Busty Blonde Cassandra Pt. 03

When she awoke, Cassandra laid naked, wrapped in an extra large white beach towel that struggled to cover her huge, proud breasts. An unfamiliar woman told her that she was severely dehydrated before asking how she felt. Cass answered groggily and honestly, "My butt hurts."

Sitting up, she felt the abundant, dry, and crusty cum on her body crinkle. Then she noticed that her left wrist was tethered to the plastic board they'd laid her on. Cass furrowed her brow and squinted into the sun to see two lifeguards and a couple of apparently vacationing nurses standing over her.

One of the nurses beckoned another blurry figure who stepped closer and introduced himself with a husky voice. "Good day, I'm Officer Bruski. How are ya feelin', ma'am?"

Upon noticing his police uniform and salt-and-pepper mustache, Cass realized she was trapped.

"Um, I'm all right. I guess," she said, fidgeting as she spoke.

She tried to remind her befuddled self of all that had happened so she might think of convincing lies to escape the aftermath. It all seemed like a wild dream, though, and if it weren't for the pulsing pain in her ass she might have believed it had simply been her imagination.

"You and some German fella created a real stir in that concession stand over there," He pointed at the small building which sat about forty yards away. "You remember that?"

"Uhh... kind of," she bluffed, looking away and rubbing her neck with her free hand before bluntly asking, "Why am I tied to this thing?"

"Just for yer safety, ma'am. Witnesses said you seemed dazed and confused, possibly even concussed. When the owner opened that shutter, said you ran right out of there like a cockroach goin' under the fridge when the lights come on," he laughed. Then, seeing the baffled look on her face, he added, "Sure yer feelin' all right, ma'am? Could ya tell me what happened with you and that skinny German fella?"

"Well, uh," she fumbled for a convincing half-truth to pass along and started it with, "I was naked."

"You were naked when ya went in there?" He eyed the bulge of the blonde's big, perky balloon tits under the beach towel.

"Yes, because he stole my top and my shorts and threw them in the waves!" The words that came from her mouth surprised her.

"He stole your clothes?"

"Yes, he did. And he told me he wouldn't give them back unless he could lick whipped cream off my butt and then he pointed at that food stand!" Cass pointed, her heart rate increasing with every disingenuous word.

"Hm," he seemed incredulous, "really? And did you two know each other before this?"

"No! He just took them and threw them and got in my face! He told me to call him Santa Claus and sit on his lap!" More wild details makes it more convincing, she told herself. "He kept calling me a 'naughty girl' with that gross accent of his," she shuddered.

"Santa Claus, huh? Well, I can tell you, ma'am, that this fella is on his way to the police department right now for indecent exposure, public fornication, trespassing, vandalism, expired visa and petty theft. Are you telling me that you'd like to press charges on him for sexual assault as well? That is a very serious accusation, ma'am."

"I'm - I'm not sure," she let her voice crack and tried but failed to summon some tears to her dehydrated eyes, "can - can I think about it, sir? Everything just happened so fast..."

"Of course you can, ma'am. Here, take my card - well, just a moment," he seemed to just then realize she didn't have any clothes or pockets to put it in. "Could I write my number on your arm, instead?" He pulled out a pen.

"Sure," she thrust out her right arm and he scribbled on it in black ink.

"Oh, and I'll need your name, number, and address too, ma'am. For my report."

"Oh, um, of course!" Cass hesitated then lied again, "My name is... Samantha Jones and... I just got a new phone so I'm not totally sure the number but it's something like 877-3950. And, yeah, I'm staying at 55 Beach Club Lane."

"I could give you a ride home, if you like, ma'am." Cass shook her head. "All right, well, thank you very much for your cooperation, Ms. Jones. I'm glad you're feeling fine after this whole... ordeal." He loosened the thin rope tying her to the board, continuing, "and please give us a call as soon as you've, well, cleaned yourself up a bit and gotten some rest."

"Thank you, Officer."

Cassandra wasted no time jumping to her feet and tightly wrapping herself in the large, borrowed beach towel. The sooner she left, the fewer questions she'd have to answer, she decided. Her golden hair, swayed long, loose, and coated in the dried remains of both salty seawater and semen as she swiftly strode away from the crime scene.

Eyes, questions, and pointing fingers followed her across the white sand beach, but within two minutes of steady speed-walking, she had escaped the rubbernecking crowd.

The walk home passed quickly as the day's events replayed in her head. As she walked, every bounce of her breasts and sway of her hips brought back a thought of Antonio or Klaus or even her husband. She wondered what sort of welcome he had awaiting her at home.

When she made it back, Cassandra found their beach house as beautiful and imposing as ever. Passing between marble pillars as she ascended the front stairs, Cass looked upon the replica Statue of David and hung her head in pity for the Roman women who thought that little penis was enough.

Her husband was right where she'd left him. Sitting on the couch in his underwear, chubby legs wide and huge TV set loud. He looked out of place amidst the grand, masterful and marble architecture. He didn't seem to notice her until several moments after the door had been slammed shut behind her.

"Hey! Look who's home. How was the ride, babe?" He asked unenthusiastically, not bothering to turn his face from the screen. "You missed lunch. I'm hungry. Whatcha makin'?"

Cass took a deep breath, pulling off her beach towel regalia and burying all the most obvious thoughts in her mind. "What do you want to eat?" She asked, monotone.

She wound up cooking mac 'n' cheese from a box and chicken nuggets from a freezer bag at her husband's request. Madly hungry but nonetheless reluctantly, she ate some of the cheap food with him. He didn't even seem to notice she was naked and covered from head-to-toe with a thick salty brine, but he did make a comment on the writing on her wrist.

"Whose number is that? Your new boyfriend?" He asked between bites, chewing all the while.

"Police station. Santa Claus got arrested for fucking me in the ass at a hot dog stand." She teased him.

"Yeah," He laughed, snorting with a mouthful of food he'd ordered from the kids' menu, "You ask him for a lifetime supply of STD tests and abortions?"

The busty blonde slammed her fork down on the dinner plate. "Real funny, Harold," she stood and wiped her scowling mouth, "you know I don't like you joking about me having abortions. I'm not just some dirty whore." She glowered at his bald scalp, awaiting a reply that was sure to be unsatisfactory.

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down," once again not bothering to look at her while speaking, "it's just a joke. What are you? On the rag again?"

Cassandra stomped her bare feet up the stairs and stared at her tired face in the bathroom mirror. She couldn't stand that condescending, balding old man that she'd married. At forty-eight years old, he was more than twice her age and nearly three times her weight. For two years now she'd thought a massive heart attack must be right around the corner to take him out. She thought she could have easily outlasted the lazy bastard but every month with him seemed a week longer than the one before.

Once the glass door to the shower had steamed up, the busty young blonde stepped under the water. She did her best to wash out her dirty hair, sticky skin, and nasty thoughts with the warm running water. Soapy suds streamed down her smooth skin and curvaceous body, rinsing the sinful residue down the burbling drain.

Soothing warm rain poured on her closed eyelids as her hands slipped and glided over her supple hips, trim tummy and tremendous tits. She filled her mouth with water, drinking it and and letting it pour out of her mouth to trickle down her skin. Not a trace of a wrinkle, scar or stretch mark could be found on her incredible body. Nothing in the world was more valuable to her than her own flesh, she thought. But, foolishly, she gave it to this goblin she'd married just to have a taste of his money.

Despite the haunting degradation and humiliation she had suffered that morning, Cassandra was able to wrap her freshly cleaned body cozily in a white bathrobe and quickly fall asleep in the master bedroom. Warm sunlight fell softly upon her as she napped the afternoon away.

It was late evening when she awoke with a ravenous hunger. Half-awake and delirious, she grabbed the phone and quickly ordered an extra large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and a Caesar salad from the most expensive Italian joint in the area.

Flouncing downstairs, pleasantly well-rested, Cass tightened the belt of her bathrobe as she saw him. Surprise, surprise: he was back on the couch gaping at the television.

The sounds of football blared as Harold greeted her, potato chips crunching between his teeth while his hand grasped for more, "Mornin', sleepy head. Guess you're getting too old to party like you used to, huh?"

She grimaced as more potato chips were crammed in his chuckling maw. Sitting on the far end of his couch, he finally looked at her face only to say, "I remember when you used to wear makeup for me."

Cass changed the subject immediately. "I ordered food for us." He grunted in approval. The busty young blonde sat and watched the football game with him. She could never figure out the rules but she loved seeing the big, muscular athletes in action. Nearly all of them were the complete opposite of the man sitting next to her: handsome, young, strong, fast... Black.

"Spend all of your allowance yet?" He asked her with a grin. "I'll give you a little cash injection if you take my ejaculation," he said with a lackadaisical, sing-songy tone.

Cassandra was comparing herself to the cheerleaders onscreen and, as usual, found herself far beyond them in every superficial facet. Without speaking a word, she scooched closer, licked her palm and grabbed his limp prick. His limp cock was even smaller than the Statue of David's - just the size of his pinky toe - and she knew the best he could do was grow to the size and stiffness of one of his chubby, stubby forefingers.

"That's it, baby," he smirked, his pig-like eyes glued to the big screen television. "Yeah..."

It took his clogged blood vessels a whole commercial break before his prick was semi-hard. It helped tremendously when he brought himself to turn his head and grab one of Cass's fantastic, round, fat tits. He squeezed hard on her nipple and threw his head back with a guttural groan as she stroked his stubby dick.

She ignored the sounds and feel of him as well as she could, focusing instead on the masculine men battling each other on the field. Cass watched their bulges and strong, round glutes closely. She told herself that if she were one of the cheerleaders on the field that they'd be playing much harder. Then the camera switched to the crowd where a woman was opening wide and stuffing a footlong hot dog in her mouth, the sight of which refreshed the exploits she'd had on the beach that morning. She smiled and stifled a laugh as she continued her short, quickening strokes of him.

Her husband's labored breath was quickening too, and she couldn't help but pity him and his pathetic endurance as she watched these national champion athletes clash tirelessly on television. He let his crudely groping hand off her soft, tender nipple just before a painfully loud CRASH came from the outside door to their kitchen. Cass jumped to her feet and her husband slowly lurched to his.

"What the fuck was that?" He said for both of them.

"Someone's breaking in!" She screamed, watching as a skinny black arm reached through broken glass to fumble at the inside lock.

"Harry! Call the -" Before she started her fourth word, he was waddling out the backdoor with his beer belly and pitiful prick leading the way.

Cassandra stood struck with fear as the intruder made wild, animalistic sounds. Blood dripped from his arm. Finally he found the knob and turned the lock, revealing his withered, drug addled body to the busty, barely-dressed blonde. His crude, hungry eyes nearly popped out of his sickly skull when he saw her.

"Hey, hey! Miss Big Titties!" He yelled at her, bare feet stumbling forward over fallen, broken glass. He wore only a gray T-shirt, sweatpants, and phony gold teeth.

Cass snapped away from his cold eyes and sprinted toward the front door, bathrobe flapping and balloon tits bouncing. The instant she flung the door open, the doorbell rang. Before it finished a note she was face-to-chin with a tall, well-dressed black man holding a pizza and a salad.

"Help!" She looked up at him, pleading; panicked, "He just broke in! He - That fucking CRACKHEAD just broke in!" The delivery man's hairless, obsidian-black head looked down at her huge, heaving bosom then up to her terrified face and finally over to the rampaging fiend crossing the kitchen.

He handed her the boxes without a word as he stepped past her. His muscular forearms flexed as he marched forward. The raving crackhead approached just a bit slower now that he stood between them, beseeching the interloper, "Yo, nigga! I'll share da white meat!"

The delivery man answered promptly, "Fuck you, nigga!" before delivering a powerful fist to the fiend's face.

The intruder hurtled backward, bashing his head on the cabinetry and his hip against the counter before falling face forward onto the floor and the shattered glass with a resounding thud. All went quiet, Cass stood speechless as the smell of the hot pizza in her hands rose to her nostrils.

"OH MY GOD! OH! MY! GAWD!" Mimicking the cheerleaders she'd judged minutes ago, Cass jumped up and down, cheering and squealing with delight. The pizza jumped and jostled with her, but the salad crashed and spilled on the floor - not that it mattered to her at the moment.

Her champion prize-fighter turned and caught her bright blue eyes filled with amazement. "You are so - Wow! I don't - You just -! WOW!!" She raved as he grinned and strolled back to her proudly.

It was as if her dreams had been answered: he was handsome, young, strong, fast, and even... Black. She was astonished at the suddenness and coincidence of it all. Her pretty little head couldn't believe everything that had happened so abruptly but here her hero stood all the same.

"You saved me," she nodded with sincerity, her big bare tits bouncing and swaying along with her long, golden hair and wide-open bathrobe.

"That was quite a fright, ma'am," he came closer to her, rich brown eyes wide from the excitement, "are you okay?"

His delivery uniform was a fine, white collared shirt with short-sleeves and a pair of slim black slacks. He was dressed like a gentleman and spoke like one too. Cass could have fainted.

"I am now, honey," She dropped her robe and the pizza to the ground, repeating, "I am now."

She was sure he could see how instantly wet her pussy had become. It felt like she'd pissed herself in the thrill of it all. He was utterly baffled. He looked first to her enormous, incredible rack - twice as wide as her waist - then back to the motionless crackhead before glancing up at Cassandra's dazzling, adoring eyes.

"We - We should call the police," he stammered, unable to break her beguiling stare.

"Let my husband do it," she said, grabbing his hand and leaning in close enough to touch her terrific tits to his chest.

His speechless mouth hung open, his heart pumped liters of adrenaline-filled blood straight to his young black dick. Cass took a better look at the knocked-out crackhead and saw his right foot was turned all the way around. A pool of blood beneath his face was slowly growing.

Her savior spoke, "Thank God I was here," placing his big, warm hands on her shoulders. His voice was warm and manly. "You are one lucky, beautiful lady!" He smiled and laughed heartily, turning to see the lifeless body again before stooping down and scooping the warm pizza box off the floor.

As he grabbed it, he took a close, not-so-subtle look at her freshly shaven and slippery wet pussy. He smiled wide, showing his pearly-white teeth that shone extra brightly amidst his obsidian black face as he raised his head to hers, bumping and jiggling one of her fat, perky tits as he rose. That cologne, she thought, he even smells like a gentleman...

He held the box up spiritedly with one hand, "Your pizza, ma'am."

She responded to his cheesy line by wrapping arms around him and going in for a wet, open kiss. He instinctively put an arm around her waist, pulling her up and pressing her big boobs against him as his lips pressed against hers, letting her tongue come to lick his first.

His cock surged with power and stretched his pant leg to make a good impression on her naked thigh. She kissed him deeper and faster as soon as she felt it. His tongue was warmer, wetter and bigger than she expected, much to her enjoyment. He sucked her plump lips and thrust his tongue inside to taste her mouth as she teased his tongue with hers. Cass couldn't believe what was happening, and neither could he, but neither wanted to awake from the dream.

They broke apart to suck in some air and immediately the busty blonde bimbo grabbed his hand, spun on her heel and led him toward the staircase. Her hero glanced once more at the motionless fiend on the floor then to the door that the fat naked man had left open in his escape. Smiling wide, he followed her like a happy puppy, watching Cass's ass bounce and wobble up the stairs to the bedroom.

He tossed the pizza box to a small table in the corner of the room and had already undone a shirt button before it landed. Cass slammed the door and locked it. When she turned around his white shirt was wide open and he'd already taken his shoes off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching to tear off a long black dress sock, Cass crashed her huge, soft, round tits into his face and groped fondly at his bulging rod.

He'd only removed one sock before she was absolutely smothering him with her supple, creamy titties. He mumbled into her breasts before wetly kissing her soft flesh. Before she suffocated the man, she pushed him onto his back. The plush bed shook as he flopped flat on his back. She swiftly unfastened his black belt, pulling his pants to his ankles in one tug.

Out came his great black snake, straight and erect as the Washington monument. His black dickhead leaned slightly toward her and, just like a cobra prepared to spit poison, wetness glistened in his maw.

Cassandra beamed with compounded awe at this man's manhood. "Oh my God," she purred in delight, "I love your big black cock!" Cass looked past the ebony tower of dick looming over her face to admire his toned body and gaze into his stupidly-smiling eyes.

Her bimbo brain kicked into action: she immediately squished her big, round balloon tits against his hot and hairy black balls. They felt like a pair of warm, fuzzy baseballs pressed on her chest. Her tongue dove to the root of his dick and lightly zigzagged its way to his tip, leaving a trail of thick spit in its wake. Cass had to straighten her back and stretch her neck just to reach the underside of his head; there she caressed him playfully with the tip of her tongue and tasted his leaking precum with mewling delight.

Blowing hot steamy breath all along his shaft, Cassandra could hear him moaning, possibly even praying, "Oh, fuck... God... Oh my fucking God.... Yes, yes, yes..."