Big Dragon

The second thing on her mind was more vague and indistinct...the niggling feeling in designing her new boyfriend that she'd forgotten something.

Not long after, the Icarus II touched down with a bump on a black asphalt landing strip in the midst of verdant, green jungle, beside which was a colonial building of the Spanish style. Because of the time zone difference, when it was day in New York, in Nairobi it was approaching midnight.

Big Dragon wrapped his pythonlike arms around Morgan's waist and hoisted her up as if she was made of styrafoam, picking her up with one forearm at her back, the other between her knees. Morgan hated to have others do things for her, but she could get used to being carried this way, cradled and pressed to her lover's big chest, almost like a child to an adult in proportion to Big Dragon's size. Morgan leaned her blackhaired, dredlocked head to Big Dragon's shoulders, her tiny hands clinging to his chest like a person clinging to the rails of a roller coaster.

The bungalow appeared empty; if there were servants or workpeople they had been cleared away. In place of a lock, there was a groove. Big Dragon placed his bulbous, can of drano-shaped ass cheeks deep into the groove. When he did, there was a pop, and the door snapped open.

Morgan grinned when she realized what this was. A lock keyed to the distinctive shape of Big Dragon's muscled ass. It would for the most part be foolproof: by the looks of things, if a two-inch thick lead pipe was to be placed between Big Dragon's ass, with a squeeze and clench, he could crush the pipe like a can of cola.

Big Dragon's finger flicked on the lights. The bungalow was lavish. There was a cobblestone fireplace, along the wall there were six-foot tusks of elephant ivory. On the ground was an orange tigerskin. Big Dragon placed Morgan down, letting her feet touch the ground. He emerged for the first time perfectly naked.

Morgan's jaw dropped in astonishment. This was the first time she had gotten a really good look at the huge anaconda that her Chinese sex pistol called a member. Intriguingly, there was a tattoo along the side. "PROPERTY OF MORGAN TATOPOLOUS." Morgan giggled at the sight of it.

From behind his back, Big Dragon produced a small compact device. "It's a digital. Twice the battery length of anything on the market now, it's an invention of mine." He said in his smooth, masculine deep voice. "I thought we might tape ourselves tonight to have something we can watch later. Maybe we can leak it out and act surprised..." He said, his mouth turning at the corner and an impish grin at his corner. He placed the camera on top of a drawer, the red light flashing on.

"You're so kinky!" Morgan said approvingly.

Big Dragon glided like a bronze cloud without making any sound. "You know it, baby. Oh God, Morgan, I love you so much..." He said with a staccato, before he tore her shirt off with his hands as if it was made of wet tissue paper. He placed his finger under her skirt and pulled it off, using it as a boxcutter, and he pushed her naked back against the fur of the tigerskin rug. Big Dragon's huge body covered her entirely like a tent; he held his 400 pound powerhouse body over her slim body with a single arm. His other arm slid behind her back and covered it entirely like an octopus; his skillful fingers knew precisely where Morgan was sensitive. She was already starting to be pushed to the bring of orgasm.

Big Dragon twitched one of his powerfully muscled pecs, then another, then another in a dance, until his pecs flexed so rapidly that it was like the vibrations of a massage chair.

Morgan watched as his telephone pole member started to inflate and thicken, stirring between them, hot to the touch. Big Dragon was a tripod; it looked like he had a third leg.

With an oxlike grunt, he thrust his member directly on Morgan's velvety soft quinny, and stretching her out with the Pittsburgh steel girder he had between his legs. Morgan screamed loudly, a bestial roar like a lion. She went cross-eyed, her toes and fingers immediately curled. His powerful baseball bat filled her insides as tightly as a finger inside of a glove that was too small.

Big Dragon's member didn't stop there. He pushed and popped and shook Morgan's entire body, crashing against her as rapidly as a pounding surf against the shore in a storm. It was like masturbating with a construction jackhammer. Morgan was being pounded deep into the ground, and she could feel the wood underneath the tigerskin rug start to splinter and give way.

The heated friction between their bodies was eased by sweat that pooled on her. Big Dragon wrapped his tree-trunk thick legs around hers in a vice like a twizzler, in a tangle of elastic naked limbs.

Morgan's rational brain had been deactivated and replaced by that of a cat in heat. She screamed loud enough to shake the room. The little goth girl gave as good as she got: she rolled and pressed fiercely to the person above her, popping her hips and her body back and forth as ferociously as a mechanical bull trying to throw off a rider. The pair of them moved together and with each other in a rapid, friction-heated, piston-pumping rhythm as if they had been lovers for years and years.

Big Dragon's powerful battering ram so thoroughly filled Morgan that where it was inside of her was actually visible from the outside, as a log shape on her ordinarily flat stomach. Morgan's gray eyes started to welt up with tears, and she bit her lip. She felt like his powerful stiffened girder was going to split her in half. And astonishingly, there were still at least six or seven inches sticking out of her that couldn't even be placed inside!

With a display of Big Dragon's incredible elasticity and flexibility, he then wrapped his powerful, lengthy legs in a crab grip around Morgan's waist; the feeling of his thighs squeezing her and his titanium-hard calves pushing into her back literally took Morgan's breath away.

In this manner the pair started to shake from side to side, as together they rolled over the bungalow floor like a hurtling comet. They smashed into a drawer, knocking a tiffany lamp down with a crash. They hit a bookcase, causing the entirety of it to fall and crash down in a rain of hardcovers. Thankfully, Big Dragon was on top at the time, and the heavy books fell like raindrops on his wide back which was as hard as the bronze metal that it resembled.

Morgan's eyes were still crossed, and her toes curled. Her body temperature was as red-hot as an oven. She could feel the drippings of his powerful pre-cum sliding inside her, each pop or dribble the size of a grape. Finally, she held back nothing: her kegels clamped down on Big Dragon's big beef as if for dear life, as she shook for a moment as if she was having an epileptic seizure.

Big Dragon roared as his balls bubbled. The slit on the tip of his protein cannon turned wide enough so that a pencil could slip through -- and the Asian muscle stud came, gushing like a fire hose. Big Dragon was almost rocketed out of Morgan's quinny by the force of his release. Each burst of his steaming hot bone slop was like a roaring faucet, sploshing loudly inside of his lover. Parts of his vast, white seed slid out from between the pair of them and pooled below them in a puddle the size of a welcome mat.

Big Dragon pulled out of her with a squishy sound and a loud popping. This left Morgan sore and aching. She could not even feel her numb vagina anymore. She was gasping for breath, her ribcage expanding like balloons. Morgan was on such a natural high that she could hardly move, her mouth open. Morgan had never been quite so exhausted than after a few minutes of sex with Big Dragon.

Morgan coughed. She had screamed so loud and so much during the session that she was now hoarse. Not that it mattered; she could probably not form rational sentences at this point.

Moving her head felt like moving a planet, but was able to bob her head up and she saw that instead of having a flat stomach, she had a cute little gut. Apparently, Big Dragon had come like an elephant. She was able to look around, and she saw the interior of the Bungalow was trashed like a rock star's hotelroom from their lovemaking. She had to have been at least 10 feet away from the tigerskin rug.

More astonishingly, she looked at Big Dragon himself. She was exhausted as if she had run a marathon while wearing cement blocks, but Big Dragon's naked, brawny body wasn't even breathing hard. His balls were slightly smaller than they were previously, but astonishingly and incredibly, between his legs, his powerful penis was still stiff. In fact, he was so hard that it looked like his mighty meat could hammer nails. Morgan hoped he wouldn't walk around like that; if he did, it could be dangerous to everything around him. His king sized cock would slap things like a club.

Morgan was astonished. Big Dragon's member snaked up like a pillar between the cut surface of his abs, touching the tip of his pecs. She noticed a glob of cum drip from the tip the size of a quarter. The Chinese stud wrapped both his hands around his beefy girth. He then gave one of his dimpled, irresistible sexy smiles as he strode over to his satisfied lover.

"Say cheese, beautiful." Big Dragon said with a wink of a smoldering black eye. His powerful meat was so vast that when he stood over her, it cast a shadow that totally enveloped her.

The Asian super-stallion grunted with a sound like an angry bull as with skillful fingers he polished his lengthy pole with two hands, rolling it up and down. Morgan watched as even the muscles that surrounded his member tightened and popped, the veins throbbing and beating on the surface. At last his tip opened and his cum burst out like a high-pressure watergun, missing Morgan entirely and splashing in bursts along the wall. Big Dragon leaned down and each gushing, steaming hot ribbon of his powerful, potent seed splattered on Morgan's skin as if she had been hit by a water balloon, coating her naked body, her breasts, shoulders and stomach enveloped until her skin below could not be seen, her raven black and dyed white streaked hair wet as if she had just gone swimming.

Morgan was sure at least five or six times that each burst would be the Asian stud's last. But finally, he ceased. Morgan's face was completely covered as if she was taking a spa facial and her body was wet with more than a gallon of his seed as if she had a bucket of hot water splashed all over her.

Astonishingly, after all that, Big Dragon was quivering but still rock solid. Morgan wondered what it would take to satisfy him.

She found out.

Seven or eight hours later, Morgan was lost on her twentieth or thirtieth orgasm of the evening. They had attempted every position -- some only possible because of Big Dragon's strength, such as him standing up, supporting and lifting her entire body on his member as if it was a sturdy tree limb. She hadn't even noticed the sun coming up hours past. Everything was a blur. It was like Morgan was drowning in an ocean of pleasure. Morgan doubted her senses...but there were some occasions where she could really hear and see fireworks.

After their lovemaking, the pair of them showered together. The bungalow had a pipe that connected to a nearby village well, providing them with water. The steam dripped from Big Dragon's body like water off a duck's back, beading and forming into pools over his glistening sepia skin. Big Dragon at his full 6'8" height was so tall that the showerhead only reached his neck and pecs. When a bar of soap was given to him, he placed it between the cut trench that divided his pectoral muscles, a divide so deep even the soap didn't touch his sternum bone. With a twitch, he flexed his pecs and caused the bar of soap to fall to the shower floor as flat as a pancake and as thin as a penny.

Big Dragon picked Morgan up like a child and set her down in the bed. He was shirtless, and wrapped his khaki pants on, pants whose behind was filled out by Big Dragon's strong and tight peach-shaped ass that popped behind him. The shirtless stud draped his sportsman's aluminum composite bow and quiver over his big shoulders.

"Hey, while we're here in Africa, I'm going to try to cram in some first class shooting. I'll be back in a couple hours to fly us back to New York, lover." Big Dragon said.

Morgan was disappointed that he had to leave. She longed to fall asleep in his strong arms. "No, no, baby, I don't want you to go. Stay with me and hold me." Morgan said firmly.

Big Dragon's exotic oriental eyes showed a craftiness in them. "I'll tell you what...I have something for you. It's the surprise that I told you about. If I give it to you, will you let me go out tonight?"

Morgan assented. She had a feeling that arguing with Big Dragon was pointless as he was so much more mentally stronger as he was physically.

Big Dragon opened his sportsman's suitcase, and clicking a hidden inner button, he opened a secret compartment. Inside was a brassiere, one made entirely of glistening, glass-polished black opals.

"I know how black is your favorite color." Big Dragon said. "I must say, it took some doing to keep a win like this out of the newspapers or gem journals."

Morgan grasped it and pressed it to her body greedily. With a snap, she started to place it on her naked body, her extreme sexual exhaustion forgotten.

"Oh my God. I don't think there's another like this in the whole world." Morgan said with her hoarse voice. "I've got to know how you got it."

Big Dragon only smiled in his nile-dark, sexy and mysterious way.

The Chinese muscle god opened a window to move out. This was despite the fact their bedroom was on the second story. He blew a kiss. Morgan could almost feel it hit her like a dart. "Thanks baby. I'll be right back. I love you."

"And I love opals. You! I mean you." She said.

Morgan grasped Big Dragon's shirt. On him it clung to his cut brawn like a second skin, but it fit her like a tent curtain or a deflated Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. His sleeves alone were wide around enough for her to fit her entire torso through it, and it came down to her knees. Morgan loved it; it was rich with her Asian lover's manly pheremones that drove her mad. She eased gradually off to sleep.

Morgan was startled to hear a sound like breaking, crashing and rumbling. She bolted up and openend her door a peg. She then heard an explosion that shook her off her feet. The downstairs safe had been dynamited.

Tiptoeing downstairs Morgan saw men in safari khaki. A good half were white, the other half were black. They were scruffy, scarred, tattooed, had knives in their boots, and there were dozens around like ants. The largest was six-foot-six with a body like a gorilla and a great black beard.

One of them was a slim black boy sitting at a table with a laptop.

"I thought you said that damned Chinaman lived here." The great black bearded man said in a Dutch accent.

"He does! According to computer records. Believe me, Hans, those opals of yours have to be around here somewhere. When I hacked into U.S. customs, it said he hadn't declared them in the U.S. yet." The youth said.

Morgan buttoned Big Dragon's shirt so that her black opal covered brassiere was not visible.

"If I were to kill Big Dragon..." A bald black African man said, "I would be the most famous fighter in the world."

Morgan's grip on the rail of the steps caused an antique Ming dynasty vase to fall and crack like eggshell. The heads of the dozens of angry men turned towards her direction.

"What a break!" The big bearded man said. "It's that 'tragic' girl he dates. He'll give me back my opals for sure if we have her."

Morgan pulled out her small mother-of-pearl handled derringer from the cuff of her fishnets. "Don't come any closer. Touch me and I'll feed you a bellyful of lead!"

The large bald black African man laughed as he slowly but surely approached Morgan fearlessly. "Come on, girl. Kill one of us? Put the gun down. You wouldn't dare shoot me in front of all these people."

Obviously, he didn't know Morgan very well.

"You want to bet your life on that?" Morgan said. Her gun roared and the bald man collapsed facefirst on the steps as if he was a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The mercenaries were paralyzed with shock at what just happened, but only for a moment. Their hands reached for their weapons. Morgan's hand was shaking. She had never had a gun pointed at her in her entire life. She wondered if she had changed reality and come all this way only to die here.

Big Dragon suddenly burst directly through a glass window. He ran and tackled one of the henchmen on the shoulder with the force of a freight train, knocking the mercenary off his feet. Big Dragon was shirtless and Herculean muscled, larger than even the tallest of the men that surrounded him. His astonishing appearance caused the men to freeze, unable to bring their revolvers to bear.

"Morgan, run upstairs!" He said. Morgan didn't need to be told twice.

Big Dragon grasped one of the couches at the base with his powerful hand, lifting it, and he swung the entire couch like a club, striking five men in a mighty swoop. A bullet rang from a gun and buried itself in the couch.

A mercenary shot at him, but instead only hit air, as Big Dragon moved so fast he appeared to be in two places at once. Big Dragon grasped two heavy men by the collar, one in each hand, easily able to lift them a foot in the air. He watched them wriggle helplessly like worms on a hook. Big Dragon tossed them as if they were made of straw, shattering furniture that broke under their weight.

At first, Big Dragon getting in the midst of armed men was deeply stupid. However, the Chinese Hercules's powerful brain was clocking as ever: the mercenaries could not use their guns if he was in the midst of them, in such cramped spaces, because they might risk shooting each other. Many of them put their guns away and drew their sharp Bowie bush knives. Also, it's a common theory that large numbers of people trip over one another. Bruce Lee once said he'd rather fight ten men than two men.

Big Dragon's huge hands snapped as quick as a cobra's snap, his arms gulping the knife a mercenary held. Grasping the man's arm with one hand around it, he squeezed and caused the man to scream. Big Dragon had crushed and cracked the mercenary's fibula and tibia as if they were made of glass.

Big Dragon leaped with the skill of a world class gymnast onto his hands, then back to his feet, each time he landed shaking the earth with his great strength and weight. While he stood on his hands, his powerful legs split, striking two men as hard as cannonballs fired from a pirate ship, sending both of them to their backs in one blow. When Big Dragon ran, he knocked down men in front of him like a bowling ball hitting pins.

Big Dragon was not only strong but blindingly quick. To him, the movements of the men were in slow motion, their fists easy to catch as floating soap bubbles. His thick arms blocked the blows of six men at a time, moving so fast that they were almost transparent, like blades spinning inside of a blender. His arms were like a shield of steel. He caught the fist of one inside his larger hand and crushed it with a squeeze. One man did manage to get the only punch in against Big Dragon: the lucky mercenary struck a tattooed and muscled back as hard as bronze metal, and found the bones of his hand shattered.

In barely forty-five seconds, the majority of men in the room were on the ground, moaning in pain and screaming. The room's furniture was mostly reduced to splinters. Big Dragon stepped over them towards their black bearded leader. Hans, the black bearded Afrikaan, pulled a mauser from his pocket holdster.