You're kidding."

"I don't really watch much." She heard how it sounded as it came out. The smallest version of her life, laid flat on the counter. "Evan's not big on fantasy stuff."

"Evan? Is that your fiance you like to bring up?

"Yeah. My fiancé."

"Right." He said it the way a man says a word he's already decided not to care about. "So you're four seasons behind on the biggest show on television because Evan doesn't like dragons. By the way, why hasn't he been by?"

"That's not." She stopped. Because it was true, basically. She'd never thought about it in those words, and hearing them out loud from him made it sound smaller than she wanted it to. She grabbed her left ring finger feeling the absence of her engagement ring. It was small but always centered her.

"I'm not making fun of you," he said.

"You are."

"I'm not... you are always so tense," he said watching her. "You need to relax some. Life is too complicated to be so tightly wound."

He walked next to her. She could feel his heat. Johnny extended his right hand behind her and closed on her shoulder.

She didn't know why her body responded but it relaxed and she involuntarily let out a sigh.

"See?" He said as he pressed his fingers and squeezed.

Abby closed her eyes as she said, "yeah that feels so good."

A long pause happened as he continued to rub her shoulder. He then reached out with his other hand and synced up rubbing both her shoulders.

She felt like she was melting beneath his touch.

"Just relax," he leaned over and whispered into her ear. She felt the goosebumps rise as she tilted her head to the side giving him more access to her neck.

From above her shoulder and looking down, he got his first real glimpse of her huge tits. The rising and falling, the big valley between her sizable tits and the ever growing nipples.

"Fuck me," he said softly. It was his sign of giving in. God he wanted to reach down and cup her huge tits, to pinch her nipples, to twist them and make her cum.

He continued to massage her neck and shoulders.

She let out a notable sigh. "God his hands. Theyre so big and firm." She thought to herself.

Holding, squeezing, grabbing her shoulders, and that damn view made his cock start to grow. He couldn't help but think what it would feel like to be grabbing her in the same way, albeit fucking her doggystyle, seeing those giant tits sway as his cock slide in and out, hearing her cum wave after wave.

They were both brought back to reality.

Bzzzz. Her phone went off after receiving a text. Evan, of course, her fiance. she quickly got out of trance and looked out. She adjusted her tank top and he patted her shoulders.

"How was your sleep?" Evan texted.

"Meh," she typed back. Normally she texted more but she was flustered.

Johnny got the cue and went to sit on the sofa, although not adjusting his tent from his cock. He just sat down with the noticeable strain in his shorts. Abby couldn't help from staring.

After he adjusted himself, he maintained his eye contact with her and winked.

"God this sick man," she thought to herself.

Several hours passed as they ended up talking about life for the next 2 hours before he had to head back upstairs for a lunch meeting.

"It was great to hear everything your doing," he said maintaining his deep focus on her. She felt the gaze keep her hot. "Here's my phone number. Text me or call me if you ever need something."

He got up and headed to the door. She reached for the mug to return it but he pushed it away. "You keep it, my gift for letting me in."

She went to give him a hug. She was mesmerized by feeling so small within his grasp. And then she felt it. She felt his sizable cock, sending goosebumps through her again.

Johnny squeezed her tight, tighter than he should have. The feel of her tits on his stomach, hard nipples leaving indentures on his skin.

Abby should've left but enjoyed the embrace. She'd never felt a cock like this. It was so hard. A long steel rod pressed on her upper stomach just below her heaving tits. Equally new feeling was his sizable balls.

As Johnny held her tight and shifted his weight around, Abby let out a moan as his cock rubbed around her stomach and touched her left breast.

"Ok, I have to get going. I need to get upstairs and take care of this cock." He said with a smirk. "I'd better do this in the shower to make it easier to clean up."

chapter 5

The screen lit her face blue, and the thin cotton of her tank top did nothing to hide the hard points of her nipples as she leaned over the phone. Evan's last text sat at the top. It was a blurred photograph of a bar, some dark wood and a row of taps and a shoulder she didn't recognize, timestamped an hour ago. No words under it. Just the picture, like he'd sent it by accident, or like he'd wanted her to see the shoulder and not the face. She'd texted him when the car struck and gave her a flat tire, dark road.

"Can you come help? I know your out but please help." She texted Evan.

"I ooovs yuoiu," she saw after the dots disappeared.

"God damnit," she thought to herself but didn't respond. "Ok, i'll find an alternative." She texted back.

She didn't even check if he responded as she was raging. She needed him. He had been gone on work and just back. He wanted to get drunk with his friends than hang out with his fiancé - let alone one that had been horny for days, her nipples so sensitive they ached against every shirt she put on, even made herself orgasm grinding on a pillow.

She paused. She saw Johnnys name. She had reluctantly taken his number but told herself she'd never need it.

"Hey," she texted Johnny. He was the only other option she could think of. She knew it was a bad decision but she had no one else to lean on. She saw the dots moving.

"..."

"Didn't expect to hear from my smokeshow neighbor this evening - unless it was from the vents," he joked in reply.

"Even in this moment of need, he could bring some levity to the situation," she thought, a small laugh escaping her, her nipples tightening against the lace of her bra at the sound of his voice in her head.

"Hey, i'm sorry but i'm stuck with car trouble. I have a flat and tow truck will be forever." She responded.

She instantly saw her screen light up. "Johnny - Neighbor" her caller ID read.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," she said answering the phone. She paused as she heard a lot of noise in the background. "Are you in the middle of something?"

"Ha! You are never bothering me baby girl," he responded through a loud background.

"Sorry i'm just having some car issue. Where are you?" As she recognized he was in the middle of something.

Johnny paused looking at his date, his cock still half hard and heavy against his thigh from earlier. The brunette with small tits and hair pulled back. He'd already fucked her at her place before they left for dinner. He liked fucking her as she made up for her small tits with a tight pussy that never stopped creaming.

The brunette across from him wore a tight black slip dress cut low in front, thin straps digging into her shoulders, no bra beneath so the fabric clung to the small points of her tits. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and a faint sheen of sweat still touched her collarbone. Under the table, a slow trickle of his cum had escaped her and was soaking a dark spot into the hem of the dress where it bunched against her thigh. She sat with a blank stare, still dazed from cumming so hard before dinner, and Johnny's cock gave a slow throb against his slacks at the memory.

"Oh just out grabbing some dinner," he finally responded. "How can I help?"

"Sorry again to call. I'm just stuck on the side of the road with a flat. I called road service and they'll be 90 minutes if i'm lucky."

"What? That's absurd. Let me call someone. Theyll be there in half the time. I'll head your way, where are you exactly?"

She paused then told him and thanked him. It was a short call but she felt relieved. She also felt something come over her. Something reassuring, something protective, something to let her guard down. Her nipples went hard against the lace of her bra, and she pressed her thighs together against the ache that had been building.

Johnny looked across the table, cock half hard and straining against his slacks, "Hey, i'm sorry but something has come up. I need to help someone real quick. I want to continue this tomorrow. Does that work?"

The brunette nodded. She knew she was down for whatever. The way he made her cum over and over before dinner, his thick cock filling her until she couldn't think, she couldn't object.

"Great! Thank you and I honestly apologize," he said as he threw down three $100 bills for dinner. "I'll make it up for you, promise."

He stood and quickly left while he was still on his phone. He'd called his connection and they escalated their tow truck to Johnny's request.

Johnny grabbed his car from the valet - handing the valet a couple of 20s. Luckily it was parked out front as requested.

The Mercedes sports car was a low, black AMG GT, all long hood and wide haunches, the kind of car that made other drivers glance over and then glance again. He drove it the way he did everything else, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting on the shifter, taking the on-ramp hard enough to press him back into the seat, his cock still thick and half hard against his thigh. On the highway he wove through traffic with easy confidence, downshifting to pass, the engine snarling each time he touched the gas. He cut off a slow minivan without a flicker of apology and kept his eyes on the road ahead.

Orange, black, orange, black. There he saw her car quickly approaching on the side of the road just where she said she was - near mile 169.

He slowed down and pulled over. Despite the days of seeing him she didn't realize this was his car in the parking lot at their apartment complex.

"Oh my god, you are a lifesaver," she ran up to him as he got out. She had forgotten her jean skirt and black tank top didn't hide much as she ran up. Tits bouncing everywhere, her hard nipples straining against the thin fabric, she didn't care. She was safe.

She hugged him harder than she had hugged Evan even when he proposed to her months ago.

"Thank you!!" She screamed into his ear.

Johnny laughed. However, he took the time to enjoy her embrace. She enjoyed it feeling his hardening cock, so much so it sent a jolt to her rock hard nipples and wet cunt, a fresh pulse of wetness soaking her black thong.

"I just happened to have a friend in the tow business. He should be here in another 5 to 10," he said looking at his phone.

"God it was going to be another 45 minutes at least if I stuck with AAA," she responded looking up at him.

She filled him in with what had happened. A car had swirved so she made similar maneuver. Unlike the car next to her, she was quickly on the shoulder and hit something causing at least a flat.

Johnny looked at her 2005 Toyota Corolla. "You should be fine. Maybe 500 bucks of damage but you escaped the big repairs."

"Well either way i'm just glad you came. I was dreading sitting in a tow truck in this outfit. I may turn up on a Netflix crime doc."

He laughed hard, harder than he had in months.

Johnny moved to the passenger side and opened the door. "Here, let's wait in here while the tow is on the way."

She looked at his impressive car and was slow to approach. "Are you sure? I feel out of place."

"Ha, don't be silly. Get in. It's windy," as he waived her in.

She obliged and followed timidly. She was dressed for a girls night out since Evan was getting drunk with his friends. She rarely wears more than baggy tshirts or oversized sweaters with loose jeans. However, tonight was an exception. She had picked out one of her jean skirts that was probably a size too small. She paired it with a black tank top that was also a size too small. Most of her bras were standard as she preferred comfort but she picked out the one lacy black one she had. Her tits pressed against the black tank top, the thin fabric stretched tight over every curve, the deep valley between them slick with a faint sheen of sweat. The lacy black bra did nothing to hide the shape of her nipples, two hard points straining against the lace and the cotton blend, visible through the thin material. Every breath she took made them rise and fall, the weight of them pulling the neckline lower, the tops of her breasts spilling out in a soft, pale swell that caught the dim light from the dashboard. She knew she looked hot, it was a girls night after all. While no one would know, she had completed the outfit picking out her matching black thong, already damp against her.

As Johnny held the door, she struggled to get into the low seat. He held her hand. Given the low seat, she couldn't keep her jean skirt from riding up. Truth be told, she didn't hold down the middle and knew she flashed him her black underwear. Johnny, for his part, was enjoying the full view of her mouthwatering tits, her nipples cutting hard lines through the thin black fabric.

"Fuck me. I have to feel those later," he thought to himself, his cock twitching at the sight of her hard nipples.

As she was getting seated, she looked up.

"Is he adjusting himself?" She thought to herself seeing him grab his huge cock, and the sight sent a fresh throb straight to her nipples and her soaked pussy.

His cock was already thickening against his thigh, long and heavy, the kind of size that made a man sit differently in a seat. The fabric of his slacks pulled taut over the shaft as it filled, a thick ridge running down one leg, the head pressing hard and hot against the inside of his pocket. He could feel every pulse of it, the blood beating through him, the weight of it demanding to be noticed. He shifted his hips, letting the outline show, letting her see exactly what she was doing to him.

Johnny quickly closed the door and walked around. He paused, however, to grab his cock and adjust himself, making sure the thick length of it was obvious through his slacks. He knew her eye level was his cock. He had played this trick with dozens of girls - the most recent was the brunette before dinner.

He paused as he went to slide into the driver's seat. He'd seen a number of girls in his car. However, this had to be on the Mount Rushmore of hottest women. She looked innocent but sexy, the kind of contradiction that made a man's mouth go dry. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, a little mussed from the wind, and her wide eyes kept darting to him and then away, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to look. The jean skirt rode high on her thighs, and the black tank top clung to every curve, the thin fabric stretched tight over the deep valley between her breasts. The lacy black bra underneath did nothing to hide the hard points of her nipples straining against the top. She sat with her knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap, fidgeting with the ring on her finger, and the shy, uncertain way she held herself only made the body beneath it more obscene.

They made small talk about their day. She told him she was on her way to a girls night after Evan decided to go get drunk with his friends.

"What a dumbass," he interrupted her.

"What?"

"You heard me," he responded matter of factly. "I'd want to be out with you looking like that. Or at home with those clothes on the floor." He added with a sly smile, his eyes dropping to her nipples straining against the tank top.

"Easy. I know we've gotten to know each other but i'm engaged. Remember?" She noted with soft smile while flashing her ring.

Truth was she didn't mind the attention. She had dressed like this as she wanted some harmless flirting since Evan wasn't giving her it, and the way Johnny's eyes kept dropping to her tits made her nipples ache and her pussy clench.

"Doesn't change my opinion. He's a dumbass."

As they both smiled, they saw the tow truck lights flashing in the mirrors.

The tow truck rolled up slow, its yellow lights painting the car's interior in rotating stripes. Abby watched it in the side mirror. Her phone sat in her lap, screen dark. Evan had sent the picture an hour ago and nothing since, and she'd been sitting in Johnny's car for five minutes and hadn't told her fiancé a single thing about it, her nipples still hard against the lace of her bra.

She picked up the phone.

Her thumb hovered over his name. The bar photo was still at the top of the thread. She typed with one finger, slow, the way she typed when she was lying -- like the extra seconds would make it true.

Tow truck's here. Don't worry about me.

She read it twice. The cursor blinked after the period. Her thumb moved to the screen and stopped, and her jaw went tight, and she thought about the shoulder in the photo, the one that wasn't hers, the one Evan hadn't bothered to explain because he hadn't bothered to text a single word. She hit send. Then she locked the screen and dropped the phone face-down in her lap, and the phone was still warm through the denim of her skirt, and she didn't look at it again.

Johnny had the window down. He was watching the truck in his mirror. He had one wrist hooked over the steering wheel and the other hand resting on the shifter, thumb tapping the knob, slow, like he had all night.

"He's not coming, is he?" he said.

Abby didn't answer. She was still looking at the mirror, at the truck's lights crawling up behind her dead Corolla, and she shook her head. It was small, once, the kind of shake you do when you don't want your mouth involved.

Johnny didn't say anything else about it. That was the thing she noticed. He didn't say sorry or say what an asshole. He just tipped his chin at the truck and said, "Come on. Let's get this tow setup."

They got out. The night air hit her bare arms and the thin strap of her tank, and she crossed her arms under her tits without thinking, which only pushed them up higher, her hard nipples pressing against the fabric, and she felt Johnny's eyes flick down and back up in the time it took him to walk around the hood. The tow driver was a thick man in a hoodie with the company name on the chest, already crouching at her front tire with a flashlight between his teeth.

"Hey sorry I got here as soon as I could after my last pickup," the guy said a bit short of breath. "Boss man told me this was priority."

"No worries, we appreciate you getting here so fast," Johnny said with his usual bright smile.

"God he really did call in a favor," Abby thought to herself.

"Yeah, that's gone," he said around the light. "You clip something?"

"Debris. I think."

"Rim's okay. You got a spare?"

Abby looked like he was speaking a different language.

"It doesn't matter. I can't let you drive it but it should be a quick fix at the shop," the tow truck driver said as he eyed her bumper.

During the exchange, Abby didn't notice when Johnny put his arm around her settling on her hip. However, it felt right in the moment given he was protecting her. She felt herself slightly lean into him, her nipples begging to be felt at the warmth of his body against her side.

"I'll get this hooked right up," the tow truck guy said. "Do you and your fiancé want to follow or just swing by the shop tomorrow."

"Oh -"

"We'll just swing by tomorrow," Johnny finished her response. He turned to Abby. "Why don't you wait in the car. I'll make sure the car is set."

She nodded and walked slowly back to the car. She couldn't help but give her hips some extra sway, her tits bouncing with each step. It was harmless flirting after all.

She got in the car and settled into the low seat, tugging the jean skirt down where it had ridden up and then, without thinking, reaching into the neckline of her tank to adjust herself, cupping one breast and then the other and pushing them up so they sat higher against the thin black fabric, her nipples dragging against her own palm. She didn't understand why she was so turned on. Her skin felt hot all over, her heart was going too fast, and there was a low, insistent ache between her legs that had nothing to do with the walk from the shoulder. She glanced down and saw the clear outline of her nipples through the lace and the cotton, two hard points she couldn't blame on the breeze, and she pressed her thighs together and looked away from herself.

In her daze, she didn't notice Johnny walking back. He got in the car but made sure to flex around. He even gyrated his hips up acting like seatbelt issue. In reality, he was just flexing his giant cock, the thick length of it straining against his slacks. It was impossible to miss as he sat with his legs slightly apart. She could now see the thick outline of his mushroom shaped head. She even saw what looked like the size of a quarter in wet fabric near his

"Jesus, it had to have gotten bigger," she thought to herself as her mouth hung open, her nipples going diamond hard at the sight.

"Seatbelts?

This shook her out of her daze. She arched her back - straining her shirt and bra even more, her tits thrust forward and her nipples dragging hard against the lace - to grab the seatbelt. Johnny just stared in disbelief, his cock pulsing at the sight. That's when he smelled it. The feminine smell that was his green light. Every girl was slightly different but he could always makeout that distinct smell telling the world they were wet. Abby clicked her seatbelt but couldn't decide where to put the strap. She tried between her huge, constrained tits.

"God damn those tits are made for my cock to be sliding between," he thought as his cock pulsed several times, thick and heavy against his thigh. The wetspot from his precum continued to grow.

Abby ended up placing it below her tits.

"Please don't pop out," she told herself, her nipples aching against the lace. "Why did I adjust myself? Thank god we're not far from the apartment."

With one hand still on the back of her seat, he complimented her again. "You really do look absolutely stunning. You are straight out of a magazine cover."

"Ha, they dont let girls with tits my size on covers." she immediately said without thinking.

"Ha! Probably explains why print media is going bankrupt," he smiled.

"Ready?"

"Yes let's get back to the complex. I need to relax after that."

"Agreed," he said with a smirk.

"I still can't thank you enough, especially on such a rush. I know you dropped whatever you were doing."

"I'm sure we can find a way for you to make it up," responded with a smile and looking over at her. He looked her up and down. She felt the heat of being studied. Normally, she'd be offended at being objectified but something about him protecting her made her like it and she smiled.

Johnny shifted it into drive. As he started to pull out, he moved his hand to her knee. He savored how smooth her leg felt. This sent chills straight to her already soaked pussy and diamond hard nipples. She knew she should move his hand but the sight of his large hand on her knee just looked right as if he was still protecting her.

She moved her left hand, with the small engagement ring, to move his hand away anyways. However, as he started to drive faster he moved his hand to her inner thigh. He was now closer to the hem of her hiked up skirt than he was to her knee. This move sent a fresh pulse of wetness to her pussy, soaking through her thong, and her nipples throbbed in time with it. She couldn't remember the last time she was turned on like this.

This new man in her life, no more than a week, was giving her feelings she had never felt before. The pure lust and need to orgasm was brand new. She had even brought herself to an orgasm as she grinder against her pillow listening to him have sex. Now she was wanting him to keep moving his hand up her leg even though she knew he shouldn't. And this didn't even include how much she wanted her tits to be played with, her nipples so sensitive that even the drag of the seatbelt made her gasp. Evan was just a groper but she knew Johnny would know how to play with them. After all God had made her these big tits, they were meant to be played with she reasoned in her new state of mind.

They stayed quiet on the drive. Johnny remained focused on getting to the apartment, his cock still thick and aching against his slacks. The size of his precum stain was now double what it was just moments ago. However he maintained his hand on her inner thigh, adding soft circles with his middle finger to remind her his hand was there, each circle sending another pulse of wetness to her soaked pussy and another throb to her hard nipples.

Chapter 6

Johnny pulled into his parking spot and killed the engine. The silence that came after the AMG's low growl died was worse than the noise. It was thick, warm, the two of them breathing in a closed car that smelled like leather and her arrousal - only she didn't know that's what that other smell was.

His hand was still on her thigh. High now. The hem of her jean skirt had ridden up an inch where his fingers rested, and neither of them had moved to fix it.

"Well," Abby said. Her voice came out wrong. Thin.

"Well." He didn't look at her. He was looking at the windshield, at the stucco wall of the building in front of them, the way a man looks at nothing so he doesn't have to look at the thing he actually wants to look at.

She reached for the door handle and her elbow bumped the console. "I should..."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved.

Then she did, all at once, like the door handle had burned her. She started to get out. One leg then the other. She knew she probably flashed him again given her skirt has already risen up during the drive. She felt the emptiness of his hand no longer on her thigh. As she raised up, she looked over her shoulder and made sure she paused with her ass stretching Jean skirt to its max. She didn't know where this desire to show off came from. Maybe it was finally being with a protector, knowing she was safe. Evan was always the timid one and she often had to solve everything herself. The night air hit her legs and her arms and the back of her neck and did nothing to cool her down. The complex was quiet.

Johnny came around the front of the car. He didn't rush it. He walked like he had nowhere to be, one hand in his pocket, and she stood by the trunk of her dead Corolla's empty space and waited for him without deciding to. She saw it again. The wet spot near the end of his massive cock had grown in size again.

"Did he cum while we drove home?" She thought to herself. "That has to be more than Evan can shoot. She didn't really know how much he could cum as she hadn't given him a blowjob in ages and always made sure he wore a condom during sex.

They walked to the stairwell together. Not touching. The distance between their bodies was maybe eight inches and it felt like a held breath the whole way.

The stairwell smelled like old wood and somebody's dinner. She could smell the onions, garlic, the ghost of a curry from someone's apartment. Her heals clicked on the concrete just as they had when she left for her Girls Night Out. His shoes didn't make a sound. She was aware of that. She was aware of everything. The way he walked calmly like nothing had happened, like he hadn't his hand on inner thigh, like he hadn't made multiple looks at her outfit.

"This building's old," she said, and immediately hated herself.

"Mm."

"You always talk this much when you're nervous?"

She shot him a look. He was smiling, easy, the smile that had been on his face since the tow truck pulled away. She wanted to hit him. She also wanted to keep walking with him which made no sense, so she said nothing.

Her door. He stood there confident, not swaying or looking around like Evan often did. She fumbled in her bag for her keys and dropped them once and bent to get them, and when she straightened he was right there, close, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like he owned the wall.

She got the key in the lock on the second try.

The door swung in. Her apartment exhaled at her as she could smell the candle she'd burned that afternoon getting ready for her night out with friends.

She stepped in. He didn't.

She turned back. He was still in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her with that look. It was that look that said he already knew how this went and was just waiting for her to catch up. She could see his hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Your mug," she said. "It's. I have your mug. From this morning. You should come get it."

"Okay."

He came in.

The apartment got smaller. That was the only way she could describe it. He wasn't a big man exactly and he'd already been here. However something about his presence made the room feel smaller. Maybe it was the fact that she knew wouldn't be able to say no. She took out her phone and looked, Yep, it was still blank, no missed calls or texts from Evan. He was her lifeline out of this situation and he was passed out drunk somewhere.

He closed the door, but didn't turn around to look. He kept his stare focused on her.

Click! She heard the metal latch. One less barrier. Time would stand still now.

She gestured vaguely toward the counter. "It's somewhere over there. I put it..."

She didn't move.

He didn't move either.

She could hear her own pulse in her ears. She could hear the fridge hum, the neighbor's TV through the wall. She could hear him breathing.

"Thanks again," she said.

"For what."

"For coming to get me. For not making it weird." She laughed, a short ugly sound.

He tipped his head. "You don't have to keep thanking me. I like helping you out. Whatever that may require. Some breakfast. Your car. Whatever."

"I do, though. I mean. Evan didn't even." She stopped. She hadn't meant to say that. The name sat in the room like a dropped glass.

Johnny didn't react to it. Not a flinch, not a smirk. He just looked at her, and there was something in the look that was almost patient, which was the last thing she'd expected from him.

"How do I thank you," she said. Quiet. Almost to herself. Her hand came up and touched her collarbone, the way it did when she was thinking something she wasn't saying yet. "For real. I don't. I don't know how to."

"I know a way."

Her hand stopped on her collarbone.

The room went very quiet.

"What," she said. Not a question. Her voice had gone thin again.

Johnny took one step toward her. Just one. He was close enough now that she could smell him. She didn't know what it was but it was something that told her masculine. It was something faint and sharp. He didn't touch her. He didn't reach for her. He just stood there with his hands at his sides and said it flat, like he was stating a fact that had been true for a while.

"I want to see your tits. You've been teasing me all night. I know you adjusted your bra in my car while I was finalizing everything with the tow truck. The way you let the seatbelt slide right in that amazing valley between your incredible boobs. Admittedly, ive seen my fair share but yours have to be a work of God, but there's only one way to confirm it. And besides, i've seen those perfect pencil top erasers standing out all night."

Her breath stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped. The whole apparatus just quit for a second.

She should say no.

She knew she should say no. She was engaged. She fumbled with her engagement ring.

"Why," she said.

"Because I've been thinking about them since I first met you." He said it plainly. No heat in it, no performance. "Since you took your sweatshirt off in my kitchen. Since you bent over my counter in that tank top. I've been thinking about them all these days and I'm done pretending I haven't."

"You." She swallowed. "You're constantly hooking up with girls. You had a girl over last night. You had a girl over *tonight*."

"I had a date tonight," he said. "You called. I left."

"That's not"

"It's not what?" He tilted his head, watching her. "It's not fair to her? She'll get over it. She's not the one standing in front of me with her hand on her own throat."

Abby's hand dropped. She hadn't realized it was still there.

She looked at him. His eyes were steady. He wasn't smirking now. That was the thing that got her. He wasn't smirking. He looked like a man who'd asked a real question and was willing to hear the answer.

"I'm engaged," she said.

"I know. I can see your ring."

"I've been with one person. Ever. I've never"

"I know that too."

She stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"The way you look at me," he said. "Like you've never been looked at like that before."

She wanted to argue. She opened her mouth to argue. Nothing came out.

He took another step. He was close enough now that if she reached out she could put her palm flat on his chest, and she could feel the heat coming off him through his shirt, and she was thinking about it. She was actually thinking about doing it, pushing him away.

"One look," he said. "That's all I'm asking. I won't ask again. I'll freeze the imagine in my brain."

"And if I say no *before*?"

"Then I go get my mug and I leave and we pretend this didn't happen." He shrugged. "I'm not the kind of guy who takes what isn't offered. But I'm also not the kind of guy who pretends he doesn't want it. So I'm asking."

The silence after that was the loudest thing Abby had ever heard. She could hear her pulse, and the feel of her heavy tits rising and falling as she took deep breathes. She could feel her slick pussy causing her underwear to be soaked, something she hadn't felt until the recent days.

She thought about Evan. She thought about the ring on her hand. She thought about the wedding and the way Evan's hands were always a little too rough and a little too quick and how she'd never once in four years made a sound like the sounds she'd heard through her ceiling. She thought about Megan stumbling out of the building with her hair wrecked and her legs shaking and laughing in the parking lot like a woman who'd been given something.

"Why my tits," she said. And it came out almost funny, almost like a joke.

Johnny laughed. A real laugh, low, surprised out of him. "Because they're incredible," he said. "I've already told you that. Because you've been hiding them under sweatshirts and it's a crime. Because I watched you eat breakfast with your nipples showing through your shirt and I had to go jerk off in the shower after you left and I haven't cum that hard in ages."

Her whole body went hot. Head to feet, one flush, like someone had opened an oven.

"You did not."

"I did." He held her eyes. "Twice."

She laughed and then she clapped a hand over her mouth because it had come out too loud. She knew deep down that the worst part was she wasn't saying no. She felt her engagement ring, she looked at her phone for an out but nothing was there.

She was standing there with her hand over her mouth and her heart racing.

Johnny saw it. He didn't say anything. He didn't move, didn't reach for her, didn't do anything except let his eyes drop. He slowly dropped his eyes to her huge tits, heaving and topped with nipples that begged to be felt, to be pinched and rolled between his thumbs and index fingers. He looked back up to her face there was something in them that made her knees feel loose.

"You can say no," he said. Quiet. "I mean it. Say no and I'm gone."

Abby's hand came down from her mouth. She felt the ache of wanting to say ok.

She looked at the door. She looked at the man in front of her and her hands came up to the bottom hem of her tank top. She didn't move. She just bunched the fabric and then she remembered grabbing that pillow as she grinded her first orgasm in ages to his voice as he ruthlessly fucked Megan.

She didn't say no or yes.

She just stood there, holding her tank top, breathing, looking at him, and the choice sat in the room.

Then she moved. She lifted her arms. Slowly. Her tank top caught on the massive swells of her bra encased tits. She tugged a little harder and felt the pressure release. In one tug and fluid motion her top was now over her face.

She heard it. She heard the large gasp of a man finally seeing his desire met. And she loved it. Oh how her tits ached to be felt, but she knew she must hold firm. He had only asked to see her tits, to be the 2nd man to see them.

She stood there looking at him. He stared at her with pure lust, like a man possessed. She never felt this wanted before and she loved it.

"Stop," he said softly.

"What? I thought you wanted to see my tits. Are they not good enough?"

"Oh. My. God. No they are even better than I thought in this black lace bra. I want you to see what I see." He said as he walked towards her full length mirror.

"What?"

"Come here," as motioned her to walk across the room with him.

She obeyed. She had to. Deep down something or someone was moving her legs as she walked over to the mirror.

He slowly grabbed her hand and moved her right in front of him as he turned her to face the mirror.

"Look at you. Look at how incredibly sexy you are." He said as he eyed her up and down. He looked at defined collarbone, massive tits in the black lace bra, her short denim skirt, and her toned legs. She looked herself up and down and admittedly hadn't realized how hot she looked.

"Here i'll make it easier and I'll go topless first." He said with a smile as he unbuttoned his shirt.

She smiled and briefly laughed. Even in this moment he could cut the sexual tension.

He slid off his shirt and it fell to the ground.

"Mmm." She accidentally let out as she admired his sculpted shoulders, defined pecs and v-shape abs leading to his pants. There she saw his engorged, massive cock needing to be free.

Johnny stepped back up to her. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "It's incredible that a woman with your brain and personality can have this body." She felt goosebumps grow all over her.

He traced a finger down from her ear to her collarbone. Each subtle move sending pulses of electricity to her overflowing tits and soaked pussy.

"The collarbone is perfect for me to grab while I fuck you doggy, providing a good anchor to get fully inside of you," he said in his quiet, defined tone. He gently kissed her left side, causing her pussy to clench again.

He noticed her puzzled look. "What? Don't tell me you don't like doggy."

"I don't, I don't know. I've only done missionary. Evan says that's the best and why he always comes in under a minute.

"Fuck," he said matter of factly. "You have no idea what your missing."

He continued tracing her body. Her shoulders. He gently kissed. "These are perfect for raising your arms up as you lose yourself riding my cock."

She didn't fight it. Instead she thought how she came on that pillow but instead of a pillow it was his body.

"And these hands." As he lifted her left hand with the engagement ring. She saw it. He kissed the back of her hand sending another spasm through her pussy. "These hands are made for gripping the sheets as your orgasms explode through you forcing you to hold on for dear life."

"Fuck me," she thought to herself as she imagined Megan doing just that the other night.

"I've never had that either," she quietly replied.

"And perfect to wrap around my cock," he said as he lowered her left hand back down to her side and placed it on his rock hard cock with only his pants separating their skin. Regardless, she could feel the heat.

"Fuck me," she said without thinking. She realized this was probably 3 times bigger than Evan. And the heat felt like a furnace. Abby gently started stroke it with her fingertips, running the outline of his cock, feeling the thick bulbous head.

"Mmmm," he said encouraging her.

Johnny returned his hands to her shoulders and and slowly started to move down her front. She stared, entrapped by the light touch. Her breathing got deeper as his hands moved softly to the top of her breasts.

"Yesss!!" Her body screamed as she nodded yes. Her nipples had never been this hard. She felt like a coiled spring getting tighter and tighter. No one had ever been slow with her, things were always rushed.

He traced his fingers into her deep cleavage. Her body was on fire. She felt the heat radiating from everywhere.

Out of no where he stopped and grabbed a handful of her lace covered tits. His big hands offered her the support her tits needed. They pushed up and overflowed in every direction.

"God, yes!" She sighed.

"Is this what you want?"

She nodded up and down, unable to take her eyes off her chest.

"Answer me, is that what you want? Don't stop stroking my cock. I put your hand there."

"Yes, please don't stop," she begged as she resumed stroking his cock and feeling his precum continue to pool.

"There that's a good slut." He smiled and talked softly into her left ear.

With his index fingers and thumbs, he quickly shifted and pinched her thick nipples through the bra. That's when it hit her out of nowhere. She saw a flash and felt a burst.

"Oh my. Goooddddddd!!" She screamed as she felt it build deep inside.

Johnny kept rolling her sensitive nipples. And then it happened in seconds. She felt an explosion, unlike anything she's felt before. Overwhelmed by the first wave, she struggled to stand. She grabbed his cock hard for support. Wave after wave hit her as Johnny continued to pinch and roll her nipples. Her ass was now firmly against his crotch, rolling around. Finally she felt them subside only to open her eyes again and see his big smile.

"God damn, your so fucking sexy," he said in his low voice into her ear.

"Mmmmm... unreal." She said as she struggled to regain her composure. "I've never felt anything close to that."

"Good. That's just the beginning."

She laughed and went back to rubbing his rock hard cock.

"And lucky for you, my biggest turn on is making a woman cum over and over and over."

She stared at Johnny. "Who is this man. And where has he been all of my life?" She thought to herself.

Johnny slowly took his hands off her massive 36DD tits. Slowly, he started to trace his fingers down her sides.

"And this hips," he said grabbing her narrow waist. "They're made me to hold onto as I fuck you lying on your back with your legs off the side of the bed."

Then she heard it before she saw it. Zzzzzip. She heard her zipper to her skirt. "Wait, we agreed to me showing you my tits."

He ran right through that stop sign knowing it was just a plead. He finished the zipper, freeing her from the pressure of the tight skirt.

Thats when he tugged lightly. Her denim skirt giving no fight to gravity. For her own part, she never moved her hands and instead focused on stroking his massive cock.

"Mmmm... fuuuccckkk" he said as he looked down seeing her incredible ass in a thong. He naturally had to grab her ass. The firmness, the shape, the bounce was all perfect. She felt his reaction too as his cock jumped. She smiled at the effect she had on him.

"This fucking ass is going to feel so good as you bounce on my cock."

She couldn't get over his tone. Evan never talked dirty. Here was a guy who acted nice and then could flip the switch to give her what she never knew she needed before.

Johnny looked up and saw the 2nd surprise - her modest bush. She didn't trim but just didn't have a lot of hair down there.

She saw his pause. "Sorry is everything alright?"

"Yeah I just didn't expect it. It looks right on you. Most women are shaved down there now, at least in my experience."

"Oh, i'm sorry," she responded as she looked down. Truth was she couldn't see her pubic hair easily due to the size of her tits. Evan had never complained and she never changed in front of people. She made a mental note though to try and shave sometime. She knew already she didn't want this to be the last time, even though she was engaged.

He wrapped his giant arms around her. One arm smashing her tits. The other arm wrapping around her stomach. "Baby, you can't be any more beautiful," he said stated matter-of-factly.

That's when he decided it was time - time for the big reveal. He released his grip and quickly removed her straps from her shoulders. The quickness surprised her. Her thin lace bra struggled to stay up under the heavy weight of her massive tits with no more support. However, they barely sagged without the added support.

He paused. "Are you sure you want this?"

She looked over at her phone one last time. This was Evan's last chance to put a stop to it. Nothing. Just like the help he gave her when she needed it on the side of the road.

"Fuck yes. I've never needed something more."

He chuckled. "Until you feel this cock filling your pussy." With that he took his left hand and easily unhooked it - an impressive feat given the 4 clips she needed for support.

With her bra falling, he stood there motionless. Both looking at each other in the mirror. She knew before he said anything as she felt his cock twitch several times and some additional wetness from precum continuing to seep out of his cock.

"Holy fuck," he mumbled in a daze while staring.

She knew then. She knew whatever he asked she would do. Never before had she been looked at like this. Never before had anyone made her orgasm by playing with her nipples, let alone during sex.

She watched herself in the mirror. Neither of them moved.

Then her hands came up.

Her tits free of the bra with a weight she felt in her sternum, the undersides settling heavy, the nipples already so hard they looked painful, dark and tight against the pale skin of her areolas. She didn't look away from the mirror. She wanted to see what he saw.

Both hands cupped underneath them. She lifted them. Not a lot -- just enough to feel the mass of them in her own palms, warm, dense, the weight of a body she'd spent years hiding under sweatshirts and high necklines and the kind of posture that made her look smaller than she was. She lifted them up and out, toward the glass, toward him, and the nipples pointed forward like they were looking for something to touch.

"Here," she said. Not to him. To the mirror. "This is what you wanted."

The sound Johnny made wasn't a word.

She heard it come out of him low and torn, the noise of a man whose mouth had gone dry, and she felt her own cunt clench around nothing at the sound of it. Her reflection stared back at her. Her black hair, tits heaped in her own two hands, thighs bare, the ring catching the light on her left hand where it cupped her own flesh. She looked like a stranger, someone she had never seen in the mirror before.

Johnny's hand came up. Slow. He didn't grab. He laid his palm flat against the back of her left hand where it held her breast, pressing her own fingers into her own skin.

"Feel that," he said. His voice was low and rough, right at her ear.

She felt it. The give of her own flesh under her own fingers, the heat of his palm over the back of her hand, the way his breath hit the side of her neck. Her nipples ached. They were standing out so far they looked like they belonged to someone else, and she could feel the cool air of the apartment moving across them, and she could feel the wet between her thighs going slick against the inside of her thong.

She squeezed. Just a little. Both hands, testing. The flesh swelled up between her fingers and overflowed, and Johnny's whole body went tight behind her, every muscle locking like a dog on a leash.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck, Abby."

"Is this what you do?" she asked. Her own voice surprised her. Low. Steady. "When you have them over. Is this how it starts."

"No." His hand slid off the back of hers and found her waist instead, gripping, pulling her back an inch so her ass pressed into the front of his pants. She felt him through the fabric. She felt the hard, thick cock, the whole length of him pressed up against the small of her back. "This is not how it starts. You are the exception in every way. No one has turned me on like this."

She let her tits go. They fell back against her chest with a soft slap of skin, and she watched them in the mirror, watched the way they settled, watched him watching them settle. Her hands dropped to her sides. She turned her head just enough to see his face in the reflection instead of her own. She memorized that jawline, eyes black, the easy smile gone completely, replaced by something rawer that she'd never seen on a man before.

"You said one look," she said.

"I lied."

With that determined look, she was helpless to stop him. She knew it. This was a man who got what he wanted. He'd heard it upstairs.

Abby looked back at the mirror as he raised his hands firmly groped her mouthwatering breasts. They stared in awe how his big hands weren't a match for her tits as they easily overflowed. Firm, slow movements were driving her insane. She responded by slowly gyrating her ass to massage his obscene cock. Even through her pants she could clearly feel the defined, heavy cock pressing against her. The combined feeling causing her pussy to clench as she felt her thong now fully soaked.

"Aaaahhhhh!!" She let out a deep sigh as he continued to massage her tips.

"Fuuuuckkk," he moaned deeply in her ear. "Between the feel of these tits and your incredible ass rubbing. If you keep it up I may cum soon."

"Yes. Do it. Cum hard for me."

He responded by grasping her diamond hard nipples again. This sent a huge jolt through her, stronger than even earlier.

"Hoolllyyy fuuucckk," she let out deep sigh as she ground her ass even harder now. Side to side. Matching the rhythm of Johnny rolling her nipples through his fingers.

"Don't stop. Don't. Stop." She pleaded.

He was lost in his own trance. Watching her incredible body in the mirror and her ass grinding so hard on his cock. He pinched even harder.

That's when she felt it. A bomb went off inside of her. Stronger than the one before. It tore through her as she convulsed with each roll of her nipples. She grasped the head of his cock through his soaked pants. With a rush and urgency she rubbed the huge head in circles.

"Ohhhhh fuucccckkk!!!"

She felt it. She felt the rock hard cock start to pulse and get larger.

"I'm going to fucking cum!"

"Yes! Yes! Cum hard for me. Just don't take your hands off me"

He responded by grabbing her tits extra tight. He was right on the verge. Abby knew her tits would be red after this, red from his firm grip. And she loved it.

He'd never experienced this before. She sped up and added even more pressure. That was it.

"Here. I. cummmmmm!" He let out a loud grunt.

That's when she felt it. It felt like a blast from a hose. She wasn't sure if his pants had a hole in them now. Her hand was soaked.

"Yes, baby. Keep cumming." She egged him on. She didn't know where this came from. She'd only given her fiance a handjob once. Something about Johnny brought out a new side in her. She didn't stop stroking until he nearly collapsed - still holding firm on her tits.

"Oh my god. That's. That's. That's never happened before," he stammered out struggling to regain his composure.

"Did you like that?" She asked playfully with her teasing smile.

He didn't respond. He let go of her tits for a moment and spun her around. He guided her back the 2 steps so she was against the wall.

"That look. If I didn't know him i'd be scared." She thought to herself. He was like an animal possessed or a king ready to lay claim to his treasure after battle.

He closed the gap. Staring at her. His two hands cupped and grabbed her ass.

"Aahhh" she sighed as she had never been handled like this.

Leaning against her left ear, he nibbled at her neck before sucking on her ear lobe.

"Oh. My. God" she responded with shortened breath.

"Take my cock out," he ordered. She responded by fumbling with his belt before he could finish the command. Zzzziipp. She pulled down the zipper.

"How can he still be so hard?" She thought in awe. "Evan is spent after one orgasm but he's just getting going.

Normally she could whip out her fiancés cock then but this, this was way to big. She struggled, struggled to loosen his pants enough. Finally, she got them down over his firm ass. As his pants fell to the ground he quickly stepped out. Never during this embrace did he let go of her ass. He kept messaging it, giving it more attention than she'd had in 4 years with Evan. Her body responded by causing her nipples to remain rock hard and pussy continue to clench on nothing.

Then it happened. She fumbled with his boxer briefs and, pop, it finally broke free.

"Holy fuck!" She exclaimed getting a brief glimpse. It wasn't just huge. It was a masterpiece. She marveled not just at the size. It was the weight, heavy in its own right. She marveled at the defined veins running all along, feeling like a ribbed condom but more pronounced. She marveled at the thick vein running up the middle of it on the underside of his cock. And then the head. The head had a thick ridge and while it responded to her squeeze, it quickly filled back up. It felt more like a battering ram than anything else. And the hole at the top was oozing cum. He was soaked from cumming in his pants moments ago, providing plenty of lube to stroke his cock.

"Will this do?" He asked with a smile.

She responded by firmly stroking it. "Fuck, I can't close my hand around it." She marveled at not only the length but the sheer thickness. Then she also realized adding to his size was that he was clean shaven. The ultra smooth cock made it even easier to stroke it. Capping off this magnificent cock were a pair of balls that each one filled her palm. She could feel the cum churning in his balls to refill what had been unloaded moments ago.

"Fuck me. This cock will ruin me for anyone else." She said without thinking.

She responded by only thing she knew in the moment, she added her other hand and still had room under the head.

The two hands on his cock caused her massive tits to bunch together. That's when he stopped massaging her ass and grabbed her overflowing tits. She made a present for him and he was going to claim it. Only this time, he lowered his head. The prize was her hard, perfect nipple.

"Mmmmmm" he moaned as he licked a circle around it. Slowly and making tighter and tighter circle until the 10th time around. He sucked it hard into his mouth. In a pulsing motion he sucked it in and out, teeth scraping it in the process.

"Fuuuuuccccckkkk!!" She heard herself let out a primal scream.

She felt it again. Another powerful explosion. Unexpected just like the others. Between his lips tight on her left nipple and now his free hand pulling and playing with her other nipple, she was glad she was against the wall as she couldn't stand. Wave after wave hit her causing a convulsion every time. Her stroking his cock had become uneven. She couldn't focus or see anything other than the waves sending bright flashes.

After a minute she slowly came back to her senses, able to stand without the support of Johnny or the wall. She realized he was standing there smiling, that confident smile.

"Enjoying this as much as me?" He asked half joking.

"Ha, understatement," as she resumed stroking his cock. "I need to sit down. I'm a little light headed. I've never cum like that before. Let alone 3 times."

Chapter 7

"I can help," Johnny said as he bent over. She finally let go of his monster cock and wrapped her arms around his neck smiling. He lifted her with ease.

That was when she truly felt his cock for the first time. It had a magical ability to find her pussy as it brushed against her lips. He moved back an inch and then slid his cock up against her clit with the head settling near her belly button. With her tits smashed against his firm chest, she unknowingly started gyrating her hips. The feel of his thick cock and hard vein on the underside of his cock provided constant stimulation to her sensitive clit.

"Johnny, what are you hitting?" She asked. "Ugh. Fuck. Your cock feels good."

"Your clit?"

"What's. that?" She asked as she kept grinding away. "Fuck." As her breath started to quicken.

Johnny carried her over to the bed, her legs crossed and feet resting on his strong ass. He sat her down and she begrungingly unwrapped her legs and arms. He stood for a second drinking her in and she slowly swayed her impeccable tits side to side.

"Come on. Fuck me." She begged.

"You have some learning to do first."

"I need you. I'll suck your cock all night long after you fuck me. Fuck me good." She said in a teasing manner as her right foot traveled up his leg and played with his cock. She couldn't look away from the slit as it looked almost angry with the head of his cock pulsing.

"Not yet." He rebuffed her. He leaned down ripped her thong off. There she laid there fully naked.

He soaked in the incredible site. He legs spread, small bush, stomach and chest rising and lowering with each breath, heavy tits sitting on top despite being all natural, and her mouth open in unbridled lust with her tounge slightly out.

"I couldn't create a sexier woman if I tried," he said in awe as he stroked his heavy cock.

He knelt on the bed next to her. She instinctively reached for his cock. "Let me explore your body more, find and show you those areas that drive you insane."

She nodded on pace with her strokes of his cock. Half afraid half excited. She looked at her phone and it was still dead quiet, no call from her fiancé.

Johnny reached out and slid a finger on her tongue. She sucked it in wishing it was his cock. Johnny closed his eyes taking in the feeling but pulled his finger back.

"The first lesson will be your clit," as he trailed the finger down her neck, circled her huge tits, trailed down her stomach and reached her belly button. She shivered at the sensual touch as his hand moved lower. She just nodded.

With his other hand he started to rub up and down her pussy lips. She closed her eyes at the stimulation. He then used both hands to spread the soaked, delicate petals softly, taking in the incredible sight. The smell of her arrousal sent a fresh drop of cum to the tip of his cock, Abby had resumed jerking him off, using the new lube to keep him rock hard.

"This hard button, i'm going to touch it." He slid his wet finger softly over it.

"Ooohhhh" she moaned

He then ran circles around it. She responded by gyrating her hips.

"Fucckk" she hissed. "That feels good."

"Do you like that or this better?" As he switched it up. He increased the pressure but now went up and down creating constant alternating pressure.

"Ohhhh fuuccccckkkk yessss!!" She let out a deep moan. "That's incredible."

"Here I want you to do it," as he grabbed her free hand. She had never explored herself, always too ashamed. However in this state she'd do anything.

He placed her middle finger on her clit and she started to play with her clit.

"Oh. My. God." She mumbled lost in the feeling as she leaned her head back and kept stroking his cock. The strokes timed with each other.

"That's a good girl." He said as he admired her willingness to let go.

He removed her hand and she reluctantly accepted as she felt the beginnings of another orgasm approaching.

"The other thing you can do is use several fingers and go side to side. It's all whatever feels best for you." He said as he started to strum her clit. "Is this what you like best?"

"Uuggghhhh!!! Fuuuccckk!!! Don't fucking stop!" She heard herself say.

"Say it"

"Yes, this is incredible!"

"Does Evan not do this?" As he continued to strum her clit building the pressure of an orgasm.

"No" she panted. "He. Just. Shoves a finger in and out. If anything." She felt the approaching orgasm.

He saw her body tensing up, her grip tightening around his cock.

"Go ahead. Cum for me." He commanded. "Cum like you never have for anyone!" He grabbed her closest nipple. He grabbed it hard.

"Fuckkkkk!!! Me!!!!!"

That was it. She felt the explosion. She shook. Her massive tits wobbling. Johnny didn't stop. He kept strumming her, bringing out wave after wave. Nothing but ecstasy racing through her. She knew she was a mess but she didn't care. She was right where she wanted to be with the person she wanted to be with. Her head slowly shook from side to side realizing her sexual awakening was in full force.

"Yes!! Fuck you look so sexy cumming!"

She pushed his hand away as she couldn't take it. She closed her legs as her free hand roamed her body.

She soaked in the moment. She had a great life, a decent job, her high school sweetheart had proposed after college, she had a decent sex life with her fiance, she had her own place. She thought everything was great until she met the stranger that moved in above her a week ago. This tall, lean, muscular guy had greeted her with confidence she hadn't seen before. He took a real interest in her. Then she heard it that night. She heard the girl having orgasms she never was close to having in all of her life, the few orgasms she had for that matter. And now, now he was showing her what she had been missing her whole life. Worst though she realized he had only started to teach her about sex, even though they hadn't had sex yet.

She continued to feel her aroused self after she came down from the latest orgasm. She then noticed he had been calmly stroking that massive cock the entire time, using mixture of his soaked hand from her orgasm and constant leaking pre-cum.

Johnny watched her come down. He kept stroking himself, slow, thumb dragging the wet over the head, and let her have the minute.

Her chest was still heaving. A sheen of sweat sat in the hollow of her throat and ran down between her tits, and one nipple was red from where he'd pinched it. She had her eyes closed and her hand flat on her own stomach, fingers spread, like she was holding herself to the bed.

When she saw that cock, that monster with a mind of its own, she was brought back to earth. Seeing the inflamed head almost purple from need, she had to have it. She reached out, moving his hand to the side. She truly observed it. She could see his heavy balls hanging like two tennis balls, way bigger than the grape size balls Evan had. She proceeded to slowly run her hand up, memorizing the feel of the hard, pulsing veins creating a unique set of ridges. She finally made it to the thick crown but only after she had felt his giant vein running up the entire underside, the hose that supplies all his cum. She felt the underside of his crown and knew she hit his sensitive spot when he shuddered as she moved her thumb back and forth. That giant piss hole now had leaked out more cum it was at threat of dropping beads on her bed. She moved her hand up to gather it and used it to stroke that heavy crown. She rolled her hand around the top of his cock feeling the defined heavy ridge of the crown.

"Fuck me." He uttered as struggled.

"You want to cum again?" Can you please cum for me?" She said in a soft, begging voice.

"Fuck yes," he said with gritted teeth. "But only after I give you your next lesson."

"What? What more can you show me?" As she paused stroking his cock but never removing it. She felt the pulsing as his cock begged for more attention.

"Your g-spot."

"My what?"

"That spot inside your pussy. Where all the nerve endings are." He said as he began to run a hand up the inside of her thigh.

She parted her legs further without even thinking about it. She knew deep down he already had full access to her, he just had to take it.

He didn't wait for her to say yes. His hand slid to the inside of her thigh and she felt two fingertips press flat against her opening, slick already, and then he pushed them in. Slow. Deliberate. Her breath caught at the back of her throat.

"Ohhh" The sound came out before she could stop it. He was inside her. Two thick fingers buried to the second knuckle in her cunt, and they were just sitting there, letting her feel the width of them.

Her nipples tightened and the shock sent her eyes wide open. She'd never felt this stretched out, not with Evan's cock, let alone the few times he had tried fingering her with his middle finger.

"You're so tight," he said. He was noting it, the way a man notes the weight of something in his hand. "How does Evan finger you?"

"I told you." Her voice was already thin. "He just..."

"Show me." Johnny pulled his fingers almost all the way out, just the tips resting at her entrance, and then pushed them back in, straight, no curl, a rough in-and-out. "Like that?"

"Yes."

"That's not fingering." He said it flat. "That's just poking."

He pulled his fingers out, dragged them up through her wetness, and pushed back in again, but this time he went deeper, and he curled them in.

Her whole body jackknifed. She arched off the bed, offering her tits up to the ceiling.

"FUCK."

It wasn't a moan. It was a shout. Her heels dug into the mattress, her knees came up off the bed, and her hand flew to his forearm, gripping it like she was falling. Her cunt clamped down around his fingers hard enough that he felt it in his wrist.

"There it is."

"What" She was panting. "What did you"

"That's your g-spot." He curled again, the same slow hook of two fingers, and watched her face. "Feel that?"

She couldn't answer. Every time he curled, something lit up behind her clit that had nothing to do with her clit, a deep full ache that radiated out through her hips and down the backs of her thighs. Her hand on his forearm was white-knuckled.

"Say it."

"I feel it." She was barely getting the words out. "Fuck, I feel it."

"Evan ever touch you here?"

"No." The word cracked. "Maybe once or twice with his penis. I can't remember the last time i've felt this."

"He wouldn't know how to find it." Johnny kept the pressure on, steady, no rhythm yet, just that constant hook against the spot. "You have to go up. Most guys just jam in and out like they're churning butter."

Then he moved.

He started to fuck her with his fingers. Not fast but deep. In to the knuckle, curl, drag, extend back out. He didn't pull out but instead it was like he was motioning for her to come closer, like he was petting the same spot. Over and over, and every pass lit the same spot, and every pass she made a sound she didn't recognize as hers. Her tits were rolling with each stroke. The wet noise was obscene -- a soft, sucking, slapping sound.

"Listen to that," he said.

"I know."

"That's you."

"I know."

Her hips were moving now without her permission, meeting his hand, tilting up to take his fingers deeper. She'd stopped stroking his cock -- her hand was just resting on it, forgotten, fingers curled loosely around the shaft while her whole body chased his hand. Johnny noticed. He took her wrist and moved her hand away, set it on her own stomach.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "This lesson's yours."

"But"

"I said don't."

He put his free hand flat on her lower belly, pressing down, and the pressure from outside met the pressure from inside and something in her went sideways. Her back arched off the bed. A noise came out of her -- a long, low, animal noise she'd never made in her life.

"Oh my God."

"Right there, huh."

"Right there." She was nodding, fast, frantic. "Right there, don't stop, please don't--"

"I'm not stopping." He curled his fingers again, harder, and held the hook, and used his other hand to press down on her belly, and she felt her cunt start to spasm around him in little flutters she couldn't control.

"Johnny"

"Say my name again."

"Johnny."

"Again."

"Johnny, Johnny, fuck!!"

He sped up. Same deep curl, but now faster, and she was making sounds now that weren't words, just open-mouthed noise, and her thighs were shaking so hard she could feel the mattress trembling under her.

"There it is." He watched her face the whole time. "Come on. Let it go."

"I can't."

"You can." He curled hard and held it, fingers buried, pressing up against that spot and not letting go. "Come on my hand, Abby."

She came.

Not like before. Before had been a wave she rode. This was a fist closing. Her cunt clamped down around his fingers and her whole body bowed -- shoulders up off the bed, head thrown back, tits shaking, one long broken cry tearing out of her throat. He kept his fingers buried and kept the pressure on and the orgasm just kept going, one long squeeze after another.

At the sight of her having the orgasm of his life, Johnny's cock was rock hard. It felt like he may cum just watching it. He moved his free back to stroking his cock.

"Oh fuck." Her voice was wrecked. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh--"

"There you go." He still didn't stop. "There she is."

He felt his own pending orgasm approaching. He picked up the speed as he felt that edge was quickly approaching.

She came down in pieces. Her body sagged into the mattress one section at a time -- shoulders first, then her hips, then her legs, which fell open and stayed open because she had nothing left to close them with. Her chest was heaving.

"Oh fuuuuccckkk!" He said as he felt that first pulse and cum rocketing up his cock. "Here I cummm!" He announced.

She opened her eyes as she was finally starting to come down from her earth shattering orgasm. She grabbed his cock right as the first rope of cum flew out, it landed on her right nipple, sending jolt down to her recovering pussy. She kept stroking the monster cock, making sure to rub that sensitive spot just under the crown that she found earlier.

Every stroke fired off another jet of cum. Right tit. Left tit. The crevice between her tits. Her ribs. Her flat stomach. She was painted in his cum.

"Fuuuccckkk I needed that," he said as he started to come down.

She still felt smaller tremors in his cock as she continued to milk it.

"Oh. My. God," she gasped in astonishment. "This is so. Much. Cum."

Abby finally took her hand off his cock after she pinched the last drops out of his cock. She lifted her right nipple and sucked it, taking her first taste of his cum. The sight caused Johnnys cock to pulse again, still remaining hard.

"Mmmmmmm." She loved the taste. "God it's so thick. It's like a batter."

He smiled looking down at the obscene site before him. He thought she was sexy before but covered in his cum took it to another level.

"Maybe just the site of my cum oozing out of her pussy, lips red from a solid fucking, would make her look hotter," he thought to himself.

As she worked gathering his cum from her body, scooping it up, and sucking it clean from her fingers, she felt it. She felt his fingers still embedded in pussy move, brushing against her g-spot, and sending a jolt awakening all at once.

"What are you doing?"

"Did you like option 1 - your clit," he asked as his free hand flicked her clit softly. "Or option 2 - your g-spot?" As she felt his fingers stroke deep inside her.

"Oh god. I don't know." She closed her eyes enjoying the renewed stimulation.

"Or option 3 - both?" As he rolled her clit around and stoked her g-spot.

"Oooohhh fuuucckkk!" She exclaimed.

"Is that what you like best?" He asked with a sly smile.

"What are you doing to me? This is unreal!" She responded as she rolled her head side to side in state of bliss. "Please - "

He paused. "You want me to stop?"

"No!" She grabbed his hand to keep it from moving away.

"Play with your clit then." He said as he pulled his hand away but keeping his two fingers buried in pussy stroking her g-spot.

She responded not with words but staring at his eyes. She started to move her middle finger playing with her clit.

"Good girl"

Her gaze bounced between his eyes, wondering who this man was knelt next to her, and his bobbing, monster cock.

Abby picked up the pace moving her finger faster, finding the rhythm that sent constant buzz of energy through her body. Coupled with his two thick fingers applying constant pressure to her g-spot, she could feel an explosion quickly approaching.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she kept mumbling nearly incoherently.

"Keep it up," he encouraged her.

"Oh my god!" She paused her fingers. "It feels like i'm going pee! Please - "

"NO!" He commanded. "Keep going. This is natural."

Abby followed his command, trusting him. She looked up at him scared. Johnny smiled calmly.

"You're doing so good. Don't worry, it's not pee."

Johnny picked up his pace firmly stroking her g-spot.

"It's called squirting. It's the strongest orgasm you can have."

Just as he finished his comment she felt it. She felt the time bomb starting to go off. The convulsions started small, started at her hips. They quickly grew stronger as she blasted off through the journey. Thats when she felt the warmth.

"Yess!!!" He encouraged her as the first spurt hit his hand.

"Ohhhhh mmmyyyyy gooddddd!!!" She screamed as she shook all over. It was now a constant stream of liquid coming out. Johnny quickly removed his hand and replaced her hand, strumming her clit like he did before.

Johnny marveled at how far she squirted. Well off the bed, and looking like someone dropped a cup of water.

"God, you are doing so great." He calmly said as she slowed down.

She was in a state of bliss. Her vision mostly white and feeling her rapid heart beat throughout her body. Slowly her vision was coming back.

Her gasps for air slowed and she slowly turned to look at this man before her.

"What have you done to me?"

"Fuck you have no idea how sexy you are." He complimented her.

Her state of bliss had led her to gently smile with her mouth wide open, huge tits heaving up and down as she calmed her breathing.

"Thank you." She said softly as he slowly slid his hand back to his rigid cock.

Abby didn't know what was to come. However, she knew she could never go back. Worst to her, he hadn't even fucked her. This was just from his magical hands.

She didn't want to leave Evan. She had always loved him. However, she knew can't leave this guy. She wanted the best of both worlds - Evans history and stability and Johnnys ability to shatter her world.

While Abby was in a state of calmness she hadn't felt before, she realized these intense orgasms created an unreal zen moment. She felt at utter piece. Abby kept softly stroking Johnnys cock in awe of everything.

BBzzzzz. She heard her phone vibrate across the room. The sound took her out of her mind numbing calm state. She saw the clock.

"Fuck, has it really been 3 hours?" She asked looking around. "Well, he's 3 hours too late isn't he?"

Johnny smiled.

"I have some payback to make up to you," as she guided him down onto his back next to her, still stroking his cock.

"I mean I rescued you from the side of the road, given you five orgasms including your first squirt..." he said as he looked over at her incredible body.

"Trust me. I'll never forget." She said as she turned on her side, knees parting exposing her slick thighs from the squirting. The move caused her huge tits to gather, reminding him of the best tits he'd ever seen before. She could tell he liked the views as he cock pulsed several times.

Chapter 8

Abby pushed up onto her knees, the mattress dipping under her weight, and swung one leg over his hip so she straddled the thick of his thigh. His cock lay against his stomach, slick with his leaking pre-cum and load he had shot onto her body, the head flushed dark and swollen, the long vein standing up along the shaft like it had been drawn there and looked like it could split her in two. She looked at it the way she'd looked at the wine list at the restaurant Evan took her to for their engagement.

"Quit staring," Johnny said.

"I'm memorizing." She wrapped her hand around him again, and her fingers didn't meet. This was the first time she saw it up close, inches from her face. Her fingers had never met but seeing this close only confirmed what a monster cock she was dealing with. She was in awe how small her hand looked around it. She squeezed, felt him pulse against her palm, and watched his jaw go tight. "You said you'd teach me."

"I said I'd teach you about yourself."

"Same thing." She bent forward, and her tits hung heavy off her chest, swayed like two perfect weights, the nipples dragging across his thigh as she moved down his body. He sucked air through his teeth. She liked the way he fought making sounds sometimes. Even though she just had the strongest orgasms of her life, she felt her pussy clench, like it was begging to be filled again.

She kissed the head of his cock. She never left eye contact with Johnny as she saw the lust in his eyes. She planted kisses along the heavy vein and up to just below the underside of that fat helmet. That same spot she found earlier with her thumb that drove him crazy.

"Fuuucckk" he said gritting his teeth.

She kissed it again. And again but this time her head turned sideways running her lips up and down that sensitive spot. She felt the strong twitch from his cock.

"Fuck. Are you sure you don't give Evan head a lot?" He asked as he looked down in awe, her tits hanging freely and swaying with every move.

Knowing she was pleasing him caused a big smile. She pulled back. Seeing a fresh amount of pre-cum on his piss slit, she knew what she needed. She needed to taste that batter she came to love from when he shot all that fun on her tits.

"Just want to make you happy. You took me to places i've never been and i want to show you how much i appreciate it."

She lowered her head back down, her tongue out. She placed it firmly on that sensitive spot and she felt his monster flex again. She then ran it up to his slit, taking in the thick batter, enjoying the salty taste. She never really liked Evans taste but something about this made her want more, and made her cunt clench again. Her lips closed over the ridge and she sucked.

She felt her cheeks suck in as she was trying to get as much cum out. Confident there wasn't any more she lowered her head slightly. Her lips were stretched and knew they'd hurt if they weren't coated in his thick batter.

She tried to take him deeper, but she couldn't go far. Her jaw was already stretched and he had already filled her mouth more than Evan ever had. That said, she got a little deeper than that sensitive spot. That was her marker. She knew thats what he liked.

She kept sucking. Even though her mouth felt full, she was able to move her tongue side to side. She was rewarded with a fresh batch of pre-cum.

"Fuck," Johnny said, low.

Abby started to bob her head slightly. Never going above the ridge and always getting to just below his sensitive spot. Each time she went down and her tongue scraped that one spot, she got rewarded with his cock jumping and some more pre-cum. It was as if this was a modern day Pavlov dog experiment - do good work and get a reward.

Abby picked up the pace and was rewarded with more and more pre-cum.

"Fuck Abby this is good." He said as he admired her huge breasts bouncing with every bob of her head.

"How good will those look as I pound her doggystyle. Pulling her hair back so I get a good view." He thought to himself and causing his cock to get even harder.

Johnnys hand found the back of her head. Not pulling. Just there. A weight, a question.

She answered by looking up. She met his eyes and he nodded. She knew she was safe, that he wouldn't let anything happen.

She nodded and slowly went back to how far she'd gone before. However, this time she didn't stop. She felt his powerful mushroom head in the back of her mouth, felt her uvula get pushed back. She fought off a gag and came up for air.

"Fuck. That was good."

Abby wiped her mouth as a long strand of saliva connected her mouth to the tip of his cock.

She took a moment to stroke his cock. Seeing where her saliva ended, she knew she only got about a third of his cock in her mouth.

"Jesus. This is huge." She told him in disbelief.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm figuring it out." She licked her lips. She started to firmly stroke it while she recomposed herself.

"I'm not rushing you. I'm lying here trying not to come in your mouth before you get the hang of it."

"That's your problem." She said it with her hand still around him, thumb stroking the slick head in slow circles, and she watched his eyes go half-lidded. She'd never had this before. A man's whole face was about what she was doing with her mouth or hand. Evan came in two minutes with his eyes shut and then rolled off her and asked if she'd finished too.

She bent back down. This time though avoiding taking his cock. She lowered herself to his balls, clean shaven balls. She gave a strong lick, savoring the salty taste. She felt the weight of them on her tongue. She could tell they had already been busy filling back up for a heavy load.

Abby looked up amazed at the size of his cock from this angle. And she started the path up his cock. if it wasn't for all the saliva and pre-cum she knew her tongue would've dried up given how long the journey was. She traced that thick hose of a vein up his cock.

Then she got there. Back to the sensitive part. After she swirled her tongue and felt his sign of approval by jolting against her tongue, she looked up. She saw him in a daze and she smiled.

"I can't believe I can return the favor so well," she thought to herself.

"Ugghhhh." She heard him moan. "You are sooo good at this. It's like your made to suck my cock."

She knew what she had to do. She used her one hand to play with the slippery head. Her other hand went to cup and fondle his balls.

"Fuck yesss"

Now was the killer triple threat she thought was guaranteed to make him cum. She turned her head again licking that sensitive part.

"Oh fuck. Yes!!"

She then sucked it in. While she sucked, she flicked her tongue as fast as possible. With her hands already in place, his massive cock pulsed in place. She felt her hand twisting on his crown getting more wet by the second. She could feel his balls starting to tighten.

"Holy fuck! No one has ever done this!!!"

Fighting through the want to smile at her accomplishment, she kept sucking and flicking her tongue. She knew he was closer. He had gone stiff, holding his breath.

Johnny exhaled. "Here I cum. Holy fuuuucckk!"

She felt it in his balls first. She felt the jolt. She felt it on her lips as she felt the surge of cum shoot up his heavy shaft, a load so big it felt like a fire hose. She then felt her hand. It was like a power wash hose as she felt a heavy spurt on her hand, splashing into her hair.

Abby quickly let off his cock while moving the hand on his crown to the shaft. She positioned her mouth over his cock. It was too late for the next blast as it shot right into her mouth.

She quickly covered his head with her mouth again, trying to swallow the load already in her mouth. however this was so much, more than Evan had ever shot into her mouth in all the years. However, her mouth was overflowing with his thick cum.

"Mmmmmm" she moaned. The vibrations causing more cum to shoot up his cock.

Abby continued to caress his balls, lighter now but still heavy, and pump his shaft.

Her mouth overflowed as she couldn't swallow this huge load. She counted 6 heavy ropes of cum as she kept hearing him mosn indicating he wasn't done yet.

Throughout all of this, her pussy clenched so tight. The taste of his heavy batter cum, knowing she at least partially returning the favor, all of this had her on the edge of an orgasm herself.

"Fuck, Abby," Johnny said softly as he struggled to catch his breath. He was near the end.

The pace of his jets had slowed. She was now able to swallow each load. She counted at least 10 but had lost count. Not only that, she felt the heavy feeling of a full stomach as if she just had giant milkshake.

She finally took her mouth off after one last hard suck to get any remaining cum out. She looked down to see the mess. How had she not gotten so much cum. Johnny looked down at the mess and knew he wasn't going to go soft at this site. Her ass up in the air, her tits swaying, her red lips from being stretched to the max, the engagement ring covered in cum she wasn't able to swallow, the watery eyes from taking so much cum.

She knew what she had to do. She focused on cleaning him up. She didn't have to be told. She used the flat of her tongue to gather and swallow the remaining amount. That was when she saw it. Her engagement ring covered in his thick batter.

With the need for only one hand as she finished cleaning up Johnny, her free hand travels down her stomach. It found the patch of hair and kept going. She quickly flicked her clit. Realizing she was right, she felt the orgasm hit. Abby convulsed as she rode out the powerful climax ripping through her body.

The whole time Johnny looked on in awe. He'd fucked his fair number of women, but no one had been close to this, especially one with such little experience.

"You are quite the learner, my little slut," he said.

"Just for you, daddy."

He groaned hearing her talk like this. While her orgasm slowed, she had slowly started to crawl up onto his chest. They both laid there catching their breath. Her heavy tits resting on his chest. He'd never felt huge tits like this and his rock hard cock showed it.

"Can I ask you something? She asked as she felt his hard cock pulsing again.

"Anything."

"Does it ever go down?"

"Ha, not with you around." He said as he lowered his hands to grab her ass. She was already semi straddling him and she melted into the feel of his strong body directing her. She slowly started to grind up and down as her pussy begged her to be filled with her clit sliding along his huge shaft.

"Damn, i've never felt a patch of hair down there. However it does feel nice with the added friction," he thought to himself.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Mmmm.. baby you can do whatever of you want."

"Do you have a condom?"

He paused squeezing and guiding her grinding on his cock.

"Do you honestly think a condom fits on this cock? I've tried, but it always rips after a couple of thrusts. It doesn't matter magnum size or anything."

"Oh." She hadn't thought about it made sense. "I just don't want to get pregnant. Evan always has to wear one."

"I'm not Evan am I?" He said matter of factly.

She responded by continuing to grind on his cock, enjoying the feel of his thick hose creating a perfect wedge separating her lips and running along her clit with every vein dragging against her sensitive clit.

"Besides. I only fuck after our first date." He said as he wrapped his arms around her.

She looked up, surprised. "You want a date?"

"It's the only right thing. I'm not in it for a hit it and leave. Besides, I need you to have all the energy possible."

She paused her gyrating. "God who is this man." She thought to herself.

She pushed herself up off his chest. This only added pressure to his cock grinding away on her clit. Johnny marveled at the site of her huge tits swaying, her swollen nipples begging for attention, the right one still red from his pinching earlier, her tits bouncing with every movement.

"Please" she begged looking down on him. She didn't understand as she never was turned down. "I... I... I don't care if you can't use a condom."

She felt his huge cock flex in response. This sent a pulse through her body feeling them connected, skin on skin.

She couldn't stop. She had to feel his cock. Abby proceeded to make long gyrating moves, front to back, back to front. The head of his cock rubbing her clit before his heavy vein ridge took over the rest of his 9 inches.

"Aaaahhhhh!!" She moaned looking into his eyes. "And I didn't think anything could have felt better than your fingers strumming my clit."

He couldn't take it any longer. He reached up and grabbed her tits. Her nipples pinched between his fingers as he moved his hands around.

"Aaaaahhh!!! YESSSSS!"

"I was wondering what took you so long," she said softly as she smiled while maintaining eye contact.

She responded to his touch by placing her hands over his and pushing them harder. The combined move of removing her hands from his chest and sliding her legs further out caused the pressure on clit to double. There was no more supporting, all she could do was saw back and forth on his cock.

"Yes, keep grinding." He commanded as he pinched her nipples with maximum pressure.

"I've. Never." She grasped for air as pleasure shot through her body. "Experienced. This... this. Cock. Is. Magical."

She continued to grind away. The tip of his cock getting dangerous to parting her lips as she started losing control. She shortened the strokes to focus just on her clit.

"Fuck. Me. Your cock. It. Feels. Like. A. Whole. Hand. So. Big. And. So. Hard"

He responded by twisting her nipples. Sending another bolt through her.

That was it. It detonated another explosive orgasm as her body began shaking from the pleasure rippling through her.

"YESSSS!" She screamed as she fell forward.

Johnny felt her pussy spasms on his cock. "Jesus. If this is how it feels on the outside. What's it going to feel like as she clamps down on my cock when i'm inside?" He thought to himself.

"Fuck me, girl. You are insane." He complimented her as she struggled through the remaining spasms. Her breath finally regaining.

She placed soft kisses on his neck. Tracing his bulging vein, up his jawline, finishing on his ear lobe.

"I need you to fuck me." She whispered in his ear. "You have woken something in me I never experienced." Several more kisses on his ear lobe as she sucked it softly. "Please finish the deed and fill me with that huge cock." One more kiss on his ear followed by flicking his ear lobe before taking it in her mouth again.

She knew she was working him. Each kiss she felt his cock jump. It served both them as he was still logged against her clit, sending jolts through her as well.

"Fuck" he said as he felt his self control melt away. He slapped her ass hard, both hands.

"Oh!!" She screeched. Evan never grabbed her ass like this.

He leveraged her ass to force her to grind on his cock. After several thrusts, he grunted. He shifted and pushed her left leg down. This gave him the space he needed. Grabbing her right leg he, rolled to his left. With his powerful body, his cock never lost contact with her pussy as he now laid on top of her, pinned to the bed and subject to his desires.

She shrieked again. Smiling and giggling as he took control. She saw the unbridled look in his eyes. Pure lust.

"Yes. Take me." She begged. "Fill me."

With him now fully on top, she felt protected. This huge, muscular man covered her. His broad shoulders, thick back. She just looked up in awe, nibbling on his neck offering encouragement. She ran her nails through the hair on the back of his head, enjoying the dampness from their earlier embraces. Her other ran down his back, pressing on his lower back, encouraging him to press in.

"You are dangerous," he said in a low voice.

"Just making up for all you have done to me tonight."

His hands found her wrists and pinned them to the mattress on either side of her head. Not rough. Just final. The weight of him came down slow, chest to chest, and she felt every inch of the difference between them. She felt her tits offering the only pillows to him, the broad shelf of his shoulders, the flat plane of his stomach pressing her soft belly.

"Look at me," he said.

She did. His eyes were dark and steady and there was no hurry in them at all, which was somehow worse than hurry. He knew what he wanted. He knew how to take it. She was the one who had no idea what was coming.

He shifted his hips and his cock slid off her clit, down through the wet folds of her pussy, and the head of it found her entrance and stopped there. Just rested. Just pressed. A fat, blunt question.

Her breath caught in her throat and stayed caught.

"That's it," he said, reading her face. "That's the spot."

Bzzzzzzz!! Her phone vibrated again.

"Do you need to get that?" He asked, not leaving eye contact.

She smiled. Enjoying having her hands bound. The guy calling her had never done this. She responded by wrapping her legs around his lower back, feet crisscrossing on his ass. She used the position to squeeze her glutes and encourage him to push forward.

He didn't push. He held there, he was in control. the head of him parting her opening, offering a whole new world. She felt her own body answer before she could say anything. She had never been this soaked before, hed made her cum half a dozen times as she was in a constant state of arrousal. After all the grinding she did on top of him, her lips were ready to be parted. Adding to her lubrication, his cock kept pulsing out more precum.

She couldn't help but moan. Feeling his bare cock pressing against her wanted pussy. She'd never felt a bare cock as Evan always wore a condom. No smell of rubber or stale condom lube, just pure alpha male cum and sweat mixing with her own pussy juice.

Johnny started to make his claim. He barely budged forward. His rock hard cock, even the normally spongy head would offer some relief, but he was too turned on. His entire cock was rigid like a solid rod of steel pressing into her.

"I've got you." He reassured her.

She nodded. "I know."

With that he pressed some more. She felt her lips part, greeting this monster cock to its new home. It was like walking into a new home and she was rolling out the red carpet.

"Fuck baby, i've never felt a pussy like this."

With not even the crown of raging cock inside, he could tell he was stretching her.

She responded by grabbing his shoulders, digging her nails in, gently.

He held his cock there as the crown of his cock now sat fully inside. The pulsing of his cock continuing to ooze out precum.

Abby felt the pain, felt the feeling of being spread apart by huge cock stretching her wide. She wanted it. She knew it would be worth it.

Johnny started to ease his way in. Now the sensitive part of the underside of his cock entered.

"Holy fuck. You have no idea how good you feel." He said in low voice into her ear. It was like a furnace with a strong grip around his entire cock begging his huge cock to enter further.

"Mmmmm... good. Give me more," she encouraged him.

The pain wasn't subsiding. He was now about 3 inches in. That's when he felt another barrier.

"Fuck. You feel like your deeper than Evan has ever been."

Johnny smiled. "Baby i'm not even half way in."

He backed up a bit and then slowly slid further in, past the point Evan had been. He felt her pussy slowly stretching around his huge girth. slowly accommodating his thick cock.

"Oh fuck!" She felt an explosion. The pain evaporated and was replaced by the pure pleasure as huge cock hit her g-spot.

Johnny felt it. He felt the spongy part of her g-spot given how tight her cunt was gripping his cock. He held it there, taking in the incredible feeling, and letting his cock pulse.

"That's where I need to be." He made a mental note where his cock sat. This was one of the areas he'd be sure to hammer.

"Oh my god. This is incredible." Her synapses were firing all through her body. "I've never felt this before. Please don't stop."

He began to press on, her tight cunt gripping him tightly as he took on virgin territory. He'd learned over the years it was always best to take a small new territory and then pull back. Gain a half an inch or inch and then reset.

Abby was rolling head side to side in delight. Given how thick his cock was, she felt everything. The heavy veins along his cock provided ridges stimulating her walls. It was like hundreds of tiny fingers feeling along, this included constant contact with her g-spot. However, it paled in comparison when his giant ribbed mushroom head would pull back and settle on her g-spot. Each time triggering a mini flutter and releasing even more lube.

Johnny was now almost 7 inches in. He could feel the base of his cock didn't have much left.

"You have no idea how good you feel." He encouraged her.

"No, no you dont know." She responded as she kissed his neck. "Fill me up with that huge cock, that pussy destroyer. Ruin me for anyone else. I want it all."

After several more thrusts and resetting back on her g-spot, Johnny knew he was getting close. After what felt like an eternity he was amazed this tight furnace hadn't triggered his own raging orgasm as her tight pussy was milking his huge cock.

"I think i'm close to getting it all the way in."

She had largely let her legs go limp taking his cock. However she responded by wrapping her feet around his ass again. This added tightness almost sent him over the edge as he pushed ahead again driving his huge cock deeper.

"Fuuucckk" they both moaned in unison.

Thats when it happened. He felt the end of her cunt. He knew the feeling. His head was kissing her cervix as it pulsed in the depths of her pussy.

"Oh my god!!!!" She exclaimed as white flashes erupted across her vision from another massive orgasm ripping through her.

"That's it Abby, that's your cervix." He proclaimed. "Your pussy is made for me and my cock. I'm almost all the way in."

One final thrust and that was it. He felt his heavy balls against her ass as his cock was buried to the hilt. He felt her cervix saying no to more. She had nothing left to give.

"Fuuccckkk!!" She screamed as she started to convulse in orgasms. Her words became a jumbled mess.

Johnny held there, struggling not to cum himself. The hot furnace cunt wrapped tightly along his entire cock, her flexing cunt as she came was milking his cock in waves. Her body was begging him to come and doing everything it could to accomplish.

Johnny pulled back out to her g-spot, flexed his cock, and then drove right back to her cervix, slamming into the her deepest spot.

Abby was in a state of pure bliss. Her body was hit with wave after wave of intense orgasm. She couldn't stop shaking as each powerful wave took over her muscles. When he hit her cervix the 2nd time, she felt the wave of fluid. She was squirting again all over his cock.

Johnnys cock was pulsating, warning him of the impending orgasm as his cock was ready to explode. Her legs were wrapped tight around his ass.

"Abby i'm going to cum!" He warned.

She was incoherent in her current state as she couldn't even see straight.

Johnny felt the surge in balls. The coiled spring was starting. He tried to pull out but her legs were strong. Finally the 3rd try he met some success.

Here it came. The first rope was shooting up his huge cock with a massive load ready to erupt. She felt the bulb of his cock rip past her g-spot, sending another white flash across her vision.

"Aaahhh!!" He screamed trying to hold it in. "Fuuccckkk"

Just as he pulled out, that first heavy load erupted. Johnny quickly stroked the tip of his cock. He was painting her whole body.

Abby didn't know where she was or what was happening. She was lost in the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket as he coated her, shooting rope after rope of cum on her body. Her stomach, her tits, her thighs, he even shot up to her neck. By the tenth rope he settled on his knees admiring her body.

"Fuck Abby" he said in his low, soft voice as he admired her.

"Mmmm.." She couldn't form any words, just moan in appreciation as she was still riding the waves of her orgasm. She rubbed all over body, rubbing in his hot, thick cum like she was tangled in a warm blanket.

Bzzzzzzz!!! Her phone vibrated again.

Abby smiled and reached for Johnny. "Can you just lay here?"

Johnny laid down, heart still beating fast. She rolled over and half laid on him. Her left leg settled on his left leg, Johnnys cock finally only half hard laying on his stomach. Abby's giant pillows for tits comfortably cushioning her chest on his, and her left arm draped over his stomach as it slowly caressed his stomach.

All Abby could muster were soft moans. She had never experienced anything close to this. The mind altering orgasms, sight of such a huge cock, her body covered in cum. This was earth shattering breakthrough showing her what sex and mind blowing orgasms could be like.

She knew she was a changed woman. And she didn't want anything else.

Her hand drifted down and found Johnnys semi hard cock which was still massive even if half hard. Like a magnet, her hand settled on it. She didn't stroke it, just wanted to protect the key that had unlocked her new life.