2. HUSH
Two
HUSH
She drops. Just like that. Thick thighs folding, denim stretching tight over her fat, pretty ass, knees on dirty concrete.
A soft, stunned look in her gorgeous brown eyes like she can’t believe she did it, can’t believe she’s staying.
My cock has been a problem since I saw her.
Big tits in a shirt that doesn’t stand a chance.
Soft stomach. An ass that would take a beating and ask for the next one.
Pretty brown skin I want my teeth in. A mouth made to stretch.
I don’t do this.
I fight. I collect. I leave.
I don’t clock a woman in a crowd and end a fight faster so I can get to her before somebody else even looks. I don’t walk a curvy stranger into my locker room with my blood still dripping and my dick already leaking.
I do, tonight.
“Hands on your thighs,” I tell her. “Don’t touch me till I say. You look at me while you do it.”
She listens. Palms on her thick thighs, fingers digging in. Fuck, I like that more than I should.
I leave the mask on. She doesn’t get my face yet. She gets my voice and my dick and the fact that I walked out of a win for this. The rubber sits warm against my mouth. Every breath I take fogs it. Bet she can hear it. I fucking want her to.
I shove my shorts down. My cock slaps against my stomach, thick, heavy, flushed dark, a wet bead already sliding down the underside. Veins standing up. The head is swollen fat, shiny. Her eyes go wide. She swallows.
“Jesus.”
“Not in here.” I wrap my taped hand in her curls. Not yanking. Holding. The wrap against her scalp. “This is just me. Open your pretty mouth.”
She does. Warm. Wet. Careful at first, tongue on the head like she’s testing me.
I don’t let her be careful. I feed her the head and watch her lips stretch around it, watch the spit shine right away, watch her try to take what doesn’t fit and decide she wants it anyway.
The sound she makes when I bump the back of her throat goes straight to my balls.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Breathe through your nose. You came into my night looking like this, tits out, ass eating your jeans, staring at me like you wanted to get used. You get the whole fucking thing.”
I push deeper. Her throat flutters. Spit spills from the corners of her mouth and strings down to her shirt.
I fuck her mouth in short, mean strokes, mask fogging, locker room echoing every wet noise, each ragged breath.
When she gags, I hold her there a second longer, thumb stroking the soft skin at her jaw, then I let her have air, then give it back.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes are glassy. Mascara running. Mouth shiny and obscene, stretched around my cock, drool on her chin. The prettiest fucking thing I’ve seen in years, and she’s on a dirty floor for a man she can’t even fully see.
“Fuck, look at you,” I growl. “On your knees in a locker room with a masked man’s dick down your throat. Your fat lips stretched. Fucking heaving. Your panties soaked? Don’t fucking lie.”
She tries to nod around me. The vibration pulls a groan out of my chest.
“Use your tongue. That’s it. Get it sloppy. I want it dripping when I put it in your pussy.”
She does what I tell her. Messy. Eager. Her nails bite into her jeans because I haven’t given her permission to touch me, and that obedience makes my balls draw up tighter.
I pull out before I finish. A string of spit connects her bottom lip to my cock.
And she makes a broken sound like I stole something from her.
“Up.”
I haul her to her feet and spin her. Her palms slap the lockers.
I crowd her from behind, cock wet and angry against the back of her jeans, mask scraping the base of her neck.
I pop the button, pull the zipper, and shove denim and panties down in one mean push until they catch at her thighs, trapping her.
Ass out. Bare. Fucking thick. Her deep brown skin under the cheap light, and her juicy pussy already dripping down her inner thighs. The smell of her hits me, sweet, sharp, filthy, and I have to lock my jaw.
“Fuck.” I drag two taped fingers through her. She’s fucking soaked. Soft. Hot. The wrap is rough against her clit; she jumps and pushes back into my touch. “You were standing at that table like this? This wet from watching me fight?”
“I didn’t… I don’t even…”
I push two fingers into her without warning. She slaps the metal. Fuck, she’s tight. Sucking me in. Silky walls clamping down like they want to keep me. I pump, curl, find that swollen spot and rub it while my thumb works her clit. Wet sounds fill the room. Obscene and fucking loud.
I rasp against her ear, mask bumping the side of her face. “This fat little pussy is drooling down my tape. You hear that? That’s you. That’s how bad you wanted a stranger to fucking ruin you.”
I work her until her legs shake. Until she’s pushing back on my hand like she forgot she was supposed to be scared, moaning into her forearm. Voices boom down the hall; somebody laughing, a door slamming, and she tenses.
“Hush, someone…”
“Then you better be quiet, pretty girl.” I add a third finger just to feel her stretch. “They walk in, they see you like this. Jeans around your thighs. Masked man knuckle-deep in this dripping cunt. You gonna tell me to stop, or you gonna come on my hand like a good fucking girl?”
She comes. Hard. Fast. With a broken whimper she tries to swallow. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, gushing, thighs shaking so bad I have to pin her hips to the lockers. I keep rubbing her through it until she’s twitching, cursing, trying to close her legs without success.
When I finally pull my fingers out, they’re shining. I reach around and push them against her mouth.
“Clean it.”
She does. Tongue hot. Embarrassed. Hungry. I smear what’s left along her bottom lip, fist my cock, press the fat head against her entrance, and drag it through that mess until she’s panting.
“Last chance,” I say. “You want this dick, you take it raw. I’m not fucking pulling out. I’m going to fill this pussy until it’s running down your thighs and then I’m going to do it again. You understand me?”
“Hush…”
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please. Fuck me. I want it.”
I drive in, and she screams into her arm.
I have to lock my arms on her hips so I don’t slam all the way in on the first stroke.
She’s squeezing me so hard I see white. Tight.
Slick. Burning hot. Her fat ass slaps back against my abs.
I drop my forehead to her shoulder, mask scraping her shirt, and try to breathe.
“Take it,” I growl. “That’s it. Open this pretty cunt up for me. Fuck, Nyla. You’re strangling my dick.”
I give her another inch. Another. Until my hips are flush to her ass and she can feel every thick vein. I stay there, grinding, letting her feel how full she is, how deep I am, how there’s nowhere to go.
Then I fuck her against the lockers. Ugly. Skin slapping. The metal rattling. The door is ten feet away and not locked. I don’t fucking care. I reach around and find her clit again, rub it mean with my taped fingers, and talk into her hair while I use her.
“This what you needed? A strange man to stretch this tight little pussy in a dirty room? Look how well you fucking take it. Fat. Soft. Made to be fucked stupid. I’m going to pump you so full it leaks down to your fucking socks.”
She breaks with a desperate sound. Her cunt milks me in helpless little pulls. I don’t last. I wasn’t going to. I bury myself, grind, and come so deep my knees dip. Pulse after pulse. Thick. Hot. Marking the inside of a woman I met twenty minutes ago.
I stay in her. Breathing hard. Hand spread over her soft stomach, feeling myself twitch.
“You’re not walking back to that table,” I tell her.
She laughs, wrecked, voice shot. “Is that a request?”
“No.” I roll my hips, still hard enough to make her whimper. “That’s me keeping what’s mine.”