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From: toryu88@hotmail.com (sir_kraken)
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Beach House Whore Chap 1 and 2 {Toryu} (fM+ reluc interr degrad oral anal nc/cons bdsm breast sad beast pierc exhib fist)
Date: Sat, 23 Nov 2002 07:10:03 -0500
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This is an original work of adult literature.  If you are under
18 years of age, read no further.  If you are a pious self-righteous
adult burdened by a repressive religious upbringing and sexual
hang-ups too numerous to count, then you too should pass.

This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY.
Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed
permission of the Author at:  godegesil@hotmail.com

This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery,
prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism,
breast torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes
to mind.

Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email.

The Beach House Whore

by Toryu

This is an original work of adult literature.  If you are under 18
years of age, read no further.  If you are a pious self-righteous
adult burdened by a repressive religious upbringing and sexual
hang-ups too numerous to count, then you too should pass.

This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY.
Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed
permission of the Author at: toryu88@hotmail.com

This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery,
prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism, breast
torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes to mind.

Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email.


Chapter 1

Her trim stomach was filled with butterflies as the feelings of
anticipation and apprehension mixed into a volatile emotional mixture.
 She kept her eyes on the steady stream of traffic that wound its way
down Interstate 45 from Houston to Galveston.  It was only 10 AM and
the air was already heavy with humidity and the mercury was headed
steadily upward. She guessed she would get to Surfside around noon if
the traffic continued to build.

She squirmed in the seat, feeling the strangeness of the t-back
between her firm buttocks.  She'd worn the bathing suit he had sent
her as a present.  A t-back bikini.  The color was conservative
enough, an azure blue, but it was ridiculously small as she had
discovered on trying it on.

"The bastard!"  she thought laughing self consciously to herself.  Her
face flushed at the memory of herself standing in front of the mirror
with only the three little azure blue lycra triangles covering her.
The bottom wasn't so bad, but the top, it barely covered her conical
aureoles, much less supporting her voluminous breasts. She remembered
the sight of the small blue triangle up between her sleek bare legs
and how she had resolved to endure a bikini wax.  The strings of the
bottom rode above her wide hips right where the smooth flesh turned
inward to her narrow waist.  The slender column of her waist rose up
to her ribcage in the shadow of her ponderous bosom.  She had always
been morbidly embarrassed by her large breasts.  It seemed to her that
between the 8th and 12th grades every boy in Bastrop County had tried
to cop a feel.  Her mother had tried to solve the problem by dressing
her in moo moos and loose blouses.  All they did was accentuate the
difference between her tiny waist and voluminous chest.

Her prominent nipples won the Battle of Modesty with the thin azure
fabric.  The cigar butt stubs of her nipples poked into the elastic
fabric, the thin blue fabric revealing the round outline and puckered
contours of her fat aureoles to casual inspection.  She remembered
turning and seeing the t-back for the first time.  The large expanse
of bare curved flesh that met her eyes, still made her face color. 
The firm rounds of her bare buttocks glared back at her.  The thin
blue thread of bathing suit threaded the juicy pale mounds like the
Suez Canal between the Sinai and Egypt.  It had been an obscene sight
for a girl that had never been allowed to wear a two piece bathing
suit and then only a one piece with a t-shirt on.

He said she was beautiful, and he had bought it for her.  She had to
admit it did make her feel nasty.  "What would Reverend Miller say if
he had seen her in it!" she thought, "He probably would have been
wiping drool from his fat chin!" quickly banishing the wicked thought
with a shiver.

 "Oh well," she giggled, "It was for Dan's eyes only.", she thought.

She relaxed and let her mind wander as the salt grass bordering the
interstate whip by as she approached the coast.

"She was so lucky." she thought.  A boyfriend with a beach house! 
Yes, things had moved fast and he was older than her, but, , but she
had so much fun with him, and he treated her like his princess. 
Something her father had never done!  And besides, she felt so safe
with him.  No pretensions, no games, just him and her.  It made her
feel warm inside.

The surf crashed against the expanse of dirty amber sand, the salt air
filling his nostrils. The middle aged man sat sipping an Oban, neat,
savoring the way the rich amber scotch made his taste buds sing.  His
chuckle filled the room as his mind drifted back three weeks to when
he'd first seen her at the health club, swathed in black stretch
cotton. She'd done some light weights and then moved to the bikes and
stair master.  All the guys had noticed her, hard not to.  She wasn't
the most beautiful woman there, but pretty.  A kind of a Karen Allen
type, dark hair and a freckle covered pert nose, wide mouth with juicy
lips, dark eyes.  Most stayed clear of her and just gawked. 
Considered her untouchable.  He laughed at that.  The guys must have
been afraid of her breasts.  Oh yes, her breasts.  Large?  Well, what
had Cyrano de Bergerac said when someone called his nose big?  Such a
waste of opportunity he had said, and proceeded with a soliloquy of
adjectives that would have done justice to his probiscal edifice.  His
mind wandered with due apologies to Edmond Rostand...

"Yes her breasts were large to some, but to the mountaineer, massive;
to the sailor, immense; the banker, enormous; the archeologist,
Herculean; the astronomer, vast; the butcher, meaty; the poet,
gargantuan; the novelist, brobdingnagian; the doctor, corpulent; the
artist, magnificent; the industrialist, stupendous, the feminist,
monstrous, and the farmer, fat as bacon."   You get the idea he
thought.

The young woman's narrow waisted medium build made them even more
prominent.  At five foot seven inches, the meaty slabs arched outward
from her narrow chest straining the black top and underlying sports
bra to near breaking.  Elastic can restrain only so much.  So the
heavy melons vacillated like meaty pendulums within their confines of
synthetic fibers.  Victims of inertia.

He had pursued his workout and watched her when he could.  She was
quiet and almost painfully shy.  Kept her thoughts to herself, but he
had seen  it.  She had been there to bolster a battered self esteem. 
Divorce?  Maybe, but she was pretty young to have been down that path.
 He'd put his money on her first time out of the nest.  College or
job, maybe mom had finally died forcing her on her own.  Dad?  Who
knew, maybe he hadn't been able to resist those meaty bags when they
first started to burst forth on her narrow little chest and added to
the baggage she now carried into the world.  He couldn't give a shit.

He had watched her toil away.  An easy yet tricky task with so many
mirrors. The watcher can be watched so to speak.  He had chosen a
cycle in the middle row and got a good rear quartering view of her. 
Nice profile of her breasts and ass from a vantage point that wasn't
too obvious.  A heart.  That was it.  Her fine fleshy ass had reminded
him of a heart, the valentine kind of heart.  The round fleshy flaring
at the hip tapering to the sleek muscular thighs that pumped up and
down as she climbed the endless stairway to elusive physical
perfection.  He had shaken his graying head as he leafed through the
promotional "fitness" rag that served as promotional material for the
local plastic surgeons.  She was pretty close to perfect, but you'd
never convince her of that.  Looks that most women would kill for, but
she didn't see it.  Shrinks could write a books on what went on in
attractive women's heads.  As difficult as it was for men to
understand the normal thoughts of a woman, abuse twisted and perverted
them into something undecipherable.

He had smiled at the thought. Lambs. And he the wolf. Well maybe the
bear.  He'd laughed to himself.  Yeah the curse of his father. 
Grizzly, the thick coat of white hair on his chest had come with time.
 Made a striking sight when he tanned.  Back and shoulder hair came
next.  And this was the same guy ashamed to shower in junior high for
lack of pubes.  Late bloomer.  Two forty, six foot.  He didn't see
himself as a big man. But others did.  Self image was a funny thing. 
Muscular in his mid forties, a product of lifting for twenty odd
years.  Thick muscular arms and legs.  Wide chest and back.  Most
women described him as masculine.  The lesbians/feminists had another
word, neandertal.  They saw him as a knuckle dragger but would have
been in the cat fight to be in his harem if civilization as we knew it
ended.  He was the type that studies showed women found subconsciously
attractive during ovulation.  Pure masculine power.  Yeah.  He
understood on an intuitive primal level what the egg heads spent
millions of tax dollars to "discover".  For sex on the primal
reproductive level, women wanted a physically masculine brute. Brains
or not. They were genetically hardwired that way to produce the
strongest most survivable children. The sensitive pencil neck types
had lost the contest before it ever started.  Go figure.  Mother
Nature knew what she was doing.  If the brute also happened to have an
advanced degree so much the better.  He figured the tension he sensed
from the lesbian and feminists types was some outward manifestation of
some internal struggle within themselves.  He'd smiled at the notion
of them actually feeling an attraction and at the same time being
repelled.  He had seen it before with a young environmental scientist
he had worked with during his consulting years.  The love hate
relationship, she had been a young feminist firebrand in her twenties
he a late thirty's neandertal.  She never missed an opportunity to
engage him in verbal jousting or visit him in his office.  Sexual
harassment being what it was, he stayed clear of the obvious
temptation.  He husband was a pencil neck milk sop.  So what was the
attraction?  Maybe a daddy complex or something even her membership in
NOW couldn't explain to her.  Chances are she ended up spreading her
skinny little feminist legs for some hairy knuckle dragger.  Her
diaper changing,  Phil Donahue like sensitive husband none the wiser. 
She would look to fill that empty ache in her little not used often
enough vagina, looking for something she couldn't define.  His mind
had wandered and he'd laughed at the thought of an old joke.  The
ex-husband asked his ex-wife's new lover how he like fucking used
pussy.  He replied it was pretty good once he got past the used part...

His eyes had drifted back to the pretty buxom brunette.  She had her
shoulder length hair pulled back and tied.  Shoulders bare.  His gaze
had traced the t-back shaped sweat stain that darkened the fabric
between her buttocks.  He imagined the musky smell of her crotch and
the tangy taste of her sweaty vulva.  He'd shifted his buttocks on the
cycle seat as his cock thickened in the confines of his shorts.  A
dark stain had grown in the straining fabric between her shoulder
blades and down her spine. He imagined the tight smooth skin of her
back covered with a fine patina of sweat as she labored straddling his
hips.  The sleek bare arms like buttresses leaning on the handle bars,
supporting her heavy torso against his shoulders as he watched her
heavy hanging udders sway pendulously over him.  Their engorged
nipples grazing the thick hair of his chest as the liquid heavy tear
drops swung to and fro with the movement of her pumping hips.

His lip curled at the remembered vision.

He'd watched the timer count down then swung his leg from the cycle
and walked toward the laboring young woman.  She was lost in her own
private world, some musical artist pounding away in the walkman
affixed to her waistband.  He'd raised a large hand attached to his
thick wrist and tapped her on a smooth shoulder.  He remembered her
jumping at his touch in surprise and turned pulling toward him pulling
the earphones from her head.  A demur smile had flitted at the corners
of her umber lips as her green eyes were transfixed by his for an
instant before dropping.

"I just wanted to tell you how stunning you are.  The man in your life
is very lucky." he remembered saying softly his gaze unwavering as he
baited the hook.  "Have a great workout."   He'd turned and walked
toward the locker room without another word, aware of her curious eyes
on his back.

Showered and dressed he'd pulled out a chair in the juice bar and sat
watching the flurry of sweating ants as they crawled around the club. 
He'd smiled to himself as he watched the young woman approach in his
peripheral vision to ostensibly use a piece of equipment nearby.  He
remembered turning as she began her first set of reps feigning
surprise as they began the dance.

"So we meet again!" he'd said quietly.  She'd smiled but said nothing.
Her eyes dropping as if she had been caught in some act, which in
point of fact she had.  Her clumsy adolescent attempt at having a
motive to engage this interesting stranger had been clearly
transparent.

"I know you must be new here, I haven't seen you before.  Does your
boyfriend use the club too?" he'd said mining for information.

"No..., I mean no there is no boyfriend.  Just me.  And yes I am new.  I
just moved to Houston from up near Giddings.  I'm planning to start
school at the end of the summer." she had said not meeting her eyes.

"I find that impossible to believe...I mean the no boyfriend part.  But
the school part is wonderful, know what you want to study?" he'd said
with interest he didn't really have.

"Sorry I forgot myself, my  name is Dan Lancing." He'd said extending
a muscular hand, " and yours is?"

"Robin Poteet." She'd said with a slight smile as she lowered her
eyes.

"You were saying about your studies?" he said as he remembered
continuing the conversation.

"Maybe marine biology of wetlands, you know something with the
environment." She'd said lifting her eyes cautiously to his with a
smile.

"Giddings did you say? " he'd said still mining.

"Yes, my family is from there. Nobody left now so I thought I'd move
here."

"Bingo!" he remembered thinking.  She was on her own for the first
time.

"Well, if you don't mind me being bold.  How would you like an old man
to introduce you to the city?  Lunch or dinner. A few drinks. 
Whatever you feel comfortable with."

"Well...I don't know." She'd said wavering.

"I understand if you don't want to be seen with an old man." He'd said
with a genuine grin. "But I promise you I won't show up with a
walker."

"No, no, it's not that at all!" she'd said her cheeks turning crimson.
"I just don't get out much." she said not wanting to add that she
wouldn't begin to know what to wear even if she had it in her closet. 
He could have said it for her as he watched her discomfort knowingly.

"No problem.  I know a place, you can wear a t-shirt and shorts if you
like." He'd said, his green eyes glowing warmly.

"Now?" she'd said obviously flustered.

"Whenever you like.  The city isn't leaving. Besides I want you to be
comfortable." He'd said hitting a nerve spot on.  It had been years
since anyone had cared a wit about her feelings.  The young woman's
heart felt tight for an instance, as strange warm feeling filled her
chest.

"I'd love to, say for a quick beer.  I could follow you, okay?" she'd
said, her eyes quickly searching his for approval.  "I'll just be a
minute, let me go change."  With that she smiled her demurely almost
apologetically, grabbed her towel and scampered off to the ladies
locker room.

He had laughed to himself.  If people wouldn't have noticed he would
have rubbed his hands together in glee.  Goddamn he was good!   The
rest had been easy.

Take one ripe insecure young woman, season thoroughly with flattery,
massage with a little attention,  place in a warm restaurant over
dinner for several hours, baste liberally with a few drinks and you
have the recipe for a wild night of sex.

Robin had turned out to be very compliant and eager.  He hadn't
noticed or cared whether she had actually been a virgin.  She seemed
na�ve enough, but more than made up for it in raw enthusiasm.  Most
women, novice or no, blanch at the idea of taking a man's dripping
member, fresh and musky from their own leaking quim, into their
mouths.  Not the pretty ripe, Robin.  She only wanted to please him. 
He had only had to offer the freshly withdrawn prong to her eager
mouth and she had pounced.  Once she knew how much he liked having her
full young lips wrapped around his 40 something cock, she couldn't
suck him enough.   Her adoring eyes drifted from his steel blue orbs
to the demanding bulge in his crotch.

He only wished that it was always so easy.  A few nights in bed with
her and she was thoroughly his.  He hadn't totally debauched her, but
the hook was set and now the real fun could begin.  He hadn't begun
the process.  It had begun long ago when the owner of the sperm that
begat her, abandoned her without a father, leaving a half complete,
vulnerable young woman, pushed out of the nest unprepared, crippled. 
Food for the likes of him.  Strip clubs and brothels around the world
were filled with Robin's of all colors and creeds.  He was only
filling a social niche, as necessary as the one filled by the dingo,
the jackal, the hyena.  He preyed on the emotional cripples, pulling
them down, devouring them before they could reproduce and pass their
crippled emotional psyches on to their offspring.  He was no more
sadistic than other predators, yes, he would play with the ripe young
thing, degrading her along the way, reveling in her humiliation and
emotional pain, profit from her if he could then discard her when he
saw fit.  She might prove resilient and in one of the sick twists of
nature, actually learn to enjoy her lot.  This would only delay the
inevitable, the time when she fell victim to yet other predators
further down the social food chain, who would feed on her too, until
she was utterly destroyed.

Chapter 2

The pretty brunette squirmed as she thought of their first night
together. The nervous anticipation, the giddy feeling of the wine and
drinks and the sexual tension.  She giggled nervously to herself.
She hadn't really intended for it to happen, had she?  She did think
he was handsome in a masculine way.  All muscles, even for a man his
age.  Age?  Well he was old enough to be her father.  The thought made
her poor wet little pussy throb.  Was that it?  Was it a daddy thing?
She shrugged guiltily.  She couldn't bring herself to admit the
obvious.  It as too, what? Perverted.
Was she really hot for an older man because he reminder her of the
father she never had? Or was it to scandalize the overprotective
mother she had learned to hate?  Flustered, she turned her thoughts
back to Their first night.  He had showed her things, made her do
things...made her?  She laughed.  She had taken to everything like a
hungry puppy.  She shivered at the memory of his strong hands on her
body, exploring, toying, demanding.  He'd taken her back to his
apartment for more drinks.  She remembered she had made the first
move, kissed him.  The long lingering kiss had set off springs and
locks in her and she needed little coaxing to shrug out of the clingy
dress he had bought her for the evening.  The one that turned every
male head in the restaurant and brought color to her high cheeks.  The
black thing hugged every curve, painting itself to her huge breasts
and round hips.  Her firm fleshy buttocks moved rhythmically within
their fabric prison with each step, hypnotizing every man in the place
with a microgram of testosterone still in his blood.

He had pushed her away to stand before him as she undressed. Her
little puss throbbed at the memory of his eyes as she peeled the dress
down the mountainous globes of her chest to reveal the chestnut brown
saucers of her aureoles capped by the cigar-thick stubs of her
nipples.  The heavy mounds swung forward and down as she bent to push
the useless dress down her legs and unbuckled the straps of her high
heels from around her ankles.

She remembered standing naked in front of him, as his eyes explored
every inch of her.  She felt helpless with nowhere to hide.  His eyes
stripped her to her soul while his words soothed her, coaxed her like
a frightened foal.  She raised her arms over her head, the heavy
shimmering mounds of her breasts lifted taut defying gravity as they
swayed heavily.  They dwarfed her small rib cage and projecting
ponderously over the flat plane of her belly, her broad aureoles
puckered and her fat nipples snapped to rigid attention as she moved
to please him.

She turned in a slow pirouette. The outside curves of the fat mounds
of her firm breasts visible to his eyes even as her muscular back
undulated before him.  She remembered her hands lifting her hair in
imitation of something she'd seen at the movies as she turned in front
of him.  She had glanced nervously over her shoulder and watched him
as his eyes devoured her.  The vee of her smooth back rocked, tapering
to her trim waist.  The narrow column flaired to wide round rocking
hips, the undulating band of her spine disappeared between the full
round mounds of her meaty buttocks.  She remembered turning to face
him, her trim legs shaking. A whimper slipped from her full lips at
the memory of his hand sliding up between her gaping thighs, a thick
finger bulling it's way through the protective tangle of her sparse
pubes to slot itself in the wet trench of her fat leaking labia.

The pretty brunette, shook her head as if to rid herself of the
thoughts and stared down the road.  A smile slowly crept back to her
pouting lips as the salacious memories slowly began to decant
themselves in her mind, filling her head, like cheap whiskey pouring
into a drunk's glass.

She shivered even as the humid air made her sweat.  The thin blue
fabric of her bikini showing the telltale dark splotches of  sweat and
excitement as the car filled with the thick smell of her wet sex.

The hot sordid images flashed in her brain, it happened so fast, felt
so good, the grainy images flickered and jumped in her minds eye in
black and white like an old dirty movie. He pushed her down, her heart
in her throat, wanting to run, but rooted by the sight of the bulge in
his pants.  Her bulge.  She made it.  Earned it with her wanton
display.  It pleased him.  She remembered the feeling of triumph and
pride as her little fingers pulled the metal zipper tab to his fly. 
The giddy feeling was fresh, like that of child on Christmas, as she
freed the hidden treasure behind the fabric.  Her breath caught in her
throat all over again as the sick memory flickered, of the hot hard
meat of his cock, the coarse hair, the pulsing veins, the churning
sack of his balls.  The coarse jumping image of his grinning face as
he brought her hands to the waving throbbing staff and showed her how
to user her delicate fingers to stroke and caress it, to coddle and
cup the hot heavy orbs of his balls.

She shivered with the memory, felt the same sick hot wetness in her
crotch, the tight pulling as her bottom throbbed, pulsing out a
rivulet of guilty wetness.

She remembered the tight feeling in her chest, feeling so small as she
knelt before him.  She recalled the hot feeling of her naked skin as
his eyes looked down and devoured her.  Her eyes lifting up,
questioning.  Then feeling his strong hand pat her head, and pull her
pretty face toward the leaking snout of the pulsing rod she held
tightly in her hands.  She unconsciously licked her lower lip at the
vivid memory flickering in her mind.  Her eyes blind to the passing
traffic, she remembered the hot sticky wetness against her pursed lips
as he instructed her, guided her.
She remembered the long lingering kiss against the hot little mouth,
how her pointed tongue had explored.  How she thrilled to the steamy
heat of the thick prong gripped in her hands.  Gawd-d-d-d, she loved
it!  Lord help her, but she loved the feel of it, the taste of it. 
She would have sucked it for him, willingly taken his hot creamy load
in her inexperienced mouth right then.  But it wasn't to be.

"Whew!!!!" she shuddered as she exited the freeway onto 61st street
that would take her to the Strand and the south island.  She blanched
as she felt the sticky wetness between her legs and squirmed in the
bucket seat as the movie began to flicker in her head again jumping to
the big bed brightly sunlit in front of the open curtains; the
standing mirror at the foot of the bed.  How he had mounted her like a
bull.  Filling her, trapping her beneath his muscular hairy chest. 
Her legs over his shoulders; trapped by his arms. She groaned aloud as
she remembered the delicious feeling of his thick prong as it filled
her, stretched her, pounded her into mewing submission as she begged
for more, wanting it to go on and on.  She shook her head hoping to
stop the incessant reel, but it flickered on stoking the steamy
furnace between her legs.  The flickering images showed her the close
up of his veiny cock pumping in and out of her upturned bottom as she
squealed for more.  She licked at her full bottom lip as she
remembered the reflection and saw his heavy balls beating a rhythmic
tattoo on her frothy wet labia as he bludgeoned her with his throbbing
club of flesh. She flushed as she recalled his hot sucking mouth on
the hot tingling mounds of her fat breasts.   Remembered the
suffocating pounding in her chest and spiraling pin wheel in her head
that merged in a gut wrenching convulsion under his irresistible
pounding and the hot swelling wetness that filled her to bursting when
he came.

God help her she loved it.  She had sucked him back to hardness with
his chuckling ringing in her ears.  Sucked him and pulled him eagerly
to her to mounted her again.  She thrilled at the taste as she suckled
on his wilted cock hoping, praying that he would take her again. 
Instead he made her suck him, strumming her swampy cunt with his thick
fingers as she milked the dregs from his tired balls, sucking and
pumping until he filled her mouth with the rich fountain of his hot
sperm.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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