The Best of Times

"Squat little bitch with big titties, eh? If I see her, I'll cut one off and feed it to her, the cunt!"

I was bare-chested, wearing gym shorts with no jock strap, the way Melannie liked when I assisted her in her training ... she liked to stare up under my shorts at my privates while she worked out. Not that Melannie was much of a cock lover, far be it -- she just liked to monitor my states of arousal. Whenever my dick would start to get hard, she'd start telling me how bad she was going to fuck my ass when she got done with her lifting. It would make her exercise all the more vigorously, actually, and the more vigorously Melannie worked out, the harder I got. I liked her hard breathing, and I liked it when she sweated a lot. I always lapped her out when she finished, and the wetness was tart and savory. A distinct treat.

"I got a new strap-on for you, Lover, thickest one I ever found, about a foot long," she panted as she hefted the weights. "When my day gal opens up, she's gonna wonder why you're so bowlegged today ... knowing her, she'll probably be all sympathetic ... I bet you really liked the feel of the butt end of that cue socking your balls, eh?"

Blushing, I looked down at her and wanted to start eating her out right then, while the sweat was still flowing and her skin was hot from her efforts. My ass was hungry for the thick new strap-on, and I was having flashbacks of being up on the rail at Dillinger's, with Valerie jamming the butt end of her cue into me. I started breathing shallowly and Melannie noticed.

"Hotter'n a pistol, balls like grapefruits, dick all stretched and bobbing ... I'd say my Friendly Man's ready for some deep butt fucking," she growled, rising from the bench. She strode over to her desk and bent over it, leaning across it to a drawer that she opened and reached into. Bent over the desk that way, her strong cheeks were high and out-thrust and I quickly knelt behind her, opening my jaws wide and pressing the length of my tongue up into the sweaty canyon between them. I was tasting the rivulets of sweat running down into the crack of her ass when Melannie suddenly pushed back vigorously and sent me sprawling. She turned around, in her hand the fierce new strap-on . . . I looked up at it in awe. It was indeed longer and thicker than the others she'd used on me.

She held its apple-headed tip down against my lips, forcing me to suck. I knew that the wetter I got it, the easier it would slide into me, so I opened wide and slicked the thing thoroughly. She then belted it in place around her waist, adjusting its straps so it rode down against her cunt, so that when she fucked me its specially contoured backside would rub against her clit. I got to my feet and stepped quickly out of my gym shorts and went over to the bench, spreading myself, lowering my face and lips to the still-wet bench and raising my buttocks high.

I sniffed and licked at Melannie's sweaty bench as the big tool worked its way relentlessly deeper into my bowels. She grabbed hold of my sides for better leverage and the thing sank wholly up into my ass. Very quickly my passage adjusted to the invader, and chills of ecstatic pleasure rocked thru me. Melannie panted and cursed, building up a steady steaming deep rhythm that soon had me panting as well. We were both moaning as Melannie's strokes gained in strength -- she was frigging her cunt with its motion while she fucked my brains out, and tears fell from my eyes, mixing in with Melannie's own sweat already on the bench. I looked back under my own thighs as Melannie's vigor reamed into me relentlessly and I watched as my heavy balls swung crazily beneath the gut-wrenching power of those brutally bawdy & pitiless strokes. What joy!

After the long reaming, Melannie pulled the thing out and it gave an audible pop! as it sprang free. She spun me onto my back onto the wet bench and she swung a leg over and squatted her sweaty ass upon my face. Her big bad dildo slapped down onto my chest as my tongue disappeared up into the butter and jam of her hungry anal ring. She tensed her sphincter and I was caught snug and tight. She tightened even more and then began lifting, pulling on my tongue so that my head was pulled upwards off the bench. She began a series of lifts and lowers, clenching on my tongue, holding my tongue up inside her ass, banging my head down onto the bench then yanking it back up again, over and over as she swooned into a series of butt-hole orgasms. I loved to feel the spasms in her rectum as it enclosed my tongue when those orgasms came on. I’d feel well used and well tended, but then she suddenly let her sphincter relax and my tongue slipped easily out of her. I licked around my lips and left my tongue just hanging there. I must have made quite the obscene spectacle, what with that long hanging tongue and my face greased and sloppy from the copious flow of Melannie’s work-out inspired juices.

Melannie never permitted me to touch myself to get off (she had other ways to take my cum) so I laid uncomfortably on the bench while she showered. My balls had commenced to throb in their familiar achy way as I listened to her shower. When she came out all sopping wet she squatted her now immaculate cunt directly onto my mouth. I knew what was coming and opened wide to drink from her pussy lips. Her piss was hot and sprayed over my fat tongue and down my throat in a pressurized stream. I didn't waste a drop, and Melannie laughed delightedly when she lifted off my face. She called her piss my aperitif, my toast and my reward, and in truth her hot golden nectar never failed to intoxicate and invigorate me.

"Better get your own shower now, bub ... Doris the day girl's due any minute."

After I'd showered, I stood at one of the two-way mirrors, watching Melannie out in the bar, getting things ready at the cash register. I adored her, tall and strong and bawdy and demanding woman that she was. Damn my hide, it felt like love. What an honor to receive from and to give to such a wondrous lady. I was one lucky guy, I decided.

Doris was in the ladies room so I walked over to that mirror and watched her as I dried off. The blue ache in my groin was very strong as I watched her apply her make-up. The aching was my ally, that very discomfort a sensation borne of controlled, pent-up frustration, a sign of my denial and of my devotion. I relished how the pain radiated from my lower manhood, for yes, it was the very proof of my useful and ennobling submission to my betters.

I let the flat of my tongue lap along against the glass, leaving wide wet streaks. Unbeknownst to Doris, I was just inches away, worshipping her already.

Worship itself was the abasement I excelled at. No woman was safe, nor needed to be. I lived only to adore them, particularly their broad bottoms, intimately and at length.

All I lacked in that moment of open-mouthed covert voyeurism and worship was some third dominant BBW Goddess, whistling whip or flogger in hand, whaling or flogging away at my exposed hindquarters. And oh yes but didn’t my gaping, sore anus involuntarily tense at that prospect! For yea verily there was nothing like a stinging good whipping to firm up a loosened bunghole, to bring back its resistant, defensive wee pucker.

All in good time, I knew. My day had just begun and already I was as happy as any man alive . . .

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