Payback

"He's going to pop!" Betty laughed aloud as Arnie's body froze.

Selma pulled up hard on the stripper's stiff pole, anxious to see him shoot his cream into the air.

"Oh, fuck!" Arnie screamed, as the head of his prick swelled up like a huge purple mushroom.

A half dozen thick and pasty shots of cum flew up high into the air above Selma's head and out and into the jeering faces of the women seated around her. It was raining semen. Big globs of Arnie's molten sperm splashed into faces, hair, dresses, legs, arms, shoes, and anything else that stood in its way, forcing the astonished onlookers to dodge this way and that for cover. It was useless. The spurts of cum were being launched so quickly and voluminously that within seconds half the crowd was baptized with the stripper's errant spunk. Arnie's face registered first absolute pleasure then shock as he watched his penis expend vast amounts of sperm into the crowd. Selma, too, was astounded at the abundant doses of sperm, but she kept jerking him off nonetheless, laughing through it all as the long jets of hot cream sailed up into the air.

"What did I tell you?" Mary asked Priscilla, her eyes aglow. "He'll keep that up for at least another minute."

"It's fucking incredible!" Priscilla shouted through the din. "I love it!"

Claudia was sitting there, astonished as everyone else, her mouth half open. "God, what a load!"

"Keep jerking him, Selma!" Lindsay roared as she hid behind a nearby table, half crouched down to avoid the onslaught.

Betty and Allison stood smartly behind Selma and watched as their friend's rapidly stroking hand provoked round after round of hot spunk from Arnie's tool. On one sharp upward pull, Arnie moaned loudly as a splendid series of sperm blasts shot out at great speed onto the floor in front of him. Rope after stringy rope was joyously ejected from his tortured prick until the floor beneath his feet was awash in his salty offering.

"He's a cum machine!" Betty laughed, as she watched the spunk fly in all directions.

"I know!" Allison cried. "It's so funny!"

Over and over the persistent hand of Selma Widener coaxed out one mammoth load after another. And then, after almost a full minute, the tired prick was drained.

"I've got to sit down," Arnie complained, as he stumbled into a nearby chair and collapsed into it, his body completely covered in sweat. He received a tremendous round of applause, as did Selma.

"I've never seen a man cum like that," Allison said to Arnie. "What did you shoot? A quart of sperm just now?"

"It felt like it," he replied, catching his breath.

Mary took it upon herself to offer a brief explanation to the crowd as to the 'miracle' behind Arnie's outstanding performance. When she told them about it, the women roared with laughter.

"A fertility drug?" Betty asked Mary. "You gave him a fertility drug?"

"It's called 'Inferitol'," Mary replied. "It's something new on the market."

"I hope you have the patent on that stuff, Mary, because it's going to be a best seller, that's for sure!"

"Mary told me about it beforehand," Selma said to Betty. "Arnie knew about it too."

"And the show ain't over either, right Mary?" Arnie asked. "

"No, Arnie. You can't expect your next ejaculation in about three minutes, with subsequent ejaculations about every five minutes or so after that up to a full half hour. The results will be less energetic as the drug wears off."

"I hope my heart doesn't give out before that."

"Don't worry. The first ejaculation is the most profound. The others will be less so, but no less satisfying."

"Every man's dream I would think," Lindsay said, looking down lustfully upon the recuperating body of the handsome black hunk.

Mary smiled. "It's illegal. I shouldn't even have it in my possession. But the Sisterhood can make good use of it. That's why I'm giving my last supply of pills to Danielle. If I'm caught with this drug on me I could lose my job and go to jail."

"That will never happen," Danielle said, walking up to Mary with her hand outstretched. "Give it up girl."

Without a pause, Mary reached into her purse and withdrew a small pillbox containing the wonder drug. She placed the box dutifully in Danielle's hand.

"Thank you Sister," Danielle said, putting the box in her purse. "Another powerful tool in our arsenal."

Danielle Taylor was the leader of the New York chapter of the Sisterhood and was also the President of "Larger than Life," an organization dedicated to the big, beautiful woman lifestyle. At 6' 1" tall she was a very imposing woman whose mere presence often intimidated most men. She had a large frame and though not fat, she was on the verge of being plump, with a set of tits that proudly stood out in defiance of gravity. She was not beautiful in the traditional sense, but had very fine features and was considered pretty by most. Her long, auburn hair fell to her waistline and her piercing sky-blue eyes denoted a keen intellect that did not suffer fools gladly. She was dressed smartly in a charcoal gray business suit and black pumps, which made her look at least a few inches taller. At just 27 years old, she had achieved more than most women her age, and she was proud of it.

With the pills now securely in her possession, Danielle turned to find Priscilla and Claudia standing next to her.

"Danielle," Selma said, "this is my daughter Priscilla and her best friend Claudia Olivetti."

"Nice to meet both of you," Danielle said, extending her hand to both girls.

"Mom has mentioned you quite often," Priscilla replied. "It's great to finally meet you in person."

Before Danielle had a chance to respond, Arnie suddenly let out a loud groan as his prick once more was on the verge of imminent orgasm.

"Better get out of the way!" Mary shouted.

Within an instant all the women standing around Arnie were seeking shelter from the oncoming sperm bath. They scattered this way and that as the stripper's huge prick rocked back and forth under its own volition without any help from Arnie's own hands.

"Shit! Fuck!" the muscular black man exclaimed as he stared down upon his bobbing tool with disbelief. "I'm gonna cum!"

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than a huge torrent of hot, white seed spurted out of his enormous dick, sending thick wads of creamy juice high up into the air in front of him, all without the aid of his, or anyone else's, hands. Priscilla and Claudia moved precipitously behind Arnie so that they could watch his cock explode without getting their clothes splashed.

"Here comes another one!" Claudia laughed as a long, stringy rope of sperm flew about 20 feet up into the air in front of her. "There's so much of it!" she remarked, unable to take her eyes off Arnie's spurting tool.

Danielle stood about a good 30 feet away from Arnie and watched with amusement as his unaided prick fired off one volley after another of it lusty contents. She was a very lascivious woman herself and enjoyed the sight of handsome, muscular men shooting their loads in front of her, as most Sisterhood women did. She found herself counting aloud the tremendous spurts of sperm as they shot out at rapid speed into the air and onto the ground in front of the exhausted stripper. This went on for almost a full minute until Arnie's balls were once again emptied of sperm.

Danielle laughed heartily. "What a great way to keep men complacent!"

Several more times Arnie was forced to relinquish his heavy load of semen for the crowd, but each time he produced less and less of his precious liquid until, at last, he was completely and utterly drained of his vital juices. Selma's party was a spectacular success, not only because of the amazing Inferitol drug, but because Priscilla had made a new and very important friend. She and Danielle Taylor would meet for lunch the very next day.

************

The "Larger than Life" headquarters was situated in a building in midtown Manhattan between 57th and 58th streets on 6th Avenue. Priscilla had a 12:00 p.m. appointment with Danielle at her office on the 12th floor. From there the two women were going to go to lunch at a well-known eatery just around the corner.

As Priscilla walked out of the elevator and through the glass doors leading into the main entrance of the company, she felt a tinge of nervousness. Danielle was only a few years older than she was, and yet she presented herself as a woman with knowledge and posture far beyond her years. Friendly though she was, Danielle was a woman of business and profound intelligence, and this made Priscilla a bit insecure. Despite this, she found courage in the fact that Danielle and her mother had been friends for a very long time, and her mother had reassured her that as long as you dealt honestly and truthfully with the Sisterhood leader, you would have nothing to fear.

Priscilla waited only a few moments before being escorted into Danielle's private office, a large, almost masculine-looking, room on the corner of the north side of the building, replete with heavy, cherry furniture, green and beige colored wallpaper, and several huge, potted plants situated on the floor in each corner of the room.

"There you are!" Danielle said, rising to meet her guest. "You look just stunning!"

"Thanks, Danielle. You look great yourself."

The two women shook hands warmly and Danielle offered her newfound friend a chair.

"Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," said Priscilla, looking around the room to admire the various prints Danielle had hung upon her office walls.

"Would you care for something to drink?"

"No. I'll wait until we go to lunch."

"So what do you think of the place?"

"Lovely, but also utilitarian."

"As any office should be," the pretty woman replied with geniality. "Some offices are so devoid of the human element. It's all functionality and no soul. I hate that."

Priscilla knew exactly what she meant. "I do too. The décor should reflect the soul of its occupant."

Danielle smiled. "Precisely! Come. Let me take you on a tour of the office."

After Priscilla had spent some time meeting people and purveying the vast suite of offices that made up Danielle's company, the two women had lunch and then took a leisurely stroll through Central Park, which was teeming with people who had taken advantage of the beautiful spring day to eat their lunch under the cloudless sky and blossoming trees.

They found a bench to sit on, just underneath an old, budding chestnut tree that gave them partial shade from the mid-afternoon sun. The city was alive with energy. Even here, in the midst of this artificially contrived environment, the sounds and smells of the city assailed them, but the effect was muted by the trees and fountains, which made it seem like a tiny oasis of sanity; a pastoral quirk surrounded by a swirling vortex of humanity impinging upon them from all sides.

"Your mother has told me a lot about you," Danielle said, looking Priscilla in the eye. "She says that you were once pretty heavy."

At first Priscilla found her comment a bit untoward but then realized that Danielle was a straightforward person who always, for better or worse, spoke her mind. She decided that it was not meant maliciously but merely as a prelude to conversation.

"In my early teen years I was quite big," Priscilla admitted. "My parents were going through a divorce and it was my way of retaliating."

"I totally understand," Danielle replied sympathetically. "I went through something similar myself. Only in my case, my father used to hit my mother and me. It was awful."

"My dad never hit me, but then he was hardly ever around."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is a workaholic. His family always came second to his job."

Danielle sighed heavily. She studied Priscilla's exquisite features, the perfectly symmetrical nose, each nostril so finely shaped and delicate with just a hint of freckles on the bridge of her nose; the lustrous jet-black hair that captured the light of the sun in waves of cascading hues of intense midnight to succulent chocolate brown; the large, liquid, blue eyes, full of energy, intelligence and compassion. She wondered how any man, especially her own father, could be indifferent to such a precious jewel of a girl so as to behave as if she didn't even exist. It was beyond her comprehension to understand such behavior.

"You are a beautiful woman," Danielle said softly, touching the side of Priscilla's face with the back of her hand in one gentle movement. "I think you and I are going to be great friends. What do you think?"

"I don't have to think," the young woman replied, savoring the older woman's touch. "I know."

For a while the two women sat together in silence, enjoying the light, cool breeze that washed over them.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Danielle said. "Your mom didn't fill in all the gaps."

"Well, I work for WNYX in the editorial department. I have a boyfriend, Eddie Schwartz, and we're engaged to be married next year—a December wedding..."

"No, no," Danielle stopped her. "I know all that from your mom. I want to know what makes you tick. You know. What is your passion in life? What is important to you?"

"Oh, that stuff."

Danielle chuckled to herself, sensing that it might take a little prying to get under her friend's skin. "You tell me and I'll tell you."

"That's a deal," Priscilla agreed.

At that moment a young man, not older than perhaps twenty, and dressed in only a torn pair of jeans, dirty t-shirt and worn sneakers, came waltzing by looking for a handout. Danielle immediately told him to get lost.

"Come on. Can't you spare a fuckin' few dollars?" he said, scowling.

"Why don't you get a job?" Danielle retorted.

"I just want a few dollars to buy something to eat, that's all."

"You mean to buy drugs. No. Sorry. I can't help you. Now take off."

He started to walk away and then turned around and came back. This time he spoke to Priscilla. "Your friend is a cheap bitch. But everyone can see she eats well enough."

"Go away!" Priscilla said, turning her face away from his.

At precisely this moment Danielle got up and shoved her two huge tits right into his leering face. He looked up at her with a look of surprise and fell back instinctively from the angry woman who now towered over him.

"I have no patience for people such as you," she said to the man. "I see you here all the time, hanging around and doing nothing but annoying everyone. You're perfectly healthy and fit for work. Yet, you prefer to solicit people for money."

"My life sucks," he replied. "What can I tell you?"

"You're a waste of life."

The young man moved away from Danielle, as if seeking refuge within the small crowd of passersby might instill some courage within him. "Fuck you, bitch. God will punish you someday."

Priscilla watched the young man approach other people he stumbled into and suddenly felt bad for her friend. "What an asshole. I can't imagine being like that—living on the mercy of strangers."

"I can understand if a person is mentally ill or has a physical impairment that prevents them from holding down a job. But this guy is just fucking lazy."

Both women watched the young man accost one person after the other in his quest for money. He was turned down by everyone he met. Moments later he disappeared among the crowd.

"Feel like taking a walk?" Danielle asked.

"Sure."

As they walked through the park Priscilla found herself opening up to Danielle in a way that she had only reserved for Claudia. She felt comfortable revealing the details of her life to this larger than life woman whose cheery smile and forthcoming attitude gave her a sense of security and well being.

"I guess I just want a simple life," Priscilla began. "A nice house somewhere in Manhasset or at least in Nassau county. An adoring husband. A few kids—a boy and a girl preferably. And of course a good job. I don't care if we're rich. I just want to be happy."

Danielle stole a glance at her younger counterpart and laughed. "An idealist and a romanticist. How quaint!"

"I suppose I am. But what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Danielle replied. "If you want a secure, safe existence."

"There's a lot to be said for feeling safe and secure."

"I assume there is. But I've found that it's a sure pathway to boredom and ultimate discontent."

Priscilla studied her friend's face intently, waiting for something more.

"No. It's true," Danielle continued, sensing that her comment required further elaboration. "There really is no such thing as security. No one is safe. It's all an illusion. And the price you pay for being just one of the crowd?: your soul."

"Aren't you being just a little dramatic?"

"Am I? I don't think so. Look around you. Most of these poor slobs go to work every day completely oblivious to the truth that surrounds them. They think they're living the 'American Dream'. But that, too, is an illusion. There never was any such thing as an 'American Dream,' just as there is no such thing as 'family values,' or 'individual rights,' or a 'War on Terror,' or even a 'God Bless America'. They think they're safe and secure—just as you do. But no one, and I mean no one, can guarantee your safety and security; not your parents, your friends, the police, the government—no one!"

"So what are you saying? That we're all sleepwalking through life?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying." Danielle's voice took on a more insistent tone. "Look, Priscilla. Our country is in very deep trouble. The red flag should have gone up when the somnambulists of this country voted George Bush in for a second term. But the bullshit really began long ago when the powerful plutocrats—I'm talking about the oligarchic families that are the real owners of the United States—decided to initiate their schemes to make themselves the supreme lords of this land, which has since been bought and sold from under our feet I might add, and to disenfranchise the American people. Think of it. The recent sub-prime fiasco has caused millions of people to lose tons of money, their homes, and their investments...because the banks got greedy. And what does our government do? They bail out the banks. They very entities who created the financial meltdown were given billions of dollars by good old Uncle Sam to help bail them out. What the government should have done was to put a freeze on their assets, not lend them a helping hand. Yet they did. It is the greatest scandal ever, and the average American taxpayer got the bill. Does this sound like a country with a healthy soul?"

"You sound a lot like my dad," Priscilla admitted. "He hates Wall Street. He calls them all 'criminals'."

"And so they are! The banks, the IMF, the Federal Reserve, the powerful oil companies and mega corporations of all kinds have their fingers in the pie. Our government has become nothing more than one giant corporate entity in service to these global conglomerates, these fucking cartels. And as they grow more powerful, the beautiful, shining Republic for which we stand is fading away. These entities, or I should say rather, these men, because it is men who are responsible for the horrors that have come upon us, and which will soon come upon us again but in an even far more terrible way, want nothing more than to reduce the working class and the poor to serfdom. It's happening now. The Patriot Act is dissolving our freedoms under the guise of keeping America safe and secure and the banks are closing in for the kill by keeping people in debt such that they cannot afford to keep their homes. Prices for goods and services keep climbing while wages remain low or static. And may I remind you that this phenomenon is not just occurring here in the United States, but all around the world. These fucking bastards, these men who run the banks and therefore the world, want it all for themselves and to hell with the rest of us."