A Controlling Interest

She froze in that position, her mind reeling in all directions. Shame and rejection crippled her insides. But her pussy craved further attention. It begged to be touched. She wanted to smell him again, feel his strong chest. She imagined what he'd look like without a shirt----without pants. She wanted his... No, no, no, she didn't! She didn't! Brandon... Where was Brandon?

Steve didn't move either, but she didn't have to look up to know he was watching. She could feel his Italian eyes crawling over her exposed flesh, judging, blaming and making it tickle, pinch and burn. Beads of perspiration sprung up on her legs and back and met the cool hotel air. She suspected Steve's eyes were probably fixed on the profile of her round ass, which had filled out so nicely in her late teens. And she'd been working out and jogging from the age of twenty-two, so her butt cheeks now held their shape like a sport's mannequin. She was no idiot----she knew she had the type of body guy's referred to as "built to fuck", and under Steve's gaze her feelings of exciting shame flared up like a bonfire.

She was more excited than the first time she "accidentally" flashed Brandon her tits while getting changed on the beach, or the countless other peeks she'd given her male friends in the years leading up to that. The more daring she'd be, the more exciting it was, and she couldn't begin to describe how dirty and thrilling it was striping down in her office for the two basketball players. But in her twenty-six years as a disgraceful, built-to-fuck girl, nothing compared to standing naked and horny before Steve.

Slowly she straightened herself up, the hand over her pussy rose to her belly, and the arm resting on her tits moved into a position to support them. When the courage came to look at Steve, he was unfastening his belt. He then unbuttoned his maroon shirt, but left it flapped closed, and as he stripped out of his pants, he pointed to a spot just in front of him. What a pushy prick, she thought, as her pussy leaked down her inner thigh. With very small, hesitant steps, Reagan moved into the spot. She envisioned herself on her knees, worshipping his cock, and that settled it for her----he would fuck her, she would let him, and she would return to Brandon, passionate and ashamed.

Without a word he took her hands and placed them on the elastic band of his boxer briefs. She slid the boxers down his thighs, and then lowered to her knees where she could pull them all the way off. Being on her knees set his cock at eye level, and she placed her palms on his hips to either side of it. Patrick had been big, but not nearly as big as Steve. It was half hard, its smoothness marred with veins and the skin very dark. The crown appeared somewhat stubby, or maybe its length was just disproportionate with its amazing girth. The shaft, however, was plenty long and just as thick. It bulged in the center, until a pulse of blood straightened it out and added to its already incredible length. He took hold of her arm and brought her up to standing.

The tables one row in from the windows had no place settings, and he lifted her by the ass and sat her on the white table cloth, just as Patrick had earlier. But unlike Patrick, he stepped between her legs and glided his cock over her pussy. Her heels fell to the floor and he continued to harden until she could see the underside begin to sparkle in her secretions.

She leaned back on her elbows, and saw his shirt flap had opened to reveal black letters across his stomach. He noticed her starting, and parted the shirt for her. "B-I-G B-L-A-D-E" was spelled out in Old-English lettering that distorted over his defined abs. She had not expected such a thick waist to be devoid of fat.

"I had a white boy gangsta phase in my teens. It's what they called me." Fuck, he was even more of a bad boy than she'd thought.

He stroked her smooth belly. "Good thing you never got any tats, your skin is way too nice to be all inked up with shit. Can't say I don't regret mine. Doesn't exactly suit a thirty-five-year old business man, huh?" His hips gained an extended push, the head sliding over her slit, and her glistening secretions now coated the thick crown. "Your eyes did turn green----really fucking green. You're going to blow my whole fucking contract, aren't you? You're just too fucking hot." He looked her up and down. "Fuck it!" He smacked the table. "Fuck the contract."

"And here I thought you were going to fuck me," she teased, ending with her lips in a snarl. The dirty heat made another run at her pussy and left it so sensitive she could practically see its pink, wet folds in her mind. Then the fat head went low enough to find a different path, and entered the sensitive pink crevice. She murmured a meek whimper in a high, childlike timbre. She had a soft, feminine voice by nature, but having his huge dick clear its path strained her vocal cords into high tensioned harp strings.

She whimpered again, as he pulled away and then returned deeper than before. He braced his arms on the table beside her, leaned forwards to reach her lips and stroked into her gently as they kissed. He was only half way inside, and already she felt stretched. She was too tight to fit him, but she had too. She breathed deep, and gyrated her hips, massaging her ass on the table, and trying to relax the muscles gripping his cock. Fuck he was a tight fit, but god did it feel amazing to be so stuffed.

It wasn't like anything she'd experienced before, such a massive thing within her pelvis. She could even feel the weight of it inside, resting on her anterior wall. She loosened some, and he applied just a little more pressure, taking a deeper path. He squeezed past her clit going in and ground against it coming out, turning her clit into a beacon of nerves tingling as far up as her ovaries.

His mouth moved to her neck, sucking along her delicate throat and planting firm, little kisses. For several minutes his cock stroked into her, until the big thing produced such a satisfying wave of pleasure she simply couldn't remain composed. She hissed, "Oh yessss! Oh shit yessss! You're soooo big. Oh pleasssse, fuck meeee." Brandon manifested behind her eyelids, his back to her as he shook his head and pressed a palm to his cheek, and something like guilt, but not quite guilt, twisted her face into a tight mess. But even that feeling didn't last, because Steve's next stroke sunk so deep into her, her mouth shot open and she gasped, "Oh shit, St-" She jerked her head to the side, just barely silencing herself before saying his name. A hand slipped under her cheek, tilting her head back to face him and then he caressed her silky skin and ran a thumb over her parted lips. She couldn't hold back and finally said it. "Oh, Steve! Oh shit, yes Steve, fuck meeeeee!" Not only had she ended up screaming his name, she emphasized it with perfect pronunciation.

He hummed loud and approving, knowing full well he'd stolen something special from her boyfriend, something even Reagan believed was his and only his. Steve's hips then snapped back, swung down with strength, and jerked to a halt before smacking against her thighs. He continued with the assertive, boastful moves, using them to jab his cock quickly into her. OK, now she felt stretched. He'd either grown harder or pushed in deeper, but her pussy was totally, completely stuffed.

"Oh my gooood, Steve! " She hated pouring honey all over the prick's ego, but she couldn't help herself, his big cock shocked her senses like a slap in the face, and she screamed again, "Oh, Steve, yes. That's too much. Oh that's a lot to take----so, so big!"

He straightened his torso, taking hold of her waist. He parted her thighs, as his hips were now perpendicular to hers and needed more room between her legs. His strokes took a straighter path, and he no longer stopped short of her fit thighs, striking them with a rhythmic smacking. It was a gentle bump, but the illicit noise brought the action to her ears, and hearing herself get fucked gave her another reason to scream, "Oh my god, you feel so good! I can barely... So fucking good!"

He slapped her hips with his hand, just hard enough to hear but not sting. "You feeling me, girl? You feeling me deep in there? I know Brandon hasn't been this deep in you, so you feeling me?"

He thrust harder, as if it would help form an answer. It did, but she bit her lip and suppressed her urge to scream it out. Brandon was scrambling around the party to get him his deal, and now Steve meant to best him at his own girlfriend too. She wouldn't let him. She wasn't about to give the pushy prick the satisfaction of hearing her swoon all over his big cock. Or not anymore, she wouldn't.

He then spread her thighs wide apart, hooked his hands under her knees and raised her legs up to his shoulders. In this position she quickly learned there was even more to his awesome dick than she'd thought. He bumped against something, a wall, and most likely her cervix. He maxed out and it sent a shock wave through her body that shot down her legs and finished with a spasm in her toes. He bumped it again, sending another crippling shockwave, and then another. Her lips pulled from her teeth with each gentle nudge against the wall, and her breath spiked into a brittle squeak. She couldn't tell if she was feeling pain or the start of something truly wonderful, but her trepidation receded as each bump felt more and more like the latter. Instead of listening to her cervix's plea to stop, she again gyrated her hips, and focused on relaxing the tension, even letting her mind wander into the black ponds at the center of his wet, chocolaty eyes. Gritting her teeth she finally convinced her body not to freak out over the giant obtrusive cock, and what happened next caused her to drop her legs from his shoulders and wrap them wildly over his butt.

She must've relaxed to the point her cervix opened, she had no other explanation for it, because with a loud moan he drove steadily past the wall. The satisfied look on his face could only mean he'd felt the muscles slacken and was delighted to break through. It was as breathtaking as losing her hymen----the culmination of anxiety and the explosion of nerve impulses as his fat rigid cock invaded a chamber that had never been touched before.

"Ohhh, that's tight in there. You got it now. Uhhf-fucken shit! Uhhhh, that's virgin tight! Uhhg-good job. I know Brandon hasn't, uhhh, worked that right there, uhhh, so good fucking job."

He pushed gently into the chamber once again, and she squeaked through a wide open mouth, still focusing on getting him to fit comfortably.

"Yeah, your boy hasn't been in it like this. Uhhh, let's hear you tell me otherwise. Uhhh, you can't, can you? Ohhh yeah, you can barely even breathe. Ohhh, but you're doing greeeat."

He'd taken about six, slow, gentle strokes into the virgin zone, and she'd loosened up with each one. Her pleasure skyrocketed. She hadn't thought such euphoric sensations were even possible, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

"Forget it," he hummed in his deep tractor voice, "you don't have to say a thing. Everything I need to know is written on your face."

"Fuck you. I really hate you." She squeezed his hips with her calves, goading his weight down on her, encouraging even more of his giant cock inside. He gave it to her, and she threw her head back and whimpered into the empty upside-down room.

"No, you don't hate me."

She hung there like that, biting her tongue to regain her senses, but it wasn't working. He had her right where he wanted her, and continued to gently deep-stroke her sex. And to his credit, he knew enough to work with her, matching her rhythm with steady, controlled movements, and that's what made the stretching bearable. He'd done this before, obviously. In fact he must've guided numerous women through this toe-curling workout, because he had the reassuring confidence of a coach. She finally raised her head again, with eyes half-shut and a quivering lower lip. He smiled big and cocky and gently planted a kiss on her knee.

As the crown of his dick pushed through her cervix yet again, she wondered if that's really what was happening. She'd heard stories and she'd opened up extra space to him somehow, so it had to be what she was feeling, and oh my god did it feel good. The dirty heat circulated ferociously inside her and he was thrumming her clit, torturing her g-spot, and bringing her within screaming distance of an orgasm. She was in the epicenter of arousal and totally out of it.

She closed her eyes, a velvety red light seeped through, and in its haze Brandon manifested again, this time facing her and starring down as she was fucked on the table. "Baby," she said silently to herself, "can you really blame me? Can you blame me for his cock feeling sooooo fucking good?"

To her surprise Brandon answered her silent question. She couldn't understand the words, but it was his voice. It was unmistakably his, and came from somewhere nearby. She opened her eyes to see the profile of Steve's angular jaw, straight nose, and stern eyebrows as he stared out the window.

"It's alright, uhhh, they can't see. Uhhh, fucking potheads."

When she heard Patrick's biting laugh, she shook her head no, but Steve already thrust forwards and she squeezed him again with her legs. He was right, they were too far into the room to be seen from down on the patio, but her heartbeat still climbed into her neck and her cheeks burned.

Patrick, Brandon, Kai and Samuel must've gathered directly underneath, as their voices became clearer and then she heard Brandon's distinct cough. He rarely smoked weed--he knew better, because he'd get real spacey. It must be to impress the group, which could only mean things hadn't gone well with the CFO.

"So where's that hot little girlfriend of yours?"

"In a room asleep, I suspect. You guys apparently got her too stoned."

"Samuel's shit is good. It'll put me down if I don't watch it. But Reagan, bro, does she taste as good as she looks?"

Steve came to the end of his deepest stroke yet, knocking the wind out of her as she screeched, "That jeh-jerk!" Her lover smirked. They both knew Patrick was having a private joke at her boyfriend's expense, because he knew the answer--he'd had a taste.

"Every bit as good."

"Damn, you scored landing her. So what's she like? Wild?"

"I wouldn't say wild, but... Well it's more like Reagan's the whole package. She's the kind of girl that makes you start thinking marriage, you know?"

Shame screwed up her face and burned her cheeks, but she was totally turned on at the same time. Brandon's profession had an effect on Steve, too, and he growled as he drove his cock into her virgin chamber. She relaxed as he made his way in, and then clenched as he pulled out. He had to be in her cervix, it was just so fucking tight, and he growled again when she gripped at his cock. They built a rhythm where she'd relax, he'd push, she'd clench and then he'd struggle back out, growling his approval. It resulted in juices flowing so liberally she felt a little embarrassed.

She could still hear the boys talking down below, but Brandon's last few words were all that reached her. "The whole package", "makes you think of marriage." Why now? Why did she have to hear that with Steve's dick lodged in up to the peak of her hipbone? He inserted his cock faster, speeding up their rhythm, and she worked with him, rocking her hips up as he came down and arching her back as he lifted off again. Brandon had both aroused her shame and inflated Steve's ego and the two conjoined in crazy hot harmony.

A pleasant tingle came in waves, attacking the already stimulated area stretched around his dick, electrifying her raw clitoris, and even prickling her nipples. The tingling wave receded and then came back much faster and stronger, carrying the sensation deeper into her body. She moved her hips faster, following its pulse, and Steve reacted masterfully, landing his next stroke right on beat. Her fingernails dug into the tablecloth and she gathered sections of the fabric close to her sides. Fuck the asshole was going to make her come. Within earshot of her boyfriend, she was going to come on Steve's huge, fat, awesome dick!

She panted in breathy deep gasps. He began landing his thrusts hard enough to make the table rock. The tingling pulse quickened and reached clear up to her lungs, turning every breath into a cloud of electricity. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, as he held her strongly in his massive arms, his pelvis slamming against her fit thighs, her chest heaving for more twinkling air and her tits jiggling in her bra like they wanted out. Sweat made her flat belly sleek and slippery, a sheen built along his forehead and sparkled where his temple dipped inwards, his Italian eyes in their haunting dark sockets were fixed on her mouth, waiting for her to scream.

"Come for me, lose it for my dick."

"No, no. I can't," she pleaded, but her hips acted on their own accord, meeting his hard thrusts without breaking rhythm. She'd passed the tipping point----her orgasm cut loose from her control. Her skin buzzed and her muscles stung as her consciousness shrunk away in preparation for the final big wave that had been building just off shore.

"Oh but you can." He pushed her legs back, so her knees were against her tits, her feet were planted against his chest, and her ass was raised an inch off the table. He slammed his cock into her, his hips meeting her ass instead of her thighs now, He then pumped so hard she slid back and forth on the table top and her clit endured every slippery inch of him.

"Uhhh, the biggest knife..." He waited for her to finish, but she'd given him enough---- stripping, swallowing his friend's cock and spreading her legs for his massive dick like a willing slut. She'd long ago lost his respect, and had no intentions of indulging the asshole any further, as his huge, pounding dick drove into her vagina, which throbbed on the edge of climax as she was tossed about on the table. "Uhhh, fuck! Come on, say it. The biggest knife carves..."

He then doubled his efforts and began using his hold on her thigh to pull her against him as his whole bottom half shot forwards, the single post table tilting in either direction so badly that his grip on her thighs was the only thing keeping it upright and preventing her from falling to the floor. She bit her tongue, her violently mounting orgasm demanded one final thing----total shame. With a weak cry she surrendered, "The-uh bigg-gust slu-ice."

He laughed aloud.

The next time his monster plowed into her cervix, her vagina snapped forcefully around it, her clitoris tightened into something like a fist, and an explosion of rippling electricity crawled through her body. "Oh-oh-oh fuck, Steve. Oh-oh-oh god no! Whu-whu-what's happening to me?" Her bones felt like hot stones burning her from the inside, her scalp shrank, her skin was attached to the table by cobwebs and her nipples extended and stung against the lacy fabric of her bra. "Oh-oh god, oh-oh god, oh-oh god..." He kept pumping his cock in, her pussy involuntarily convulsing, forcing half her body to convulse with it. Her jaw dropped so far it strained her neck and her thighs quaked in his strong hands. "Oh-oh god please, whu-what's happening to me?" No, really, what kind of fucking orgasm was this! The whole of her physiology then crushed inwards, pulling her consciousness into some narrow void. As her nude body teetered on the unsteady tabletop, her mind shrank away, a silk handkerchief disappearing into a magician's fist.